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I’m not a bit ashamed to admit that the DH and I spent the evening Skyping the Spain relatives, drinking cava and eating chorizo, tortilla chips and salsa, and, of course, pumpkin pie. (Those are all foods from very distinct cuisines, but cuisines that we love and cherish. Plus we drank a lot of cava. A lot.) There might even have been embarrassing living room dancing to ABBA’s version of Happy New Year, Boney M’s Mary’s Boy Child and, why not, Wham’s Last Christmas. (We’re trapped in other decades, thanks to a very dated Top Christmas Songs of All Time album. ) We might have even produced our own parody of Bing and David’s Little Drummer Boy. I’d like to go ahead and apologize to our neighbors, devout Hindus, who might not have appreciated our merriment. A huge magnum of cava and two overgrown kids means only one thing: silliness.
While it seems that Papá Noel forgot us, the good times did not.
That’s a magnum of Freixenet Cava! Rock on!
I sincerely wish those of you who celebrate a very Merry Christmas!
Update: I feel I have to admit that the bottle was actually empty in the above photo – I’m really not capable of swigging cava from an enormous bottle. Glass, yes.
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Photo: Alice Harold
It’s 5:45PM on Christmas Eve and the temperature outside is a frigid -7°C (19°F). The DH has gone out on his bicycle to round up some necessary goods for tonight, essentials like cava, milk and pie. I feel pretty guilty since I’m snug on the sofa and he’s out there hunting and gathering.
We were planning a lamb dinner to celebrate Nochebuena, (Spanish Christmas), but we gorged on leftovers and salad at lunchtime and are no longer hungry. Instead we decided we’d go Thanksgiving on Nochebuena and eat a pumpkin pie instead of the lamb. (Which we’ll cook tomorrow.) That probably makes no sense at all, so let me explain. This past Thanksgiving we made ourselves some delicious tacos, and for dessert we ate an entire pumpkin pie (straight out of the pan – no plates.) Although we loved the tacos, we both agreed it would have been awesome to just eat a whole pumpkin pie instead of a meal. Is it wrong to throw tradition out the window in favor of pie and cava? I didn’t think so.
The DH’s family back in Spain will gather this evening to eat seafood, drink wine and graze on platters of sweets and nuts. Some will even venture out to the Midnight Mass, la misa del gallo. This is the way it is done in Spain. Christmas Day is not all that important in the overall scheme of things. Christmas Eve and King’s Day (Epiphany on January 6th) are the favored days. I’ve decided that in our multi-cultural family we shall embrace the best of both worlds – Nochebuena and Christmas Day (and King’s Day for good measure.) Now that we actually own a Christmas tree I guess it is time to start building our own traditions.
Speaking of traditions, one of my favorite holiday activities is listening to Christmas music and singing along. I used to sing Handel’s Messiah in a choir every year back in college. I found out too late that there was an international choir performing it here in Beijing, but there’s always next year. After reading a fellow expat’s blog about her son singing Spanish Christmas carols, I realized I do not know any. How could this have happened? How can I consider myself fluent in a language and not know any Christmas songs!? The DH quickly downloaded a selection of children’s villancicos (carols). From these carols I learned that in Spanish, Jesus was born in the portal of Bethlehem, which I interpret as the entrance of Bethlehem. ?? Was he not born in a stable? After so many years of singing English carols, I have to admit I had a hard time with the Spanish ones. They don’t flow like my childhood favorites. I think I’ll leave the Spanish caroling to the DH. He told me that when he was a boy he did indeed go caroling in the neighborhood, but not out of any love for music. His intention was enrichment of another kind. In Spanish this is called ir a cantar el aguinaldo and he and his friends would sing for money “donations.” He’s never one to miss a business opportunity!
As an update to my last post, the cookies are long gone. I am even considering making another batch (from another recipe.) The problem with making holiday cookies is that we end up eating only cookies for breakfast and lunch. But not for dinner. Dinner is reserved solely for pies.
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Orange Cardamom Cookies
What with the Christmas tree up and the snowman candle burning, today I was suddenly gripped by the need to bake some holiday cookies. As long time blog readers know, I’m not much of a natural cook. I don’t really feel comfortable in a kitchen, although I am getting better. I have only ever nearly severed a finger once (while chopping cilantro. It bled a lot, but I’m proud to say I fished the finger piece out and just kept on going!) I guess I am doing alright.
I am also not really a sweets person, although I would never refuse a great dessert (especially pumpkin pie!) I prefer savory flavors, things like anise cookies and lavender shortbread. For my first ever holiday cookies I decided on Orange Cardamom Cookies. (I use the Epicurious iphone app to find recipes. It is fantastic for recipe-dependent, cookbook-less folks like me.) Here’s the recipe:
Orange Cardamom Cookies – Gourmet Magazine December 2007
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tablespoons grated orange zest
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cardamom
1 teaspoon salt
2 sticks (1/2 pound) unsalted butter (that’s 250 grams)
3/4 cup sugar
1 large egg yolk
2 tablespoons heavy cream (I used 3 tbsp whole milk)To make dough, whisk together flour, zest, cardamom, and salt.
