Meanwhile my inbox has been attracting distractions. Stan has been sending me some meaty articles so I am sharing them with the rest of you as you prepare to tuck into your Sunday roasts.

The Guardian has just posted an article about the £200,000 burger that’s been whipped up in a test tube, in a well-intentioned move to cut greenhouse gas emissions linked to intensive cattle farming. Fair enough, sez I: if people really don’t care to know where their food comes from, and few seem to, why not? Could it taste any worse than TVP, or a frozen supermarket soyburger? It might even be healthier than a school cafeteria burger or frozen hamburger patty, since it wouldn’t be walking around in its own contaminants. Gwynne Dyer had been talking about cultured meat earlier this week, and some months ago we learned about the amazing progress Japanese scientists had made in recycling.. erm.. certain waste products into meat-like substances.

We are eating, I hope, closer to the source of our food at the abbey, although there were some niggling questions in my mind about the historical accuracy of the menu for last week’s Medieval Feast, which featured breaded fried chicken and macaroni and cheese served on locally-made bread trenchers. Try it yourself next time you don’t feel like doing dishes and your meal leaves your guests hungry enough to eat their plates!

Once you have bought the best, most fairly produced chocolate you can, you might like to whip up a little mousse. This one sounds like a good bet, particularly if you are catering for the dairy-intolerant. I was a little surprised to see the recipe credit go to  Hervé This, one of the fathers of molecular gastronomy, as it’s remarkably low tech.

Speaking of gastronomy, I have just come across a 2010 broadcast of The New Gastronomy, from one of my favourite BBC radio shows, The Food Programme. It discusses academic training in gastronomy, starting with the University of Gastronomic Sciences, where I spent 2007 earning a Master’s of Food Culture & Communication (as documented on this blog). It’s an interesting look at the field of gastronomy and how and why it is being taught, though the Italian segment looks only at the three year undergraduate degree rather than the one year master’s that I did. (And I find Sheila Dillon‘s mispronunciation of Alice Waters’ name rather endearing). Other courses in the US and England are also discussed. It gave me a sense of renewed satisfaction that I had done the course.

Seedy Saturday takes place next weekend in Victoria which means winter is on its way out, and locals can start to plan for spring, buying seeds, swapping their home-reared seed and taking in a few talks about gardening. The event, which aims to encourage the sharing of seeds in the interests of protecting our country’s seed diversity, has got bigger every year, and I’ll be sorry to miss it, so am doubly grateful to have made it to the GTUF seed swap last month. GTUF will be at the Victoria event this year, joining other UFs (as we call our community food security groups) in a discussion of urban farming and food security.

A week ago I attended an anniversary party for the Victoria READ Society, which promotes literacy to all ages. This event was a day of games held at Government House in Victoria, introduced by Steven Point who toured the proceedings and seemed to be enjoying it. Also present was David Bouchard, the society’s newly-appointed literary ambassador, who was sporting his Metis sash and entertaining youngsters on his collection of flutes. Elsewhere there was a hot game of magnetic poetry happening, and much else besides.

This year 60 of us were joined by affable seed guru Dan Jason, the visionary behind Salt Spring Seeds and the Seed and Plant Sanctuary for Canada. He’s also the star of Gardens of Destiny, a documentary about the importance of seed saving. Jason had put out a call a year or so ago inviting communities to consider establishing community seed banks, in order to preserve locally-adapted plant varieties (all seeds are under threat from seed patents and GMO contamination by seed multinationals) and to provide a hedge against food insecurity. Some of GTUF’s members ran with the idea and we’re in process of starting our first plantings for a seed bank this year.

After the first half hour of picking and choosing for our gardens, we settled in to hear Jason speak and answer questions on seed saving and community seed banks. He began with a primer on why we should do this: in short, because our food seeds are at risk: multinationals have been ramming through GMO legislation despite the lack of testing for food safety, the potential health dangers from unlabelled GMO ingredients (which are in nearly every processed food you can buy in North America) and cross-contamination of our food supply with GMO. This puts our ability to grow safe and nourishing food at risk.

The good news is that Jason believes we can take matters into our own hands and make a positive difference, if we join with our neighbours to safeguard our seeds and learn to grow food:

“Community seed banks are an extension of something people have done throughout recorded history. With a community seed supply, people become the custodian of their own seeds; this empowers a community to grow what is wanted to eat there.”

