Cheese! A new friend, Mare Street Market, Aunt Kay, and another doll

Monday, 29 April, 2018

The cheeses I made are coming along. I had a terrible time trying to work out which cheese was the blue one since they both have blue mould. I don’t want to think that they are both blue now but I did in the end pierce the bluest looking one (at the bottom)  and will hope for the best. The French cheese meanwhile is ready I suppose and I need to leave it at room temperature, perhaps on Thursday. It looks a bit crispy to me but who knows! It may end up to have a soft oozy heart!

The white and the blue cheese at three weeks
The white and the blue cheese at three weeks
French cheese
French cheese

I may have made a good new friend, Shahanaz from my Bump Buddies course. I’m quite fascinated by how different she is. It’s the first time I’ve had an intimate conversation with a Muslim woman, at least one who wears a scarf and conforms somewhat to her culture. And yet she speaks very openly, swears more than I’d expect, and has very quirky and non conformist ideas. She wanted to try ‘real coffee’ so our first venture – one of many, I hope – was to Pacific Culture Club. We each ordered a brownie and she insisted we also share an almond croisant. The brownies were the fudgiest I’ve had in London but the croissant was nowhere near as good as the ones I’ve had in Toronto.

Best brownies
Best brownies
Pacific Social Club
Pacific Social Club

I was explaining to Shahanaz that I had bad hair days almost all the time and that I sometimes just wanted to cover my hair like she does.  She admitted that it was good she could cover her hair and not worry what it looked like but then smiled and said ‘but I have bad scarf days!’ I laughed! Apparently, sometimes she can’t tie her scarf properly and just can’t get it right. She told me that on special occasions Muslim women ‘bling up’ their scarves and she had trouble doing that herself. Also a story of how one friend got a tan that was in the distinct shape the scarf framed her face with and how they had all laughed. She’s a strong and funny woman.

Speaking of coffee, I was very pleased to see that the E8 coffee van is doing OK despite Black Sheep Coffee opening just opposite his pitch.

CoffeE8 van, Hackney Central
CoffeE8 van, Hackney Central

I popped into Mare Street Market for a coffee. It was less busy than on the weekend. A good coffee but the price of cake to go with it was over the top so I stuck with just a drink and taking some photos. The menu from the Open Kitchen looks really nice, though. Intrigued by the burrata and the sundaes.

On the weekend I went to see my aunt Kay. The journey was horrific. I left the house at 9:15am in the rain and wasn’t sure I could make it to Stratford for the 10am train I had spotted going to Westcliff. I made it just fine but the platform wasn’t one I was familiar with and the board didn’t know a train to that stop. There was a platform announcement about Southend and it went so fast, I didn’t hear it properly but I did know I had to get on the train to Shenfield and change there.

When I was safely on the train I looked online, as the announcement suggested, and saw nothing about this change so I called – twice. And got nowhere. The first person was completely clueless about the names of the stations and what to do and kept insisting on giving me train info for trains that had left Stratford two hours earlier – as if I could travel in the past. I decided that the best bet was to ask at the station. I was sent over to a rail replacement bus and off we went. And went and went It was a very long journey to Southend Victoria. I started to feel quite travel sick and almost despaired of ever arriving. But we did, almost three and a half hours after I’d left my house. Only then to be told that the taxi would be a 25 minute wait.

My aunt and I went to a Chinese buffet for lunch. It wasn’t bad. We chatted and later talked quite a bit about our mutual family. My aunt is also my cousin – my first cousin once removed, or my mother’s cousin. That confuses people and sometimes make them gasp since it sounds illicit. It’s not. Simply put, Kay (my mum’s cousin) married my dad’s older brother, Eddie. It was at that wedding that my mum and dad met properly and began a courtship.

I absolutely hate going up in the lift to her place but once up there it’s a great view over the Thames estuary, where it flows into the North Sea. It fascinates me that this sea narrows down to the great River Thames and when I’m standing on the banks in London, it’s part of that body of water that I’m seeing. I suppose I’ve never thought of the rivers and seas flowing into each other, like great veins of water around the earth.

View over the Thames estuary

My newest doll is a bit shy despite her bright colours.

