Thursday, 5 December 2019

Making me smile, giggle, or laugh out loud.



Surely it has not escaped your attention that I have a silly sense of humour.

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1.  My smart 'phone has a voice mail to text feature which is not always smart.   I got a message yesterday from the office of my dermatologist Dr, Stroble.

Voice mail to text insisted that her name is Dr. Struggle.

'Twould be a good name for an orthodontist who specialised  in the extraction of stubborn wisdom teeth.

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2.  Years ago I listened to an English evangelist, one David Hislop. He would pitch his preaching  tent in a field near a small village or town, or on some waste land in a City.   Then he and his supporters would canvass the neighbourhood to invite folks to come to his "tent campaign" and hear the Gospel.

One time I heard him say this in a sermon.  "God has promised to cast all our sins into the depths of the sea, and then God puts up a sign saying "no fishing".

It made and makes me smile.  God forgives, and then God forgets!

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3. When I lived in Chicopee MA  (1980-1984) I would sometimes tune in to a local religious broadcast radio station, especially to listen to Brother Shamrock who preached in the old fashioned southern way from Tyler, TX.   

I liked his humour.  One day I heard him say  "now some of you saints say that you were miserable sinners until you found Jesus."

"You did not find Jesus, he was never lost".

"He found you!"

True enough.

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4.  And now the best!

I was at Sarasota's Temple Emmanu-el last Wednesday for their monthly "Lunch with the Rabbis".

Senior Rabbi Brenner Glickman gave a presentation about a Brandeis University demographic study of  the local Jewish population.   The study had been  sponsored by the Jewish Federation of the  Sarasota/Manatee Counties. 

Brandeis made 8,000 'phone calls in pursuit of this study.

Enlightening stuff.  The Jewish populations  of the twin Sarasota/Manatee counties are preparing for the future.

An audience member asked if the survey had included the number of burials.  It  had not.

My table companion whispered something to me.  It was funny.  I urged her to raise her hand and say it out loud. She declined so I asked if I could say it.

Permission granted I raised my hand,  Rabbi Glickman called upon me to speak.

"My table companion" I said "thinks that there is no information about burials because those who are buried  did not answer their 'phones".

That brought the house down.  We all laughed out loud.







Wednesday, 4 December 2019

Keep Christ in Christmas? Another point of view

Keep Christ in Christmas? 

All well and good I suppose, but I have a greater concern.


Keep Parson Brown OUT of Christmas.



There he stands, his icy glare marring  the beauty of the snow covered meadow.

There he stands, demanding a monopoly on December weddings. 


Keep Parson Brown OUT of Christmas.

May he melt away into the bogs of human history, never to be remembered.



Tee hee!

Tuesday, 3 December 2019

The best things in life are free.

One of the gifts of life which I accept with gratitude is our  early morning walk at Sarasota's Bayfront Park. There is so much loveliness as we hear the rocking of the yachts; feel the lovely breeze coming off the bay; and listen to the sometimes gentle, sometimes a wee bit choppy sound of the sea and of the tides; and watch the flights and dives of the pelicans.

'Tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free.

Zion and I were there this morning at 6:30.  'Twas a wee bit chilly by south west Florida standards (50 degrees F today), but that was all to the good, given that we moan when it is 90 degrees and humid in the summer months.


With gratitude.







The Bland and the Beautiful.

I was a guest of the Chrisman family for last week's Thanksgiving Feast.

We were Donna Chrisman, her sister Barbara, Donna's daughter Ashley,  and Jack Chrisman's second cousin Mary Evelyn.  Jack was unable to join us.

We ate at the Peridia Country Club in Bradenton, FL,




which was very nice except that when you eat out on Thanksgiving there are no leftovers -  the best part of the feast.

With that in mind I bought a small ready cooked Thanksgiving meal from the so-named "upscale"  F...h M....t at the the Sarasota/Bradenton University Town Abomination  (U.T.C.).

All set to share with my neighbours, and for leftovers for me:  thinking in particular about a turkey breast and cranberry relish sandwich.

But what a disappointment.  I encountered bland. The turkey breast was tough and dry -  made palatable only with a lashing of cranberry/orange relish (from Trader Joe's).  Even more awful was  the dressing ( I called it flavoured bread cubes); and the mashed potatoes which I swear came  from flaked or powdered origins, since the gravy could do no more than sit on top of them, and could not be absorbed.  "Wallpaper paste with gravy".

