Holmfirth food and drink festival.

Holmfirth is a little town in the Pennines just south of Huddersfield.  In previous posts I mentioned the town's vineyard and icecream. Today I visited its food festival.  Holmfirth hosts a lot of festivals through the year. A folk festival and film festival in May. An arts festival in June and lots of other quirky events like a duck race and a torchlight procession.

Probably Holmfirth is best known as the scene of the long running TV sitcom "Last of the Simmer Wine". The series is about three senile delinquents who meet at an establishment (which really exists) known as Sid's Cafe.Today the car park opposite Sid's Cafe hosted an open air food court. A tempting aroma wafted from the Pan House with Wurst, goulash and other goodies.  Not being a great meat eater I ordered a veggie hot dog. BIG MISTAKE. HUGE MISTAKE. Really really yucky. My friend who is a carnivore fared better with a Stilton and apple pork pie.  For dessert I had a sticky toffee cup cake from Racheys and my friend a slice of lemon cake which were scrumptious. That made up for the hot dog.Fortified with lunch I toured the stalls. Those that caught my eye were the Autumn Harvest Mushrooms

(luscious mushrooms - yellow oyster, eryingi, pink oyster, shimeji, girolle, shitake as well as truffle and porcinin butter), the Old Bridge Bakery (the Handmade Bread Company having sold out its stock as per usual).A Spanish tortilla which  I served it with a fresh salad tossed in fruity olive oil and a pomegranate balsamic vinegar dressing. Refreshing.

An olive stall, a venison and red wine pie stall and heard great things from the lads that were tucking into them who were   encouraging me to buy one... and the usual cheese affair.                      Now who's for some bajias? Mushroom of course, try my delightful Dana Jeera mushroom bajia recipe  A good tip: let the bajia batter rest before dipping yr mushrooms in the batter and frying.
                                                                                                                                      

                                      Dana jeera mushrooms bajias
(Serves 4)

Ingredients

14 tbsp gram flour
3 tsp grated ginger
1 tsp green rocket chilli
1 tsp ground cumin
2 tsp dried coriander
1 tsp cumin
1⁄4 tsp turmeric
Salt to taste
2 tbsp fresh coriander leaves
A pinch chilli powder
2 tsp ground nut oil
150ml luke warm water
750g whole medium sized chestnut or button mushrooms
Ground nut for oil for deep frying

Preparation

Grate the ginger and finely chop the green chilli. Prepare the mushrooms by cutting the larger ones in half and keeping the smaller ones whole. Wipe them clean and avoid soaking them in water as this will make the mushrooms limp.

Method

1. In a bowl, sieve the gram flour and add the ginger and green chilli. Add a little water and using your hand beat the mixture to form a paste, making sure to avoid lumps. Mix in some more water and continue to beat.
2. Once you have a smooth thick paste consistency, add the dry spices, 2 tsp oil and salt, and beat. Cover and leave the batter somewhere warm for 1 hour.
3. Approximately half-fill a heavy bottom Lowu or a heavy bottom wok with groundnut oil, and heat.
4. Take the batter and add a little more water to loosen the mixture to form a batter consistency. Mix in the fresh coriander leaves.
5. (Test the oil by dropping a little batter into the oil if it rises to the top within a few seconds and becomes crispy then its ready.) Dunk the mushrooms into the batter and then place them in the hot oil. Give them a few seconds then frequently turn them until crispy and golden brown, drain off the excess oil and eat whilst hot and crunchy. Enjoy!                                            

Preston Guild...well worth the wait.

Being a patron of Yorkshire I try to sure support and promote activities in my county rather than those next door. I have probably made more trips to the Punjab than I have to Preston. But this year I ventured twice across the Pennines to that exotic city because 2012 is the year of the Preston Guild. The last Preston Guild took place in 1992 when John Major was PM and the next one will take place in 2033 when goodness knows who (if anyone) will be in charge.

