British brownies are not like american brownies. I mean, they kind of look the same, but british brownies are decidedly more cake-like. I love to bake and have a few different brownie recipes from home - some heavier than others - but the british ones are even fluffier than my fluffy american recipes. They’re not bad at all, but they don’t hit the spot when you’re craving some kind of super Fat Fatty McFattypants american brownie, that’s all. Sometime, I will post my recipe here for turtle brownies and you will see, you will see.
In other news, after three years (more or less) of never going to McDonald’s (more or less) I have started going to McDonald’s for breakfast when I am craving american pancakes and sausage. I swear, my first stop on my next visit home is going to be a Denny’s. Nobody here understands the need for syrup, powdered sugar or pastries for breakfast. It’s all meat.
I debate changing the name of this blog. When Mr. Tea suggested this playful name for my blog, the Tea Party didn’t exist yet. I don’t want anyone to mistake me for a crazy right-winger American. Hrm.
And hey, is the queue working yet?
It’s just about time to start gardening again. Technically, I could have carried through all winter long, but I haven’t been especially well and the allotment is on the other side of town. (See also: incentive for getting my british driver’s license soon.)
I might have “accidentally” stopped at the garden center in the next town over “on my way” home from a doctor’s appointment this morning and bought a million jillion seeds. Here is what’s on the roster so far this year (let’s assume I’ll kill about half of them):
- Runner Beans
- Broad Beans
- Sweet Peppers (red/green and some beautiful purple Ingrid ones, too)
- Pea shoots
- Spring onions
- Yellow onions
- Red onions
- Potatoes (waxy and floury)
- Brussel Sprouts
For my house, I also picked up some cat grass, some everlasting sweet peas and some lily of the valley, my all time favorite flower.
I’m trying to con Mr. Tea into making me a herb table for behind the kitchen window this year. We’re still thinking about remodeling, though, so we drag our heels on any major yard work at the house, lest we have to undo it for scaffolding and such.
I cannot wait to feel well enough to get back out there again. There is nothing like eating food right out of your garden. I like to nibble while I’m working. I wonder how much dirt I ingested last year by munching on strawberries and lettuce leaves while I weeded.
I haven’t been feeling very well. Transitioning from one medication to another has left me feeling weird and mood-swingy. My blood pressure is doing bizarre things and I had a fantastic dizzy spell the other day that led to me falling down half a flight of stairs and acquiring this:
as well as several others to match. If you never thought it was possible to bruise the inside and outside of the same leg in a single fall, you’d be wrong! I have another to match on the opposite ankle, one on my elbow and although nothing has shown up yet, I am very much expecting one on my backside. On the bright side, the toe that I was positive I’d broken turns out to be just fine and functioning as always.
So, there’s that.
Otherwise, I am just in hibernation mode right now, trying to feel better and get my life back in order. I miss being healthy. I also miss spring. You have no idea how thrilling it is to me to think that in the next couple of weeks, I can actually start some seeds, and by the time they germinate and harden off, it’ll be time to start planting early crops. Yay for mostly frost-free March! I can’t plant things until May where I grew up, so these early springs are always fun for me.
Otherwise, there isn’t much to blog about. I am planning a trip to Chicago in March, and another to Italy in July. This is the year of separate vacations for Mr. Tea and I. That’s ok with me. Sometimes, it’s nice to get out of town and remember that I did once exist as my own entity and not as someone’s imported other half. I think all couples go through this, but when you’re half of an intercontinental marriage, it’s incredibly easy to lose your own identity if you’re not careful.
I’ll admit it: Whenever my American friends start complaining about rising gasoline costs, I really enjoy pointing out that gasoline in the UK costs about $9.50 USD a gallon, and that it’s only because they are spoiled Americans that they are insulated against the true cost of this commodity. Anyone that thinks gasoline REALLY only costs $4 a gallon has no sense of what’s going on in the rest of the universe.