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!

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

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.

Delicious Discovery: Fallachan Blaand

Is that not one of the most Scottish-sounding names you've ever heard?

Ok, you're going to think I'm insane with this one, and to be fair, you're not alone. Even the waitress thought I was crazy when I ordered it at A Room in the Town the other night. But the thing is, I've gotten to the point where I've become a risk-taking eater, to some extent. The crazier something sounds on a menu, the more I want to try it. So when I spotted Blaand on their puddings menu with the other after-dinner drinks and saw that it was a liquor made from whey (the leftovers from making cheese), I thought: 'that just sounds too bizarre to pass up!'

When the waitress came back around I passed on pudding but asked for a glass of the Blaand. She stared at me and asked, "Are you sure? Do you know what it is?" I smiled pleasantly back and said I did. She hurried off to fetch me a taste before pouring a full glass, probably figuring she was dealing with a tourist getting in over her head and anticipating me spitting a glassful right in my husband's face, which is a pain to clean up.

Back she came with a glass of honeysuckle-colored liquor, which surprised me. I guess because I had cheese on the brain, I half expected it to look milky, almost like a white Russian or something. This was soothingly familiar looking, like a glass of a rich chardonnay. I sniffed, I tasted.

I liked.

It's like nothing I'd ever drunk before, and I used to write a wine column, so I've tried a fair number of quaffs. The first flavor is an eye-opening saltiness that says: "This is not your average after-dinner drink. Brace yourself." But then it moves right along to a tasty sour note tempered by a lightly sweetened edge, like honeyed Granny Smith apples. To finish, there's a slightly earthy flavour that, I'm ashamed to admit, I couldn't quite place, but it was quite pleasing and left me wanting more. The shocked waitress obligingly brought me a full glass, which I polished off slowly. This, like most after-dinner drinks, is a sipper, and it was actually wonderfully refreshing on a summer evening. The menu advises you try it with cheese (makes sense, it being the product of a cheese byproduct), and yes, it would be an excellent accompaniment to a fairly strong or heavy cheese that needs something to cut the richness. It would be marvelous with a blue, for example, or even a creamy brie.

Having raved about it, I have to admit that this probably isn't for everyone. I got the distinct impression that you either love this stuff (me) or hate it (waitress), but it's definitely worth trying, even if it's just so you can say you did it.

Blaand actually has a nice long history in Scotland, even longer than the whiskey this country is so well known for. It was brought over by the Vikings way back when, and it has the distinction of not being classifiable as a wine, a spirit, or a beer because of what it's made out of. It has about the same alcohol content as wine and is served in similar quantities.

Blaand was produced on a small scale throughout Scotland for years, mostly by farmers and crofters who were making cheese and hated to waste the whey. It was used for medicinal purposes and sailors used to take barrels of it on board ship to help them stay warm. With the advent of more mechanized farming and cheese production in the 20th century, the production of Blaand petered out, only to be revived in the last few years by a historian-turned-Lanarkshire farmer named Humphrey Errington (who is also credited with creating the now-famous Lanark Blue cheese). Errington was looking for a way to use the whey on his farm and found an old recipe for Blaand. He whipped some up, aged it in oak casks, and named it "Fallachan," which is Gaelic for "hidden treasure."

A most apt name, I'd say.