Preston Guild takes place once every 20 years - or 30 when there is a war on as happened in 1942.  It celebrates the granting of a charter by Henry II to hold a guild merchant in 1179.  Guilds were associations of craftsmen and merchants in medieval Europe and they existed in every city to regulate trade. Their importance diminished with industrialisation but there are still plenty of guildhalls around the country most notably in London. In Preston the guilds are remembered with a festival that takes place every 20 years.  There are ceremonies, concerts, dance, exhibitions, parties, processions and even dresses made from wallpaper.  It is the only festival of its kind anywhere in the world.   Traditionally the Guild festival takes place at the end of August and beginning of September of the Guild year.
I made two visits this Guild: the Vintage Weekend on the 2 September and the Finale on the 9.   Though I saw a lot of the Guild I missed a great deal more including all the processions, the Guild Court and a concert by Jose Carreras and Katherine Jenkins at which I am told that Jenkins changed her dress no less than 5 times. Great Girl!  (see Jane Lambert "Once in Preston Guild" IP Northwest 8 Sept 2012).

Arriving in Preston for the Guild I thought I had gone back in time.   Part of that impression was formed by the Vintage weekend in Avenham Park where there were old newsreels, vintage films an old Cadillac and plenty of stalls selling clothing from previous guild decades.             My impression was reinforced by the orange curry, orange tandoori prawns and orange bhaji  that were served up with 1950s Bollywood music and flock wallpaper at the Dilshad Tandoori  when it was time to say goodbye.  You don't see many of those places nowadays - at least not where I come from.

There was more history in Winckley Square which had been set up for the Square Food Festival.  There were stalls selling cheese, honey, sausages and goodies from Nimes Preston's twin city. I bought some lovely Lancashire creamy, cheese and would have bought some French onions had they not run out of stock but I was most impressed by musicians dressed as chefs.

a story teller who told some tall tales about the history of Winckley Square and "cake city" the principal buildings of Preston reproduced in cake.I ate my cheese melted on some toasted wholemeal bread from   

          Thehandmade bakery simple but truely yummy.

On my next visit Avenham Park was transformed into a theatre for "Les Commandos Percu", a dazzling display of dance, drumming and pyrotechnics.  The sky was ablaze as was the stage at times.
This was the finale attended by 14,000 thousands and more tuned away not only of the Guild festival but also of the finale of the North West celebrations for the London Olympic and Paralympic games.  Though it was the finale it was by no means the only or even the last show. There were concerts, exhibitions, plays and what can only be described as the transformation of ordinary human beings into celebrities.  The hair of a Marks & Spencer's employee, for example, was transformed into a sea of blue on which the artists planted a ship

What was my abiding impression of the festival? In a word "friendliness". Everyone was joyful, helpful and above all friendly.   A few miles from my home there is a neighbourhood near Halifax which is actually called Friendly (I kid you not). As I drove through Friendly I was reminded of Preston.

Happy India independence day,

Today is a national holiday in India to commemorate its tryst with destiny.  It's not been an easy 65 years with horrendous communal violence, wars with Pakistan, China and Portugal and the Emergency.   But India has survived.   To celebrate, some people will be flying kites. Others will be drinking fizz . Yet more will try to picnic .......in the monsoon! But a good time will be had by all.

For Humans and Hedgehogs

So we have won some medals at last! What a relief! Just imagine the embarrassment if we had come away empty handed. I am particularly pleased that our first medal winner comes from Otley, a few miles from Bradford. Well done Lizzie Armistead.

While the games were going on in London I prepared a scrumptious dinner:

      

Skate

Moroccan chicken 

My very own rice pudding

Selection of  North Country cheeses

Coffee

If you want to watch the sport over dinner the skate is a very easy dish to prepare. Here's the recipe. I took this recipe from a wonderful book I was given. Rick Stein's Mediterranean Escapes
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                                    Burrida Alla Cabrarese 

            (Skate with tomatoes, saffron Garlic and sultanas)  

 I added a pinch of cinnamon to compliment the other sweet flavours, nutmeg to give it an earthy balancing affect and garnished it with slightly bitter char grilled courgettes drizzled in fruity olive oil. It can be eaten with some crusty bread or on its own with some great wine, we served it before the Moroccan Chicken dish. And finished off with a cute bowl of rice pudding topped with shavings of Almonds and Pistachios nuts served with fresh grapes.

