Food, glorious food

A rare weekend at home after several long weekends out of town (and a week of mid-term exam hell) and, of course, my thoughts turn towards food. It’s Halloween this weekend – quite a big deal for adults by the sounds of the elaborate costumes being planned for weekend parties and workplaces on Monday. Folks also look forward to stuffing themselves full of lollies. There’s some terrifying-looking stuff in stores here called candy corn in the shape of pulled teeth, which is probably exactly what an excess of the stuff does to your choppers. For me, it’s the perfect opportunity to indulge in some quality dark chocolate. You can buy Lindt easily enough here, and they’re wrapped in festive autumn-leaves/Halloween motif foil. Other cool new things spotted in stores include pumpkin cheesecake, toasted marshmallow-flavoured jelly beans, apple cider and pumpkin spiced ale.


Had to try out the pumpkin cheesecake for ourselves with our Saturday night roast. Nothing like a homemade meal after an afternoon of tramping through piles of golden leaves in Ann Arbor’s streets, admiring the Halloween decorations in front yards (animated ghosts, tombstones, glowing jack-o-lanterns). We roasted a pork loin in a crust of cumin, fenugreek, fennel, mustard and black onion seeds, made a gravy with a dash of balsamic vinegar, and roasted some pumpkin cubes in butter to have alongside Gerard’s mash and brussels sprouts. A perfect late autumn dinner, particularly with an interesting French bottle of Kuentz-Bas: a luscious golden blend of Alsatian varieties, including muscat. Great minerality and fruit, and it warmed the cockles of our slightly homesick hearts.

'Virulent' worldview

This week's New York Times Magazine asks "How did virulent anti-Americanism become so respectable?". It's not anti-Americanism. The rest of the world just has a few issues with American foreign policy, not with our American cousins. Big difference. We love you guys, really.

Detroit’s bad rap

Thanks to Professor Matt Lassiter and his “History of American Suburbia” class, I learnt a lot about Detroit last week.

- That Rev Martin Luther King, Jr. gave a version of his “I Have a Dream” speech there months before his the more-famous Washington speech
- That in the 1940s, a 6-foot high wall was built to separate black and white suburbs
- That it is the poorest city in U.S., with 33.6% of its residents classifed as such
- That it is the most residentially segregated metro region in the nation
- That 85% of residents of the city of Detroit are Afro-American. The city, with a population just under 1 million, is surrounded by mostly-white suburbs, bringing the population of greater Detroit close to 5 million. Ann Arbor isn’t considered a suburb of Detroit just yet.

The city of Detroit is littered with ruins of crumbling brick car assembly factories and beautiful buildings (it was once a very wealthy city). Hotels, mansions, apartment blocks, theatres, churches, even shopping malls stand abandoned or have already fallen under wrecking balls in this city whose residents have fled. If you have a spare hour, take some of the photographic tours at Detroit Mon Amour to see its decaying splendour for yourself.

Jonathan Kozol, a writer and public education activist, spoke on campus this week. In the words of campus newspaper the Michigan Daily, Kozol "brings the nation’s attention to the gap between its rhetoric of equal opportunity for all and the reality of an education system that too often fails to help those already disadvantaged.”

In his address, Kozol told of overcrowding, inexperienced teachers and underfunding in urban schools, where the mostly black and minority students are already suffering from effects of poverty and epidemic asthmas from polluted air. Decades after desegregation become a priority in the US and students were bussed into schools, he argues the situation has gotten worse.

“If you took a photo of a typical inner-city school, it is indistinguishable from a school in Mississippi and Alabama in 1940,” he told his audience.

Kozol’s visit comes a few months before the university’s affirmative action admission policies come to a vote. Supporters of affirmative action, such as Al Sharpton, are worried that blacks and other disadvantaged students would all but disappear from campus should the University's consideration of race in admission decisions be made illegal. If urban high schools aren't able to provide a decent education, as Kozol says, they may have a point.

Ain't misbehavin'

Another weekend, another long drive north. This time we were in esteemed company - the 2006 class of the Knight Wallace Fellows, spouses and children included, brought together for some bonding. And on Friday night around the fireplace, they bonded. Thanks to Julia Smillie for her photograph of 'Grambo' and 'CC Rider' above. They're usually quite serious professionals.

On Saturday we drove our hangovers out to the Eisendrath farm (the group is indebted to Gail for her awesome photos) for some (non-alcoholic) apple cider drinking, lakeside wanderings, cornhole tournaments, and, for some, a spot of skeet shooting. Sadly, my kangaroo scarf didn't survive the fun.

On another sad note, we were privileged to share part of our Sunday drive home staring into the lifeless eyes of a magnificent stag, slung into the back of a pick-up truck. An hour later we saw a doe in similar circumstances. Hey, that's Michigan.

