-
Catching up with food, poetry and a great big cold
Time has been slipping by and a bout of flu stopped me from catching up earlier.
Here are a couple of pictures from a French market which sprang up out of nowhere in the N1 Centre in Islington one chilly day. This one’s for the Prosciutto di Parma consortium sleuths to track down… These certainly didn’t resemble any Parma Hams I’d ever seen.
Nice looking garlic though.
I was fortunate enough to receive an invitation to one of Islington’s more sought-after culinary hotspots, chez Nancy et Mike, where I dined on a Moro-inspired paella
and an Ottolenghi tart (reminds me I must go and worship in his temple of goodness before I leave town)
a Torta Especial Almendra, from Brindisi
and a nice bit of fruit and Manchego.
I was at a housewarming party last weekend, for a neighbour of this property. Big houses are hard to heat in the chilly sea winds they get on Sheppey and the small but beautiful fireplace I huddled near was apparently not enough to protect me from cultivating an ominous sore throat, which I took along on Sunday night to Tammy and Leah’s reading at Torriano, hosted as ever by John Rety.
I then succumbed to a brutal cold/flu thing which laid me low until Wednesday, when I dragged myself into the dusk to attend the Forward Prize do, which was – by spooky coincidence, Georgian properties occurring rather often in my life lately – held in the Georgian Group headquarters on lovely Fitzroy Square. Overcrowding (a superfluity of poets?) led to a dramatic incident – one person fainted – and was tended by paramedics, followed up by an ambulance.
Afterwards we wandered down Charlotte Street in search of a food type that our Lake District companions would be unlikely to find (passing along the way Passione, the restaurant of Jamie Oliver’s now slightly eclipsed mentor), and settled on Phillippine cuisine at Josephine’s. Although I wasn’t fully in control of my taste-buds at the time, I’m inclined to agree with the “not bad, not great” review of the place that I read later. We had the set menu which included a kind of chicken soup with green beans (and one green chili hiding on top)
and a pork dish which looked good
but was a bit sweet for my taste. I ordered it because it featured annatto seed; when I asked what this was, it appeared to be untranslatable: “from a tree” was the answer. I still don’t know what it tasted like; maybe next time.
And that, other than the previously reported efforts to exercise my civic duty, is it… for now.
-
Why I’m not voting in the Canadian election
I will just interrupt the cheery flow of poetry and food to have another virtual temper tantrum. In case you ever doubted that even young countries can have hopeless bureaucracies, I want to share with you the sorry tale of my attempts to vote in next week’s Canadian election, which have resulted in my being disenfranchised. Just when you think it can never happen to you..!
The story begins September 30 when I thought I should check on the exact date of the election which I knew had been called just around the time my plane took off for England. I discovered that it was scheduled for October 14 and I would need to register by October 7 to vote from abroad.
I checked the Elections Canada and Canadian High Commission websites but found them confusing and ended up phoning Ottawa to find out what I needed to do, as I thought I should be able to cast my ballot from here, through an advance poll.
The first person I spoke to at Elections Canada assured me that I could do so; all I had to do was take my proof of address down to the high commission and as long as I knew the name of the person I wanted to vote for, I could do that up until October 6.
Off I went on my fool’s errand on October 1, only to be met by a stoic receptionist who handed me an Application for Registration and Special Ballot and said I’d have to fill it in to have a ballot mailed to me: there was no earthly way I could vote there. Home I went with my form to phone Elections Canada, and spoke to someone else who double checked and agreed it was so, I could not cast an advance vote, I’d have to apply for a mailed ballot using the form, but if I faxed it in to the number she gave me she’d keep an eye out for it and process it as swiftly as possible.
October 2 I set off on my fool’s errand, form in hand, and presented myself at the High Commission again. For those who haven’t been here, there are two buildings housing Canada’s overseas mission here, and they are separated by a twenty minute walk (if you know the way). The receptionist on duty that day assured me there was no way she could touch such a dangerous object as my form and only the Consular Office was qualified to apply it to a fax machine on my behalf.
Off I walked to Canada House on my fool’s errand, form in hand, and got myself up to the Consular Office well before their unholy closing time of 1.30pm. Having already shown my passport to get in there, I handed over the forms, the special fax number and my driver’s licence. The friendly soul shortly returned saying the fax number I’d given her wasn’t in service and should she fax it to the main Elections Canada number? Indeed, and she did, and she handed my forms back and home I went, thinking all was taken care of and I need only wait for my ballot to arrive by mail.
Jump forward to October 9. I had someone check my phone messages in Canada on October 2 and again yesterday. This morning I received an email from home saying there were two messages from Elections Canada – one impossible to understand, and the second saying my driver’s licence was too dark on the fax and it needed to be re-sent. As I had no idea when this message arrived, I went down to the High Commission on my fool’s errand and found the Consular office closed, and everyone I spoke to said you’re too late you’re too late the deadline was October 7. I managed to find someone who was willing to help me. She tsked when she saw the forms; I shouldn’t have been given them back after faxing, apparently. She duly faxed them through and put a call through for me to Elections Canada.
Then the fun really began. I was told that two phone messages had been left for me on October 2 and 4 and that I’d missed the deadline for sending my application in so there was nothing I could do. My position – that I’d sent my application in ahead of the deadline and re-sent my supporting document as soon as I knew they needed it – was worth nothing. And clearly the fact that a consular official had seen my passport as well as my driver’s licence did not qualify her to attest to my identity either: only a photocopied driver’s licence sent over a fax machine can prove to Elections Canada who I really am.
