Loving again

I went back to Loving today. The intention was to send myself a postcard, with Loving as the postmark.

I’d lined up a few places not too far away – Paradise, Athens, Paris, Palestine – and planned to mail a postcard from each. Fortunately, I got chatting to the postmistress in Loving, and she told me that the only way to do that was to go into the post office, and ask them to frank it. If I just mailed it outside, it would go to Fort Worth to be franked. That saved me some worthless trekking around, because it was 10:45am, and most of the rural post offices close at around 11am on Saturdays. Anyway, I got one; I foresee some early Saturday starts.

I came back through Jermyn, a very small town with a very small post office, and stopped in Jacksboro for lunch. A billboard had announced that “City Drug” had a soda fountain that was a tourist attraction, so I had to check it out. I wasn’t even sure what a “soda fountain” was. They were somewhat bemused by my questions: What’s the difference between a shake and a malt? (a malt has malt in it …) What’s “frito pie”? (fritos with chilli, cheese and onion). I had a chocolate malt and a grilled cheese sandwich. The locals weren’t as chatty as I’m used to coming across, so that’s about all I learned.

From Jacksboro, I headed towards Bridgeport, through Runaway Bay. Runaway Bay is a bit of an oddity – it has the atmosphere of a beach community, although, of course, it’s hundreds of miles from the coast. It is on the shore of Lake Bridgeport, which is quite a sizeable lake (13,000 acres, or 20 square miles, with 170 miles of shoreline), and is obviously affluent. Nevertheless, it’s not quite what you’d expect to find in the middle of Texas. Bridgeport, on the other hand, is distinctly forgettable – and this is a feature, I think, of every city named Bridgeport that I have thus far encountered.

Decatur has a little more going for it – a town square that, like so many others, is at least attempting rejuvenation. I’m sure you can imagine what it looks like – the town hall in a central island surrounded by a square (with ample parking) populated with bijou coffee shops, cafés, antique and “collectibles” stores, and the inevitable attorney’s offices. Unfortunately, for the most part, if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, but there’s almost always something to waste money on. It would be reasonable to think that Justin is the city from which “Justin” brand boots originate, especially since the town has several outlet stores selling principally that. It would also be wrong. The Justin boot company started in Indiana, moved to Texas in 1889 (Nocona, not too far from Justin), and then to Fort Worth in 1925. They bought rivals Tony Lama in 1990, and today are owned by Warren Buffet (probably the richest person in the world, at least, if you believe Forbes magazine). I only bought a couple of shirts – difficult to pass up at $12.95 – and so I’ve probably made Warren just a little bit richer.

Justin is, or rather was, also famous for being the home of the Texas Motor Speedway. I say “was” because, in 1995, the US Post Office changed its mailing address from Justin to Fort Worth. I must confess that I haven’t been to the Speedway. I keep thinking I should go, to see what it’s like, but keep forgetting to pick up earplugs.

On an entirely different topic, on an adjacent table at breakfast, a US Marine sat with his back to me. I could tell he was a marine, because his t-shirt proudly hailed “US Marines – First to Fight, Last to Leave.” I think I know what this means, but it’s easy to see how it could be misinterpreted, especially by another culture. This sort of arrogance is what makes America grate (sic).

Jermyn Post Office

Bridgeport Mural

Decatur Mural

Soda Fountain in Jacksboro

GastroPlus

I had a wonderful weekend cooking at the Ashburton School of Cookery, thanks to all of my kids! I took the “Gastro Plus!” course – a two-day course focused on cooking with local ingredients.

There were only 9 of us on the course: John, a tobacconist from Solihull – the only other male, whose friends had give it to him as a birthday present; two young-ish (late twenties, probably) sisters that were hoping to open their own gastro pub; two friends, both about to retire from the armed forces (a Major and a Squadron Leader, both nurses) who had never really needed to cook much before; a mother and daughter from London, who were using it as a “bonding” opportunity; and a rather intense woman from somewhere else.

The course alternated between demonstrations, cooking in pairs, and individual work. The intention was to cover as wide a range of cooking skills as possible in a couple of days, with some very imaginative menus, and quite a few “how the professionals do it” hints thrown in.

