Crafty Christmas: Wee Stocking Garland

The thing with being a knitter is, eventually, you'll find yourself with all these little bits of yarn that aren't enough for a full-scale project. So, you have to find itty bitty projects for them instead. The charm of the itty bitties is that they're just so darn cute you want to keep making them, and they come together so fast (I was able to churn one of these out in the time it took to watch an episode of Revenge) that you can crank out a lot of them in a pretty short period. I thought, at first, that I'd be making little ornaments for the tree, but as stocking after stocking came out, I thought, 'hey, why not make a garland for the mantelpiece?'

And that's just what I ended up with.

Cute, huh? And pretty simple, too, especially for those who already know a bit about making socks. I got the pattern out of a book called Socks, Socks, Socks, and it can be easily adapted to other needle sizes and use whatever colours you have on hand. Have fun!

Wee Stockings Garland

Tools
1 set of 4 size 1 (US) double point needles
lace yarn or a couple of strands of a 4-ply sportweight yarn in the colours of your choice

Leg: Cast on 20 stitches and divide between 3 needles. Work K1P1 rib for 3 rounds, then switch to stocking stitch. Knit 15 rounds.

Heel: Slip 1st 10 stitches of the next row onto 1 needle, set other 10 stitches aside. Working only with the stitches on needle 1, work as follows: (RS) *Sl 1 K1; repeat from * (WS) Sl1, purl across row. Repeat these two rows until a total of 11 rows have been worked.

Turn Heel: Continue on 1st 10 stitches, starting with a WS row. P5, p2 together, p1. Turn work. Sl1, k1, ssk, k1. Turn work. Sl 1, p2, p2tog, p1. Turn work. Sl 1, k3, ssk, k1. 6 stitches remain. Do not turn.

With a spare needle, pick up and knit 4 stitches along the side of the heel and slip them to the first double-point needle. Knit 10 stitches across the instep of the stocking and hold on a second needle. Pick up and knit 4 stitches along the other side of the heel, then knit 3 heel stitches. There are 24 stitches total, and the beginning of the round is at the centre of the heel.

On the first needle, knit to the last 2 stitches, k2tog, knit across 2nd needle, ssk the first two stitches on 3rd needle, k to end of round. Work 1 round even, then repeat the decrease round. Repeat these two rounds until a total of 16 stitches remain.

Work foot even until it measures 1 1/2" from back of heel.

Toe: Slip 1 stitch from the beginning of needle 2 to needle 1; slip 1 stitch from the end of needle 2 to needle 3. There are now 8 stitches on needle two and 4 each on needles 1 and 3. On first needle, knit to last 2 stitches, k2tog; on 2nd needle, ssk, k to last 2 stitches, k2tog. On 3rd needle, ssk, k to end. Work 1 round even. Repeat these two rounds until 8 stitches remain. Break yarn and graft stitches together.

When you're done all your little stockings, cut a length of yarn or thin ribbon the length you'd like and string them on, knotting to keep them in place. Hang and let everyone admire your handiwork!

Charity Begins on the High Street

If you're the do-gooding type (or just looking to give back a bit during the holidays), you're in luck: it's almost impossible not to give back over here.

I think of the States and, aside from Goodwill, I can't name a single store off the top of my head that sells things in order to raise money for a charity. I'm sure they exist, I just can't think of any that are country-wide. But here, every charity has a shop on the high street, and they're actually pretty great. One of our favourite bookshops supports Oxfam, and that's one of about ten charity shops in our immediate neighbourhood. They sell everything from clothes to furniture and nick-knacks. This time of year, they even sell adorable Christmas cards and wrapping paper.

And that's not the only way to give back while giving to yourself: this year, we're buying our Christmas tree from an organisation called Caring Christmas Trees, which donates the profits from the trees to an Edinburgh homeless shelter. It's not as if the trees are really expensive, either. And if that doesn't do, the trees they're selling at our farmers' market raise money for a children's charity.

Maybe it makes us a bit lazy, because we don't really have to put much effort into finding a charity to support, mail off a cheque, etc. But it's nice to have an opportunity to give back so easily, especially with things we're going to be buying anyway. I know I feel a bit warmer and fuzzier knowing that my tree will help give someone a hot meal, rather than contributing to the Christmas bonus of the CEO of Home Depot.

And now, I'm off to Oxfam to look for some books!

St Andrew's Day

Happy St Andrew’s Day! Today Scotland raises a dram (and rolls out the fireworks) to the country’s patron saint.

Andrew’s been the patron saint of Scotland since about the middle of the 10th century. According to legend, his relics were brought to the Pictish king, Oengus mac Fergusa, in the 8th century. Around 100 years later, Oengus II led an army of Picts and Scots into battle against the Angles, which were under the command of Aethelstan, near modern-day Athelstaneford, East Lothian. The heavily outnumbered Oengus vowed to appoint Saint Andrew patron saint of Scotland if he won the battle. The next day, as the armies were forming, white clouds formed an X in the sky.

Kind of like this

 Guess who won the battle? Oengus stood by his word and Andrew became Scotland’s patron saint. The allegedly divine cloud formation was immortalised on Scotland’s flag, the Saltire. The X was also used by superstitious Scots to keep witches from flying down their chimneys.
Thanks Andrew! Now, off to the castle for the party!

Stir-Up Sunday

Happy Stir-Up Sunday! It's time to officially kick off the holiday season--starting with dessert. Those Christmas puddings need time to mature and develop their flavours (some people actually make them more than a year in advance), so pull out those pudding basins and steamers and let's get to work!

Christmas pudding has its origins in the medieval period and is also traditionally known as plum pudding, though it doesn't typically have plums in it (the plum pudding term is probably because the Victorians used to refer to raisins (which are always part of the ingredients list) as plums). In the medieval period, the Catholic church decreed that a 'pudding should be made on the 25th Sunday after trinity, that it be prepared with 13 ingredients to represent Christ and the 12 apostles, and that every family member stir it in turn from east to west to honour the Magi and their supposed journey in that direction.' Nowadays, we give it a stir in any direction and make a wish. The traditional pudding recipe took its form in Victorian England, when people would either boil it in a pudding cloth (resulting in the nostalgic round shape) or pack it into a pudding basin for steaming, as we do now.

The nice thing about this pudding is that, although there are some traditional elements you may want to keep, it's pretty versatile. Feel free to play with the fruits you include--dried cherries and candied ginger are delicious additions, and I even tossed in a bit of leftover homemade cranberry sauce that I had around after our wee Thanksgiving on Thursday, just to see what would happen. I also soaked the vine fruits overnight in some Christmas Orange tea I picked up from Anteaques. Have a little fun with it, and don't forget to make a wish!

Christmas Pudding

Adapted from Delia Smith
400g mixed vine fruits
brandy or strong black tea for soaking
4 oz (110g) shredded suet
2 oz (50g) self-raising flour
4 oz (110g) white breadcrumbs
1 tsp ground mixed spice
1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
good pinch ground cinnamon
8 oz soft dark brown sugar
1 oz (25g) mixed candied peel, finely chopped
1 oz (25g) slivered almonds
1 oz (25 g) candied ginger, chopped
1 oz (25 g) prunes, chopped
1 small cooking apple, peeled, cored, and grated or finely chopped
grated zest and juice of 1/2 large orange
grated zest of 1/2 lemon
2T rum, brandy, or whisky
5 fl oz (150 ml) stout
2 large eggs

Pour the brandy or the strong (brewed about 10 minutes) tea over the vine fruits and let sit overnight. The next morning, drain and set aside.