Passover Shopping, Mare Street Market, and the first Seder Night

Saturday, 31 March, 2018
On Wednesday I went with Lisa to do her Passover (Pesach) shopping. We drove into North London through the back streets that she drives with great confidence. I know I will never know London like that! That morning I’d decided to wear regular shoes and set aside the boots. And I wore a sweater and a jacket. I felt free until I went out. The rain began to pour down and the wind blew and I wasn’t dressed anywhere near to appropriately. In fact, I was freezing and my day had hardly begun.
Close to where we were going we got stopped by some cops and had to park at least a five-minute  cold and wet walk from where we needed to go. There had been an accident – a car had ploughed into a shop window and the whole frame was taken out. Lisa heard later that two pedestrians had been hit. I did feel like a ghoul taking a photo but anyway, I did!
Mayhem in Golders Green
Mayhem in Golders Green
In the end, we got falafels from a little place Lisa likes. I did enjoy the experience. Hot falafels were poured into bowls at the end of a long salad bar with all the usual (and unusual) falafal fixings and you helped yourself.  We ate them on the go. Delicious!
But we turned back from that area. It was pointless shopping when we would have had to carry the groceries so far. We drove instead to an area Lisa had taken me before. It has the unlikely name of Temple Fortune. (This conjures up a small town in Thailand and not North London!) We shopped in one little grocery store where we bought mostly matzo. Then stopped by the bagel bakery where I got 8 little cookies and some cheesecake. They turned out to not taste very special for the price.
A cold, wet adventure! Oh, and I fell on the wet sidewalk. A lesson in not swapping boots for shoes too early in the year.
Last week I had two aborted attempts to go to Mare Street Market.  The first because Instagram had led me to believe it was opening on Monday – I was greeted by a notice saying ‘Open on Wednesday.’ Then Krish and I walked over on Thursday in the rain but didn’t really stay since he couldn’t deal with the crowd and the noise. So I took a few photos and will go back between now and Tuesday, when they will still have the 50% soft launch prices. I can’t resist a bargain. Maybe I’ll even go twice!
Some views inside Mare Street Market
Some views inside Mare Street Market

The Mare Street Market is occupying a building that used to be the housing benefit office. It was a depressing, shabby building at best. The renovations to turn it into what’s described as ‘a curated space in Hackney for eating, drinking, and shopping.’ If you click on the link above there are some photos that do this space justice but I took just a few of  my own.

At 50% off, I do think I might go twice. The menus all sound fantastic and will probably seem too expensive once the soft launch ends, I assume Wednesday.
  
Passover was approaching and Lisa had plans to go to family this year. No invitation pending, my brother John suggested I look into a community seder. It took me a while to decide but in the end I said yes to going to the one I contacted.  Continue reading “Passover Shopping, Mare Street Market, and the first Seder Night”

Wildes Cheesemaking workshop

Thursday, 15 March, 2018

Today was the day I took my cheesemaking workshop. it seemed so far away when I got it as a gift from Krish over Christmas but suddenly it was time.

Lisa’s husband, Richard, had taken a cheesemaking workshop before and even showed me how he made goat’s cheese one day. So I had a bit of a clue. I knew I would be on my feet, working, in a cold environment so I was somewhat prepared.

Wildes Cheese is a small artisan cheesemaking business in Tottenham, North London – not so many miles from here.  It was founded by two men, who I assumed were a couple – Philip (the kooky, extrovert one) and Keith (the quieter, gentle one). Keith was the original hobby cheesemaker and now they have a small business, operating out of a little space on an industrial estate in what’s basically a residential area.

That morning I travelled by train to White Hart Lane and began my journey to cheese.

Leaving the station at White Hart Lane
Leaving the station at White Hart Lane
This area of Tottenham is stiflingly (for me!) suburban and residential
This area of Tottenham is stiflingly (for me!) suburban and residential

I’d say it was uneventful but first the station had lost power for the Oyster machine so I have to call Transport for London to claim a refund – they charge the maximum when you can’t ‘tap out’ on the Oyster machine. The second thing was taking a wrong turning (or not taking the turning) to go up to the dairy. Smooth journey, not so much.

The industrial estate was just a yard, not the sprawling expanse I expected from my Canadian experience. The space was small. An ante room where we had talks and food, Two larger rooms used for making cheese, and two small rooms that were cold rooms for cheese storage. It amazed me that they were producing such quantities of cheese from there but produce it they do!

Philip is hysterical, ribald, warmer than he likes to pretend (I’m dead inside, he said, more than once.) After tea, biscuits and an overview of the day, we went into the cheesemaking room and were put into pairs. My partner was a quiet man, whose name I didn’t know. We barely spoke a word but it worked out OK. In front of each work station were three basins, a collander, a J-cloth, a wooden spoon, a thermometer and a blue straining cloth. It looked practical and basic!

We separated out the basins and waited for our milk. The milk used here is delivered from the cow to the farmer to Wildes each morning. It’s pasteurised but unhomogenised. We got to taste the milk alongside some supermarket milk and you can bet there’s a difference!

Fresh milk!
Fresh milk! Only hours old

We ended up with three buckets of milk each, placed into its own basin of warm water to raise the temperature.  The first two buckets had ten litres of milk, the third only three or four.

