Tag Archives: britain

british cuisine

Window Shopping in the Harrods Food Halls

Photo by Mingyang LIU on Pexels.com (I couldn’t get a good picture myself without blocking traffic)

            Harrods is probably the most famous department store in London. It’s also really hard to navigate. Perhaps this is by design, so potential customers pass more high-end merchandise. After all, some of the wealthiest customers in London shop there, or have their people shop for them. But for the casual tourist who just wants to window shop in the food halls at the center, the maze is a bit annoying.

            Sure, there are smaller items like rolls, pastries, jars of jam, pieces of cheese, boxes of tea, and so on, that are affordable for most people. But after being warned by the tour director that the same items are marked up heavily just because they come from Harrods, I decided to stick with admiring the selection. There is a lot to admire, starting with the store itself. It’s kept the elaborate Victorian and Edwardian columns, ceilings, arches, and crown moldings, while gleaming like any upscale modern establishment.

            I’m not sure what’s more beautiful, the building or the merchandise. Right by the door where I came in was a selection of caviar, smoked salmon, and whole gourmet fish. To my other side was a whole wall of baked goods, and directly ahead was a truly international deli case. Many of the salads looked Mediterranean or Middle Eastern, but there were also ready-prepared slices of beef Wellington. On the other side of the deli I found all sorts of exotic fruits, including cacao pods. Oddly enough, after coming home I saw cacao pods at Woodman’s.

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            On a side note, if you’re ever in the produce department at Woodman’s, take a minute to smell the guavas, especially if they’re a bit overripe. The intoxicating tropical aroma is impossible to describe. Anyway, back to Harrods, where there were no guavas, but the meat cases had luxury wagyu beef, authentic Spanish jamon iberico, and any cured meat you can think of. And I’m pretty sure the cheese case contained every cheese mentioned in 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die (the food halls themselves are featured on pg. 15).

            As far as I could tell, the non-perishable (or less perishable) items like coffee, tea, honey, jams, oils, chocolates, and confectionary were more significantly overpriced than the others, though overpriced might not be the right word. There’s a quote from somewhere that “everything is worth what its purchaser will pay for it.” It’s the law of supply and demand. Perhaps because the “dry goods” can be kept for longer, the sellers can be comfortable charging more, knowing whatever doesn’t sell one day won’t be wasted. Or maybe those items are in higher demand as gifts.

            In fact, the store website suggests that the chocolates and hampers (basically gift baskets) would be perfect for the hard-to-shop-for relative or business acquaintance. I’m sure they would be. Everything in the chocolate hall was beautiful, and Harrods chocolate is known to be of exceptional quality. But a mixed 15-piece box of chocolates is $35. 325 grams (just over 11 ounces) of mixed chocolate almonds is $27. And a 16-piece chocolate truffle selection box is $40. Granted, some of those are in collectible tins, but that’s still out of my price range.

            For the cost of 2 of those items, I could get a bulk bag of pecans, make a batch of cinnamon sugar nuts, eat half of them, make another batch, and have enough for several homemade gift baskets. With the money left over, the baskets and tins (which have been passed back and forth between friends and relatives since about 1995) could be finished with Lindt truffles, clementines, and some homemade cookies and/or Chex mix. Maybe it’s just me, but that feels so much more personal. And who doesn’t love cinnamon sugar pecans?

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            After finishing my window shopping, there was still plenty of evening sunlight to ride the Underground to visit the Tower of London. (Another interesting thing is that because the British Isles are further north than many Americans might expect, it stays light really late during the summer. In July, there was still some twilight at 10pm.) The inside was closed (not sure why they don’t stay open later in the summer to profit from the long days and tourist surge), but I had a great view of the outside of both the Tower itself and the Tower Bridge. Even from a distance, the arrow slots in the walls were clearly visible. Add in the multiple layers of walls, and the Tower could rival any modern maximum-security prison.

Tower Bridge London
Better luck getting pictures of the tower bridge

            And on the ride home, there were a few drunk guys doing pull-ups on the handhold straps hanging down from the subway roof. I was a little worried the straps would give way, injuring them physically or mentally, but they held firm. Since drunken pull-ups are apparently a common thing, the train engineers probably factored that into their designs.

            Point is, even if buying much from Harrods is out of your budget, it’s well worth a look around. If only they had free samples, which might encourage hesitant shoppers to buy.