In the largest bowl you have, combine suet, flour, breadcrumbs, spices, and sugar. Mix in the dried fruit, mixed peel, nuts, and ginger, followed by the apple and zests. Mix thoroughly.

In a smaller basin, mix the eggs and all liquid ingredients. Pour over the dry ingredients and mix thoroughly. Call in family members for help and wishes. Once it's mixed (it'll be a fairly wet and sloppy mix), cover the bowl with clingfilm and let sit overnight so the flavours meld.

Butter a 1.2-litre pudding basin and put a small circle of greased parchment paper in the bottom. Scoop in the pudding mixture and cover the basin with baking parchment and foil. Tie securely with a string and place in a steamer for 8 hours. For those without a steamer, put an upended saucer in a large pot with a tight-fitting lid, place the pudding in the pot, fill up halfway with hot water, put the lid on, and boil away for 8 hours, checking back periodically and topping up with more boiling water as needed.

Remove the pudding from the steamer or pot and let cool completely. Refresh the parchment paper and foil and leave in a cool, dark place until Christmas. When ready to serve, flame with brandy or serve with holly and sifted icing sugar.

Happy Christmas!

Remembrance Day

On 11 November 1918, World War I--the horrific conflict everyone hoped would end all wars--ended with the signing of the Armistice in France. Ever since, the millions dead in that conflict and the ones that came before and after have been lovingly remembered on the eleventh day of the eleventh month. For weeks leading up to the day, poppy brooches start appearing on lapels--cheap paper ones picked up when you donate some pocket change to the Poppy Appeal, or more permanent ones that are crocheted or enameled and brought out every year. These bright little flowers are not only reminders of the lives lost, but are also the symbol of the British Legion's annual Remembrance Day fundraiser, which raises money for wounded vets and their families.They hope to raise 42 million pounds this year.

In the U.S., today is celebrated as Veterans' Day, and while there are some somber activities of remembrance, it seems like a much quieter day than it is here. It's easier to overlook it, because there seem to be few visual reminders in the days leading up to it. Here in Edinburgh--and elsewhere in the U.K., there's a Garden of Remembrance. Spreading out from the Scott Memorial on Prince's Street is row upon row of small wooden crosses studded with a single paper poppy, planted in memory of someone who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. The first of these gardens was started at Westminster in 1928; there were only two crosses that year. This year, you'll find them in Wootton Basset, Belfast, Cardiff, and Newcastle, as well as London and Edinburgh. There's also one at the Menin Gate Memorial in Ypres, France. Anyone can dedicate a cross to a loved one who died, and include a personal message. It's a very moving, beautiful, and sobering memorial.

Traditionally, there's a two-minute silence at 11 a.m. No matter where you are, take a moment to remember the fallen and be thankful for all our veterans have done for us.

Ghoulish Goodies: Pretzel 'Fingers'

Lo these many years ago, my roommates and I threw a Halloween party. I baked goodies--lots and lots of them, and we invited all my one roommate's fellow Psych grad students. One of them was a handsome man who later became my husband. I dressed as a saloon girl, he dressed as...a hot guy, I guess, and the rest is history.

I like to think my appropriately creepy snacks had something to do with winning him over. The cooking's definitely helped keep him around since!

Delicious!

Amongst the offerings were these little beauties: pretzels transformed into fingers with the judicious use of almonds and red food colouring. Easy to make, particularly if you regularly make pretzels anyway, as I do, and excellent for atmosphere. These made their way to my office Halloween party, where they went over like gangbusters. I like to be able to surprise people.

Pretzel 'Fingers'

1 batch sourdough pretzel dough, rested for 3 hours
Skinless almonds
Food colouring of your choice (I usually go with red)

Bring a pan full of water to the boil and add 2T bicarbonate of soda. Preheat your oven to 190 degrees C.

While that's heating up, cut the rested dough into manageable pieces, roll each piece into a long log, and cut it into 2.5-3" sections. Roll them slightly at one end so it comes to a rounded point.

Using a small, sharp knife, insert the tip into the almonds and split them in half lengthwise. This is a bit fiddly and you can skip it if you like, but I find the whole almonds a bit bulky to make a really great fingernail and prefer to use halves.

Boil the fingers for about 30 seconds each. I advise only doing a couple at a time, so you have a chance to press on the nails before they cool and firm up too much.

After you pull the fingers out of the water, let them cool slightly, and press the almond into the rounded end, pushing firmly so it sinks into the dough and looks like a nail.

Bake the fingers for 20 minutes for softer pretzels, 35-40 minutes for hard. Cool on a wire rack.

Using a paintbrush you keep only for food, paint the nails with food colouring. It may take a few coats for them to look quite right--I think mine took 3. Let them dry thoroughly and dig in!

Ghoulish Goodies: Marshmallow Ghosts

I love making homemade marshmallows. For one thing, they're fabulous. If you've only ever tried the store-bought kind, make these just once so you can taste the difference. Like night and day. For another thing, they're a great example of kitchen alchemy, and since I'm a tiny bit of a closet science nerd, I love me some kitchen alchemy.

Yummy!

It's hard to believe that this awful-looking, brownish, liquid mass is going to turn into glorious, fluffy, white marshmallows.

Getting there...

You refuse to believe it, even as you watch the beater spin, and then all of a sudden--BOOM! You've got marshmallow fluff! And after a couple of hours of setting, you've got the best damn accompaniment to hot chocolate, chocolate fondue, or s'mores you've ever tried. So, so worth it.

Hey! Look at that!

So, it's nearly Halloween, and one of my friends sent a picture of a fabulous little cake adorned with piped marshmallow ghosts. She suggested I try these out for our little office Halloween party and, of course, I rose to the challenge. And quite a challenge it was: I didn't beat the marshmallow quite long enough, so the first couple of ghosties collapsed into Hershey kiss-shaped puddles. The middle batch were great, but by the time I piped the last few, the marshmallow had set too much and they came out less like fluffy ghosts and more like, well, dog poo, if we're being honest. Those I just cut up into little discs for tossing in cocoa, but the others got some faces painted on and are ready for their close-up at the office tomorrow.

Coming soon to a party near yoooooooou!

Marshmallow Ghosts*

1 packet gelatine
1/3 cup cold water
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup water
Black gel food colouring

1. Dissolve the gelatine in 1/3 cup water in the bowl of a stand mixer. Let sit for at least 5 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, combine the sugar and remaining water in a saucepan. Bring to a boil and boil until the sugar dissolves and the mixture reaches a temperature of 240 degrees F on a candy thermometer.

3. Fit the mixer with a whisk and start it up to get the gelatine moving. While the mixer is going, carefully pour the hot sugar syrup into the bowl. Raise the mixer speed to high and let it go for 8-10 minutes, until the mixture turns white and fluffy and holds soft peaks.

4. Spoon the mixture into a pastry bag fitted with a large, round tip. Working quickly, pipe out little ghosts (don't get too ambitious--if they're too tall, they'll topple right over). I found that piping a good, fat, solid base before gradually moving upwards helped.

