Showing posts with label Norfolk Stuffing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Norfolk Stuffing. Show all posts

Sunday, 26 April 2009

Alexanders The Great


Every time I drive into Norfolk at this time of the year I see these plants rearing up in great clumps of efflorescence on the verges as I near the coast. I first saw it crowding the dirt track that leads up to the Happisburgh lighthouse, but only tonight do I reach for my well-thumbed copy of Flora Britannica and discover they are Alexanders (Smyrnium olustratum). At first glance I thought they looked like the first sproutings of cow parsley, but of course the flower heads are far too thick, and in any case the yellowy green tops are the final colour. They are, however, in the same grouping that includes not only the parsley but pignut and coriander- the Carrot family. Richard Mabey reckons they were a Roman import, put to use 'as an all-purpose spring vegetable and tonic', but I wouldn't fancy it in a gin. You can eat the stalks- go for the green thick bits of stem and cook it like celery. Mabey also tells us that Alexanders are often found growing in the disturbed soil around monastic buildings, where it must have been put to both culinary and medicinal purpose, notably on Steepholm in the Bristol Channel. The name probably comes from 'the parsley of Alexandria', which explains its Mediterranean origins and maritime locations. Although it has been found in such diverse places as Bedfordshire and Dartmoor. So now I know, and of course will point it out to fellow travellers and go on about it as if I'd known about it all my life.

Saturday, 8 March 2008

Passing the Thyme


You may remember I got overly emotional about the disappearance of the Norfolk Stuffing Mix packet (Remembrance of Tins Past 26/2/08). This was the one with the smiley pig and his endorsement of the product as 'Highly Recommended'. Well, as you can see, all is not as lost as I'd imagined. Those of you familiar with this blog and its environs will know that a certain butcher in Uppingham is rewarded with many walk-on parts, mainly for his pork pies. The shop stands at the eastern end of the High Street, with a bright red blind and a green and cream door open at the top like a stable. I was standing in there this morning, glad that there were a few people in front of me so that I could cast my eyes over the scene. Much chopping and hacking on a big butcher's block, meat in various stages of dismemberment like a Tibetan sky burial. String suspended from the axe and cleaver rack, carrier bags with farmyard animals on them. And then my eye casually rose above the pork pies (oh yes) to the top shelf. And there he was, Mr. Pig from Norfolk. They've modified his smile to be more of an expression of pathetic resignation, but I shall take his new recommendation of being 'The Original & Best' and make sure I get a good stuffing tomorrow.