Cherry cheer

On the way north to the Upper Peninsula - truly the most gorgeous and refreshing trip we've had in a long time - we visited the lakeside resort town of Charlevoix and its harvest festival. By the glittering harbour on a sunny autumn day we sampled some intensely-flavoured fruit preserves and savoury chutneys: luscious cherries, berries, and peaches in intoxicating purees and preserves; silky and sour lime curd; savoury relishes, spiked with herbs and spice. A dollop of roast apple & onion relish on a square of cheddar lingered on in the mouth. We brought home some cherry 'butter' - just fruit cooked down to a concentrate - perfect on a slice of moist pumperknickel, or spooned straight from the jar. And a bag of dried tart cherries for road-trip snacks, but also great soaked in little cherry juice and tossed into a baby spinach salad with blue or goats cheese.

I just love those red maple leaves in the photo, gathered from the tree outside our balcony.

North country fair

Breath-takingly gorgeous wilderness on Michigan's Upper Peninsula ...

... glorious fall colour ...

... the vastness of Lake Superior...

... remote back-country hunters' trails...

... wild animals...

... Victorian copper baron mansions...

...walking trails...

... and stick-to-the-ribs Finnish food

Harvest time

Autumn is an exciting time of year for cooks for its bounty of fresh produce. We've been enjoying wedges of Michigan-grown heirloom apple varieties with Roquefort after dinner. Local corn, capsicums, eggplant and other vegies spill from crates in the produce markets. Summer's cherries and berries have been turned into preserves and butters or dried for an indulgent snack. Miniature squash and gourds, too small for anything other than decoration, come in stripes or spots in curvaceous knobbly forms.


And farms in the area are overflowing with piles of pumpkins, inviting families to come and "pick" them from the vines, waiting to be turned into jack-o-lanterns. Many farms sell warm apple cider and fresh doughnuts on weekends, or have petting zoos or hayrides, and some even have cornfield mazes cut into patriotic designs. All have spooky Halloween decorations, as do many houses in the city and rural areas alike: giant spiders and webs, ghosts floating from tree trunks, scarecrows with pumpkin heads, and wart-faced witches with their broomsticks guarding the front porch.

A new leaf... for now

I knew the waistband of my jeans was getting a bit tighter but I didn't know how bad things had gotten until one of the Fellows kindly asked if I was feeling unwell. I took a look in the mirror and she's right: in my zeal for tasting everything that crosses my path I have become puffy and spotty with dark circles under my eyes. So time to ease up on the coffee, pass on the chilli-cheese fries and slow down on the wine discoveries. For now, anyway. No more late nights studying either... does it matter that I get 98 out of 100 for my French exam? Do I really need to read everything about the evolution of democracy in Japan if I'm not writing a mid-term paper?

Got a great long weekend planned as there are no Monday or Tuesday classes due to Fall Break. We're driving north - all the way this time. Up to the Upper Peninsula (or the U.P., as the residents or "Yoopers" call it). About as far north as you can go, right up to Lake Superior and Canada. A vast frontier with lots of trees in the peak of autumnal splendour and spectacular scenery, and possibly snow. Farther north than Montreal, and nearly as far from Detroit as New York City. Where the eccentric locals of Finnish descent say "ja" and "da", and are the butt of jokes by the "down-staters". We'll also see lots of grandiose Victorian mansions from the heyday era of copper and iron mines.

"Say ya to da U.P., 'eh?"

The chill sets in

We've had a couple of days now where the temperature sat in the single figures, so we're entering unknown weather territory from here. Still enough sunlight to make the days enjoyable, there's some colour in the foliage, and the air smells sweet like high up in the mountains. I find I have to struggle into four layers of clothes whenever I leave the house, so I'm hibernating most of this weekend instead of brunching with the Fellows or attending the John Cazale movie night at Wallace House.

One movie I did watch with a group of Fellows was Hotel Rwanda on Thursday night (after separate lectures from Floyd Abrams (Judy Miller's lawyer) and the fabulous historian-collector-library director John Dann. An emotional experience to share with our new friend Thomas, the Fellow from Rwanda. His story doesn't have a Hollywood ending, and the wounds are still raw. Thomas lost his five-year-old daughter and his father in the massacres. He was also one of those protected by Paul Rusesabagina in the Hotel Mille Collines, as depicted in Hotel Rwanda. Watching the film with Thomas was devastating - he had to leave the room during the action and afterwards we felt impotent, unable to offer him any comfort and reluctant to question him about events for fear of upsetting him more. Some of us dissolved into tears. Walking home, Gerard and I were disgusted to admit we are more distressed by the tragedy once we know somebody affected. How disgraceful we are.

Thomas' story, in his own words, at One of the hunted (halfway down the page). He has also been written about far more eloquently than moi by Julia, another spouse-of-a-Fellow-blogger, at Life in a Northern Town.

Rusesabagina is coming to the University on Tuesday to receive a medal and to meet the Fellows.