While I was preparing dinner I had a little visitor.   I offered it a trio of mushrooms.shiittake, chestnut and button.  Hedgehogs love mushrooms.   As you can see my guest was very happy.   If  hedgehogs could only purr I am sure it would be purring.

Another option, of course, is a takeaway from the Olympic sponsor.  They have widened their menu, so I am told.   
Finally, Katrina Heron has written an interesting article about catering for the athletes and visitors (see "How the London Olympic Games will revolutionize Food." Daily Beast 24 July 2012).

Oranges are the Only Fruit for me - representing England in Israel

The Olympic Games put me in mind of the time I represented my country in the World Schools Championship Volleyball in Israel in 1984.  I say "my country" because the ranking refers to us as "England/GB" but in actual fact we represented Yorkshire.  When we were introduced at the opening ceremony everyone expected us to sing along to a recorded version  "God save the Queen".  They were in for right treat when we actually belted out "On Ilkley Moor Bar T'at" (On Ilkley Moor Without Your Hat") it  was very proud moment indeed and somehow appropriate for a team consisting of girls of Afro-Caribbean, Chinese, Indian, Pakistani and Anglo-Saxon heritage. Although it was hard for us to identify with England or Great Britain we had a common identity in Yorkshire.

I was 15 at the time - one of the youngest players ever to have been selected. It was my first time on an aeroplane and my first trip abroad. It was the start of my Wanderlust.  We had to work very hard to get to Israel.   Not only did we have to be the best at volleyball (which meant training 15 to 20 hours a week in all weathers including trudging through the snow when the buses were off) but we had to raise the cash for our fares and expenses.  My contribution came from teaching dinner ladies how to make a good curry from which we took a royalty, setting up a tuck shop in competition with the school shop buying our goodies from a cash and carry in Leeds. A sponsored silence (which nearly killed me because I am right talkative) and sponsorship. Almost every shop in Bradford city centre gave us something.  The company  Ring was particularly generous as was HRH the Prince of Wales who said "It would be shame if the girls could not go."  We invited him to afternoon tea and he actually sent an equerry with a very generous cheque.

After such generosity from the heir to the throne some might think that we were a little churlish substituting the Yorkshire anthem for the national one but I am a Bradford lass of Indian heritage and London is a long way off. I had only been there twice - once to play at Crystal Palace and the American school (whom we beat) on another occasion. 

I remember a deadly silence when we had finished, and then applause and cheers. In a huge auditorium with lights so bright and cameras and TV/press intrigued by our squad. And then being accepted in as the England team at the opening ceremony as we exchanged tokens of goodwill with the other teams.

We ate sweet Israeli bread and ate fresh oranges picked from the tree on most days.   My favourite fruit .It was warm and I felt free. The tournament dinning hall was circular.   Food was served from the central reservation and each team had its own quarter. Food galore and the joy of sharing and eating with so many different nationalities and cultures was a feast in itself ...It beat any school dinner.

Israel offers it fair share food delights including humus and ample conversations about hummus. Wars began in conversation  about it as heated debates would be had as to who makes the best and where it originated Israel, Lebanon or. Palestine. 

We got through to the final stages and came 7th in the tournament and  gave Austria which eventually won the competition their best game. We were awarded the fair play award of the whole tournament which was an honour.  All credit to our great coach and manager..

On rest days we were able to see quite a lot of Israel during that contest - Masada, Bethlehem, Jerusalem
 the Wailing Wall and the Dead Sea stick in my memory particularly.

Here are some of things I learned about oranges.

1. Oranges are most succulent at room temperature. Sometimes you can squeeze some extra juice by putting them in the microwave for 30 to 60 seconds.
2. It is good to roll them on the work surface before extracting the juice.
3. If you want the kitchen to smell of orange blossom just prick the skin with a fork and return them to the fruit bowl.

I really loved the sweet bread and wish I could bake it. Do any of my readers have a recipe?  Is it a specifically Israeli delicacy or Jewish? If you happen to know, do let us know.

