Neither of us is superstitious. One might think the Latin side of the family would be with all their wackadoodle ways not to mention proximity to the voodoo netherworld portal that lies in the heart of New Orleans. (why is it I just mind my business and wham, boom the insults start flying? OD) And, of course, their bloodline is a whole lot closer to the Mayans than certainly my lily-white blood line is.  No, no.  As it happens there is plenty of crazy in the Garden State.  One mother insists on this particular exit strategy:  leave the house, lock the door, forget something, curse, re-enter the house (anyone involved in said protocol must keep their mouth shut or at least try to keep comments inaudible), sit down, count to ten and then resume exiting.  Additional protocol suggests good luck will only come if the same door is used exclusively for both entry and exit regardless of whether or not something is forgotten.  I might’ve forgotten a minor detail here or there, but sometimes you just want to get the hell out.  However…DNA is a funny thing and perhaps, just maybe, I’ve begun to believe evidence is mounting that the end of days is near.  Today we noticed a geranium in full bloom in January just off Chiswick High Road.  Upon returning home, we noticed a rose in full bloom at our neighbor’s doorstep.  This can’t be right.  Will 21 December be the end of life as we know it like the Mayans predict?  Add to that, the shock of seeing OD eat a vegetable and liking it has just begun to wear off after 24 hours (I’m fine, really, but thanks for your concern).  Not just any vegetable, mind you, but Brussels sprouts.  Is it any wonder my world is upside down?  That my very core has been shaken perhaps beyond repair?  That I hope to find everlasting peace in my otherwise tupsy turvy existence? I can wait until December.  I'm a very patient man.  (All I can say is Jesus please take the wheel! OD)

As we ready ourselves for our supposed expansion (more on that later) and predicted demise, we continue to experiment with savory recipes and foist them upon our informal Chili Night focus group held each Thursday at the shop.  As I type there is a pot of New Mexican Lamb Stew bubbling on the stove chock full of carrots, sweet potatoes, apricots and spices.  It’s the first time stewing lamb hasn’t smelled like rotting corpses so presumably this is a step in the right direction.  Last night we made a Cannellini Soup which was a take on Escarole Soup but made with kale, gammon, tomato, oregano and rosemary.  I needed something to do while it was simmering and I stumbled upon a recipe for what is, ostensibly, a cole slaw made with Brussels sprouts, which I have always loved.  Made with a lemon-y mustard vinaigrette, toasted pecans and shredded cheese (only crap mozzarella was on hand) I must say it was amazing.  As directed I started shredding each mini cabbage by hand but decided that particular author had a screw loose so I took handfuls of sprouts and sent them through the food processor and it worked just fine.  My sister always makes steamed Brussels sprouts for Thanksgiving with a warm raspberry walnut vinaigrette so that’s the next experiment maybe with feta crumbled in.  Perhaps it was the cheese but OD inhaled it.  My money was on him liking the soup and taking the smallest, polite bite of the slaw and then making a face as if he just ate poo.  But, for him, the slaw won out.  That’s when I started to suspect planetary alignment might be causing such events to be strung in a row.  As for our expansion, I’m inclined to believe our team of legal and real estate professionals simply must be using a different calendar and/or solar system.  I believe it to be some sort of Advent calendar where, instead of a daily surprise, one opens a weekly window to unveil some small nugget of progress, if that.  And as the excitement builds toward the final day, the penultimate window reveals something like “Sorry.  Start over.”  On a more positive note, while the clock ticks steadily towards 21 December 2012, we will be embarking on a fat-filled food journey through Texas.  Kind of like “The Real Home Bakers of Texas” but hopefully without the catfights and hair-pulling.  Our tour begins in Houston on January 25^th so watch this space and foodnetwork.co.uk as we hurdle toward food nirvana if not the Rapture.  Hell, we’ll only be a hop, skip and jump from Mayan headquarters…  

XMAS SPOILER ALERT!  YOU ARE NOW FULLY WARNED.

Thanksgiving at Soho House.  Sublime.

