between the rock and the cold, cold sea

Thanks to Toronto Tourism and INSPIRE! Toronto International Book Fair, I got to take a trip to Toronto this month. Between Tuesday 11th November and Monday 17th November, I was either in Toronto or in transit between Dublin and Toronto.

I flew with Air Canada via Heathrow. The flight out was one of the more painless long flights of my existence. The aircraft was the very latest in shiny passenger-flying, with actual headroom and windows that could be tinted five different shades of green, and they fed us. Recognisable and tasty food: dinner, a snack, and then a hot wrap thing that actually tasted of its ingredients. Plenty of soft drinks: I had some Canadian ginger ale and discovered I liked it.

I landed to sunset in Toronto, and felt as though I’d stepped onto a film set.

I find the skyline, and the layout, of North American cities surreal, when I see them in person. They are so much a part of English-language television, and so different to the cities I am used to, that visiting them feels rather like stepping out of reality and into a fictional dream where people might be uncommonly handsome and even the tenor of street noise is different. The straightness of the roads and the height of buildings messes with my sense of scale. The sky seems larger.

Surreal, like I said.

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A breakfast of plain yoghurt and sweet strawberries, the yoghurt all but solid. Afterwards some work on this conference paper, but at 1300, hungry and frustrate, I set off for Plaka.

There's nothing terribly exciting about the metro to Monastiraki, but the souvlaki place on the street opposite the station still seems to be doing good business. The one problem is I always forget its name, but you can get souvlaki kebab there - two kebabs in one pita for 3.30 euro, and a solid helping of tomato and red onion. (I always ask for the tzatziki to be left off.) The kebabs were salty but tasty; the tomato juicy, and I wound up with tomato juice dripping on my white t-shirt before I polished off the remains and sauntered into the agora.

The upper level of the reconstructed South Stoa was open, with an exhibit on the changing face of the agora in antiquity. This is the first time I've been up to the upper level of the Stoa, and the view over the agora is rather astounding. It makes you think what it must have been like, when more than one stoa stood; when the Odeon of Agrippa loomed in the centre and altars and shops and temples and offices all around.

From the Stoa I wandered up towards the Hephaisteion, sat on a bench in the shade on the shoulder of the rise, above the Tholos. This is what I wrote in my notebook, wanting to keep hold of the moment:

The agora smells like burnt caramel, almost: some sweet combination of pine, laurel, olive, dust. The acropolis and the hill of the Areopagus before me, circled round with still-green pines - and off to the left, further distant, the slopes of the mountains. It's not a perfect peace. But by Zeus - yes indeed by Zeus - it's glorious.

It is not yet truly summer. The heat has not yet stifled movement. Birds warble in the greenery, sleepy pigeons fluff their feathers on a corner of the South Stoa, yellow and white butterflies flutter past. The drone of cicadas is missing - although I don't find I miss it.

Every time I come here, I see something new, among the archaeological clutter. Or rather, have the time to appreciate something old, until now unnoticed. This time it was the "Civic Offices" in front of the Middle Stoa, and the small boundary stone adjacent, I am the boundary of the agora; ΗΟΡΟΣ εἶμι τῆς ἀγορᾶς. And on the slope of the hill whereon sits the Hephaisteion, the "Geometric Cemetery" and the building marked "Strategeion(?)" whose purpose is disputed. The geometric cemetery is blink-and-you-miss-it stuff: stony holes in stony ground, grown about with grasses. And yet here we touch 2,800 years of history preserved in the earth - sheltered only a little from the passing feet of sun-pinked complaining American tourists. (Overheard: "I donwanna do this anymore," which is not the style of whine one expects from an adult woman.)

Shortly thereafter, my train of thought was interrupted by the blowing of whistles as the site guards closed up for 1500. (I succeeded in startling one of them, a nice boy, by responding to his inquiries in my dreadful Greek.)

Stopped off for yoghurt on the way back to the metro. There is a delicious yoghurt place on Adrianou. Frozen yoghurt! In many flavours, and with many toppings - and they charge by weight, not by topping. Strawberries and redcurrants and figs and grapes and glacé cherries and strawberries in syrup and raspberries in syrup and orange bits and OTHER FRUIT I DON'T EVEN KNOW. And all kinds of chocolate and cereal toppings, and honey and caramel and a sort of light syrup? And melted chocolate of several different sorts. The flavours of yoghurt this time were plain, vanilla, banana and hazelnut. (Last summer they had mango and strawberry and - I think - lime.)

And the woman remembered me from last year, and gave me a discount. Which was aces, and if I'd thought she was going to do that, I'd have filled my little yoghurt tub more full.

Delicious.

Now, though, I suppose I should try to do more work.

Dinner parties (for certain values of dinner party) successfully hosted: one.