I

Melton Mowbray - Cheese, Pies and Traditional Sweets

Last Tuesday I visited Melton Mowbray. The Olympic torch was passing through that day so the town was in carnival mood.   A stage had been set up in the market square before which all the teenagers were performing curious ritual dances.

Enough of anthropology. I had come to the town because it calls itself the food capital of rural England.  Its most famous products are, of course, pork pies and Stilton cheese.   I have already mentioned pork pies so this time I will talk about cheese.

Stilton is a blue cheese like Roquefort and Gorgonzola.   Like those cheeses it is protected by a PDO (protected designation of origin). It can be made only in the counties of Derbyshire, Leicestershire and Nottinghamshire which, ironically, excludes Stilton in Cambridgeshire where the cheese is said to have originated. I am told that it takes 78 litres of milk to make 8 kilos of cheese and that it is the blue veins that give it flavour.  Those veins are caused by bacteria and are in fact a type of mold.Not all bacteria is harmful. This actually is penicillin as this type of bacteria is good for you would you believe......
.

As this was my first visit to Melton - even though it is only a few miles from Leicester where there is a large Gujarati community - I asked a car park attendant where I could buy some Stilton cheese.  He directed me  to "Ye Old Pork Pie Shoppe" which, despite its name, sells a lot of things other than pork pies.
Plum bread which you see in the photo particularly took my fancy.   I bought some cheese which was really creamy and some delicious fruit cake to eat with it.  

Nevertheless, the main merchandise was  pies. Mainly pork but also lots of other fillings including some with  combinations of Stilton cheese. Melton pies are very different from Yorkshire ones.  Here is a photo of the chap who makes them.
And as you can see lots and lots and lots of pies.  The red ones are the kind you can buy in Wait rose or Sainsburys. They are made by machines.The white ones, however, are hand made and you have to go to Melton Mow bray to get those.

Pies and  cheese are not the only culinary delights in Melton.   It has a traditional sweet shop with everything from flying saucers to tablet. Take a shufti at this lot.   Tasting as good they looked.

My last stop in town was the magnificent parish church.  There I met a very nice gent called Keith who has been the town's Father Christmas for the last four decades.  He told me that there were 400 Christmas trees in church last year.  It must have been a glorious sight. I lit a candle for my Dad although I am not Christian or even religious.  Keith gave me the biggest hug when it was time to leave.   He said it was from my Dad.

So now  here are some tips on how best to use Silton. First tip eat it straight of the block - it''s too good  to monkey around with. Secondly, it's very good with pears and port.   Thirdly, as an alternative to port, try a glass of Alsatian Rielsling vendage tardive or, better still, Gewurtztraminer..

Rainbows

  Some images are worth a 1000 pages of poetry.

                                      Rainbow in Bradford 

Growing old but do we have to grow up?

What foods comfort you? What foods make you happy? What foods even make you sad?

Foods help to remind us of days long gone.  Memories of childhood can be conjured in a matter of moments when we decide what to eat.  Like for instance our favourites sweets. Or our first meal after falling ill. Or a dish by a favourite auntie .... But best of all is re-living the experience while eating such food.  A child-like sensation encouraging a playful, trouble free mind.  Sheer delight and relief at the familiar.

I know what I'd choose. Number one would be a buttered  baby chapati straight off the tawer hot and steaming.  My close second, cheese on toast.  A thick plank of bread overflowing with extra mature cheddar and a splashing of Worcester sauce.  Number three would be buckets of the best vanilla ice cream served in waffle cones.  Finally, I love home made rice pudding.

I remember my mother at the cooker finishing off the chapatis. With a her last bit of dough she made a baby roti just for me.    Just what I needed to see me through until lunch.  It made me feel special as it came from the top of the tower of  larger chapattis ready for the feast.

Ice Cream.  Mmmm.   I remember the days of the ice cream van driving up our cobbled back street and seeing everyone's faces light up..I would plead with Mum or Dad until they were persuaded.   I remember running through the kitchen with the pennies clutched tightly in my hand and out of the back door shouting to the other kids not to let him go as I was on my way,   My delight at the choices whilst standing in the queue.