5. Let the ghosties dry for at least 2 hours, or overnight. Once set, paint little faces on using the food colouring and a small paintbrush used only for food.

Cyclops is Husby's favourite

*Warning: This is not for the faint of heart or the compulsively neat. Marshmallows are messy, and you do run the risk of being burned with hot sugar if you're not careful. The first bit can be tackled with plenty of hot water, the second with plenty of cold.

Recipe source: http://lollyssweettreats.com/

Things You Won't See in the States

The U.S. and the U.K. share a lot of things--a common language (mostly), part of a shared history, slang, music and entertainment, most large companies. But then there are moments where you see something you never saw stateside, and you realize you're in a totally different place now. Things like:

Someone unicycling up Inverleith Terrace in the morning (not that there probably aren't people unicycling in cities in the U.S., but I've never seen one

Roomy cabs driven by people who aren't on the phone all the time

Bagpipers playing the Star Wars theme and We Will Rock You (you'd be surprised how well both those songs work on the bagpipe)

Cheap candies all flavoured with actual fruit

Wellies as fashion statements, even on sunny days

Clotted cream ice cream from Devon

Actual castles in the middle of bustling towns and cities

A man in a sweatshirt, work boots, and a khaki kilt just chilling with friends at a pub

Red phone boxes that people are fiercely proud of and will actually protect

Major museums with free admission (and by that I mean--all the major museums are free)

Pudding bowls for sale in every cookery store

Heated towel racks in every residential bathroom

Teeny tiny combination washer/dryers in your flat

This is an incomplete list I'm sure I'll be adding to, but in the meantime, feel free to add your suggestions in the comments.

And just in case you didn't believe what I said about We Will Rock You working on the bagpipes...

Places to Eat: Number One at the Balmoral

Yesterday was husby's birthday, and birthdays and other special occasions mean a night out at a good restaurant. On the recommendation of my chiropractor (man, how yuppie does that sound?) I secured a reservation at Number One at the Balmoral.

I'll have to thank Stuart when I see him next.

The Michelin-starred restaurant did not let us down in any way. The moment we walked in we were cheerfully greeted and taken to our table, where bottled water was already chilling. Food-wise, you have two options: either do the Chef's Tasting menu for 70 pounds or order a three-course meal a la carte for 64. We chose the a la carte option because there were dishes on that I was dying to try. I also ordered a lovely glass of Pinot from the wine list, which is extensive if you're getting wine by the bottle but a bit limited when you're just going by the glass. Oh well. We settled down, soothed by the cozy atmosphere and Billie Holiday music and waited for the meal to begin.

First up: a trio of, I suppose, pre-amuse bouches, all of which were light, delicate, and lovely. Then came the actual amuse bouche, which was a tiny fritter in a light veloute. Well done on the fritter, which could easily have been heavy and greasy but thankfully wasn't. Nobody wants a grease bomb hitting their stomach before a three-course meal.

I opted for the foie gras starter, which was served with a gingerbread biscuit and peaches--an intriguing combination that worked beautifully. The acidity of the peaches helped cut the richness of the foie (which was cooked to crisp-outside, melting-inside perfection) and the warming gingerbread contributed spices that always pair nicely with foie gras. Husby had the fig tart (figs are FABULOUS right now) with pigeon. Their pigeon was much better than my first attempt with it. Definitely juicier, and playing nicely with the sweet, ripe figs on a paper-thin pastry square.

For mains, we both leaned hearty. Husby had sirloin, served with tongue, sweetbreads (the lucky bastard) and a truffle sauce. We'd never tried tongue and were a bit wary, thinking it would be inevitably tough, but it was perfectly tender and interesting, in a very good way. The truffle sauce was handled with a light and deft hand, so the truffles didn't overpower the dish (a common problem with truffles, I find). My main course was grouse, which has just come into season, with chard and a velvety celeriac puree.Comforting, warming, and gamey without being too aggressive, it was an excellent meal for a chilly fall day.

And finally, the desserts. I went for the lemon souffle, which has to be ordered a little early, unless you want to wait 25 minutes between your main and final course. I took the sommalier's suggestion on the pudding wine and it turned out to be a perfect one (as one would expect). The towering, fluffy souffle arrived alongside a tiny scoop of iced tea sorbet and a cloud-like, lemony cream-cheese mousse topped with granola.

Husby's strawberry parfait was an absolute work of art--a Study in Pink, if you will. Someone's clearly been studying their molecular gastronomy in the kitchens here, and applying it well. The parfait was rolled up in a thin strawberry-flavoured gelee, with strawberry mousse spheres scattered amongst the cardamom beignets. It was absolutely stunning, and delicious, too. Pure taste of summer.

Number One is touted as one of the best restaurants in Scotland, and it shows. No detail is left unattended to, and though the place is rather classic in its designed (think dark wood walls), it doesn't feel stuffy. Service is cheerful, unintrusive, and helpful, and though the dishes are beautifully modern, there are charming old-fashioned flourishes as well, such as trolleys that are wheeled around the dining room with bread and cheese selections. Afterwards, a cab was called for us, and we headed home, fully satisfied, but not overly stuffed.

According to my husband, it was a wonderful birthday.

Dam Good Plums

It's plum season here in the UK, and the little jewels are everywhere: Victoria, green gage, and the famous damsons. I hadn't heard much about damsons before I came over here, but they're big on this side of the pond, and very popular with jam makers. They're considered too sour to eat alone (and they're too small to serve as much of a snack anyway, being about the size of a very large grape) but they pair beautifully with all sorts of flavourings and foods. Being a jammer myself, I thought I'd give these "soor plooms" a go.

Off to the greengrocers' I went to stock up, and stock up I did, so much I ended up making two recipes: ice cream and jam. Jam first.

Most of the recipes I found for damson jam were pretty straightforward: plus, sugar, maybe some water. But I can't leave well enough alone, so I started thinking of what I could add to really make the plum flavors sing. Plums are a good stout fruit that can hold their own against warmer, more aggressive spices like clove, so I decided to go that route, but kick it up by using one of my favourite spice blends: Chinese Five Spice. The combination of star anise, cinnamon, Sichuan pepper, cloves and fennel would at least be interesting, I figured. So, I gave it a go, and after quite a bit of tweaking (and the addition of a couple of extra spices), I had a jam I was proud of. Tangy, warming, plummy: delicious.

 

Seven-Spice Damson Plum Jam

For the sake of those who have more or less damsons than I did, I tried to keep the proportions in the recipe even so it's easier to scale up or down as necessary. Also, feel free to mess around with spice proportions, or leave the spices out altogether. Jam's fairly forgiving when it comes to flavourings, so experiment away!

500 g (about 1 lb) damson plums, washed
1/2 cup water or black tea
1-2 c sugar (depending on your tastes)
1 T Chinese Five Spice powder
1/2-1 tsp ground ginger (or use fresh ginger, peeled and chopped)
1/4 tsp ground allspice

Procedure
Place the damsons and the water in a sturdy pot over medium heat. If you're using fresh ginger, add that too.  As they warm up, the plum skins will start to split. Simmer until the plums have all split open and gotten nice and soft (about 20-30 mins). Remove the pot from the heat and let the mixture cool until you can handle it without burning your hands.

