Salad Days

The weather was mild today and sunny. Generally, that means one thing to me: salad. So I happily went vegetable-shopping with my 3-year-old son running riot in the supermarket – every mother’s dread come true. I also bought a fine basil plant that came all the way from New Zealand and landed in Macau’s Park’n’Shop. The bag promises that the plant has never been sprayed, and I believe everything I read.

At the moment it is happily sitting on the kitchen window sill, waiting for some rays of sun to shine its way. The instructions on the bag said not too much water and no drafts, but how much is not too much? Whenever my mother buys plants, she insists that they’re parched and runs water over them for about 5 minutes before saying, “There, don’t they look happy now?”

But I am not my mother and I was brought up following instructions to a T, so until otherwise enlightened, I shall water my basil plant just a little. I feel like I’m quite the green thumb now, with my plant in the window. I snipped some leaves for my lovely salad and suddenly felt as though I had grown up in Italy all my life. Italian green thumb – that’s me.

So, my delectable salad (please refer to insert) included hand-shredded lettuce, basil, diced tomato, cucumber moons (by that I mean cucumber slices cut in two), and then I sprinkled the top with pine nuts from China, sweetened dried cranberries from Canada, cashews from the local market (probably from China), and drizzled the whole with Kraft Caesar dressing from Australia. I hadn’t meant it to be such an international mix, but that’s how it turned out.

Yum.

A hint of mint

Today’s rave is all about Marks and Spencer’s After Dinner Mints (please refer to photo and proceed to drool).

Everyone knows After Eights, of course, so it’s refreshing to see another company’s take on chocolate mints. I’m starting to think they’re an English thing, because they’re both from the U.K.

The Marks and Spencer box reads: dark chocolate with a soft peppermint filling. Made with pure mint oil distilled from traditional English Black Mitcham mint, grown in Hampshire.

I’ve no idea what Black Mitcham mint is, but is sounds deliciously fragrant and old-world, as though it grew side by side with rampion in Rapunzel’s witch’s garden.

The map of England I’ve got in my head has London planted firmly in the southeast. The rest of it is a bit hazy, as though someone had gone and spilled water over an inked map. That’s my way of confessing that if you ask me where Hampshire is, I’d have to tell you very honestly: Haven’t a clue.

I know New Hampshire, but something tells me they’re not very related, except possibly ancestor-wise.

A bit of research might be in place at this point.

Ok, I’m back, and this is what I have to report:

Two very instructive and interesting web articles on Black Mitcham mint can be found at the following urls:

1)   www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2007/jul/22/foodanddrink.features8

2)   www.churchtimes.co.uk/content.asp?id=45829

Alternatively, you can simply Google Black Mitcham mint and see what comes up. Sir Michael Colman (of Colman’s Mustard fame) decided to grow mint. Apparently it’s a particularly fragrant, delicate sort of mint that had all but died out until Sir Colman decided to breathe new life into it.

It used to be grown in an area of south London called Mitcham, therefore the name, in the 18^th century. With the advent of the Second World War, more important crops were required to be grown (I suppose eating took priority over afternoon tea!), so Black Mitcham mint was left by the wayside.

Apparently (so say the articles), it also grows in Montana and Oregon.

It all sounds heavenly and minty, and I’m so glad Marks and Spencer uses it in their chocolates, because for a while no one was interested in Sir Colman’s new fangled idea about growing a better mint.

Now all I need is a soothing cup of tea made from the same mint, and possibly a trip to Hampshire (where’s that again?) to see these fields for myself.

Mint grows like a weed in my mother’s garden in Canada. I have no idea what variety it is, but I’ll try and see if I can’t get my hands on some Black Mitcham mint seeds.

I can smell it already.

Lifetrons - gift for hubby

About a year ago, I came across a gem of a book called “The 5 Love Languages”. I heartily recommend it to anyone wishing to enhance, maintain, or save a relationship. But this is not a book review.

Suffice it to say that I learned that everybody has 1 or 2 main love languages and this is how they understand love. For instance, one of my 2 main love languages is time. If my husband doesn’t spend enough quality time with me, I think he doesn’t love me.

One of my husband’s love languages, on the other hand, is gifts. He understands and processes love through the action of gift-giving, but paradoxically enough, prefers to choose his own gifts rather than receiving gifts from me that he doesn’t like and that end up being stuffed into a cupboard. In essence, he likes to choose his own gifts and mine.

I railed against the injustice of it all, and on a recent trip to Singapore, decided to do something about it. I know my husband likes electronic gadgets (read: expensive gizmos). I was flipping through the in-flight magazine on Cathay Pacific and came across Lifetrons – a Swiss brand-name for teeny tiny speakers (you can hold one in the palm of your hand) that you can connect to your iPhone, iPad, Blackberry, etc. Boys’ toys.

I read the fine print a few times to make sure that my husband could really hook the speakers up to his iPhone, and promptly purchased them.

The look of unadulterated delight on his face at receiving the Lifetrons speakers was thanks enough. I knew I had made a good choice and was further confirmed in my belief when he hooked them up to his iPhone, cranked the volume up (it was past midnight and the kids were asleep), and was duly impressed.

“Wow, it can go so loud! The sound quality is so good!”

I smiled and trudged to bed. Mission accomplished.

Eating for life

101 Foods that could save your life

by David Grotto, RD, LDN

© 2007 Bantam Books

Although from time to time I see health food books in bookstores, this is the first time I was moved to purchase one, take it home, and call it my own.

I was not disappointed. Far from being rare and hard-to-find, most of the 101 foods listed in this book are readily available, and the author goes out of his way to list the States which grow the particular food. You’d be surprised to find out how versatile the crops are that grow in the U.S. I was surprised and impressed.

I like the fact that recipes are included in the book – recipes ranging from salads to cakes – foods that you would actually want to make and eat. Without the recipes, imagine getting your hands on a pound of goji berries because you know they’re good for you. But without a recipe to go along with it, you would in all likelihood scarf a few, gag, and donate them to your maiden aunt who’s “into healthy things”.

Each of the 101 foods described in this book also include the story or history of the food, sometimes wrapped in a layer of folklore. As a storyteller myself, I particularly warm to “origin” stories – a personal favourite.

Love those lips!

I love Kiehl’s and I love the idea of in-flight shopping. So, combine the two, and my wish came true. I bought a Kiehl’s product on a recent Cathay Pacific flight. They’ve even got a website to pre-book your purchase at www.cathaypacific.com/dutyfree, but I’m not that high tech or organized.

I purchased a set of 4 lip balms: original, mint, mango and cranberry. I tried the  mint one first and immediately felt an irresistible urge to eat it or at the very least lick my lips. What a delicious scent!

I discovered Kiehl’s a few years ago. Strolling through a department store with 2 rambunctious kids in tow, their signature skeleton immediately attracted us to come and browse. I love Kiehl’s distinctive, plain design. I even love their snobby prices – definitely a mark of quality.