Example:  Who’s Sarah Brown?  It’s true, we asked the question when told she was in the house, so to speak.  Oh yes, she’s the woman whose husband, Gordon, used to run a country called Great Britain and uttered these words a few short weeks ago after enjoying our Thanksgiving menu:  “my compliments to the chef.”

Festive Food Fair at Bluewater.  Ridiculous.

Example:  Teenage girl decked out in jeggings, a pair of Uggs and toting a lovely Louis Vuitton bag.  “Are dem free?”  “No, dem are not.”  “Can I get a free sample?”  “No.”  It was a tough call between this example and another which prompted the reply “nothing in life is free.”  It was the fashion sense that tipped the scale.  Along those lines, I can happily report fashion is, indeed, cyclic:  high-top blindingly white Reeboks preferably with Velcro straps are strutting up and down the mall at Bluewater.  Circa Richard Simmons, early 80’s or so.  It was a memory best left blocked but, alas, it’s back to haunt me.  Better hair, though, this time around.  It’s good to see gender parity when it comes to hair care, styling, color options (including but not limited to highlights, lowlights and frosting) and product usage.  Progress if ever there was any.

Oh how quickly the spirit of the season can be crushed.

Toss into the mix a quick jaunt to Aberdeen for a book signing and our most successful festival event ever, and you get a fair idea of the past few weeks.  Christmas looms but we’re buzzing along nicely if not consciously.  Plenty of cranberry pies (our answer to mince meat) are in the pipeline, but you never know when a Sweatin’ to the Oldies flashback could paralyze us and shut production down.

It’s our best guess that with the Christmas clock ticking down, we will not be blogging prior to the day.  With that in mind, both of us wish you and yours the happiest and healthiest of the holiday season. Be merry and enjoy.      

Without a doubt this is absolutely our favorite time of year.  And our favorite holiday.  For those not in the know Thursday, November 24th is Thanksgiving.  At least to us Americans.  Our Canadian cousins have already celebrated in October.  It is a time for family and friends to come together for no other purpose than to eat, enjoy and be grateful for all that we hold dear.  Sometimes it’s a simple thing like being thankful for a new job and other times it’s more meaningful like giving thanks for a supportive partner or family who stands behind you no matter what.  Nothing terribly religious.  No gifts.  No pomp.  No circumstance.  Just an all-out feast to share with those you love.  Then again you might be thankful if the odd person or two couldn’t make dinner that evening but it being a holiday we’ll try to keep a positive spin on things. 

Many people have asked us the what and why of the day.  History has never been a great strong suit so we dusted off a few websites and found some oddly familiar fun facts.  In December 1620, Pilgrims (technically anyone who travels to a foreign and distant and strange land – oh look, that’s us) were sailing up and down the coast of Cape Cod, part of what is now known as Massachusetts.  Winter weather forced them to land in Plymouth.  Alternately referred to as Puritans, Separatists and Colonists , these hearty folk hit a bit of bad luck getting settled when, in the following Spring, two plucky Indians came to their aid.  Samoset came first and returned a few weeks later with his pal, Squanto.  They in turn introduced the Pilgrims to Massasoit, the chief of the Wampanoag tribe.  The Puritans elected John Carver as their first Governor who, along with Massasoit, arranged a treaty of peace.  Samoset, Squanto and fellow Wampanoags taught their new neighbors how to hunt, fish and plant crops including corn, pumpkin and beans.  Crops were bountiful that year and in Fall 1621, the Puritans invited their Indian friends to continue the religion-based rituals of thanksgiving.  But for them it was a three-day festival celebrating their just reward of hard, shared labor from which they truly reaped what they had sown.  So, in exceedingly broad strokes, there you have it.  Of course nit-picky academics will take issue with my synopsis, but that’s what they do best so let’s just be a little bit thankful for that.