Sift through the plum guts and remove all the stones (you can chop the plums ahead of time to avoid this step, but that's a pain and I just can't be bothered. Easier to do it this way). Once all the stones are out, add the plum guts, peels, ginger (if you're using fresh), and accumulated juices to a food processor (or use a hand blender) and process until smooth. Add it all back to the pot.

Place the pot back over medium heat and add the spices and sugar. If you prefer your jam on the tangy side, use the smaller amount of sugar and adjust as you go. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer until the jam has thickened enough to coat the back of a spoon (about another 25-30 minutes). Test for deliciousness and adjust spices/sweetener as necessary.

If you're canning for later use, go ahead and do that while the jam's hot. If not, cool jam at room temperature, then store in the fridge.

Uses: This jam is good with a wide variety of dishes. Scrape it onto some toast for a delicious snack or breakfast, swirl it through whipped cream for a lovely ice cream topping, or serve with duck or other meats (I can tell you from experience, this is fabulous with duck). Enjoy!

Damson Ice Cream

Regrettably, I got here and realized I wouldn't be able to use my ice cream maker anymore, because there was no way the bowl would fit in our freezer. Luckily, I found this recipe in the Complete Traditional Recipe Book that doesn't require an ice cream maker, just a bit of an arm workout on my part. It's totally worth it. Since this is a syrup rather than a custard-based dessert, it's more like a sorbet than an ice cream, but it's still incredibly delicious and highly addictive. Excellent with a bit of whipped cream with the jam mixed in, topped by a few blackberries.

For the Syrup
700ml water
425g sugar
Juice and thinly pared zest of 1 lemon
2 drops (about 1/8 tsp) vanilla

For the Ice Cream
1 litre hot ice cream syrup
600g damson plums
150ml double or whipping cream

Bring the water and sugar to a boil in a heavy-bottomed pan, adding the lemon zest as it heats up. Let the syrup boil for exactly 1 minute, then remove from the heat and add the lemon juice and vanilla. Pour into a bowl and allow to cool, if you're planning on storing this and making the ice cream later. It can be stored in teh fridge for up to 2 weeks.

If, however, you want your ice cream tonight, then poach the damsons in teh syrup for about 10 minutes, until the fruit is soft. Leave to cool completely (the recipe book suggests overnight). When cool, remove the stones, strain, and liquidise the pulp. Scrape into a freezer-safe container and freeze for 1 hour.

Whip the heavy cream until stiff and fold completely into the ice cream mixture. Replace in the freezer.  Remove after 1 hour and mix. You'll start to see the edges hardening. Repeat the freeze/mix cycle a few more times, until the mixture hardens. It'll take 4-5 hours, but it's definitely worth it.

Recipe: Green Onion, Coriander & Chili Flatbreads

Damn you, Great British Bakeoff. Once upon a time, I was able to happily sit on my bum on a Sunday afternoon, whiling away the hours with some knitting and mindless entertainment, but then you came along and I find myself thinking, "Oh, man, now I want to make some crazy flavored breads/ridiculously intricate cakes/perfect looking pies!" And so I haul myself off to the kitchen and proceed to spend the rest of the afternoon trashing it, pulling out eggs and flour and recipe books and interrupting my previously useless tranquility with fatty deliciousness. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Green Onion, Coriander & Chili Flatbreads

2 tsp dry yeast
1 cup plus 2 T warm water
3 1/2 cups flour
2 tsp salt
3-4 green onions, sliced thinly
2 tsp ground coriander
1 1/2-2 tsp chili flakes or hot piri-piri seasoning (optional)*
1 T olive or rapeseed oil

Sprinkle the yeast into the 2T warm water and let dissolve for about 10 minutes. It should look slightly frothy.

Meanwhile, whisk together the flour, salt, coriander, and chili flakes, if you're using them. Make a well in the center of the flour and pour in the green onions, yeast, oil, and 2/3 cup water.

Mix, adding more water, if necessary, to form a firm, moist dough.

Knead on a lightly floured surface until the dough is smooth, shiny, and elastic. Put the dough in a clean bowl, cover with clingfilm, and leave in a warm place to rise until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours.

Punch the dough down and let it rest. Meanwhile, heat a griddle or skillet over medium heat until very hot.

Divide the dough into eight equal pieces androll out each piece into a round about 6" (15 cm) across and 1/2" (1 cm) thick.

Place the dough rounds on the hot griddle or pan and prick all over with a fork to prevent large air bubbles from forming. Cook each flatbread until golden brown on both sides, about 5 minutes per side. Set aside while you cook the others.

Serve with houmous, curry, or cheese for a delicious lunch or afternoon snack.

*If you're not partial to spicy things, consider replacing the chili with some freshly grated lemon peel. I find the lemony flavor compliments coriander quite beautifully.

On the Fringe: The Ash Girl

Cast your memory back to childhood and remember Disney's Cinderella. Remember that one? With the cute talking mice and the grandmotherly fairy godmother? Ok, now think of the exact opposite of that and you'll have The Ash Girl. Disney's Cinderella was basically a Stepford Smiler who didn't seem to really mind the horrific abuse she was living with. The Ash Girl is suicidally depressed, lives next to a forest inhabited by the seven deadly sins, and is nearly accidentally raped by her own father (it's also hinted that her father married her stepmother because he had certain 'needs' and his daughter was getting just a little too pretty.) It's dark and disturbing as hell, but it's also pretty awesome. Read the full review here

The Edinburgh Military Tattoo

If you come to Scotland in August for anything, come for the Military Tattoo. It's a hell of a show (and since you're coming here in the first place, I'm going to go ahead and assume you already like bagpipes.)

I'm not a night owl--I'm lame, so there are few things that will tempt me from my cozy home at 10:30 at night, and yet, there I was, climbing to the very top of section 11 in front of Edinburgh Castle, husband in tow, settling in and excitedly waiting for everything to start. It was definitely worth staying up for.

There was a dance paying tribute to tartan weaving:

And a nod to the new Disney/Pixar film Brave (Scotland's really excited about that)

And, because this is Scotland, we had to be reminded of the fact that this is the land o'whiskey, with one of the prettiest dances of the evening:

The Australians showed up and rocked out. They started off singing and playing some old traditional tunes and then turned the whole arena into a disco as they launched into Highway to Hell. The Australian military is clearly the coolest on earth.

The Americans were playful too, paying tribute to comic book characters and superheroes through the years:

A group of highly talented drummers/Three Musketeers extras from Switzerland paid tribute to binary code:

I'm going to assume that they were tapping out some super-important message in code as well, just to bring it all together. The King's Guard from Norway was there, just to prove there are no hard feelings over those centuries of Norse invasions:

This part becomes even more impressive when you realize these are not professional soldiers at all, but conscripts doing their compulsory year of military service. Well done, gentlemen! There was also a piece celebrating the industrial revolution in dance that was much cooler than Danny Boyle's strange phallocentric celebration of earth-rape during the Olympics opening ceremony. Sorry, don't have video of that one, just take my word for it. And, of course, at the end, everybody came out -- bands, dancers, and a shetland pony (sure, why not?) to celebrate the Queen's Diamond Jubilee in a restaging of her coronation at Westminster Abbey:

After that, we took a few solemn moments to pay tribute to those who have fallen in service to their country (you can't read it, but the projection on the castle is the tombstone of the Unknown Soldier in Westminster Abbey)

And, finally, the pipers played everyone out with a rousing rendition of 'Scotland the Brave':

On the Fringe: A Brief History of Scotland -- We Done Loads!