He stressed the importance and also the ease of saving your own seeds:

“Plants produce a phenomenal amount of seeds. You mostly get so much back from a single plant it doesn’t take a huge number of people to do this. You maybe need just a couple of dozen in each community. You don’t have to be an expert in all seeds. Just go with the people who know tomatoes or beans or parsley, and make them the mentors for those varieties. They can advise and teach others about details of saving seeds in a particular family.

Jason was particularly encouraging about the prospects for urban farmers who are buffered from cross contamination by GMOs because of their distance from large farms, the only economically-feasible places GMOs can be grown. He spoke in praise of the higher yields that any small scale production can get (large scale industrial producers are handicapped by input costs, including fuel and equipment, and by the risks of monoculture; small growers can diversity to protect against crop losses, and can monitor and deal with potential problems more easily) and observed that growing in neighbourhoods we can share the strengths and weaknesses of our situation: the shady side of a street growing greens and the sunny side growing the heat-loving crops like tomatoes and peppers.

More of the same message seems to be contained in this book, The Vegetarian Myth: Food, Justice and Sustainability which I suspect is not the simple attack on vegetarianism that its title suggests, but more of what its subtitle says. A preview in this video:

And finally, I will be nursing myself through the dragonly blasts of wind and water that have started this year with  sips from a precious bottle of Sipsmith Gin, made in Hammersmith, London which I brought back from the UK.  I’d heard a bit about on a Radio 4 program that talked to artisanal gin makers in London and am looking forward to taste-testing it against my favourite local brand, Victoria Gin.

Back in Victoria, winter waited politely until I was settled, unpacked and the larder stocked with vegetables before drawing in with a little snow and cold weather, ideal for making soup and catching up on my reading. One of my astoundingly heavy bags held a copy of the River Cottage Veg Every Day! cookbook which holds some worthy temptations.

With my poetry ear I’ve been listening to the Saturday Play on BBC Radio 4, Tom and Viv, which explores the problematic relationship of TS and Valerie Eliot. Available until Saturday January 21, and starring Benedict Cumberbatch who seems to be everywhere just now. Listen for the reference to Robert W. Service…

Time, food and agriculture never sleep, at least not where interesting stories are concerned. Here are some that have been stacking up while I was away.

There’s a link here to a rather beautiful brochure  shows that shows you who’s growing what and where in twenty-six urban farms in Vancouver.

And a nice story about the loneliness of the the farming life which I suppose applies to urban farmers as well; it offers a reminder that we are often in too much of a hurry, and too accustomed to shopping anonymously for food, to thank those who provide it.

Some good news for Victoria food shoppers, with a new whole/local foods store opening, conveniently situated near the wondrous Capital Iron.

There was  wrist-slapping lesson in public consultation for Stephen Harper whose decision to bring to fruition his longtime plan to dismantle the Canadian Wheat Board was declared illegal by a federal court.

And finally, the soil is the thing: the EU Soil Report warns about the cost of doing nothing in a time when we are quickly losing the soil we’ll need to grow food by building on and contaminating it. Soil: Worth standing your ground for from The European Environmental Bureau explains why we should be paying attention, in urbanizing and industrialized countries everywhere:

Soil is the basis of all our food and fibre production and plays an essential role in water purification, waste decomposition and climate mitigation. It therefore must be regarded as a natural resource of strategic importance which should be protected adequately and used efficiently throughout Europe. The reality however is that Europe is losing this natural asset, thereby jeopardising Europe’s food security and its ability to deal with the consequences of climate change.

It was a week of nice food in London too. Still buzzing after the Copenhagen jaunt and the pleasures of the poetry workshop in Cambridge, I joined dear friends to tuck into a most excellent Sunday lunch at Great Queen Street in Holborn.

The pot roasted pheasant with poached quince looked (and tasted) wonderful but oh dear I’d just had pheasant (how often do I have the chance to say that?) so after a few reversals I opted for baked cod and spinach, which was studded with garlic and chili and was a delight, although I did think it was just barely overcooked, by a fish’s whisker. I was  afforded a morsel of the chicken pot pie on the other side of the table that satisfied my curiosity on that score (chervil in the crust we thought? very nice touch).

But there was much excitement to follow on the dessert menu: each item more delicious than the next. I had the prune and almond tart, which was soft and nutty and chewy where it should be and had a fine crunchy and slightly caramelly crust. Even so my envious fork went round and round the table. The salt creme caramel was exquisite: a silky yellow custard standing softly within its warm and salty caramel pashmina; the baked cheesecake light and lemony with a surprising and effective fruit confit alongside, and the beignets… ah the beignets. Featherlight and warm, faintly crunchy on the outside, tender on the inside. Why would anyone waste their money on donuts when they can have beignets with raspberry coulis here?