Beat butter and sugar with an electric mixer until pale and fluffy, then beat in yolk and cream. At low-speed, mix in flour mixture in 3 batches just until a dough forms. Quarter dough and form each piece into a 6-inch disk, then chill, wrapped separately in plastic wrap, until firm. 2 – 3 hours.
Preheat oven to 350°F (that’s ~ 175°C) with rack in the middle. Roll out 1 piece of dough between sheets of parchment paper into an 11-inch round (1/8 inch thick). Slide dough in parchment onto a tray and chill until firm, about 15 minutes. (Okay, I forgot to do this!) Cut out as many cookies as possible with cookie cutter, reserving and chilling scraps. Arrange cookies on baking sheet and bake until edges are golden brown, 9 to 12 minutes. Cool on baking sheet or rack.
SO, orange cardamom cookies… subtle but unique flavors, not too sweet, fairly straightforward ingredient list, yup, I think I can handle these. Well, that’s what I thought last night. Today is another story. The cookies, at least, are in the oven. The kitchen countertops are in total disarray. The sink is full of dishes. I’m exhausted and frustrated. And judging from the amount of flour on my clothes, I am in desperate need of an apron. This is not rocket science, people. This is cookie making. How can it be so darn difficult?
I have obstacles, I will admit. This is the first time I have ever made cookies on my own as an adult. I have made pie. I have made brownies. Cookies are more or less the same, right? Not when you don’t own an electric mixer. Or a hand mixer. Or even a whisk. But I do have a fork, so I managed to cream the butter and sugar together. (I really need an arm massage now.) I also lack that basic kitchen item called a measuring cup set. I do have a nifty measuring tool I bought last year in the States with both metric and imperial measurements printed on it, but it is so small that my 2 1/2 cups of flour had to be measured out in 1/2 cup increments. And I think I might have miscounted and left out a 1/2 cup of flour. At least that is what I am telling myself, since the dough came out incredibly sticky. So sticky, in fact, that even after a couple of hours in the fridge I couldn’t get it to roll out without sticking to everything. (And I was rolling between parchment paper, with an old metal thermos, since I don’t actually own a rolling pin either. Ha!)
When the dough was finally rolled out I attempted to cut out round shapes. I also lack cookie cutters, (surprise! surprise!) so I just used a mayonnaise jar lid. I know, I know. I am officially the world’s least well-equipped cook. After much cursing, I gave up on cutting perfect circles and instead rolled the dough up into little balls and pressed them between my palms. Which is why some of the cookies look like this:
I like to think of them as interpretive bunnies. Or reindeer. Seriously, if you squint…
After some deep, cleansing breaths, I wised up and pressed the rest of the dough balls flat with the mayonnaise jar lid.
I am not at all familiar with cardamom as a cooking ingredient, although I do enjoy it in coffee and tea. I found whole Chinese white cardamom pods at our local wet market, tentatively asking the vendor in Chinese. Since I expected cardamom to be black, I totally did not believe her when she kept insisting the little white pods were actually what I wanted (and the only kind available.) I am not entirely sure that the white kind is exactly what the recipe calls for, but what the heck. I don’t even own a baking sheet, so what does it matter?! I ground the seeds myself, using our pepper grinder (I did at least wash it first although it is very possible I actually made Orange Cardamom Pepper Cookies) and I can now say that freshly ground cardamom smells wonderful. And Chinese white cardamom (白豆蔻 bai dou kou) is used in Traditional Chinese Medicine for the common cold and for the lungs, which is perfect since I have a cold and the dry, polluted Beijing air means I need to take care of my lungs. Win-Win!
Birthday wish list: rolling pin, cookie sheet, measuring tools, electric mixer, cookie cutters. (I am so kidding. The cookies turned out great, who cares that I don’t have any of those things!?)
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Our first Christmas tree
Yea, that’s right. The DH and I have been married for nine years. Together we’ve celebrated Christmases in Costa Rica, Spain, Canada and China. But we’ve never had our own tree. Sure, we’ve had Christmas candles, decorated dead houseplants and random Christmas stuff here and there (I’m especially fond of my Christmas Elf troll doll, I’m a troll fanatic.) We’ve even hung stockings from our fireplace in Toronto. We just never had a tree. Until now. All the handmade glass ornaments came from a factory that I visited here in Beijing, along with a few plastic ones from a Chinese supermarket. You can just barely make it out, but the tree is topped with a tiny Swedish flag – in honor of the trip to IKEA to procure our Christmas presents (and the tree) along with a big plate of IKEA Swedish meatballs. Which are, incidentally, horribly-wonderful. I really need to make the real thing at home.