When I asked why they’d left messages in Canada when I was clearly in England, and had provided an email address, the answer I got was that “we only email when we can’t reach people by phone”. Which rather seemed to me to be the case. Why, she countered, had I entered my home number on the form? May I point out that this is exactly what the form asks for, the home and work numbers, with Canadian formatting for area codes – there is no space to provide a contact number in the “present mailing address” fields.
Things got really entertaining when she put her supervisor on. I asked him to explain why nobody had attempted to email me, and why this wasn’t considered standard practice when handling forms from people who were obviously abroad. He replied that the policy was to leave four phone messages before emailing. When I asked why I had only received two of my four messages and no email, he hung up on me.
Thanks Canada. Good luck in the election. May the other guy get in this time.
-
Permaculture and wholesale markets
It’s been a busy week in London, somewhat typically so as it included sun, wind, rain, security alerts on the tube, too much food and drink, too many nights out in a row, a couple of days grappling with bureaucracy (2 days and 3 visits to Canadian high commission offices trying to get registered for a mail-in ballot for the upcoming Canadian election, somehow eclipsed by some other election I think is happening on that side of the pond).
The rest of the time I’m delighted to be back at Sustain for a very brief spell, working on some articles for the relaunch of the in-house magazine the Jellied Eel, which will soon be magically appearing all over London in full and glorious colour.
Tuesday was the London Food Link networking do followed by a wildly over-subscribed talk by Cuban biologist and permaculture activist Roberto Perez. The talk, prefaced by a preview of the irresistably-titled film The Power of Community: How Cuba Survived Peak Oil, covered bio-fuels, agribusiness & the food crisis. Perez works for the Antonio Núñez Jiménez Foundation for Nature and Humanity in Havana; it’s described as a socio-cultural environmental organisation which fronts research, advocacy and educational activities in environmental, sustainability and biodiversity. During questions, Perez revealed his great interest in worms, which it turns out were the subjects of his thesis; and I think we’ll hear more and more about them as vermiculture is a growing trend for building soil, in conjunction with composting.
Wednesday morning I crawled out of bed as early as I could (but not as early as some) to get down to join the crowd
at the New Covent Garden wholesale market for a tour and day of talks and workshops, a Local to London trade event designed to bring together producers, wholesalers and end users in a bid to encourage food service sector to source more regional produce.
There were master classes by an amazing fishmonger from James Knight, who dazzled with the speed of his knifework. He prepared fish
while chef Patrick Williams, of The Terrace in the Fields, demonstrated Caribbean-influenced dishes like this mackerel tartare, seasoned with vodka, lime and salt.
Andrew Sharp, butcher and Cumbrian meat advocate, who also displayed dazzling speed and facility with many different blades while talking about hill lamb and the use and aging of mutton and discussing some of the difficulties of marketing lesser known cuts. He is the marketing face of a farmers’ cooperative and sells beef and lamb at Borough Market under the name Farmer Sharp.
There was also a talk by a herb grower, who addressed some of the difficulties around growing herbs seasonally and importing others to feed a year-round demand for herbs in a climate that is only able to grow what it can for about 8 months of the year. And a fruit wholesaler talked about issues to do with seasonality, size and quality in British apples.
One popular stand: Food Fore Thought supplied the organic bacon and sausage sandwiches for breakfast and the lamb ones for lunch.
Latest Posts
- Sublime
- Good weather for reading
- The world, the world
- Sublime launch!
- Planet Earth Poetry – Readings by Volunteers, Victoria 2026
- Poetry at the Goldfinch
Aldeburgh Poetry Festival Barny Haughton BBC BC poets Berkswell blackberries Black Stilt Bologna book launch Borough Market Carlo Petrini Catalonia Cyrus Todiwala dairy Daunt's Books Dijon Edinburgh Fanny Bay Feast of Fields Food and Morality food history food journalism Jenna Butler lardo Malahat Review Michael Pollan Okanagan olive oil tasting olive trees Omnivore's Dilemma Our Food Our Future Oxford Parmigiano-Reggiano Planet Earth Poetry poetry poetry readings Poetry videos prosciutto salumi Sean O'Brien Suffolk ticks Wendy Morton Wired Writing Yvonne Blomer
In her latest collection, Rhona McAdam navigates the dark places of human movement through the earth and the exquisite intricacies lingering in backyard gardens and farmlands populated by insects and pollinators, all the while returning to the body, to the tune of staccato beats and the newly discovered symmetries within the human heart.
“…A beautiful, filling collection, Larder is a set of poems to read at the change of the seasons, to appreciate alongside a good meal, and to remind yourself of the beauty in everything, even the things you may not appreciate before opening McAdam’s collection….”
Rhona McAdam is a writer, poet, editor, and Registered Holistic Nutritionist with a Master’s in Food Culture from Italy and a deep-rooted passion for ecology and urban agriculture. Her work spans corporate and technical writing to poetry and creative nonfiction, often exploring the vital links between what we eat and how we live. Based in Victoria, BC, and available via Zoom, Rhona is always open to new writing commissions, readings, or workshops on nutrition and the culinary arts.