Yes indeed it was food, for which I should be grateful, but please permit me a whine given my expectations of F...h M ....t products.

Still life with mush.

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But then there is beautiful. 

The gracious and caring St. Boniface Sarasota parishioner D'Arlene Llewellyn read my blog about Dundee Cake.  That inspired her to mail order this for me


Oh how good to look at, and even better to eat.  It's a delicious Fruit Cake, laden with pecans and cherries from the Collin Street Bakery in Corsicana TX.

I'll take rich Fruit Cake over bland Turkey any day!    Thank you D'Arlene.



Sunday, 1 December 2019

Your Tax Dollars at work!

It was in the late 1980's or early 1900's that I was asked to give the invocation and benediction at the G.E.  Naval Ordinance works in Pittsfield MA., on the occasion of a change in U.S. Navy Command.  The departing Navy Commander, a parishioner at St. Stephen's, Pittsfield MA.,  had asked me to do so.


The change in command ceremonies are impressive.  There is always an Officer in Command. Always.

What I did not expect is that there would be a fine aluminum sign made to reserve my parking space.



Made for my convenience, but used in all its glory for only two hours.

I was asked to take it home as a souvenir, and it is still in my possession.  It has no practical use, but maybe you might have a suggestion for its use - polite or saucy!

Incidentally

1.  If I have my facts straight, G.E.  sold this unit to the Martin Marietta  Company, which soon after merged with Lockheed to become Lockheed Martin.  The employees in Pittsfield did what they had always done, but within the space of a year worked for three different Corporations.

The Pittsfield unit is now owned  by General Dynamics.



2.   General Electric was at one time the major and dominant employer in  Pittsfield MA , and  in Schenectady N.Y.  

But in both cities no ever  one worked for G.E.  

People worked for the G.E. 

"Where do you work?" "at the G.E."


















Friday, 29 November 2019

I (ahem) "acquired" this.back in about 1970



I still own it.

It's a plastic 15" ruler from the old U.K. Westminster Bank.

I worked for the Westminster Bank;  (which originated in 1834),   from 1961 - 1965 , and again from 1967 - 1972 in which year I went to Theological College/Seminary.

The Westminster Bank was the smallest  of the "big five" in England and Wales; alongside the Lloyds, Barclays, Midland, and National Provincial Banks.

We catered chiefly to small businesses, and farmers, and to "middle class" individuals. We were unambitious bankers. 

Note well that I (with great loyalty)  served the Westminster Bank in the south Gloucestershire town of Chipping Sodbury, and the north Somerset village of Chew Magna

This was hardly City of  London,  or Wall Street Banking!

Back in 1968  the London (U.K.) financial markets were roiled when it was announced that the National Provincial and the Westminster Banks would merge -  becoming the National Westminster Bank in 1970.

Sometime later the merged NatWest was acquired by the Royal Bank of Scotland (RBS),  which has made a pig's ear of retail and commercial banking. 

That's why my sentimental heart hangs on to the old Westminster Bank ruler which I acquired "somewhere along the way".




Delicious Naughtiness



A friend of mine "christened" her turkey "Devin Nunes" before roasting it yesterday.

Thursday, 28 November 2019

And the beasts give thanks!

I set out Zion's food twice a day.  He is not a vacuum cleaner eater, so he takes his time to chow down.

Twice each day, each  and every day,  after he has eaten, he seeks me out wherever I am in our home.

I know what he is doing. 


He is giving thanks! Twice a day  -  not once a year!







Wednesday, 27 November 2019

A hymn for Thanksgiving

We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing.



I did not know this hymn until I came to live and minister in the United States, but I soon learned that it is "The Hymn"  for Thanksgiving.

I suppose that it is popular because the tune is eminently singable, and easily "belted out". I learned quickly to like it.

https://youtu.be/BqQT7zY6gtc


This is the best version I can find on You Tube. The camera work is awful, but I love that the organist keeps a good pace (otherwise it can sound like a dirge).

Scroll down and read the text; and also  a bit of the history of the hymn. It was originally a semi patriotic Dutch hymn to celebrate the Protestant ascendancy over the Catholic King Phillip of Spain. 

With that in mind you will understand that the hymn has more than its fair share of polemic.  "The wicked" are Catholics who oppressed Protestants.

These days Roman Catholics sing it with joy and fervour!

And the words happily lend themselves to interfaith Thanksgiving services.


Tuesday, 26 November 2019

Have pity on me! Porringers and Blumenthals in my sleep.

