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......
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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.