Our Christmas presents? We gave ourselves all new bedding this year – a fluffy down comforter and new sheets. We’re nothing if not practical!
New Year’s Resolutions are right around the corner… can you tell what mine might be? Seeing as how the last time I blogged was November, I bet you can guess!
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Happy slightly belated Thanksgiving to all the USA people out there! And very, very belated Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian friends!
I hope you all had lovely big dinners. The DH and I made tacos. Before you roll your eyes at my obvious lack of festival spirit, remember that I live in Beijing, China. Turkeys are not exactly commonplace here, although they were being advertised all over town, fully cooked or frozen. I didn’t bother looking for a turkey or a turkey dinner buffet, however, because the DH isn’t all that fond of it. He firmly believes that all celebratory occasions call for a leg of lamb. We didn’t do a leg of lamb as we are only two people. Instead we went for a meal that is considered a treat, to honor the occasion, but also easy to do and easy for two. Tacos are a treat because cheese, taco seasoning and tortillas are pretty expensive here. We really should have just had Peking duck for dinner. (Although the tacos were awesome!)
This is my tenth Thanksgiving abroad. (Don’t feel bad, I think there might have been one American turkey dinner in there somewhere…) With a Spanish spouse, I don’t spend too much time worrying about traditional menus, as we just put our own spin on every holiday. Actually, I just learned a new Thanksgiving factoid from, of all places, a mystery writers blog. Turns out that the very first harvest festival in the “new world” might have been celebrated in 1565 in San Augustine, Florida among the Spanish settlers. Seeing as how the founder of San Augustine is from the DH’s hometown, a Spanish-style Thanksgiving meal might be the most authentic choice anyway. Asturias is famous for its white bean stew, fabada, and lots of fresh seafood. Hmm… might have a leg up on next year’s dinner!
Just so you know that we are still a tiny bit traditional, the DH surprised me with a pumpkin pie, which we came very close to eating in lieu of any proper dinner. Now that’s a tradition I can embrace!
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The Bird’s Nest Stadium
It’s only been two years, but I finally made it to see Beijing’s Olympic buildings. We weren’t the only ones there, either. The “bird’s nest,” (or the eagle’s nest, as the DH calls it), is a major tourist attraction among the many provincial Chinese visiting the capital city. I imagine it must be cool for them to see the stadium and water cube up close, especially since everyone watched the games so closely, and with such pride.
The Water Cube
The water cube, the site of the Olympic aquatic events, has now been turned into a huge indoor water amusement park. While this CNN story makes it look pretty amazing, I doubt I’ll be checking this out. I’m afraid of water, but I’m afraid of lax amusement park maintenance even more.
Maroon-Robed Monks Visit the Stadium
Here in Asia it is not uncommon to see groups of monks at tourist attractions. It is a bit of a novelty for us foreigners and we couldn’t help snap this pic. Shortly before, we posed for photos with a monk who had his own camera. Monks have things like cameras and iphones. That surprised me the first time I saw a monk chatting on his phone while using a video camera at Angkor Wat in Cambodia. They’re monks, not ascetics, although I am sure there are varying degrees of material possession.
While posing for photos with Chinese couples and random monks was not at all strange, we did find the tourist map strange in one aspect. On the map as well as the direction markers, one thing more than any other is very well indicated. Can you guess what?
Please ignore the DH’s bird (in honor of the bird’s nest, he claims.)
And one more:
That’s right – The Colonel
KFC is ubiquitous in China – the Chinese have completely embraced The Colonel. He’s like their own Caucasian grandpa, bearing chicken. And who doesn’t want some fried chicken while at the Olympics? Never fear, right up there with the basics, such as toilets, the bus station and security, there is KFC. You’re never far here in China.
The Olympics area is located in the northern section of Beijing, quite a distance from the CBD and quite far from my everyday life. Since I was not able to attend any events, the whole Olympics seemed really abstract, something that happened in my TV. Now that I’ve seen the infamous stadium and water cube I have to say… they’re really, really small in real life. And there are a lot of fences.
Have you ever visited a former Olympics site? Was it kind of sad?
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The last few days have seen the worst pollution in years to hit Beijing. A friend thinks it is from all the coal-burning heaters and furnaces that got switched on the 15th. I have to admit there was a “coalish” scent to the air, if there is such a thing. The air quality monitors at the US Embassy were reporting “crazy bad” levels. At these levels, everyone should stay inside. Of course, for some reason or another I figured it was perfectly fine to walk 45 minutes across town to meet up with friends. (We visited a Christmas ornament factory, which I have to say was really fascinating. I’ll write more about that later.)