Some of the hints:

·        Vegetables – if it grows above ground, it goes in boiling water; if it grows below ground, cold water. Jersey Royals are the only exception.

·        If you’ve ever tried zesting citrus fruit on a fine grater, you’ve probably discovered that more stays on the grater than goes in the dish. Try cutting a small square of greaseproof paper, and place it over the grater. Zest away, and when you’re done, peel off the greaseproof and take off the zest with the back of a knife.

·        “Pin-boning” fish with tweezers is a pain, but not so much if you dip the tweezers in a glass of water between bones.

·        A garlic clove has a small “heart” that is easily seen if you slice it in half lengthways – take this out to reduce the “garlic-ness”.

·        When sweating onions or shallots, always throw in a pinch of salt – it helps draw out the moisture.

·        A piece of beef that takes 2 hours to cook needs to “rest” for 1 hour.

Since the course was fairly fast-paced, I learned the value of a “mis en place” – a list of what needs to be done, when, and in what order, to prepare a number of dishes. It covers all the preparation as well as the cooking. Most of us, when cooking, carry this in our heads, but it’s invaluable to have it written down for a meal that consists of several dish – timing is everything in cooking, taking second place only to advance preparation.

Which brings me on to the dishes!

We ate everything that we cooked, and cooked everything that we ate. The menu for lunch on the first day was:

• Seared organic salmon fillet, tomato vinaigrette, griddled asparagus and shaved pecorino cheese

And for dinner:

• Local pork tenderloin stuffed with apple, fricassee of cockles, artichokes, broad beans and Cornish new potatoes cooked in cider
• Frozen white chocolate and cardamom mousse served with seasonal fruits, minted sugar, and praline biscuits

And yes, we husked the broad beans individually, minted the sugar, and made the praline biscuits from scratch (well, nuts and sugar really, since you can’t get good quality scratch these days).

On the second day, an “extended” meal that lasted most of the day (interspersed with cooking) consisted of:

• Minestrone broth with baked red mullet fillet and truffle oil
• Plymouth gin and tonic sorbet
• Pink roasted duck breast with confit leg faggot wrapped in lettuce served with a cassis jus
• Potato rosti
• Green bean and carrot bundle
• Strawberry and lavender crème brulee

We had prepared the duck legs the day before, confit-style, by slow cooking, completely covered in goose fat, and refrigerating overnight. Apparently, this is one of the oldest ways of preserving food, and the duck legs would have kept for months like this. The goose fat can be strained and re-used several times. The green beans and carrots were blanched and tied with a thin strand of leek, to be steamed later. The jus was a reduction of red wine, cassis (blackcurrant) and vegetable stock.

The food was fabulous, the ingredients were the freshest and tastiest you can imagine, and the instructor was interesting and amusing. I think I’m not nearly so worried about high temperatures any more, nor meat that is slightly pink (as it should be). And I realize how easy it is to prepare things in advance so that the final stages of finishing and “plating” the dish are simple.

Thank you all for the wonderful experience!

Loving

Today, I went looking for Loving. Loving, TX, that is.

Loving is a small town, but not hard to find. Its nearest neighbor of any size is Graham, where I stopped for lunch at Sanderson’s Restaurant. It’s nothing to look at from the outside, but they serve good “home-style” food, buffet-style. “Take all you want, but please eat all you take.” $7.95, including a soft drink, and coffee. The buffet featured an extensive salad bar, plus meat loaf, shredded chicken, chicken fried steak, gravy (the white kind …), mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, pinto beans, collard greens, green beans, macaroni cheese, and for dessert, blackberry pie, peach cobbler, and ice cream. This is typical, and very tasty, fare. I think they were licensed, but somehow a beer just doesn’t go with this style of cooking – in the absence of lemonade, I had a root beer.

Why is the town called Loving? Look closely at the photographs, and you’ll see. There’s not a great deal to be said about the town, especially on a Sunday afternoon, so I’ll just let the pictures speak for themselves. It’s a pity we can’t all live in a town with such a name.

Loving, TX

The Community Center

Historical Marker

Ranch House

Loving Post Office

Sanderson's Restaurant