Quick, when I say “Scotland”, what do you think of? Kilts? Whiskey? Bagpipes? FYI, none of those were actually invented here (a fact that’s difficult to remember when all you see is kilted bagpipers playing outside of whiskey shops up and down the Royal Mile). Want to find out the real history of Scotland? Well, a book might be a good bet. But if you want to get a fun take on Scottish history that pokes fun at itself and features Sean Connery voiceover narrating as God, check out A Brief History of Scotland — We Done Loads! Read full review

On the Fringe: Allotment

It was so nice of Edinburgh to finally realize it was summer the very week I had to sit in the middle of a garden to watch Allotment. I basked in the bright sunshine, enjoying the cup of tea and scone that was provided (delicious!) and prepared myself for an hour’s worth of lovely entertainment. Boy, was I wrong. Not wrong about the play being entertaining — it was as good as the refreshments; better than I expected, in fact. But it wasn’t light by any means. Read the full review here

Recipe: Gin and Tonic

It seems the weather gods have finally started to feel ashamed of the way they treated us this summer. And really, they should. Making the summer of the Jubilee, the Olympics, and our first season here one of the coldest, wettest, and most miserable on record? Not cool, weather gods.
But August has been a bit different, for the most part. There have actually been sunny warm days. I’ve been able to put my jumpers and cardigans aside and put on those cute sundresses I brought from the States! This weekend, temperatures are set to hit 31 degrees C (which is hot, quite hot) in some parts of the country. We’re looking at about 21-24 up here in Edinburgh, which is just fine by us. Warm enough to be pleasant without being unbearably steamy. Still, I’m sure that plenty of people will be reaching for the Pimm’s or that other hot weather standby, the gin and tonic.
The classic G+T actually has an interesting history to it: it was originally introduced by the army of the British East India Company in India in the early 19^th century. See, the British soldiers and colonists got down to India and realized there were bugs there. Specifically, malaria-toting mosquitoes. Quinine was an effective treatment for the disease, but its bitter taste made it unpalatable. So, they did what any sensible person would do: added booze. Enough gin and you won’t remember what flavour means anyway. They also used to add sugar and lime to the quinine and gin. Nowadays, tonic water has much less quinine, so it’s less bitter, but we still cling to that lovely gin and tonic (or vodka tonic, which we can now enjoy because we’re all kind of friends with Russia again). Sit back, enjoy the lovely weather, and treat yourself to a tipple!
Gin and Tonic
2 oz gin
5 oz tonic water
1 lime wedge
1 tsp lime juice (optional)
Pour gin, tonic water, and optional lime juice into a highball glass over ice. Stir well and garnish with a lime wedge.

On the Fringe: I Shall Be Remembered

Anyone who reads my other blog knows I'm a big fan of history, particularly women's history. So when I heard there was a show at the Fringe about the life of Madame de Pompadour, the mistress of France's Louis XV, my immediate reaction was, "I'm so there!" Really, how perfect is that? I even dragged my husband along. We settled down, anticipating a good show.

And dear god, but were we sorely disappointed. I was foolishly expecting a semi-nuanced portrait of a woman who managed to rise from the middle classes to the height of power in mid-18th century France (not an easy feat, by any means), but instead we were presented with a giddy, shallow, and utterly stupid creature that must have the real Pompadour spinning in her grave. Poor lady. She skips about the stage, babbling about portraits and palaces, pausing for about two seconds to mourn the death of her supposedly beloved daughter, and then perking back up and talking about a new dress. Oh, and apparently the woman who helped run the Seven Years' War didn't even know where Canada was. Yes, Canada, one of the larges and most economically important French colonies. Sheesh. I actually hope that Pompadour will be remembered -- she was, after all, a highly intelligent and remarkable woman, but I hope she won't be remembered for this hot mess. Read the full review here.

On the Fringe: Female Gothic

It was, with some reluctance, that I traded a sunny day (there have been so few this summer) for a dark theatre on Friday, but I did it for Female Gothic, because dammit, I'm a reviewer now and sacrifices must be made! And that sacrifice was well rewarded with an interesting, thought-provoking, beautifully acted play that entertains while commenting on women's art, status, and struggles during the Victorian period. Learn more and read my full review here.

Freedom Fighter

After managing to evade pursuers for seven years following his defeat at the Battle of Falkirk, Scottish freedom fighter William Wallace was captured on 5 August 1305 when one of his countrymen, John de Menteith, turned him over to English soldiers near Glasgow.

Wallace, who’d been making life hell for the English for almost a decade, was taken to Westminster Hall in London, where he was tried for treason and atrocities against civilians. An oak garland was placed on his head to suggest he was king of the outlaws. Wallace protested the treason charge, as he claimed he was never a subject of the English king, Edward and that John Balliol was really his king. Nonetheless, he was found guilty and, on 23 August, he was taken to the Tower of London, stripped naked, and dragged through the city to Smithfield. There, he was hanged, drawn, and quartered. His head was preserved in tar and placed atop London Bridge and his limbs sent to the four corners of the country as a warning. The Scottish Wars of Independence dragged on, with a brief respite, until almost the end of the century (and, one could argue, they continue to be fought even today).

Fringe Survival

The annual Fringe Festival has officially begun, which means overwhelming numbers of people and shows. Whether you're a local or an out-of-towner, you're going to have to contend with both at some point (unless you go on holiday for the entire month of August, which is, incidentally, when the rest of Europe goes on holiday).

I'm spending the month of August voluntarily diving straight into the Fringe: I'm reviewing plays for FringeGuru.com; I did my first one, Female Gothic, yesterday (it's great, by the way, go check it out) and I probably have another one lined up for today. I've already gotten a taste of what Fringe-season Edinburgh is like and I've quickly adapted to it (no choice, really, it's either adapt or get run over or buried in flyers!) Here are a few things I've learned:

Pace Yourself. This is definitely number one. There are thousands of shows on, and the Fringe is only one festival happening in August (there are also the International Festival and the Book Festival). The Fringe catalogue of shows alone is half an inch thick. Unless you don't need rest or sleep, if you try to see everything that sounds interesting to you, you'll die of exhaustion. My suggestion: pick one festival (say, the Fringe) and focus on areas that are of particular interest to you (maybe comedy and theatre). Read the descriptions of those shows and pick some to go see. This is not to say you might not add to your list later -- there are plenty of free shows happening, and flyers are being thrust at you from all sides as you walk down the Mile, so surely you'll hear about something else you want to see -- but at least this way you're not spending weeks just trying to get through the show descriptions.

Take Time to Enjoy the City. Edinburgh's awesome. Yes, the Royal Mile's cool, but there are lots and lots of other neat areas to discover that aren't choked with people right now. Take a break from all the darkened theatres, stretch your legs, and explore the New Town (not just Prince's Street) or Leith. Loathe as I am to encourage crowds of people to head to my neighborhood (what can I say? I like it quiet and I'm a little selfish), my neck of the woods, Stockbridge, is incredibly charming. Lots of little restaurants that won't be too crowded, and cute boutique-y shops you won't find anywhere else (which is not something you can say about George or Prince's Street). Pop into one of the free museums -- they've got some great exhibitions on now.