Three nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night with a word which raced around and around, and  would not leave my mind.

It was the word "porringer".

Why in the blazes should this word disturb my sleep?   I never use it;  and I had but the vaguest idea of its meaning.

Here we go!


A porringer.

But what is it?

A porringer is this:


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Porringer


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Last night, in the wee hours I awoke with  a name which would not leave my mind.

It was "Hester Blumenthal".  I thought that I knew her, and I sleepily rejoiced in an old fashioned forename.

When  I awoke this morning I did a Google search,  and discovered  that there is no Hester Blumenthal, but there is a British chef named Heston Blumenthal.


That's neither here nor there.

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What is  odd is that my "sleep thought" led me first to the word "Porringer"; and two nights later to Chef Blumenthal.

How very odd!

If your name comes into my mind during the wee hours do you want to hear about it?






Monday, 25 November 2019

The failed promise of the internet.


"We were promised a global village: Instead we inhabit drab cul-de-sacs and endless freeways of a vast suburb of information".



A lot of it on the net.


But information does not necessarily lead to knowledge. Thanks to the internet, the man at the bar" may have a lot of  information, but next to no knowledge.



Nor do information and knowledge in and of themselves lead us to wisdom.


We have sadly and tragically allowed ourselves to believe that the over abundance of information and knowledge on the web will make us wise.  It ain't necessarily so.  

Stephen Marche, in the May 2012 edition of the Atlantic Magazine offers us this counter cultural view of the web.***  

"We were promised a global village: Instead we inhabit drab cul-de-sacs and endless freeways of a vast suburb of information".

*** (As quoted in "Faithful Friendships", a book by my friend Dana L Robert. Eerdmans Publishing 2019)








Sunday, 24 November 2019

Saturday, 23 November 2019

Last Wednesday evening, Nov 20th was tough.

Zion and I strut our stuff every other Thursday  at Sarasota's 


https://www.alsoyouth.org/about

a wonderful centre  for GLBTQ young people.

I simply sit and relax,  as  Zion works his magic with the attendees.

We did a bit of extra duty last Wednesday when ALSOYouth hosted a vigil, in memory and honour of the known twenty seven trans women who have been murdered this year in the U.S.A.  simply and solely because they were Trans.

I was moved and burdened beyond words.  We remembered by name the youngest who was aged 17  up to the oldest who was aged 56.  Most were in their twenties.

Imagine that.  Twenty seven lives snuffed out, all on account of prejudice.

It was a tough, searing, and challenging evening.

The Vigil

Amanda, the program director for Also.

Inside, before the Vigil.

Zion and I re-unite with Merlin --  we knew them when they worked in our local Walgreen's Pharmacy







Friday, 22 November 2019

When the Trump/Boris Johnson/Prince Andrew etc news lead us to distraction or even despair...

...............      This, about G-d,  from Thomas Keating, will bring springs of water to our spiritually parched lives.  

(Thanks to my friend Kathy Bozziti-Jones for the h/t on this)

















Oh how we need this soul food as we face the challenges of our era.

Henri Nouwen strikes a similar note



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Thursday, 21 November 2019

My humour wasted.


I am still mulling my rich experiences on Tuesday and Wednesday: 

(Two lectures on "The Messiah and the Jews" at Sarasota's Temple Emanu-El; and my participation in the Transgender Day of Remembrance ceremony here in Sarasota).

Both events stretched my mind and spirit,  (that's good), but I need time.  I will reflect on these events in a future blog, but it will be a day or two before I can do so without ranting.   

"What jmp, a ranter?" you say.

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In the meantime here is a bit of dogged  POVEY HUMA, which was utterly wasted!


Cairn Terrier

I called today to make an appointment with t
he business at which  my beloved dog Zion gets his bath. I was told that  the first available slot is on Nov 30th,

I said "Nov 30th is St. Andrew's Day".

There was silence at the end of the line.

I added "St. Andrew is the Patron Saint of Scotland".

Yet more silence.

I soldiered on. "That being the case" I added, "I'll leave my dog at home and bring in a Cairn Terrier".

The concluding silence convinced me that my wacko sense of humour  was altogether too esoteric  (or weird).

I hope that you will giggle at my silliness!  If not, may the Universe have mercy on Thee and I!





Wednesday, 20 November 2019

Isn't this just the coolest thing?

Tuesday and Wednesday have been two rich and rewarding days: days of learning and challenge,  at my local Synagogue, and with members of the GLBT community -  with an emphasis on the T part.

