Deb's Lunch … and dinner and breakfast too

We took the train from Waterloo out to Hampton Court, and unlike our trip in 2004, we paid the prices of admission and walked around inside. They are celebrating 500 years since Henry VIII stole the place back from Cardinal Wolsey; we actually ran into the King himself in the halls.

No English royals have lived there since the late 1800s; Queen Victoria made it a tourist attraction early in her reign.

I took pictures until my hands got too cold. I didn’t really realize that it was just kind of a fluke that Christopher Wren didn’t get to pull down all the Tudor stuff when he remodeled for William II.

The Tudor kitchen wasn’t in full operation – that’s only on weekends – so we had to be content with looking at fake food: huge lumps of meat and pies and a cauldron of soup, made from something rubbery. There were real cabbages & onions & leeks in baskets.

We came back and searched for a sports bar to watch the Arsenal game, but they were all overflowing, no tables, and Ethan, being under 18, couldn’t stand at the bar. So we got Indian take-away, and watched it on the TV in our apartment. The food was pretty good, especially the tandoori chicken, garlic naan, and raita – the prawn Biryani was quite bland and the so-called prawns were more like popcorn shrimp.

Probably the biggest surprise at Hampton Palace – that shouldn’t have been a surprise – is that in addition to two Caravaggios, there was Artemisia Gentileshi’s self-portrait, all collected by Charles II, I think. Took bad the place was way too dark to really see them – but keeping them in the dark has probably helped the pictures last 400 years.

Self-portrait (1630s, Royal Collection, London)

We arrived at Heathrow at about 7:30 a.m. Monday, March 29.

We had to shuffle through the passport check, then got our bags, took the train to Paddington, and then a taxi to our apartment in Camden.

We got settled then went to the close-by Waitrose and bought some food – cheese, pears, buns, yogurt, strawberries. Then we took a walk to get our bearings – went to Trafalgar Square, walked around the government buildings, checked out the Tkts booth in Leicester Square – they were setting up an event for Clash of the Titans, red carpet and all – lots of school kids. Gemma Arterton was there, not sure who else famous. We didn’t stick around to see – just started walking back and got kinda lost.

For our first night out, we went to see Robin Ince’s School for Gifted Children Holiday Special. It was a true variety show, a combo of music & comedy. The scheduled guests were:

• Alan Moore – the comic book artist; last on the bill – he did a rant on religion that was great
• Stewart Lee – who did a funny bit about moving to the countryside
• Joanna Neary – who did several funny characters including a sex ed teacher and an arty, Bloomsbury type
• Bridget Christie – who is married to Stewart Lee, and appeared as Er Ant, or maybe that’s Ur Ant
• Kevin Eldon – he sang and did a couple of stand up bits
• Jim Bob – we thought his pop songs were the best

I found a mention on Robyn Hitchcock’s web site that he’d be there too – he came on second to last, did a kind deconstructionist set of songs – messing with the mics and telling the back up band (a horn section and a drummer) what to play. He did Antwoman for starters, in honor of Ur Ant. Then ironically – even for Robyn – he played Kung Fu Fighting while talking about how even though it was a song we all think  about, it is a song that is somehow disappointing when finally dredged out. Then he brought everyone out for a large ensemble version of Ole Tarantula.

We had standing only seats – and were so tired we almost fell asleep standing up. We snagged some real seats for the second half.

Tuesday morning I waked up at 7:05 London time the first time, and then 8:36 and then 9:11 – when I finally got up. Robyn’s opening for some folk rock band on Thursday at a club called the Luminaire in Kilbourn which evidently is way North London – it’s two tube changes away, and that’s the night we have dinner at Jamie Oliver’s, so I hardly think I’m dragging the fam to this one.

When I was an art history student, we were taught that you have to judge the art on its own and not try to create a facile explanation based on what you know about the artist’s life – or your own.

So I was amused by the serious question asked, around minute 2:21, in this  interview with Robyn Hitchcock and John Edington, who just made a performance movie with Robyn, Robyn Hitchcock: I Often Dream of Trains in New York. The young woman who asks the question was trying to read a lot into Hitchcock’s lyrics for So you think you’re in love – he sings:

But the silent majority is the crime of the century.

The woman said she’d been thinking about the words a lot, in light of the current health care debate in the U.S. (the interview’s from early March) – and asked Robyn what he’d been thinking about when he wrote the line. He replied, “I thought it was a slick way of welding two cliches together”.  And in fact, “Crime of the Century” referred to the Super Tramp album of the same name.

But that’s the point, right? As an artist, you are inspired and create. As an art appreciator, the art moves you in some way, but you can’t assume it’s the same way the artist went.

So anyways, on the same walk to work when I was thinking about this, Friday morning, I also started thinking about doing a series of artists’ birthday dinners, or meals. Liberal interpretations of artists’ styles & personas into food. Like maybe food pie for Robyn Hitchcock. Or I discovered that Christo and the late Jeanne-Claude’s birthday is June 13 – I have a brunch scheduled that day – maybe everything could be wrapped. Breakfast enchiladas, jelly roll, trout in parchment – who knows? Wayne Thiebaud – cakes & pies & diner food on November 15. I haven’t found much of anyone with the same b-day as me – August 11 – but Warhol is close, August 6 – and that means I could make all manner of Pittsburgh food – Pierogis, Primanti Bros. sandwiches – lotsa possibilites.

Although at this time of day, on John’s actual birth day, I wasn’t even in hard labor – he didn’t arrive until about 11:20 p.m. on March 18, 1987.

John at empty Miller Park, weeks before opening day

John went down to Iowa City last night to see Every Time I Die and I haven’t heard from him yet, though I did text him his birthday song.

I feel funny that I’m not making food – last year I over-nighted brownies to his school, because I knew he was in the studio printing up stuff for his senior show. Looks like last year I made salted caramel tart – but not till a bit after his birthday. Other years have featured pasta al’Arrabiata, or beef stew, and for a while there was always a mint chocolate chip ice cream pie – oreo cookie crust, ice cream and a fudgey topping. Maybe I’ll go to Milwaukee Saturday and take him out to dinner, but it’s supposed to snow. If he was here this morning, I’d make waffles and bacon.

Like I said, I have not been inventing recipes recently, but I have been tweaking existing. Today for breakfast I made giant buckwheat fig-filled scones, based on two from 101 Cookbooks.

Jammy stripe

The giant scones are filled with a fig jam, that starts with the ingenious step of making a caramelized sugar syrup then adding wine and whole spices and simmering the figs in it. I didn’t have port, so I used Marsala, and a touch less than the half cup called for – I didn’t want my jam to be too wine-y. When you puree the jam you add butter; Heidi recommends a pinch of salt – I used salted butter, and only about 6 TBLS instead of the 8 specified. Otherwise I made the jam as written.

The original fig scone scone dough is supposed to be a buckwheat dough with 8 TBLS butter and 1 1/4 cups cream to 2 1/4 cups flour, part buckwheat and part white. I wanted a leaner dough, and more of it, so I used the dough from an earlier 101 Cookbooks recipe – Mega Scones – and subbed in orange zest for lemon, and 1 cup buckwheat in place of 1 cup white flour. I used 1 cup heavy cream and the rest skim milk, ‘cuz that’s what I had and forgot to save a little cream for brushing the top – so I used buttermilk, and sprinkled with coarse sugar.

Yum, especially when the jam was hot. I took one over to Rach so she could share it with her little brother and her pregnant sister-in-law who arrived sometime today.

Still on the parchment-lined pan