Bring Good Walking Shoes. For some reason, the locals are fine with tottering about on crazy high heels. That's because they're slightly insane. This city is very hilly and cobblestones are still a very popular paving material, particularly in the older sections (where almost all the Fringe activity is going on). Those heels that make your legs look great will inevitably get jammed in a crack in the street and you'll either faceplant or find yourself desperately trying to tug free while a bus bears down on you. Wear flats.


Don't Complain About the Weather. Seriously, this is such a cliche anyway. We know it's cooler than it is in the U.S., that's why we have jumpers and jackets. We know it's wet (it's been unseasonably rainy this year, so no cracks about how 'typical' the rain is), that's why we have cute wellies and brollys. You can find all of these things at John Lewis, British Home Stores, or any of the department stores right on Prince's Street, so go ahead and kit yourself up and get used to carrying an umbrella around at all times.

Get a Sturdy Umbrella. Speaking of umbrellas: get a good one. Rain and wind go hand-in-hand here, and that cheapo you bought won't last a second. Invest in a decent umbrella or you'll regret it fast.

Brace Yourself for Flyers. Getting around the Royal Mile or any of its side streets is like running a paper gauntlet. Hands appear from all sides, thrusting flyers at you and begging you to go see this or that show. You can do a few things here: focus straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact or acknowledging the flyer-givers; perfect an incredibly fierce stare that warns people not to approach; murmur a polite refusal; just take the flyers (though by the end of a 100-yard walk you may have more than you can carry). Whatever you do, remember that these are all artists trying to promote their shows or students working for minimum wage to promote a show, so don't be a jerk to them no matter how annoyed you are by all the offers.

Don't Mention the Tram Works. Believe me, the locals are far, far more annoyed than you are by the endless tram works that have torn up the middle of the city, ruining businesses and making traffic a hellish mess. It's not your cabbie's fault he now has to go out of his way to get you back to your hotel, so don't think he's cheating you. He's not. And if you mention this to a local in a pub or something, you might just get an endless tirade about stupid, corrupt, inept politicians our tax dollars still have to pay off, even though this whole thing's been bungled from day one, and isn't it a shame how Prince's Street has so many empty stores now because trade fell off so sharply while it was closed? Just don't go there.

Try the Haggis. Just once, to say you did.

How about it, Fringegoers? Any other tips to add?

Spot the Tourist/Spot the Local

 The Fringe Festival is starting up, which means this city is FULL of tourists. I've heard so many American accents lately it's like I never left the U.S. Old Town and the most central part of New Town is where they tend to gather, which means a walk down Prince's Street is a great opportunity to play "Spot the Local/Spot the Tourist". How do you tell the two apart? Here are a few clues.

Tourist: Stopping to take pictures of Edinburgh Castle
Local: Slamming into them while texting

Tourist: Dressed in sensible shoes and suitcase-friendly, anti-wrinkle clothes
Local: Dressed in black stockings, high heels, and a short skirt

Tourist: Bundled up like it's January because it's only 62 degrees out
Local: Wearing shorts and a tee shirt because it's 62 degrees out!

Tourist: Looking befuddled by the weather
Local: Carrying an umbrella even though it's perfectly sunny out

Tourist: Taking pictures of double decker buses and the Royal Mile
Local: Riding one and steering well clear of the other

Tourist: Looking up whiskey tours
Local: Grabbing a bottle from their local corner shop

Tourist: Wondering why there are so few kilts on the street
Local: Wearing a non-traditional kilt mostly around their neighborhood or renting one for a wedding or other special occasion, because the full kit is seriously expensive

Tourist: Thinks the pasties and sausage rolls at Greggs are "English Food"
Local: Thinks the pasties and sausage rolls at Greggs are "drunk student food"

Tourist: Tripping over cobblestones
Local: Tripping over cobblestones (some things are just universal)

Edinburgh Jazz Festival

Aga Zaryan, courtesy Edinburgh Jazz & Blues Festival

Most people think festival season over here starts with the Fringe (which kicks off next weekend), but they're wrong. It actually begins two weeks earlier with the Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival.

I don't know who does publicity for this event, but I think they're doing a fairly sub-par job, because I hadn't even heard about it until a day or two before it started, even though it's been going on since 1978. You'd think they'd have their PR machine together by now. Or, maybe it's one of those ''you have to be in the know'' kinds of things. If it is, it shouldn't be, because the Festival's pretty awesome. This year, it drew in dozens of the finest jazz and blues musicians from all over the world to perform in venues in and around the Royal Mile. Tickets were, generally, quite reasonably priced (most around 10 pounds) and there were two big free events: a Mardi Gras parade at the Grassmarket and a carnival on Prince's Street.

Husby's a big fan of bluesy jazz, so we went to Aga Zaryan's show on Wednesday evening. Zaryan and her band were one of many groups from Poland appearing at the show, and they were fantastic, mixing their own songs with works by other composers and poets and one or two jazz standards.

So, music fans, just in case the word doesn't get out next year--definitely drop by Edinburgh for the festival if you're in the neighborhood. It's well worth the price of admission.

Hit or Miss: Cafe Fish

By some miracle, I was offered a website editor position with the Scottish Book Trust, which means I get to spend my professional days encouraging people to fall in love with reading and writing. For me, that's basically the exact description of a dream job, so naturally Dear Husband and I wanted to go out and celebrate. We settled on the rather unimaginatively named Cafe Fish for a few reasons: 1. It's local; 2. It's a celebrated fish restaurant in a city that's great for fish, and we love our seafood. Off we went.

In terms of decor, the place is...well, I guess it's a tiny bit incongruous and odd. It's housed in an old building that still has some old wood detailing around the room, but all the fittings, tables, and chairs are sleekly modern and a bit on the chilly side, being mostly metal and black plastic. My guess is they didn't want the place to seem stuffy, and they accomplished that. Strangely, the setup works, though I feel like it would be a little less pleasant on a cold, gray winter's night.

For us, the issues started early, and they were all about service. My husband's drink was wrong--almost completely wrong. The waiter utterly disregarded about half of what he asked for, so that had to be sent back. My prosecco came out without incident, as did the glass of wine I had with my entree. Getting alcohol is no problem here, but if you want to have your water glass refilled, good luck. Ours were ignored completely; the only reason we got more water at all was because my husband managed to flag down another table's waitress. The food was also interminably slow to come out. Normally I'd blame this on the kitchen, but I found it suspicious that another table had time to sit down, eat a two-course meal with wine, pay their bill and leave all before we'd managed to finish our entrees. And it's not like they were speed eating either. There was probably a good 15-20 minute gap between when our appetizers were finished and our entrees appeared, which is absurd when you're talking about fish served with sides that have, most likely, been prepped ahead of time. We got our puddings all right, but then the waiter, who'd been asked to bring the bill, disappeared completely. We never saw him again. The waitress at the table next to us brought the bill after we asked. I think this might have been the only time I've ever dined out and chosen not to leave a tip. I've waitressed in the past and I tend to be very forgiving and generous, but this service was terrible.