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Summer Pudding
british cuisine, food history

Summer Pudding: Britain’s No-Bake Specialty (and let’s talk about currants)

Summer Pudding

            No-bake desserts are great for special occasions during the summer. I’ve already discussed strawberry trifle, which uses frozen pound cake for beautiful and delicious results. Another showy use for berries and their juices is the British dessert summer pudding. It involves lining the bottom and sides of a bowl with white bread slices, filling the center with a mix of berries and sugar, covering the top with more bread, and pressing everything together with another bowl overnight. Excess juices are thus forced into the bread, coloring it a lovely hue between red, pink, and purple, depending on what fruit you use.

            I was a little skeptical at first. It sounded like a recipe for soggy bread, but if summer pudding is popular in the British Isles, there had to be a reason. After finding red currants at the farmer’s market, I decided to give it a try. If the bread part wasn’t good, the berry filling could be scooped out and served on its own with whipped cream.

            This turned out to be unnecessary. Odd as it sounded, the bread worked perfectly. Due to its gluten structure, it soaked up the juices like a sponge and held together even when fully saturated. Cake would typically fall apart in a similar situation. Beyond that, the bread balanced out the tart currants and raspberries very well. It was indeed soggy, but in a good way.

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            Let’s pause here to talk about currants. The dried currants you can buy in boxes are not true currants at all. They are actually a type of small raisin. Most boxes now specifically refer to their contents as Zante currants to avoid confusion. These Zante currants are worth trying in their own right in scones, oatmeal, and the like. But they’re not what we’re talking about today.

            True currants come in three common colors: red, white, and black. All are much more common in Europe than in the US, though the red kind is occasionally found fresh in farmers’ markets and backyard gardens. White currants are a mutant form of the red variety. Black currants are even harder to find, and were in fact banned for several decades because they could carry white pine blister rust, which threatened the US logging industry. Even with new disease-resistant varieties, black currants are still illegal to grow in several states. Which is a pity, because they make great jams and juices.

Red currants
Red currants, with my hand for scale

            This history could explain the rarity of currants in the US. So too could be the fact that red currants, which were never banned, have to compete with native cranberries. Both are tart red fruits that make excellent juices and sauces, but cranberries are a lot cheaper and easier to store. And in the Midwest, where growing conditions are favorable for currant bushes, people prefer sour cherries in jams and desserts. Red and occasionally black currant jam can be found at stores and farmer’s markets, but beyond that, there are few traditional (or modern) American recipes for the fruit.

            British cuisine, by contrast, has plenty of uses for currants, especially, it seems, for the black variety, which are in fact dark purple. Blackcurrant jam is one of the favorite varieties. Many candies use the flavor. A sweetened concentrate called Ribena (which is not uncommon in the international food aisles in the US, at least in big stores) makes what tastes like currant-flavored Kool-Aid. It would taste better with a little less sugar, but is enjoyable nonetheless. And of course, there are numerous desserts made with all varieties of currant.

            One of the favorites is summer pudding, which Mimi Sheraton suggests is best made with a mix of red currants and raspberries. Taking the expert’s advice, I picked up some frozen raspberries, scaled down the recipe on pages 29 – 30 in 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die by half, and got started. (Information about currants can be found on pages 12 – 13). Whether or not to cook the fruit or just briskly stir it with the sugar depends on how soft and/or ripe the fruit is. Since currants are firmer and tarter, even when ripe, I decided to cook them with the sugar for a few minutes, then stir in the raspberries, which are more prone to fall apart, after. This worked perfectly.

            The biggest challenge turned out to be finding a bowl that would fit perfectly inside the bowl with the pudding. This is important because pressing down on the surface with adequate weight (provided by a few cans of food) is what forces the excess syrup into the bread. The other issue was unmolding. I’m not sure why the recipe called for buttering the main bowl, since the butter completely solidifies when everything is chilled, unless it’s for flavor. The now-solid butter stuck the bread to the bowl, making for a slightly messy presentation.

Summer Pudding
Not as pretty as in the picture in the book (okay it looks like an amoeba)…
Summer Pudding
…but whipped cream improves the presentation.

            Messy or not, the juice-stained bread and red fruits were pretty in their own way, especially with a contrast of whipped cream. Brits often serve summer pudding with either clotted or whipped cream. I’m not sure how the former is, but the latter is perfect, especially if you make it yourself. Homemade whipped cream is super easy to make, and it makes the odd-sounding but delicious summer pudding even better. To be honest, it makes any dessert better.

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Parliament Big Ben
british cuisine, food history

Tastes of the British Isles: More Interesting Than People Think

Parliament Big Ben
Fun fact: Big Ben is technically not the name of the tower itself, but the bell inside it.

