Food, Glorious Food

The British, by tradition, have never been known for their outstanding cuisine. These are the people who came up with mushy peas, beans on toast, and kidney pie. Mmmmm, mmm! "Glorious" is not the word that comes to mind when playing a word association game regarding food, and England. But oh boy, things have changed alot in the past twenty years or so! And definitely for the better. Without looking too hard, you certainly can find traditional stuff that fits the mold of boring, starchy, gloppy food. But with equal ease you can find, these days, food that will absolutely knock your socks off. Also, there are all kinds of funky things they have here that we don't have, and while they are not staple items, they sure add something pleasant and different to mealtime. Here are a couple of my recent favorites:

In truth, the garlic flavor could be a bit stronger, but it's a great concept, right? And then there's this condiment:

Greg and I love caramelized onions on just about anything. And here they do it for you! I haven't tried the following yet, but I'm bringing it home with me. Maybe a cross between ketchup and tapenade?

There's an interesting thing too regarding some of their homegrown veggies. Note this package of asparagus tips I bought today. They not only tell you where they were grown, they tell you WHO grew them!

That's accountability for you. (A possible conversation overheard at Sainsbury's: "You know, I fancy the Chinn's asparagus over the Ferguson's, I don't know what it is . . .")

But where the current British supermarket absolutely blows us away is the prepared food. That is, meals you can take home and either cook, or just heat up. The range is as wide as your imagination, from Thai to Indian (Northern and Southern) to Greek to Middle Eastern to Italian. All kinds of side dishes, unusual vegetable combinations. And they are so interesting and different! Check out this meal that I will probably have tomorrow:

Persian Chicken & Lamb Koftas (meatballs, basically), rice with pomegranates and pistachios. And don't forget the cardamom yogurt! Wow! In the "British Classics" department, just about every supermarket chain has the best, biggest, flakiest frozen batter-dipped fish (a la fish n' chips) that you've ever tasted. I get misty just thinking about it.

But the piece de resistance is something that I never, ever thought I'd see in the prepared food section of even Harrod's fancy-pants food court. Do you know what Coquilles St Jacques is (are)? Of course, you had it last night for dinner. (Funny, so did we!) It is a superlatively elegant dish that my gourmet chef mom used to make when she would have a special dinner party. Thing is, you do not, as a rule, say "Hmm, look what I've got in the fridge, I think I'll throw me together some Coquilles St. Jacques". Non, non, non, mon ami, this is something that requires no small amount of labor, a decent amount of planning. First, you must find actual scallop shells (white, shallow, about the size of a woman's fist). Then you concoct the filling, which is bay scallops (the very small ones) in an amazing cream sauce. But the presentation is key: the little pond of scallops-in-cream-sauce sits ensconced in a beach of mashed potatoes squirted out of a frosting nozzle. This all sits in that scallop shell you tracked down at some gourmet food shop. And then the whole thing gets a delicate covering of flavored, buttered breadcrumbs. It is one of the sublime gastromical joys of life! And you can buy a two-pack of 'em at Marks & Spencer for £5 ($7.50)! And they're FANTASTIC! Incroyable!

So while Greg was out at a work-related dinner tonight, I did not nuke a frozen pack of mac n' cheese. No sirree-bob. I had Moroccan-spiced chicken kabobs (with Tzaziki sauce on the side), with a cous cous/grilled veggie salad, and the Chinn Family asparagus, stir-fried with red peppers and onions. It was an absolutely delicious meal. Food, glorious food, indeed!

Um, I think you might have gotten just a drop of saliva on your keyboard there. Might wanna clean that up. . . sorry.