Food-wise, the place was all right. Our appetizers were quite delicious (a crab salad with heirloom tomatoes for me, cured trout with beets for him) and my entree (sea bass with spiced aubergine) was lovely both in flavor and appearance. My husband's entree of roasted cod, which cost an extra 2 pounds supplement, was a near complete disappointment. The cod was dull, just a roasted slab of fish that had been seasoned, certainly nothing I couldn't have made at home. The flabby skin on it was unappealing, as was the overly wet puree it perched on, which was as inspiring as the wet sponge it resembled. It gave both of us a definite sad, because cod is a beautiful fish that can stand up to some great flavors, and they just did nothing with it. My pudding -- bramble frangipane tart with ginger ice cream, was nice, with decent flaky pastry and a clean ginger flavor to the ice cream that nicely complimented the rich brambles.

Cafe Fish is only one of many, many seafood restaurants around town, and it's not one we intend to return to when the competition is so high and so good. The prices seemed steep (22 pounds for 2 courses), especially when you can go to somewhere like Angels with Bagpipes for 16 pounds for three courses, and probably get a much better dining experience. Several of the items on the menu cost extra, and I suspect they charged us for a second basket of bread (which we only needed because of the long wait between courses) -- there was a mysterious additional 3 pound charge on the bill we couldn't account for, but since it had been such a struggle to get the bill in the first place, we just let it go and went home, somewhat the wiser.

Verdict: Miss. There are dozens of other, better places to go in this town.

Super Simple Sourdough Starter

As a person who loves to cook and bake, I've been pretty bowled over by the ingredients suddenly available to me over here. The spices alone are enough to send me into overdrive (oh, piri piri, where have you been all my life?) but the flours! Oh, the flours! There's a flour for everything, and some pretty cool specialty ones as well. While perusing the shelves at my local Waitrose, I came across Bacheldre Watermill's organic line and thought, "I'll bet these would make great sourdough starters."

I've done sourdough starters in the past, but they've always been "cheater starters" that used commercial yeast to get the ball rolling. This time, I was determined to do it the old-fashioned way, just using the wild yeast already in the flour. Armed with a sack of stoneground strong malted blend, I settled down to find a recipe I could work with.

What I found was a whole lot of complicated. People out there are passionate about their sourdough, which is great and all, but I think they're making things a lot harder than they need to be, especially for us newbies. They're a bit too deep into the chemistry, and some of these recipes get out of hand. I found one that called for at least half a dozen ingredients. Others told me to add organic grapes to get the yeast going. Yet another called for ten pounds of flour mixed up in a barrel. Who the hell is making that much sourdough starter in their home? This was insane.

You know what you need for sourdough starter? Water and flour. That's it. You don't need special filtered water, tap will do just fine. You may want to go for an organic flour, though. I've heard the wild yeasts are a bit more active in it because it hasn't been processed as much or sprayed with chemicals. It's what I used, and it worked beautifully. You don't need to stick fruit in there--in fact, I'd strongly advise against that, because that sounds like a great way to introduce mold to your starter. You don't need pineapple juice or three different kinds of flour. White, whole wheat, or rye will work just fine, it all depends on your taste.

Let's get started, shall we?

Sourdough Starter

Day 1: In a large jar or plastic container (anything not metal), mix 3 1/2 Tablespoons of flour with 1/4 cup warm (not hot) water. Cover loosely so the gases can escape and set aside in a warm spot for the next 48 hours, stirring 2-3 times per day. You may start to see bubbles on the top during this period. If you do, great, you're off to a good start! If not, don't panic, it doesn't mean your starter didn't take. Some just take a little while to get going.

Bubble up, baby! My starter after the first couple of days

Day 3: After 48 hours has passed, feed the starter with another 2 T flour and 2T water. Once again, leave for 48 hours, stirring 2-3 times per day.

Day 5: Time to start really building this puppy up. Feed with 5 1/4T flour and 3T water. Leave for 24 hours, stirring 2-3 times. At this point, you should be seeing some bubbles in the top.

The starter again after a few days. As you can see, it's less wildly bubbly than it was in the beginning, but still has some action going on

The same starter from the side. You can see little air bubbles here--just what you want!

Day 6: Add about 1/2 cup flour and just under 1/4 cup water. You should now have your starter going. If this hasn't bubbled at all and doesn't bubble even a little after the last feeding, start over. Don't be discouraged--this can be a slightly delicate process, and sometimes starters just don't take. It's probably not something you did. Try, try again.

What I saw: my starter bubbled up on the first day, which was gratifying. After the first few days, it settled down a lot and I just got a couple of bubbles on the top and could see a few on the sides of the jar. That's normal, and my bread still rose just fine. Just because it's not bubbling wildly doesn't mean it's dead. Starters, once they've gotten off the ground, are fairly difficult to really kill. Even if you leave it at the back of the fridge for weeks without feeding it, you can probably still resurrect it with a good feed or two.

You'll start to notice your sourdough taking on some interesting smells as it develops. Mine started smelling strongly of vinegar--don't worry about that, it's completely normal. If the smell's too strong for your taste, remove half the starter and feed as directed below.

Care and feeding: Like pets, sourdough starters need to be fed. The experts say that starters kept out on the kitchen counter should be fed everyday, though I have to admit, I didn't do this with mine and it seemed just fine. So don't panic if you forget about it for a few days. Unless you're baking sourdough every day, you'll probably want to put your starter in the fridge once it's gotten off the ground. Refrigerated starters only need to be fed once a week or so, and since I tend to bake once a week, I just feed it when I'm baking. Saves on waste that way too, since I don't discard what I remove from the starter to feed it.

To feed your starter: Remove about half of it. Either use that half in a recipe or discard it. Feed the remaining starter with equal weights water and flour, stir, let it sit at room temperature for a few hours, and once it's bubbling a bit, loosely cover it and return it to the fridge.

Word of Warning: If you ever see mold inside the container your starter is in, throw it all away. The same goes for any liquid that has a reddish or pinkish colour to it. If, however, your starter gets a dark-colored liquid on top, don't worry. That's hooch. Just pour it out.

Ready for some recipes?

Sourdough Pretzels
I love snacking on sourdough pretzels, but for some strange reason, they're impossible to find over here. Being me, I decided to start making my own.

3/4-1 cup sourdough starter
2 3/4 cup flour
1/2 cup warm water
1 scant tsp salt
1 dipped tsp honey (optional)
1T baking soda
Sea salt for sprinkling

If you're refrigerating your starter, take it out of the fridge the night before you plan to bake and let it come to room temperature. In the morning, remove 1/2 cup starter and feed that 1/2 cup with 1/4 cup flour and equal weight warm water (around 3 T). Mix it up, cover loosely with plastic wrap, and set aside for a couple of hours. Feed your mother starter and return it to the fridge.

Once the starter has fed and grown a bit (it should come to 3/4-1 cup starter), it's time to get started. Mix the water, salt, and honey (if using) in a bowl until the salt dissolves. Add the starter, stirring to break it up (*note: make sure you don't add your starter to HOT water. That kills the yeast. Stick a finger in the water and, if you can comfortably hold it in there, the water should be fine. If you get scalded, wait for it to cool down).

Add the flour, 1/2 cup at a time, and knead to form a fairly stiff dough. Place the dough in a clean bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let proof for 2 hours.

