Manners Matter and the Alternative Roast

Life in another country is often full of paradoxes. As I rapidly approach my second anniversary of living in England, I am reminded of how I have managed to both adapt to my surroundings stubbornly stick to my American roots.

The most noticeable indication of my nationality is my accent. I cannot hide it and it usually gives me away as a foreigner as soon as I begin talking. However, my vocabulary and phrases have certainly changed. Sometimes this is intentional, such as when I am in public and ask someone where I might find the loo (pro tip: no one says W.C. out here) or comment that a friend's trousers look nice (complimenting someone's pants would result in a very embarrassing situation which I have learned to avoid). Other times things just seem to slip out without my noticing.

Americans prefer to refer to things as addicting. For example: "Dude, these Korean tacos are totally addicting! We have to find the Kogi truck again tomorrow!" In the UK (and I doubt I would have ever noticed this if it hadn't been pointed out to me on a few occasions), people say things are addictive. For example: "I'm well chuffed the Truckle website has Vesuvius back in stock! That chilli cheddar is so addictive!"

So when Carl found me playing a version of Breakout, which I had programmed as part of a course on Java, at 7 in the morning (as you do when you are a complete nerd and really enjoying your new hobby), my immediate response was to explain that during the debugging process I realised that "Breakout is super addictive!" Cue faux glare from Carl who must have thought I was poking fun at the Brits. This was met from a blank stare from me. After a few confused silent seconds he finally put two and two together and asked me if I meant to say addicting. I stubbornly refused and asked why I should have to change the way I speak. Well, egg on my face! Of course, he really let me have it (admittedly, quite deservedly so) for not only using the proper British phrasing but completely forgetting which way was originally mine. Eventually we moved on with the rest of our Sunday and I attributed my slip of the tongue to my slow but steady assimilation. However, it was only a matter of hours until I was knocked most ungracefully from the 'worldly person' pedestal on which I had placed myself.

Prior to the sacred Sunday roast, the all important Sunday grocery shopping must be done. While it is a well known fact to Americans that Brits are very well mannered, this is doubly true on Sundays. So when Carl left me in the queue with our basket of groceries to fetch a bottle of wine only to return just in time to hear me ask the man in front of me to move his cart ahead slightly so that I might begin to unload my groceries on the conveyor belt, I can only imagine how aghast he must have looked. In my defence, I thought leaving my basket (which was getting too heavy for me to hold) on the ground in a busy walkway would be considered rude and wanted to move it as soon as possible. I realised my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth when the man glared at me as though I had asked if I could kick his puppy. At least he moved his cart but the damage was done and I felt terrible. Carl explained that inconveniencing someone, particularly on a Sunday afternoon, when the net impact is null (as in forcing the man to move his cart when it would take the same amount of time for both of us to check out either way) is not polite. He also added, though jokingly I hope, that my American accent didn't really do me any favours and that people would be more inclined to assume I was being rude. Curse you America and your reputation for being a self-centred bully! Ah well, lesson learned.

More importantly, the offending groceries were combined that evening to create one of the most delicious roasts we have ever done: maple and mustard glazed ham! This recipe is courtesy of Gordon Ramsey and the BBC Good Food website. Cheers Gordon!

Gordon's Maple and Mustard Glazed Ham

Another tasty Sunday roast consisting of ham, stuffing, corn, and roasties.

 Ingredients
2 kg unsmoked boneless gammon joint
1 cinnamon stick
1/2 tsp peppercorns
1/2 tsp coriander seeds (cilantro seeds)
1 bay leaf
100 ml maple syrup
1 tbsp coarse-grain mustard
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tbsp soy sauce

Directions
1. Put the gammon in a very large pot and cover with cold water. Add the cinnamon, peppercorns, coriander seeds, and bay leaf. Bring to a boil then turn down and simmer for around 1 hr 50 mins. Top up the level of boiling water if necessary. Occasionally scoop off any scum that rises to the top.

2. Carefully pour the liquid away then let the ham cool a little while you heat the oven to 190°C. Lift the ham into a large roasting tin, then cut away the skin leaving behind an even layer of fat (we left about 5mm). Score the fat all over in a criss-cross pattern.

3. Mix the glaze ingredients in a jug. Pour half over the fat, roast for 15 minutes, then pour over the rest and return to the over for another 35 minutes, basting with the pan juices 3-4 times as it bakes. Turn the pan around a few times during cooking so the fat colours evenly. Remove from the oven and allow to rest for 15 minutes before carving (you can continue to baste during the time to get a nice thick layer of glaze which will harden slightly as it cools).

Additional Tips
We used No. 2 grade maple syrup which is darker (amber as opposed to light). I believe the American equivalent would be Grade A dark amber or possibly Grade B.

If you are feeling particularly ambitious, you can stud the ham with whole cloves after you score the fat in step 2.

Save the liquid from step 1 and use it as a stock for soup or stew later in the week. We scooped of what little fat remained after it was refrigerated for a few days, brought it to a boil, added chopped carrots, mushrooms, celery, and onions, tossed in some hunks of ham, and poured it all into a roasting dish. We then dropped in some balls of dumpling dough and then put everything in the oven to cook the dumplings. The resulting stew was fantastic!

Leftover stew!

I may have a lot left to learn in the way of British manners, but at least I seem to be making headway in the food department! To the gentleman ahead of me in the Waitrose queue on that fateful Sunday, I am sincerely sorry. As for the rest of you:

Until next time, happy roasting! x