As for us, we are thankful for many things this year.  What an incredible journey it has been.  The next stop on our crazy itinerary is hosting Thanksgiving dinner on the night at Soho House London.  We are thankful to our friends Lucy and Vanessa for making it possible.  Of course we might be damning them in the not too distant future but, again, let’s stay positive.  For the most part my work is done with the exception of choosing what to wear.  I was in charge of developing the savory side of things while OD is busy baking pies and cheesecakes.  Soho House kitchen logistics prevail when cooking for nearly 200 so we are popping in for a taste or two on Wednesday and then back we go to our kitchen to finish baking.  It’s a bit tensing to say the least but, at the same time, quite liberating since Chef Leon and his team are the ones doing all the hard work.  So thanks to you, Leon, and all who work beside you.  They are toiling and boiling away to prepare this glorious feast:

            Spiced Roasted Nuts for nibbling

            then

            Roast Turkey w/ Cherry Cornbread Sausage Dressing and Giblet Gravy

            with

            Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes

  Collard Greens

            Corn Pudding

            Glazed Turnips, Rutabagas (or Swede) and Carrots

            Pear Succotash

            Sweet Potato Mash w/ Pecans

            Cranberry Currant Compote

            followed by

            OD’s Famous Pecan Pie

            OD’s Famous Apple Pie

            OD’s Famous Pumpkin Cheesecake

So thanks to Samoset and Squanto for getting the ball rolling in the first place.  Without their generous spirit for lending a helping hand, none of this might have come to pass.  Let’s all be grateful that kindness can and should be offered no matter what.  It doesn’t take much and, who knows, maybe it’ll be your kind gesture that starts a new holiday.

Last but not least we take a moment to thank our families for whom we know it’s difficult to read this from afar as opposed to being able to say “please pass the cranberries.”  We are ever grateful for your love and support on this holiday and throughout the year.

Happy Thanksgiving one and all. 

Last night dinner with two fellow expats, one Polish the other American and both architects, led to the discussion of life in the UK.  I offered that somehow it doesn’t seem real.  Not that it isn’t, but there is a bit of a disconnect when reading British news, watching kids play in school uniforms or hearing “ta” come out of your mouth when you know damn well it should have been “thanks.”  It’s sort of like living in a state of suspended animation.  Or an out-of-body experience.  I don’t yet see a pretty tunnel of light so presumably I still roam this earth.  What should be and was familiar is still, after 6 years, a relative oddity.  Each day brings yet another challenging accent despite English being spoken.  OD sat this one out since he figured we would be talking architectural jive all evening.  Clearly not.  As we were getting caught up amidst all our jargon my uttered words were becoming more and more unbelievable.  I said something like “I still can’t believe this is happening.”  Maybe I’m misunderstanding what is being said to me?  Maybe I conjugated incorrectly?  Maybe an email was sent prematurely and only half the message was sent/received?  Maybe that damned predictive text thing kicked in again when it shouldn’t have?  Maybe I’m dumb?  Whatever could I possibly mean???  What could any of it mean???  Surely when the locals say “black” they mean black.  Not white or, worse, gray.  Well herewith, I offer up some evidence for you to draw your own conclusions.  I still sure as hell can’t make heads or tails of it.  And God knows my unique perspective of looking down upon our lives from above is no help.  Unlike The X Factor results, these are in a particular order:

 CLUE # 1:  We were paid to write a book on baking

CLUE # 2:  Rizzoli New York bought the book for US publication, Fall 2012

CLUE # 3:  Various UK TV food shows call for our humble opinions

CLUE # 4:  Brainstorming with OD gives birth to Blue Plate (see Clue # 7)

CLUE # 5:  BBC Radio comes calling with a proposal

CLUE # 6:  BBC TV comes calling with a proposal (in the same week)

CLUE # 7:  Dinner with architect friends is needed to strategize expansion plans

CLUE # 8:  Guido Tommasi Editore bought the book for Italian publication, Fall 2012

CLUE # 9:  Google offers free translation (see below)

Baked in America                  Cotto in America

eat cake now                          mangiare la torta ora

chapter one                            capitolo primo

book cover                              libro di copertura

holy shit                                  porca puttana

wow                                        wow

Am I making any sense yet?