Today we awoke to the sound of wind buffeting our building. With the window panes rattling and the whistling of the wind, I was a little nervous to look out the window. Was there a serious storm out there? Instead of a blizzard I was greeted by a bright blue sky. Thank you, wind, for sweeping all the pollution away!
Also swept away was my heating and dry air-related cold. We’ve had a humidifier running in the apartment for a few days now and the humidity level is up to…48%! (Remember I have spent many of my 34 years living in 80% humidity!) When I have a cold here in China I do not “go native” and head to the hospital for an IV infusion of antibiotics and saline. I do head to my local pharmacy, however. While they do not have liquid NyQuil (the nectar of the health gods), they do have White & Black pills, which are nearly identical in composition to DayQuil and NyQuil, respectively. I also stock up on soothing cough/throat drops. Sometimes I buy local (some very medicinal and some sweet) and sometimes I just get a box of Ricola from Carrefour. I have been enjoying a variety made from loquat, a fruit indigenous to southern China. I bought them in Shenzhen last month from a very zealous 7-11 clerk who insisted they were really good. I wish I had bought more.
In some ways, getting cold medicine is easier in China than it was for me when I first landed in Spain. I had a doozy of a cold, possibly even flu, with runny nose, stuffy head, sore throat, hacking cough. It was lovely. Especially on my wedding day! I finally hit up a pharmacy expecting to find a multi-symptom cold product like I was used to. But they didn’t have anything like that, at least not the way I was explaining myself. Instead I ended up with a box of individually dosed powdered codeine sachets. Codeine is great for cough suppression, one of my major complaints, so I took them. Turns out that downing a bunch of powdered codeine does wonders for the common cold. I was quite complacent and not at all concerned about my stuffy head or drippy nose.
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While I’m delighted we now have a fully heated apartment, I’m not so happy with the traditional first-heat cold I have acquired. Beijing’s winter air is extremmmmely dry. Add a heater to the mix and it’s dehydration city. (As in if I don’t get some heavy-duty facial moisturizer soon, I’ll be a dead ringer for that Tales From the Crypt dude.)
Looks like I will be replacing my broken humidifier tomorrow. I might also be making this recipe. I’ve seen these strange little white seeds in the markets and this is the perfect opportunity to try them out. Did I mention I am becoming Julia Child? More on that in an upcoming post.
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This I know: 25 kilometers on my bicycle is enough to produce seriously sore legs and buttocks.
I first acquired this knowledge last month after riding said bicycle 25 kilometers from downtown Beijing to a botanical garden on the western edge of the city. (It didn’t really look that far on the map, but it ended up being 50km roundtrip.) Nearly the entire ride was into the wind, including the return leg. I swear the wind switched direction just as we were ready to depart. I really need a more comfortable bicycle seat.
I confirmed this knowledge yesterday after riding from downtown Beijing to the northeast edge of the city to Caochangdi, a village-turning-art district. This time we only rode 12km each way and while we didn’t have the wind to contend with the almost freezing temperatures didn’t help.
What possesses us to do such things? Blue sky days. They are so rare in Beijing that you’ve got to be out in them. You’ve got to take advantage of the light and the vitamin D. So we go for ridiculously long walks or bike aimlessly towards the outskirts of Beijing. One thing I am learning is that the outskirts of Beijing go on forever.
Someday soon we’ll go back to Caochangdi, maybe by bicycle depending on how cold it is. Caochangdi is actually just a village-suburb of Beijing. It is a cluster of little winding alleys with houses, noodle shops, little stores and public toilets. And somewhat incongruously, shiny new art galleries scattered around. In one of the alleys we passed a nice looking restaurant with ducks and other animal carcasses hanging out to dry on a clothesline out front. I say “animal carcasses” because I really don’t want to admit what kind of animal it was. On another alley we passed an old man breaking down wood pallets. He looked at us as though we were two Martians on bicycles.
The big art scene in Beijing used to be at 798, an old factory district not too far from Caochangdi. But rising rents, increased commercialization and a whole bunch of Chinese tour buses quickly drove many artists down the road. (There are still plenty of galleries, now accompanied by coffee shops, restaurants, gift shops, bookstores, etc.) The DH and I have visited 798 a couple of times. The last time was on China’s National Day, when we could barely even get our bicycles down the streets for all the cars and tourists milling about. Not fun. Caochangdi is pretty much the opposite. We wandered around and got completely lost. And somehow managed to miss nearly all the galleries. They’re really hidden! This is not 798. Some people say this is what 798 was ten years ago. We did manage to visit a handful of galleries and we even discovered a map of the area, so after some research we’ll be back.
Maybe by that time my lower body will have recovered. 
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