So all in all it was a great introduction for me to this restaurant – and an exceptional waiter who doted knowledgeably without being intrusive, and who had some friendly insights on the opera my dining companions were off to see. Manly yes, but I like it too.

Monday was spent mostly packing and trying out my new toy, a suitcase scale, which will be invaluable on my future travels.

Monday evening I went to The School of Life where I promptly undid all my careful work packing and weighing by losing my head in the gift/book shop. My new treasures include a beautiful hardcover copy of The Flavour Thesaurus: Pairings, recipes and ideas for the creative cook, entertainingly written by Niki Segnit, which is arranged by ingredient and offers, well, just what it says on the label. But I was there for a class – the only one I could fit into my schedule – called How to Find a Job You Love. At my stage of life I had thought through a lot of what was covered, and suspect I may have my perfect job (though I have yet to work out how to make it pay!) but this topic is a winner and the subsequent offerings are selling like hotcakes in these risky times. There were a fair number of people present who’d been made redundant, and some who were stuck in unrewarding jobs, as well as a few who were looking to round out their part time positions with something meaningful. I liked the historical and sociological context that David Baker brought to the session, the exercises were useful and we were well fed and watered as well.

Tuesday I went to see The Iron Lady, which was as I’d expected well acted and cast (except for Jim Broadbent who never convinced me he was Denis) but I thought disappointing from its current day setting and the brevity of the flashbacks into Thatcher’s time. I didn’t feel I got much more insight into those years – and the trump card had already been played a few days before when 1981 cabinet papers were released that cast new light on old questions.

Anyway we mulled all this over a few Irish rock oysters at Pescatori, followed in my case by a nice octopus salad (which did make me pine for Parma, but was good in a different way, a kind of spin on salade nicoise, with potatoes and green beans rounding it out). I confess that the treat of the day for me was a glass of Passito di Panterellia, which is quite simply heaven in a glass, and I savoured every drop.

Wednesday was another lunch with dear friends and former neighbours, and a bit more folding, rolling, shoving, kneeling, sweating and swearing over suitcases. Thursday yet another lunch with dear friends and poets and a final poetry workshop. And Friday the sun shone on the parrots, the Mahonia japonica (not to be confused with the Mahonia aquifolium – Oregon Grape) shared its wintry perfume as we passed by on our way to a farewell lunch at Tarantella where the Melanzane parmigiana and Spaghetti alla vongole were both excellent. And all too soon, the cab driver was there and my Euro-time was over… for now.

On Wednesday I tackled two places: the wonderful Rundetårn (Round Tower) which gives one a brisk, stepless walk up to a viewing platform 39 metres above street level, where we were battered by wind but treated to bright views of Copenhagen. The bellroom has been partially restored and the library turned into a shop, cafe and art centre where visitors can try their hand at making art in response to the visit, as various school classes had done on my visit.

From there I proceeded through the winding streets towards the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. The wind was starting to bring some rain with it, and when I paused to check my bearings I noticed a cafe below street level, so I stepped inside just before the rain descended in force, by which time I was tucking into a most delicious lunch of smoked eel and scrambled egg on rye bread in the warm and friendly Tivolihallen. It was so good I went on eating and had some very tasty lamb meatballs with creamed spinach.

I had a hasty visit to the Glyptotek as time was ticking on, but did enjoy my fleeting tour of the ancient art – Etruscan, Greek, Roman and Egyptian all well represented. I was sorry to have missed the Gaugins, Rodins and Munches that were lurking upstairs, but I did love the courtyard. I trudged back along Kampmannsgade into Frederiksberg where I was staying, and later dined at Ambrosias Have (Ambrosia’s kitchen), which offered a fine vegetarian buffet from its cafe adjoining a yoga centre.

On Thursday the storm was lashing down as we stumbled about in search of the Freiheitsmuseum (Museum of the Danish Resistance) which turned out to be closer than we’d thought. An excellent museum this, with film and audio and nicely arranged displays that gave a feel for the everyday life into which the German occupation came, as well as clothing and objects relating to the Danish resistance movement and the German prison camps where Danes were imprisoned and killed – in lesser numbers than some other groups and nationalities.