Lamb kleftiko, fried sweet potatoes, honey chicken drumsticks, and cucumber, with stewed peaches (and stewed apple and blueberry with cinnamon) and custard and homemade caramel for after. I don't think I poisoned my guests. Well, I hope not, anyway.

We watched two-thirds of the BBC's (quite good, actually) Ivanhoe, which has Ciaran Hinds as Brian de Bois-Gilbert and Christopher Lee (worth the price of entry alone) as Grand Master of the Order of Knights Templar. Hack! Slash! Smash! But the series is all of six hours long, which is a bit much for one sitting.

(I'm still surprised that I can cook. And like cooking for other people.)

I shouldn't be hungry again. But it seems that I am.

My attempt at making lamb kleftiko has failed miserably due to lack of the right herbs and an insufficiently hot oven.

On the other hand, the lamb... thing... I ended up with is quite tasty, so it's not like it's a complete loss.

Pork chops, slow-roasted in olive oil with feta cheese, onion, sweet potato, parsnip, garlic salt, parsley, oregano and thyme: very good.

(Recipe: chop everything up, put in a baking dish, leave in oven for ~3.5 hours. Serve and marvel at how everything has gone to mush. Yeah, I know. Killing all the vitamins. But so taaasssty.)

I'm going to have to see if I can get my hands on some reasonable lamb, though. Or venison: pork is good, but I really think this style of cooking might need a meat with slightly more flavour.

(Feta cheese: expensive to get the non-squeaky stuff, but om nom nom.)

I give you a recipe.

Instructions for the assembly of one (1) cream sponge cake

Required:

eggs
white sugar
self-raising flour
vanilla (optional)
a mixing bowl
a sieve
a baking tray
an oven

cream
fruit

The ratio of eggs:sugar:flour is on the order of 1 egg:1-1.5 tablespoons :1-1.5 tablespoons, depending on the size of the egg. It is a scalable recipe. You can make as much or as little as you like, although I find 3 eggs usually fills one or two baking trays.

Crack the eggs into the mixing bowl. Add sugar in the correct ratio. If you are like me, you will loose track of even these simple measurements. So guesstimate.

Take your whisk. It helps to have an electric one. Beat the eggs and the sugar until the resultant mix is well blended, and stiff enough that you can draw a figure eight in it with your finger that will last for 10-15 seconds.

Pause, if you have a sweet tooth, to sample some of the egg/sugar blend. Personally, that's my favourite part of the cooking process.

Add a drop of vanilla essence. A half-teaspoon should do. But feel free to suit yourself.

Take your sieve. Sieve the flour into the mixture in the ratio noted above. After each tablespoon, pause to fold the flour into the mixture. Make sure no air pockets of flour remain. Those things will ruin a good sponge.

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees Celsius. Grease your baking tray(s), preferably with butter. Pour your mixture into your baking tray(s) and put it in the oven. Leave it there for 10-15 minutes. No longer than 20 at most, or you will likely have carbonised sponge.

Some people claim to like that kind of thing.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

While your mixture is baking, wash out your mixing bowl and put about 200mls of cream in it. More, if you really like cream. Add a drop of vanilla essence to the cream. And this time I mean a drop. Using your whisk, beat the cream into submission.

At this point, your sponge(s) should be nearly done. Remove from the oven and place somewhere it (or they) can cool. When cool, apply cream and fruit. I prefer tinned pears (or in summer, strawberries). If you have more than one sponge, you can make a layer cake, with many different things in each layer. Some people add jam. Or chocolate. Some people replace the vanilla with cinnamon. But then, some people are weird.

I like sponge cakes, because they're quick and easy to make.

Anyway. Eat, drink, and be merry. And all the rest of it.

Wow, this exercise gig has really kicked up my carbohydrate requirements. Half a wheat loaf and four new potatoes. I never used to eat that quantity of food.

(And two chocolate bars - big ones - to boot. Maybe I'm overcompensating, but man, I was hungry.)

I've studied two chapters' worth of Greek. Tomorrow, I get to go into college and read in the library - well, try to, anyway - for five or six hours until I get to go climbing. Climbing = Fun!

I'm uploading the pictures I took today to flickr. The mist was pretty cool, and I think I got some decent sunlit shots, too. But flickr is damn slow.

I acquired sunburn alongside my pictures. So I itch, now.

#

Books 2008: 57.

57. Cory Doctorow, Little Brother.

Available for free online here. This is a very good book.

I presume everyone reading this has heard the buzz about it. Well, yeah. It's cool, it's good, and even the pause-while-I-explain-this bits are fun.

This evening's dinner was roast lamb with apricot and lemon stuffing, garlic new potatoes, baby corn with butter and salt, and green beans. The lamb was lovely and lean and tender and flavourful, just the way lamb should be. The potatoes were small and beautifully done. The green beans were nice and sweet. The baby corn was delicious.

Food bliss. Serves three.

I sleep now.