Our monies never stretched to a flake or one of the super dooper lollies.   Instead we made do with double serving of strawberry sauce.   If "Mr Italyo", as we called him, was feeling in a very good mood he would give me a sprinkling of nuts too.  The trouble was that as soon as he saw me and my friends he knew what the order would be.  One cone.  One scoop.   No fancy bits.

I remember thinking that one day I would be able to buy a double cone with two flakes.   I would imagine him saying "Now are you sure you will be able to eat all that?" "No Problem, Mr Italyo.  It's easy peasy."   I'd say.

He was called "Mr. Italyo" because he owned the famous Italian cafe up the road.  I used to see him through the windows of the cafe where the full range of ice cream flavours was served. It was in truth more a transport cafe than a" ristorante or trattoria" and definitely not for kids.  I heard that he served the best breakfast in town.   The "Full English" sign in the window made me think that the cafe was exclusively for the English and that they would be full after eating all that ice cream.  

I still like to take my time in a sweet shop and find the child in me creeps back when marvelling at the choice and colour..The anticipation  makes me feel like it's time never to grow up even as I grow older.  

Films and Farhsan

Who loves a good movie? What type of movie is your thing? I am lucky enough to have the National Media Museum on my doorstep. Spoilt for choice with films to watch and auditoriums to watch them in! 

For starters, there is the Imax which is the first of its kind in the UK, showcasing some incredible movies. One of my favorites is an amazing documentary called The Hubble   

Then there is Pictureville proudly claiming to be one of the best-equipped cinemas in the world.  Actually, that was the city's old Library Theatre.  I used to dance on its stage - much against my family's wishes. Love to dance! Yeah!  

I love salsa and old Indian classical traditional folk dance from Gujarat and Garba Ras amongst many other styles.

Then we have the Cubby Broccoli cinema. Cubby Broccoli was famous for making Bond Movies. 

But I wouldn't take broccoli to snack on at the flicks though, would you?

My first ever experience of hitting the flicks was as a child to see Mother India in the early 1970s.  Bradford became very famous for its Asian picture houses and our local was The Arcadian. Not always an Indian film cinema but that's how I knew it in the '70s. The Asian cinema house was demolished in 1987. I cried as I  watched the building tumble, such a sad day for me. 

A few of my favourites foodie films are Fried green tomatoes, La Grande Bouffe Chocolat, and A Private Function really  appropriate for this year's Diamond Jubilee

                     

Gosh, it was packed most nights. There was dancing, hands clapping ..... Oh! And that was just from the audience ..... talking right through the movie and shouting out the plot as the audience got carried away. If mobile phones had existed. I dare say lots of colorful ring tones would have joined in too! Not that folk seemed to mind.   All part of the excitement and occasion. As they joyfully watched.

My mother thought the pictures were for those with nothing better to do with their time and money.   "A respectable reputation may be lost if seen there too often."   So the only time she went to see a film was when she went to see Mother India.    She made an exception for that film because it had a good, moral story and was thus acceptable. 

It was never a dull moment.  Fahsan ( snack food spicy and crunchy) is usually all homemade and of course, washed down by a glass bottle of Coca-Cola.  The food was amazing: samosa, fresh chapati rolls (biri),  Bombay mixes of all types and descriptions, a whole variety of Indian snack bites, and roasted peanuts with chili. There was no end to the variety and it was such a great social affair.   Like one big living room!   You would see rows of families and friends passing around tubs of homemade goodies and sometimes the bowl tub would get past all the way down the row so you would get a bite of someone else s food.   My Mum's food was enough to impress anyone. It was even being offered in exchange for cinema tickets. She never took them up on it, but I did!

My favourites had to be samosa.  A treat to which I never said no. I loved them so much that I learned so much about them.  They took the best part of a day to make - preparing the mixture, making the pastry, filling them, and finally cooking them.  
we only made them as a treat food and on special occasions because it came from another region and took so long in the process. Indian food varies from region to region as much as Turkish food varies from Spanish.  Subtleties that we in the west have yet to discover and understand fully. Next time I will take through my recipe....