You'll hear about it in due course, but for now I need time to think it through.  

So today you get "Povey Light".


I've seen this mother and daughter three times at Arlington Park.  I find the "young child buggy cum tricycle" to be fascinating.

The mother gave me permission to take this photo'

In it, the child is apparently pedaling, but the Mum is pushing and doing all the hard work.  As the wee one gets stronger she will be able to pedal her trike alone, since the "Mum handle" is detachable.

But when the little girl's legs get "all tired" Mum will be able to reinsert her handle, and push the child home.

Ain't "low tech" great?



Tuesday, 19 November 2019

ROOSEVELT: - name dropping (and my bragging rights)

Our beloved Jeanette Roosevelt was married to the late Curtis Roosevelt between 1961 and 1985.




Curtis (1930 - 2016) was the grandson of Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Eleanor Roosevelt.  He spent some of his his young years in the White House.

He was the son of the Roosevelt's  only daughter Anna, and her husband Curtis Bean Dahl.  Their marriage was short lived.

Anna  remarried a man named Boettinger, but this second marriage was also disastrous.  When it ended Eleanor Roosevelt suggested that her beloved grandson Curtis should not have to use  the last names of his father or his stepfather, but that he should use his middle name of Roosevelt as his last name.  This he did.

Despite the divorce our dear Jeanette maintained a "sorta" friendship with Curtis.  So it was that I met him a few times  when he visited her at their Berkshire County (MA) home. We liked each other.

Our Berkshire County (Western Mass) connection led me me to  visit Curtis and his fourth (and utterly charming) wife Marina at  their sweet home in Saint Bonnet du Gard, France; half way between Avignon and Nimes, and not far from the famous Roman Pont du Gard.


S. Bonnet du Gard.


Pont du Gard


During my visit I had been out and about one day,   (probably visiting  Nimes). When I got back Curtis was nowhere to be seen. 

So  Marina and I sipped our glasses of wine in the lovely garden as she told me of her early life.

She was born in war torn northern France, or Belgium.  Her birth mother left her in the care of a loving Belgian family who had two daughters.   Marina grew up believing them to be her parents and family.  

When she was a young girl, (aged eight or nine?)  her birth mother swooped in and took her to England (she knew not a word of English); and she did not know this woman who had "kidnapped" her.

The Belgian family had no legal rights, for they had never formally adopted her.

She never forget them, their name, and the name of the Belgian village.

Many years later, after her marriage to Curtis they drove to the village.  Just as soon as they arrived they met a mail man and asked if he knew any family with the unusual name.  He said they there were three families with that name, indeed he lived next door to one of them.

The mail man took them to the house.  Curtis and Marina knocked on the door.   An elderly woman answered their knock, came to the door, then slammed the door shut.

They heard her footsteps leave and then return to the door.  She was clutching in her bosom a framed photograph of Marina in her First Communion dress.  That photo' had rested atop their piano  for all those many years.

Marina had a joyful/tearful reunion with her Belgian family.

Of course I shed tears as Marina told me the story.


After the tears Marina invited me into the house to view a piece of furniture which had recently been returned after having been on exhibit in the States.

It was a rather ordinary looking book case.  "This", Marina said, was in the White House".  Then she touched a secret lock.  The bookshelves were doors which swung open.  Behind the doors were shelves designed to hold liquor.

These book cases/liquor shelves were quite common in the homes of the wealthier classes during prohibition.

My gauche self asked  "may I touch it".  Permission was readily forthcoming.  So now I brag:    I once touched a book case which FDR had touched many times!



Hidden book case/liquor shelves (not the one I saw). The wings would fold in disguising the liquor shelves as a book case.

Curtis arrived home and announced that we would have dinner at the local village cafe, a plain and ordinary place, with wonderful food  (Vive la France!).

I asked if he liked to talk about life in the White House, and especially about his Grandmother Eleanor.  He responded that he loved to do that.  So our dinner conversation was "all about Eleanor".  What a privilege for me!




Eleanor Roosevelt 1933 portrait.

It is common to speak of the greatness of FDR.  I will not argue with that.



But for my money Eleanor was greater. 

It was my privilege to have that conversation with her grandson Curtis, whose respect and admiration for her knew no bounds.

I have lived, let's say, an interesting life.😊













Sunday, 17 November 2019

Carrot and Ginger soup Memorial Service. A great way of remembering the life of our beloved Jeanette Roosevelt.