The buckets here have the culture added to the milk and are now resting
The buckets here have the culture added to the milk and are now resting
Xavier, who's from Spain and apprenticing at Wildes
Xavier, who’s from Spain and apprenticing at Wildes

The apprentice, Xavier, was weighing and packing cheese over in the corner. The little jars you see contain the bacterial culture (‘the mother’) that determines the type of cheese that will be produced. The granulated cultures we used were for a hard white cheese, a blue cheese, and a French-type cheese.  These granules were added into the milk and much stirring and checking milk temperature followed – it can’t go below 30C.

In the other room we looked at a soft cheese that was developing for us to use later. And we saw some of the harder cheeses sitting for us to check out. There was also a large heated vat where Philip told me they stored the milk that was delivered. No need for other storage.

Cheeses sitting - not sure at what stage
Cheeses sitting – not sure at what stage
Here you can see the whey separating from the curds of the soft cheese mix
Here you can see the whey separating from the curds of the soft cheese mix

Continue reading “Wildes Cheesemaking workshop”

Let’s talk about food

Saturday, 10 March, 2018

There are two kinds of people – those who eat to live (I was one of these until I was perhaps 19) and those who live to eat (this is me now).

My mother was a good-enough cook. There was nothing fancy in her repertoire. She made an amazing roast beef and yorkshire pudding, although looking back I imagine the beef would be too well-done for me now.  There were old British favourites, such as pease pudding cooked with boiled gammon, meat pies, sausages (usually with liver and bacon) in a tomato onion gravy…and the Jewish favourites of chicken soup with lokshen (noodles) and cold things like pickled or salted herring.

When I was 14 I went with my sister on a holiday experience with a French family. Only French was spoken. I wasn’t keen on the food, which came in courses and was ridiculously formal. In my later teens I travelled alone a bit, in London and in Liverpool, and tried a bunch of things, now familiar but then exotic – pasta and pizza come to mind. Then when I was 19 I went back to France – to visit my cousin in Paris – at 19 she was already married with a baby – and really discovered food. I no longer remember what we ate but it intrigued me. There was such a mix of simple flavours but nothing was accidental.

That’s when I learned to cook.

Food we eat at home
Food we ate at home last week – Vietnamese grilled chicken, a simple lunch plate for 2, West Indian chicken curry with raita

In Toronto I found cooking classes that fulfilled everything on my wishlist. Each person with their own cooking station, each person preparing their own food, enough to taste, enough to take home for at least one amazing meal, a great chef-teacher, great back up and help from their assistant, a stool for when my legs got tired, interesting and varied menus… This was the Calphalon brand. I attended as many as I could afford. While the quality changed over the years, I kept going back. And then they closed. No class since has been as good.

In London I haven’t found the same but Atelier des Chefs isn’t bad. The main differences are: No individual cooking stations, much of the preparation done as a team, no guarantee you can eat your own food. All minuses in my opinion but I’m trying to enjoy this experience on its own merits.

I had the slowest bus in the East going to the class and thought I’d be extremely late. Just getting out of my neighbourhood took half an hour, whereas it usually takes five to ten minutes. We crept along but got there in the end.

One of my favourite views in The City - from the Royal Exchange
One of my favourite views in The City – from the Royal Exchange
Creeping along behind another bus, finally The Gherkin ahead
Creeping along behind another bus, finally The Gherkin ahead

Continue reading “Let’s talk about food”

Off to the doctor, Shacklewell, and another doll

Monday 5 March, 2018

I went to the doctor early in the morning. Doctor appointments in London are ten minutes long. It’s very short. Today I pushed my luck and got a few extra minutes. My original plan was to get some referrals to other areas but suddenly at the end of last week I got a very itchy rash over my whole trunk and one arm. I looked like I had measles. The doctor told me that the rash was a usual thing after a bad cold or cough and gave me antihistamine pills and ointment. Instant relief! The rash is still there but fading slightly. I’m a hypochondriac. I had ‘given myself’ several serious illnesses before this benign diagnosis.

Around by the clinic, there are some brick-cobbled streets filled with terraced cottages. I would love to see inside them. I have a romantic dream of having one become available to me…somehow. The cottages were built in 1881, 1882, and 1884. How do I know? It says so! (Hmm, are there some from 1883?)




Just around the corner from the doctor and through the rows of cottages is a lovely little coffee shop, Mouse and da Lotz. I somehow imagine this being the names of two Australians having an adventure in London! Don’t ask me why. They make lovely coffee!

A great coffee with white chocolate and raspberry loaf
Mouse and da Lotz counter
Mouse and da Lotz counter

There are still quiet hours at home. And time to make another doll!

Sunny day for the robots and the unfinished naked doll
Sunny day for the robots and the unfinished naked doll
A saucy doll with some detail to show the bloomers!
A saucy doll with some detail to show the bloomers!