Posted tagged ‘foreign foods’

“I’ve long believed that good food, good eating, is all about risk. Whether we’re talking about unpasteurized Stilton, raw oysters or working for organized crime ‘associates,’ food, for me, has always been an adventure”

July 22, 2012


Another beautiful day today: it’s cool and sunny and bright. I was up early and even had time for a dump run before I went out to breakfast. I need to do a few errands later as it is movie night, and we’re out of malted milk balls. They are essential for movie viewing. We’re going to watch the one we didn’t see last week: The Night of the Hunter.

It is so quiet today. I don’t know where everyone has gone. I don’t hear a single kid or even a barking dog. Gracie just came inside the house. I think it must be morning nap time. Fern is already asleep in the sun from the front door. She is stretched out in the way only cats can stretch. I don’t know where Maddie is, but I suspect she’s on my bed. That is her favorite nap place.

My breakfast spot is busy every Sunday. All the breakfast spots are busy every summer Sunday. I go early to snag a booth as my friend doesn’t believe in waiting. She’d drive right through at the sight of a line. Today for breakfast I had dropped eggs on toast as my mother always called them. I didn’t learn until I was older they’re called poached eggs, but I still prefer calling them dropped eggs. It is far more descriptive and leaves no doubt as to how the eggs will arrive.

Other than in England and Ireland, my father hated breakfast in Europe. He thought cold cuts and cheese were lunch, never breakfast. I remember once in the Netherlands when an egg arrived in an egg cup. My father’s delight was evident in his smile and he immediately went for the egg. He tapped it with his knife the way he always did when served a boiled egg. Nothing happened so he tapped it again. Nothing happened the second time either. My father picked up the egg and tapped it on the table. That was when he found out it was hard-boiled. He put it on the table and never touched it again.

On many of my trips I had no idea what I was eating. I didn’t know the language so I couldn’t read the menus or the signs. Sometimes I had a book of English to whatever language, but usually I didn’t carry one as it was just extra weight in my back pack. I pointed and hoped for the best. Luckily I don’t remember ever hating what was placed in front of me. I also think not only probably had its advantages.


“Food is our common ground, a universal experience.”

March 26, 2012

The sun was here then it disappeared. The sky keeps getting darker. I checked the weather which says sunny. It’s not and doesn’t look as if it will be. That’s fine with me. I’m staying home and doing laundry. I figure a cloudy day is perfect for chores. I feel as if I’m not missing a thing.

I’m back to isolation with the windows closed, but on a Monday morning not much is happening. The birds are in and out, and I enjoy watching them. The gold finches have disappeared but the chickadees have retunred. I guess they just take turns like having deli numbers.

Lately I’ve been cooking more, reading recipes and looking for appetizers I can use this sumer on movie nights. We are muhammara fans so that’s on the list. The cheese pesto dip and the calzones I made for the first time last night for our Amazing Race viewing are now new favorites. I love cooking foods I’ve never made before. It’s an adventure in eating.

Last week I saw a program about McDonald’s restaurants in other countries. I always thought they were refuges for Americans craving familiar foods. Come to find out, they are very different from country to country and reflect local foods and customs. In India there is no beef, but you can order the Chicken Maharaja Mac sandwich, made with two grilled chicken patties topped with onions, tomatoes, cheese, and a spicy mayonnaise. In Singapore you can have a fried shrimp sandwich. Norway offers grilled salmon in dill sauce. In Israel the food is kosher, and you can order a McKebab which is two patties with Middle Eastern seasonings stuffed into a pita bread. In some McDonald’s, you can even order beer. I’ve decided not to be such a food snob and check out the McDonald’s in any country I visit, but I’ll wear a disguise.