Jeanette S. Roosevelt died on October 15, 2019, at Kimball Farms Nursing Care Center, Lenox, almost two months after celebrating her 100th birthday.  

The Memorial Service for Jeanette was at St. Stephen's Parish, Pittsfield MA, this afternoon at three o'clock.  I could not be there, so I had my own time of remembrance; with food: -


My home made Carrot and Ginger Soup

Jeannette made her version of the soup, and served it to me and to others at her home in Berkshire County, MA some twenty five years ago.  I'd never before partaken of  it.  I liked it so much.  So it seemed right that my glad memories of her should be "prayed" this afternoon with my home made Ginger and Carrot Soup!  

I am getting a bit weepy as I drink the soup in remembrance of her.  I could  all to easily have an adjectival overload, and heart felt binge about Jeanette.


Instead I'll let you get to know her by reproducing her obituary.  

Make no mistake she was one of the "greats" of my life; and the lives of hundreds of others.

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Her obit: 


Jeanette S. Roosevelt died on October 15, 2019, at Kimball Farms Nursing Care Center, Lenox, almost two months after celebrating her 100th birthday.  She was born in Hondo, Texas, the first of four children to John Emil and Willie Gayle Schlottmann.

    She received a B.S. degree in 1939 from, Texas State College for Women (TSCW).  It was there she first encountered modern dance, which became her passion and her career.  She taught for ten years at TSCW while earning her M. A. degree and co-authoring the five volume "Folk Dance Library."

    She came to New York in 1950 where she studied with Martha Graham, Jose Limon, Doris Humphrey and Louis Horst.  In 1951 she joined the faculty of Barnard College and continued graduate studies at Teachers College of Columbia University.

    In 1958 she was recruited by Connecticut College School of Dance and the American Dance Festival.  There she encountered most of the leading figures of modern dance early in their careers.  These included Merce Cunningham, Paul Taylor, Pearl Lang and Alvin Ailey.

    She married Curtis Roosevelt in 1961 and in 1963 moved back to New York where she returned to the faculty of Barnard College. 

 At Barnard she established the Department of Dance and served as chair of the department until she retired as Professor Emerita in 1986. She was recognized by students and colleagues with an award for "excellence in teaching and service to the Barnard community."  She was a founding member of the Congress on Research in Dance and the Society of Dance History Scholars.

    Jeanette first came to the Berkshires in 1941 to assist her mentor, Anne Schley Duggan, in giving classes at Jacob's Pillow.

 She and Curtis visited the area again when his daughter, Julianna, came to stay with them in the summer.  The beautiful view from a hill on an early fall day inspired their purchase of High Meadow Farm, with its old farmhouse and red barn, in the town of Washington.

    High Meadow served as a summer retreat from their home in Greenwich Village, N.Y.  Julianna and later her son, Nicholas spent many happy times there.  

Then a succession of young people in varying combinations lived in the house in the winter.  Some stayed in a cottage out back.  Typically for Jeanette, these have become life-long friends.  

Jeanette moved full-time to High Meadow in 1986 when she retired, a year after she and Curtis were divorced.

    Jeanette is a woman of deep faith.  In New York, she was a member of the Church of St. Luke in the Fields.  She volunteered with many of the church's service programs, especially for those afflicted with HIV/AIDS during the terrible epidemic of the 1980s. In the Berkshires she belonged to St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in Pittsfield.

    She called retirement her "Third Act."  She enjoyed the wealth of arts in the area, notably the South Mountain concerts and Jacob's Pillow, where she also served on the board.  She devoted her considerable energies to friendships near and far, her legendary hospitality and volunteering.  At St. Stephen's she worked in numerous capacities to welcome and to serve.  She was a bill payer for many years for Elder Services and a tutor for Literacy Volunteers of Berkshire County.  The latter presented her with a plaque honoring her outstanding work from 1990 to 2001.  Generous to the last, she donated her body to science and would be delighted to know that she was accepted at Harvard Medical School.


    Jeanette moved to Kimball Farms in Lenox in 2006.  The last few years of her life she was lovingly cared for by the staff at their Nursing Care Center.

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Those of us who are ordained christian ministers have the rich privilege of meeting women and men who enrich and inspire our lives.  Good ministry is always a two way street.



Saturday, 16 November 2019

Ethnic Food Binge 2 - The Holy Land (which for me is ENGLAND! )

 Glory Be For Pork Pie.

Description

A pork pie is a traditional British meat pie, usually served at room temperature. It consists of a filling of roughly chopped pork and pork fat, surrounded by a layer of jellied pork stock in a hot water crust pastry. It is normally eaten as a snack or with a salad.