What have we been eating? We tried out blueberry pancakes this morning - with Michigan blueberries and maple syrup. Of course, our professor doesn't own a frypan, so that was fun.

There was a nice read in today's Times magazine from Michael Lewis about genteel New Orleans and how her eccentrics continued after Katrina. I have to say the Times is an enjoyable read, particularly for excellent narrative writing, but I'm increasingly turning to radio (NPR) for the best news coverage and magazine-style programs. TV? Forget it. How I miss BBC World and even Sky News. CNN always has talkshows on it, and Fox News is only good for chuckles.

The geese are here!

Came home from class today to see a small family of Canada Geese have set up home at our pond! They're quite large - so intimidating they've sent the ducks hiding in the reeds - with black necks and heads, and every now and then they let out a distinctive honk. Don't know how long they'll be rooming with us on their migration south, but they're a sure sign that summer is over, red rover. Today is the final day, I reckon. 29 degrees now but down to the teens tomorrow (minimum forecast to be 6).

We survived last night's stint as guest chefs at the Fellows' dinner, but are both buggered today. By the time we walked home with our foodstuffs and leftovers it was early morning. All went okay. Some dishes went out without their sauces and I worry that some didn't make it all the way around the long table, but everything was enthusiastically received - particularly the barbecued haloumi, the lime and chilli prawns and even the garlicky cevapçi. Finally, Lisa and Chuck's tiramisu and layered ice cream were absolutely divine. We wrapped up with French brie and Michigan apples. Thank God it's over.

Leave the gun; take the cannoli

A small group of Fellows and their significant others – centred around the screenwriting course corps – lolled around Wallace House on Friday night to watch The Godfather on DVD. And compare notes over the structure, scarf pizza, and eat way too many of the cannoli brought along by Graham (NPR, Boston) and his wife, Rainey. Then, for no reason at all, we ate our body weight in popcorn. All part of my cultural research, you understand.

Proving that we are true culture vultures on the weekend, on Saturday we went to a concert by the coolest cat of them all: Sonny Rollins. The master of improvisation on the tenor sax, 75 years old and padding around the stage in bright red duds. He scored no less than four standing ovations throughout the show at the beautiful, parabolic Hill Auditorium (pictured below), although he had a little bit of trouble finding the exit door when the night was finally over - his bandmates had to assist him off the stage. Afterwards we met up with another Fellow (Gail, the Baltimore Sun) and her beau Rich, an Ann Arbor local, who brought us along to Babs Underground Bar. No sign on the street, you almost had to give a password to enter. Downstairs it was as if we'd walked into a speakeasy. Men in hats and gals in feather boas. Comfy velvet booths, a fine cocktail menu, cool music and patrons our age. And all the more fun because we’re now in on the secret.

Autumn is coming. It got down to 1 degree one morning last week. But now (at 10:30pm) it’s 29 degrees again. Talk about changeable – it will be 29 on Wednesday then down to 2 degrees Thursday.

The leaves have barely begun to change colour – only the maples are beginning to turn russet - but the squirrels are darting about with intent. They’re gathering acorns now instead of chasing each other across lawns in the university quads. Our squadron of ducks are still in residence at home – keeping us company with their quacks as they sail around the pond, and waddling over when they hear our balcony door open. Piles of gaily coloured pumpkins and gourds are at every produce store, and many houses are starting to look like Martha Stewart projects with their Halloween decorations in their windows and artfully placed piles of gourds displayed on the front lawn.

It’s our turn to cook on Tuesday night for the Fellowship group. We admit to a few nerves – up to 40 are expected and we’re finding it hard to guess the scale (and to wear the expense!). Luckily we’ve been paired with some serious chef-types – Lisa (from the Sacramento Bee) and her husband Chuck have catered a wedding before so we’re hoping to ride on their coat-tails. Gerard and I have devised an Aussie barbeque: beginning with olives, some hummus and baba ganoush (homemade of course) and taramasalata; then a nibble of grilled haloumi cheese with lemon; moving on to cevapcici with garlic yogurt sauce, sausages and barbecued prawns with lime, chilli and ginger served with aioli. We’ve got a few bowls of new potato and avocado salad and a rocket and parmiagano. We’ve also amassed a serious looking cheeseboard – including a Dublin cheddar for some Irish representation. Lisa and Chuck are adding some Californian style with a lamb and artichoke casserole, a warm spinach salad and some sinful chocolate desserts to finish.

Our guest speaker for the evening is Valerie Red-Horse, a Cherokee and Sioux businesswoman, actor and, by all accounts, knockout. She was the model for the Pocohontas doll. Hope she likes Aussie barbecue.

Quote of the week: "You sound just like Sandy from Grease". Aren't American kids cute?

Stretching credibility

I saw a Hummer stretch limo in Ann Arbor today. It was just. So. Wrong.