            British cuisine gets a bad rap. Jokes abound about it being bland, heavy, and sometimes bizarre. Even the island’s inhabitants make fun of it, and often don’t eat “traditional” British dishes on a daily basis. Partly due to immigration from the Indian Subcontinent, Brits love curry and other Indian dishes. You can find falafel, Italian, and Chinese food everywhere. Still, some local dishes are worth trying. Read through the Harry Potter series for some good examples.

            Last month, I went on a trip to Great Britain and Ireland. The history was fascinating and the scenery was lovely. There were just two surprising things. First, people don’t just drive on the left. They also keep to the left on sidewalks, staircases, and anywhere else people might be passing each other in opposite directions. It felt completely backwards and I couldn’t quite get used to it. Luckily we had a bus for long distances and didn’t have to drive.

Tower Bridge London
The Tower Bridge in London

            I was also surprised by how difficult some of the local accents were to understand. Despite having a fraction of the landmass and only about a fifth of the population, the British Isles have a greater number of distinct accents than the US. This makes sense, since people have been speaking some form of English there for around 1600 years instead of 400, giving the language a lot longer to develop various dialects.

            American English certainly has its diversity, but for the most part, a speaker of one dialect can understand another. This isn’t the case in Britain and Ireland, particularly in more rural areas. On several occasions, I could only get a rough idea of what someone was saying. If asking them to repeat themselves didn’t work, I would just say ok, nod, and hope for the best.

Swans in Avon River, Stratford
Swans in the Avon River in Stratford. They were a popular Medieval feast dish, but apparently don’t taste very good.

            The food was easier to understand. Most of the ingredients are familiar and easy to find. Fish and chips are just fried fish and French fries. Beef and Guinness stew is straightforward and delicious, even if you don’t usually like Guinness. Pasties are meat and vegetables in a pie crust. Think of them as cousins of empanadas. Cheeses like cheddar are imitated all over the world. There’s bangers and mash (sausages with mashed potatoes), shepherd’s pie, roast beef and what are essentially popovers, cheese sauce with toast, and a variety of jams and marmalades.

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            Then there’s the desserts, which is where British cuisines excel. The best introduction can be found by watching the Great British Baking Show. The Victoria sponges, loaf cakes, shortbread, sticky toffee pudding, and cream-filled fruit tartlets look and sound delicious. There have definitely been some odd flavor combinations (like miso caramel and black sesame ice cream), but sometimes they turn out to be inspired. Other times, the classics done well are what impress the judges.

            That contrast seems to sum up British cuisine as a whole: willing to try new ingredients and dishes, but not forgetting the classics.

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Potted shrimp with toast and greens
british cuisine, food history

Unplanned British Treat: Potted Shrimp

Potted shrimp with toast and greens

Recipe can be found in 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die on pages 18 – 19

            Before refrigeration, preserving food was always a challenge, particularly for highly perishable things like shellfish. Besides salting, pickling, smoking, and controlled fermentation, cooked meat and fish could be covered in a layer of fat to keep out the oxygen. The French preserved pork in its own fat for rillettes, and duck or goose as confit. For leaner proteins like ham or shrimp, the British “potted” them in ceramic dishes. This process involved mixing the chopped shrimp with melted butter and covering everything with more butter.

            Since shrimp were reduced price for quick sale at the store, I thought I would give this recipe a try. Interestingly, though British cuisine has a reputation for being dull and bland, potted shrimp is traditionally seasoned with cayenne pepper and mace. Once the mixture of shrimp and flavored butter is chilled and solidified, it is served on either salad greens or toast.

            Mace and cayenne pepper might seem odd for a traditional British dish, but both became popular in the 18th Century. Most likely, this has to do with Britain’s growing influence in India. Modified “curry” dishes began to appear in cookbooks, and the long-term Dutch monopoly on nutmeg (mace comes from the same plant) was broken, allowing the British East India Company to bring cargoes of both spices to Europe. A little spice goes a long way in a generally bland diet, especially when fresh food was unavailable for much of the year.

            Note that mace isn’t widely available in grocery stores, but is easy to find in specialty spice stores and online. Because you’ll probably have to buy more than you need, it’s a good idea to buy whole mace and grind it yourself. Whole spices stay fresh for longer.            

The potted shrimp was interesting, but not my favorite preparation. Overnight in the refrigerator, the butter became, for lack of better terms, crumbly and waxy. This may have been due to adding more than the recipe called for, which was not enough to cover the shrimp. Another issue was that the little flecks of ground mace darkened in the refrigerator overnight, which looked alarming since I wasn’t prepared for what looked like ground pepper to appear. Spreading the mixture on hot toast helped with the texture, and the flavor was a nice mix of shrimp, butter, and spice. Not bad at all, though I would prefer the shrimp hot with garlic butter.

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