You can bet your bottom dollar that I didn't eat any oatcakes while I was back home in Canada. That's a cracker best eaten in its proper cultural context. Scottish food items are appropriate and necessary here, in Scotland, but don't really grip one with lingering desires that persist across trans-atlantic flights. Aside from a very early and very quiet bowl of oatmeal with my Dad to ready us for the farmers' market the Saturday before Christmas, and a couple of whiskies before a couple of dinners, I didn't even think about Scottish food. I thought about cookies, and all of the amazing meats that my parents were cooking and how I managed to consume quite so much Bailey's and just how many practices I would need before I pulled off a classic Christmas dinner as flawless as my mom's. I thought about excursions to fondly missed restaurants and bars and about laughing and dancing and snow.
But now I'm back to dark, working afternoons in Glasgow and between 4pm to 6pm, my daydreams return to oatcakes. This was Monday afternoon's snack and it comprised of some rough oatcakes, some old (Canadian) cheddar, a bit of mango, some strong turns of pepper and a dusting of chipotle powder. This tin of red and smokey heat was a stocking stuffer from my father Christmas, and I was more than happy to add it to my already huge amount of luggage. Remember when people discovered chipotle and everything started to get flavoured with it? I just started to miss those rosy days of 2003, I think. Anyway, now I can make up a chipotle mayonnaise any time I want to indulge in it, or anytime I want to remember Taco Bell commercials.
OK...so it's Friday nite and i'm about to make dinner and i now have a most un-canadian craving for an oatcake!
happy foraging this weekend!
Posted by: dad | January 12, 2008 at 12:05 AM