My love of pork pies - or until I knew better

Even though I have heard horror stories about what goes in em’ and eat very little meat these days they still cross my mind with delight in moments of needing comfort. Maybe, because I loved them as a child so much.

Not long ago I visited a place in Yorkshire called Morley which has a famous pie shop.   Apparently folk come from miles away making special journeys for these pies,   They have queues forming outside the shops most mornings.   So I thought I would try one!    It was hot. I dont really like eating  hot pork pies, pastry excellent I recall but a pork pie is almost a different pie eaten hot. I loved them cold. And I was rather disappointed as my attempt in trying it hot.

Now some may argue that the pork in a pork pie is as far away from meat as a good Hindu is away from beef steak. Others will tell me of their delightful ingredients of eye lashes and eye balls all died pink congealed in jelly that makes them irresistible but best not to dwell on it too much and enjoy the pies for how they taste and make you feel.  For me it was always the pastry that I fell in love with, quite like something I had never tasted before. Crispy case, crumbly and salty and if one was quiet enough when cutting into one you could hear the crunch of it being sliced. A girl at church called Catherine would ask me at our Sunday afternoon tea after service if I would swap her pastry for my jelly and pork which I gladly did, our delight at fair swap made us the "bestest friends". Well…. we never got pork pies at the temple God for bid! 

Fancy that… a pork pie bringing us together! Now Auntie Mary - well she wasn’t really my Auntie but that’s what all the elders were referred to at church - would quiz me about Indian food and why I loved the pork pie so much? She also quizzed me about my gold earrings which did not meet with her approval.   So along with my pork pie she sat me down and sent me to the prayer room so that I could ask Jesus if it was acceptable for me to wear them at church.   Thinking “My mum will kill me if these gold earring are removed.” I prayed and holding a pork pie in one hand and my tiny little gold earring in the other I asked Jesus if it was OK to wear them??? I also felt terribly guilty about the pork pie so asked the Indian Gods to forgive me.  After my ten minutes to reflect about it all she asked me what conclusion I had come to and what Jesus had said to me.   My response was “I really don’t know as I could not hear him!”

She did not understand that most Indian girls - including me although British by birth but Indian by descent - had our ears pierced before our 1^st birthday.   It was a disgrace and indecent to have bare holes in your ears - "undressed and undignified." Most of the English girls wore very little jewelry at church if any and had never eaten Indian food.   Auntie Mary had yet to try one of my curries to really understand why I loved them so much.   Pork pies were the one food I never spiced up, nothing but some HP sauce would do for me. HP sauce stands for Houses of Parliament after the sauce was being served in the restaurant over 150 years ago.

 It was though I knew what Heaven was like when I bit into one.  Which led to the old saying in our home, “When are we having English?” As 95% of the food we ate was Indian.

Auntie Mary, by the way, did let me have a tune on my other love: the piano.   My parents could simply not afford lessons for me so I used to sit on the fence/hedge of our piano teacher's house, watching others learn, in hope that some of the teaching would rub off onto me..

Anyway, later, my friend, Catherine, asked to have her hears pierced too.

I decided that neither the church nor the temple were for me. But remained friends with Catherine.  So at the age of 12 I went back to my skateboard and enjoyed the rest of the summer.   Much to my mother’s disapproval for several reasons..   First, I had given up both church and temple.   Secondly, skateboarding was very unladylike indeed.   It was not something she ever dreamt of for her  Indian daughter.   Thirdly she worried about what our relations would think.   Most of my extended family lived abroad but for my poor mum they lived in her head.   She often could not understand why I was into skateboarding.   She knew of no other Indian girl skateboraders in Bradford. She really did  not understand the scene.

  But for me it was a fearless freeing fantastic sport than help me think and focus on so many things.   For instance, why my parents were the only two members of our family who had left India in early 1950's out of 14 brothers and sisters between them . What India must have been like.   And what my folks back there must have been like.