Differently English
Apr. 28th, 2011 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceSo apparently there's some kind of wedding going on tomorrow, and the whole country's supposed to be obsessed by it.
Myself, I would hardly have noticed, except for being irritated by the inconvenience of everything shutting down* and having to roll my eyes even more than usual when I catch a glimpse of any tabloid newspaper. I am English to the core**, but that breed of Englishman that Really Doesn't Care about the royal family, apart from being marginally nauseated by the way they make an exhibition of their wealth and privilege. I don't even care enough to want to abolish them; I just want them not to get in my way. Which means more or less in my consciousness. So long as I don't have to think about them, we're fine.
Conversely, one of my brightest, wisest and most political friends is utterly captivated by the whole celebrity thing. She reads Hello magazine, and knows who all those people are. And of course she's having a party for the wedding. To me she said barbecue, and that was fine; I could be out on the patio with the firebox making food happen, while she watched TV and consumed same. Sorted.
Except that apparently it's a morning thing, mostly, and she wants to start with a champagne breakfast. And half her family's coming up, so please will I do breakfast for ten, and can we have the kedgeree I made for Boxing Day...?
Yes, of course, no worries - except that I am English, I am a child of a child of empire, and kedgeree holds an absolute position in my heart and in my head. The Indian kichree from which it descends is a dish of rice and lentils, but kedgeree is a product of the Raj, and is all about smoked haddock. As it happens, a couple of days ago we stopped by a smokehouse up the coast and I did come home with exactly that - but I have spent two days thinking about kedgeree and breakfast, and wondering what I did with the spices and so forth, because I knew something was wrong and I couldn't work out what. I was sure I hadn't done what I normally do, but.
Took me till this morning to work it out. Nothing to do with the spicing; all to do with the fish, and the company. Karen was here over Christmas, and she doesn't much like fish. I don't think there's any way in the world I could feed her smoked haddock. But, she had brought me some hot-smoked salmon, which she is prepared to eat. And that's what happened, it was a smoked salmon take on kedgeree. Wholly different spicings also, but that's okay: now I know what I'm working from, I do know where I'm going.
All I have to do now is figure out what I did about the eggs. Which are also traditional, and which Helen doesn't like in the way I like to do them.
Oh, and source some hot-smoked salmon, as I have no Karen here to produce it from her luggage. Barry is missing luggage, since my guests left yesterday. I am suddenly missing Karen. Damn.
Still, salmon shouldn't be a difficulty. I am after all that breed of Englishman who is actually half Scots.
*Why yes, I do mean the Lit & Phil. How did you guess?
**During a panel at FogCon, one of my fellow panelists glanced down the table at me and said "How does it feel to be fetishised?" I think she must have been confusing me with Neil Gaiman.
Myself, I would hardly have noticed, except for being irritated by the inconvenience of everything shutting down* and having to roll my eyes even more than usual when I catch a glimpse of any tabloid newspaper. I am English to the core**, but that breed of Englishman that Really Doesn't Care about the royal family, apart from being marginally nauseated by the way they make an exhibition of their wealth and privilege. I don't even care enough to want to abolish them; I just want them not to get in my way. Which means more or less in my consciousness. So long as I don't have to think about them, we're fine.
Conversely, one of my brightest, wisest and most political friends is utterly captivated by the whole celebrity thing. She reads Hello magazine, and knows who all those people are. And of course she's having a party for the wedding. To me she said barbecue, and that was fine; I could be out on the patio with the firebox making food happen, while she watched TV and consumed same. Sorted.
Except that apparently it's a morning thing, mostly, and she wants to start with a champagne breakfast. And half her family's coming up, so please will I do breakfast for ten, and can we have the kedgeree I made for Boxing Day...?
Yes, of course, no worries - except that I am English, I am a child of a child of empire, and kedgeree holds an absolute position in my heart and in my head. The Indian kichree from which it descends is a dish of rice and lentils, but kedgeree is a product of the Raj, and is all about smoked haddock. As it happens, a couple of days ago we stopped by a smokehouse up the coast and I did come home with exactly that - but I have spent two days thinking about kedgeree and breakfast, and wondering what I did with the spices and so forth, because I knew something was wrong and I couldn't work out what. I was sure I hadn't done what I normally do, but.
Took me till this morning to work it out. Nothing to do with the spicing; all to do with the fish, and the company. Karen was here over Christmas, and she doesn't much like fish. I don't think there's any way in the world I could feed her smoked haddock. But, she had brought me some hot-smoked salmon, which she is prepared to eat. And that's what happened, it was a smoked salmon take on kedgeree. Wholly different spicings also, but that's okay: now I know what I'm working from, I do know where I'm going.
All I have to do now is figure out what I did about the eggs. Which are also traditional, and which Helen doesn't like in the way I like to do them.
Oh, and source some hot-smoked salmon, as I have no Karen here to produce it from her luggage. Barry is missing luggage, since my guests left yesterday. I am suddenly missing Karen. Damn.
Still, salmon shouldn't be a difficulty. I am after all that breed of Englishman who is actually half Scots.
*Why yes, I do mean the Lit & Phil. How did you guess?
**During a panel at FogCon, one of my fellow panelists glanced down the table at me and said "How does it feel to be fetishised?" I think she must have been confusing me with Neil Gaiman.