BBC TV Chicken Fajitas & Chicken Salad with Tarragon and Green Grapes
Tea & scones on the 4th of July at The Orchard in Cambridge, England. 2012.
Us enjoying an English picnic sometime around 1978.
Like mother like daughter. Me in England, 1978 / Luca in England, 2012.
A photo I took on the 4th of July at the Cambridge American Cemetery and Memorial in Cambridge England. Maybe 2014? The cemetery commemorates American servicemen and women who died in World War II. It contains 3,809 headstones, with the remains of 3,812 servicemen, including airmen who died over Europe and sailors from North Atlantic convoys. The inscribed Wall of the Missing records the names of 5,127 missing servicemen, most of whom died in the Battle of the Atlantic or in the strategic air bombardment of northwest Europe.
Probably not the 4th of July but we are certainly RED, WHITE & BLUE and I am Walkin’ on Sunshine in that jazzy plaid number! (I actually think this might have been taken in Israel. Dad? Any idea?)
I’ve spent a surprising number of 4th of Julys in England. As you might guess, it’s kind of anti-climatic. When we used to take the QM2 with my parents, the ship often delivered us to Southampton in late June, leaving us to travel around and still be abroad on the holiday. One summer, Chris was with us and we went to the Cambridge American Cemetery where a lot of bikers were having a celebration. But, otherwise, the holiday basically went unnoticed because, well, the English don’t like to party about losing the colonies. I was just looking at my Facebook memories today and noticed that 9 years ago I took my daughter on her first trip to England. We spent a not very festive, but incredibly delicious, 4th of July afternoon enjoying tea & scones with my parents on the green lawn of The Orchard in Cambridge.
My American 4th of Julys kind of blur together except for one particularly memorable one when I took a ferry past the Statue of Liberty to a college friend’s house on Staten Island, all while carrying a 7 layer dip decorated as an American Flag (tomatoes for red, green onions for white, black olives for blue).
I also remember one in Chapel Hill with my Mom when I was a teen. My dad was out of town so we loaded ourselves up in the old Chevy Citation and drove to the top of a parking garage somewhere on the UNC campus to watch the fireworks. It was nothing special but I remember it because I enjoyed being alone with Mom so much. She was chill and she made you feel heard (although maybe not so easily heard over fireworks?!). My sister left for boarding school when I was 11 and my Dad traveled fairly regularly. He had the usual academic conferences and speaking arrangements but he also had a side gig as a consultant for a public health organization that took him to various exotic places like Indonesia and Africa. Mom and I had some little traditions that we would do when we were alone. If we were feeling naughty we would walk to Arby’s and order roast beef sandwiches with hashbrowns and “Horsey Sauce” (horseradish, which I will argue is an underrated condiment). If we were feeling virtuous we would walk to Swenson’s (yes, the ice cream place) and order a salad with “Creamy Cucumber” dressing. Every time. Matching food. No variations. It was comforting. Then we would walk home and watch a TV program together or hang out in my room listening to music while Mom sewed and I made art.
Interestingly, I also have a negative memory of this very same Swenson’s. They used to serve something called a “Mr. San Francisco” which was a scoop of ice cream on a plate with gumball eyes and a maraschino cherry topped ice cream cone hat surrounded by a ruffled collar of whipped cream. In essence, it was amazing. And, it was $1.25. I would often go and order it, thinking I was outsmarting the man by asking for bubble gum ice cream as my scoop flavor (I would pick out the gumballs to save for later - it was truly the snack that kept on giving!). One day I had a friend over after school and we decided that we wanted to go to Swenson’s. We asked my Dad and he said no, it would ruin our dinner. So, then we said, “OK. We’re going to go for a bike ride.” [Wink Wink] Cut to 20 minutes later and we were in Swenson’s ordering our Mr. San Franciscos when Dad barged in, grabbed me by the collar, loudly proclaimed, “OH NO YOU AREN’T” and pulled me out. You see, Swenson’s was very incoveniently located next to a bookstore Dad frequented and he saw our bikes. Talk about embarrassing! I think it took me a while to go back to the scene of the crime, but the siren song of Mr. San Francisco was strong enough to eventually pull me in again.
Mom and I had our rituals. Salads at Swenson’s. Risotto at the National Gallery Cafe. I remember visiting her one summer from Texas and she took me to a new restaurant in Carrboro. We ordered salads and they came out slathered in that carrot ginger dressing that is popular at sushi restaurants. It’s delicious but ugly. Mom took one look at her plate and said “it looks like a bunny threw up on my plate”. She was funny. When it came time for me to tour colleges (as it is now with my kid) Mom made it cool. She met me in Washington DC where I was doing a portfolio review and we took the sleeper train up and down the East Coast, stopping to see friends and tour schools along the way. I remember eating a cream cheese and olive sandwich at a diner in NYC with her and being both excited and intimated by the energy of the city. That trip was also the first time we encountered a Crate & Barrel (in Cambridge, MA) and we were INTO IT. Mom and I were excellent shoppers! I came home from that trip with a pair of cast concrete and metal candle holders, because that is *exactly* what a 17 year old needs for her dorm room. Back home, we once ended up at a neon artist’s studio. Mom was so charmed that she asked the artist to place a piece of scrap neon that I liked (it was kind of a greek key pattern) into a base so that I could have a neon sculpture for my room. Neon is ubiquitous these days (especially if you follow wedding blogs!) but in the 80s it was a truly rare and amazing gift.
This post is kind of a rambler, but I’ll get back to the point: Mom’s recipes. I thought with the 4th and its BBQs and all of that you might be cooking chicken. I’ve got 2 recipes today. The first is a chicken fajita recipe that Mom transcribed from BBC TV in England. As a Texan, this makes me laugh. But it sounds tasty enough. The second is a chicken salad recipe that just sounds cool and delicious. It also has a little bit of an English nod with the double cream (and very Mom, who loved dairy!),
BBC TV CHICKEN FAJITAS
Chicken breasts cut in strips—don’t know how many
Marinade:
2 Tbsp chili oil (like the oil Sarah brough from Texas—with whole chilis in it)
1 Tbsp chili powder
1 Tbsp paprika
zest and juice of one lime
salt and pepper
salsa—tomato (peeled, chopped), sweet onion, avocado, lime juice, olive oil, salt and pepper
chopped coriander
He grills the chicken over charcoal on skewers
Warm the tortillas—he sprayed them with something (water, oil) and put briefly on grill
Wrap w/salsa, sour cream, a little shredded iceberg
CHICKEN SALAD WITH TARRAGON & GREEN GRAPES
Serves 4-6
1 cooked chicken, about 3 lb
1 heaped teaspoon chopped fresh tarragon
4 oz seedless green grapes, halved
5 fl oz mayonnaise, preferably homemade
3 fl oz double cream
3 spring onions, finely chopped
1 small lettuce, washed and allowed to dry
few sprigs watercress
salt and freshly milled black pepper
Remove the skin from the chicken and slice the flesh into longish pieces where possible. Remove all the chicken from the bones and place all the meat in a bowl, seasoning with salt and pepper.
In a separate bowl, mix the mayonnaise thoroughly with the cream, adding the chopped tarragon and finely chopped spring onions. Now pour the sauce over the chicken, mix it well so that all the chicken pieces get a good coating, then arrange it on a plate of crisp lettuce leaves and garnish with green grapes and a few sprigs of watercress
AS USUAL, KEEP ME POSTED!
Email and subscription button below.