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I am claiming Pork Pie as an English Ethnic Food.
The description above ( Wikipedia)  hardly does them justice,  (and I would never think of them as snack food).  We Brits often  eat them as an early evening meal, alongside good tomatoes, lettuce, cucumber, spring onions, pickled red cabbage etc.,  and maybe even a hard boiled egg. 

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A sight, or a smell, or a taste can easily trigger the memory.  I tasted Pork Pie in my memory the other day.  That memory taste sent me in search for the real thing.  ( There is a English owned and operated pie store in Sarasota  (it's called Four and Twenty but they do not make Blackbird Pies).   Their pasties and hot meat pies are very good. They also make and sell pork pies, which  are O.K. but not great.

Mail order came to the rescue via a British Foods vendor named Parker's U.K. High St.  I used them to buy  a couple of pork pies.

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There is a rivalry in England between ***Melton Mowbray Pork Pies, and Yorkshire Pork pies, so I bought two -  one for me, and one for my anglophile friends Jack and Donna.




I'll leave you to decide which one I kept for myself.

Hint, hint!

I am told that Yorkshire Pork Pies are often served hot, with good gravy and vegetables.

I like my Pork Pies cold, always with the great British condiment/relish known as


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Yorkshire is a great County, but heated pork pies with gravy are an abomination for my south west English taste!
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P.S. 

***  It is all but certain that Pork Pies were first made by a baker in the Leicestershire (n.b. Americans, the word is pronounced Lestershur!) town of Melton Mowbray, so......

Thanks to the good work (or knavery) of the Melton Mowbray Pork Pie Association, in 1999 a group of seven local manufacturers, applied to the EU to have their products categorised as having Protected Geographical Indication, to ensure that only pies made in an area around Melton Mowbray could use the Melton Mowbray name.

The PGI application was finally granted on 4 April 2008  and the PGI status came into effect in July 2009.

The name Melton Mowbray can now only be applied to uncured pork-filled pies cooked without supporting hoops and made within a 10.8 square mile (28 square kilometre) zone around the town. Permissible ingredients are fresh pork (pies must be at least 30% meat), shortening (usually lard), pork gelatine or stock, wheat flour, water, salt and spices (predominantly pepper). Artificial colours, flavours and preservatives are not allowed.

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Oh, so much happiness for the Melton Mowbray Pork Pie Association!







Friday, 15 November 2019

Ethnic Food Binge #1 SCOTLAND

I am on a bit of an ethnic food binge; getting ready for the next and inevitable "Brexit" economic depression, and collapse of  U.K. international trade.

My first purchases have been from Scotland.





1.  Dundee Cake



I had a taste memory a few months ago, which led me to buy some Dundee Cake from a Scottish Gourmet mail order company here in the U.S.A.  Sadly the Scottish Bakery which supplied the mail order co. has gone out of business.

But I was able to buy some Dundee Cake (made in Hull, England) from my local "Scots Corner" retail store on 17th St. in Sarasota.

Forget all the jokes about the fruit cake which is given as a gift at Christmas, and then re-gifted for donkeys' years.

You'll never re-gift Dundee Cake; it  is a rich and delicious fruit cake which you will want to hoard.  Rich and moist, it is topped with almonds.  Many people eat  a slice with a topping of Seville Orange Marmalade, or of fine Preserves.

2.  Ecclefechen Tarts.



Named for a small village in Scotland (not far from the border with England), these are a kind of pimped up and more flavorful mincemeat tart; with sultanas, almonds, currants and cherries.

I will eat mine warmed up, with a dollop of vanilla Gelato on top.

(Eccle   related to the word Ecclesiastical, meaning Church; and Fechan, meaning small).

3.  Haggis 




Oh yes, the traditional Scottish dish; mocked in other lands.

I am way too old  for my first taste of haggis; but enjoy it I will!

Sadly the U.S.A. government regulations forbid the importation of the "real thing" from Scotland, so I will be eating a Haggis made in the States by good Scottish folks.

The ingredients include venison, oatmeal, beef liver etc, and Scottish whiskey. Not bad eh?

Foods such as Haggis, Chitterlings, Hoppin' John; Biscuits and Grav; and the English Faggots, (no silly jokes please -  my Mum made the best ones ever),  were the necessary foods for the ordinary poor people.

And here is what the "experts" tell us about these good ethnic foods from Scotland.








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