Remove the dough from the bowl, cut it into several pieces, and form each piece into a long rope. Either shape the rope into pretzels or cut it into small pillows to make pretzel nuggets.

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees C/425 F. While the oven's preheating, bring a pan of water to the boil on the hob, adding the baking soda and stirring to dissolve. When the water's boiling, add the pretzels in batches and boil them for about 30 seconds to a minute to develop that nice crust on the outside. Remove them to a cooling rack set over a baking sheet so they can dry off. Once they're dried, place them on a baking sheet lined with a silpat and sprinkle them with sea salt or toppings of your choice. Bake for 40-45 minutes, until browned and crunchy (if you want a softer pretzel, bake for 20-25 minutes). Cool and enjoy!

Sourdough Loaf

I'm just going to warn you, sourdough bread is not for the impatient. It takes longer for wild yeast to raise dough than commercial yeast, so there's quite a lot of rising time here. It's worth it, though. This bread is delicious--perfect toasted, as a sandwich, or just on its own. Try not to dig into it right away (if you can!); the flavor develops as the bread cools, so it's actually more delicious later on.

Recipe by Laura Hart

5oz/150g sourdough starter
1.1 lb/500g strong white flour
1/2 T fine table salt
Cornmeal or semolina for dusting

In a large bowl, mix the flour, starter, and 10 fluid oz/300 ml water, stirring just enough to make a sticky dough. Cover with plastic wrap and let rest for 20 min.

Mix the salt with 3T water and add to the dough. Cover again and leave for an hour.

Scrape the dough onto a lightly floured work surface. Shape it into a square, then stretch out one side (being careful not to tear the dough) and fold it over into the middle. Repeat the stretching and folding with the other three sides. At this point, the dough will be pretty sticky. Resist the urge to use too much flour--just use enough to keep it from totally sticking to your work surface and hands. Return the dough to the bowl, cover, and leave for an hour.

Repeat the stretching and folding and return to the bowl for another hour.

Stretch and fold once more. You should notice bubbles forming in the dough. Form it into a round loaf by cupping it between your hands and rotating it, tucking the edges underneath until it forms a smooth ball.

Line a colander or basket with a clean dishcloth and dust it with flour. Gently place the loaf in the basket, top side down. Sprinkle the bottom of the loaf with cornmeal or semolina, cover, and let rise for about 2 hours, until a little less than doubled in size. At this point, you can stash your loaf in the fridge if you want to bake the following day.

When you're ready to bake, bring the dough to room temperature (if you've had it in the fridge) while you preheat the oven to 230 degrees C/445 F. Let the oven preheat for at least half an hour, or 20 minutes after the "ready" light goes off, to ensure the inside of the oven is good and hot. For a really good, crisp crust, put a baking sheet or cake tin at the bottom of the oven or on the lowest rack while the oven's warming up.

Gently tip the loaf onto a baking sheet dusted with cornmeal. Slash a # or other decoration in the top of the loaf so the steam has somewhere to escape through (otherwise you may have steam blowing out the sides of your loaf, which doesn't look pretty). Place the loaf in the oven, and toss a few ice cubes onto the baking sheet on the bottom of the oven to create steam. Close the oven door and resist the temptation to open it and check your bread. Bake for 30-40 minutes, until the bread is golden and sounds hollow when it's tapped on the bottom. Cool on a wire rack and enjoy!

The Chap Olympiad

Image: Matthew Lloyd/Getty Images

Oh Britain, I love you. Don’t ever change.

One of the things I love about this country is its sense of humor, and the fact that it’s not afraid to make fun of itself from time to time. To that end, we have the Chap Olympiad, billed as Britain’s most eccentric sporting event, dedicated to celebrating “athletic ineptitude and immaculate trouser creases.” Honestly, it’s like something the crew at the Drones Club would have come up with.

Held annually in Bedford Square in London, contestants show up dressed to the nines and let their inner Bertie Wooster out for an afternoon in such events as Ironing Board Surfing, Umbrella Jousting, the Cucumber Sandwich Discus, and the Butler Relay. Sure, at least one of the events might have been a bit racist (Foreigner Shouting, in which contestants had to try and buy an item from a non-English speaking shopowner without killing said shopowner in frustratiom) but it seems like it’s generally a lighthearted (and well-dressed) afternoon. This year’s event was held on the 7 and 8 of July and you can see pictures from the day here. To learn more about the games, get tickets for next year, and catch up on past years’ events, visit thechapolympiad.com.

Royals on the Royal Mile

I SAW THE QUEEN YESTERDAY!

Ok, sorry about the shouting. Excited, you know. Let me back up. This is what's known as Holyrood Week -- the time of year her majesty travels north to Edinburgh to get all her official Scottish duties out of the way before she can kick back at Balmoral for a while. While she was here, she visited the National Portrait Gallery, held a tea party, and made Prince William a Knight of the Thistle. The Thistle ceremony, held at St. Giles' Cathedral on the Royal Mile, was yesterday. I didn't really care much about the ceremony -- certainly not enough to join the enormous crowds of people gathered outside the cathedral for a glimpse of the royals, but I did very much care about the parade of bagpipers who were going to march down the Mile, gather in front of the Parliament building, and put on a show with Scottish dancers and the band Whiskey Kiss. I love me some bagpipe music, and I used to actually do Highland Dance in college, so it holds a special place in my heart. Special enough for me to hoof it down to the Mile, where I fought through those massive crowds and, fortuitously, managed to arrive at the Parliament building precisely at one o'clock, when the concert was due to start.

It was definitely worth the walk. The massed pipe bands played familiar, soaring melodies that brought a tear to the eye, and Whiskey Kiss totally rocked out with their eclectic blend of folk music and electronic beats. If you don't think bagpipes can rock, here's proof otherwise (warning, you may want to turn your computer's volume down a bit. For some reason, this recorded very, very loudly):

The lungs on that guy, huh?

The dancers came out several times, performing along with Whiskey Kiss. Here they are doing a reel (apologies for the shaky cam--I was using my phone to record this):

After one last tune from the pipe bands and a bow from the dancers, the show was over, and we all trooped back up the Mile. I took a minute to duck into a cafe for a latte, and when I came out I couldn't help but notice that everyone was suddenly scurrying out of the street and lining up on either side, prepping cameras, while the police manning the barriers at nearby Waverley Bridge stood around expectantly, apparently ready to spring into action to block traffic. Something exciting was clearly going on, and by sheer dumb luck, I was in an area of the Mile where the huge crowds were not, so I had an unobstructed view of the street. The traffic wardens threw up the barrier and...

 They're heeeere...

In car #1

All right, I know it's basically impossible to see thanks to the glare, but that's Prince Philip in the foreground, with the queen beside him. The second car carried the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, and the third one had Princess Anne all by her lonesome (guess Cdr. Lawrence was busy yesterday). I have to admit, it was a bit of a rush to see them all, but then, I'm a royalty nerd.

I ran a few errands and finally headed home. While walking down my street towards my flat, I noticed a motorcycle policeman ride by, followed by another one, and both stopped in the nearby intersection and held up traffic. This is unusual, so I figured someone interesting was coming. I stopped and turned just in time to see a Land Rover with William and Kate inside zoom past, followed by their security detail. A little extra royal bonus at the end of the day!