Next stop was the extraordinary David Collection where the top two floors of Islamic art and history are absolutely stunning and beautifully presented. It’s a private museum, but so well funded that admission is free (as it was for the National and Resistance museums). All that gawping makes one work up quite an appetite for sild (herring) which we satisfied at Aamans smart little cafe. We had two kinds of herring: one was marinated and the other curried, which curiously seems to be one of the characteristic flavourings for this fish. I was told that Christmas lunches can feature as many as a dozen different styles of herring: marinated, curried, pickled, fried, smoked… And before long we were on the road to Rungsted where Karen Blixen Museet waited in the rain. We whirled around the rooms in which she wrote and entertained, and admired the drawings and paintings she’d left with her estate where the Danish Academy – which she co-founded – still meets in accordance with her wishes. And that was about all I had time to do on this trip, other than to hope that I will be able to return for another look (preferably not during a winter gale!)

I flew back to London on Friday afternoon and rose bright and early (or more accurately in the dark at 5am) Saturday morning to catch a train to Cambridge, where I arrived as the sun was rising. I made my way to the Fitzwilliam Museum where the hugely popular Vermeer’s Women: Secrets & Silence exhibition was entering its final week. Happily I had managed to squeak onto a poetry workshop led by Tamar Yoseloff which she had cleverly arranged with the museum’s educational department so that we could have a precious half hour alone with the paintings. Which were wonderful (only four were Vermeers; the rest were by his contemporaries) and the more so since we’d had some quiet time with them before the hordes crowded and elbowed their way through (there were 25 minute queues by the time we left).  We discussed some poems inspired by the paintings (including this Derek Mahon number) and then marched across town for some another private viewing at Kettle’s Yard, a uniquely domestic setting for an art museum, where we spent some time  writing and discussing before hopping back on the train to London.

And it is a new year! I once heard it said that what you do on New Year’s Eve you will do all through the year, and so I thought to hedge my bets I’d return to the Devonshire Arms and eat a lovely meal in hopes this will set a suitable tone.

We commenced with potted Suffolk ham hock and very fine toasted sourdough, accompanied by a few darling cornichons and pickled onions, and a pear and Cheshire blue cheese salad sprinkled with toasted pine nuts. We moved smoothly on to a melting featherblade of beef with herbed dumplings. kale mash and tiny roast onions. Thus fortified we were able to take a calm, clear look at the desserts which all sounded spectacular. One of the finest was a hot chocolate pudding with salt caramel ice cream. Just to make sure the chef had chosen the right ice cream to go with this (he had, oh yes he had) we checked out the chocolate and ginger flavours as well, bathing them in warm chocolate sauce for good measure. If this is to be my fate in 2012, bring it on.

It is always a bit surprising in this hemisphere to catch a glimpse of green among the brown at the bird feeders, but apparently escapee parrots have made themselves at home in England. I’ve been watching the bird feeders with interest and notice the big bruisers – wood pigeons, starlings and magpies – are getting most of the action, while the smaller songsters hop around the edges. The year round birdsong is something I do miss about England.

On Christmas Eve I thought I’d try to get into the carol service at St Paul’s but what with one thing and another just got there too late and was turned away with several hundred others. I had hoped they might have speakers set up to soothe the outsiders with music from within. But they did not, so I wandered about the tent city for a while before heading onwards to Islington where I had an alternative Carol service from my eponymous hostess who served up some mulled wine and Christmas cake while we caught up. I returned to Chiswick and settled in with The Young Victoria and a nice bowl of risotto, and reckoned that was a fine old evening.

My Christmas gift to myself was a leisurely day of cooking, which always makes me happy. I had bought a plump little pheasant from the lovely butcher, Macklen Bros, and pot roasted it in wine according to a Katie Stewart recipe. Stewart is revered by many of today’s celebrity chefs including Delia Smith, Sophie Dahl, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and Anna del Conte. The stained old copy of The Times Cookery Book I was working from would not command the full £50+ you’d expect to pay elsewhere, but it has been well loved, and for good reason. The bird was very good – finished with a buttery wine gravy made with beurre manie and pan-fried mushrooms, accompanied by brussels sprouts of course, and some Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall roasted aubergines and potatoes … best of all I managed not to crack a tooth on the buckshot. Outside, all was peaceful and mild. A Christmas walk around the neighbourhood revealed almost nothing was stirring on Chiswick High Road at five-ish in the afternoon.