Happy happy solstice

Do you remember a few weeks ago I wrote that within a month the flowers and plants that line the paths through the walled gardens at Culzean Castle would be waist high?

It is true. This is how the gardens look at high summer. A big solstice squeeze for lovers of beautiful Scotland. Have a wonderful day.

CD giveaway: Canaich by Duncan Chisholm

I remember the first time I heard music by fiddler Duncan Chisholm. It was a single song that featured on one of Songlines Magazine’s “Top of the World” compilations. At the time they were marking the release of his album Farrar, and the song they chose to feature was Lorient Mornings.

I thought I had never heard anything so beautiful. There is something about the way he plays, with long sweeping notes and these tiny pauses that are like catching your breath when you happen upon a remarkable scene.

There is landscape in his playing. I have always been fond of music which seems to still have earth clinging to it, like the sounds have been pulled from the ground fully formed and are then simply released through the voice or hands of the artist.

Ever since Farrar (which of course I ran out and bought straight away) I have waited for Duncan’s next album to come out, checking his Web site every few months for news.

Canaich is the second in a trilogy of albums Duncan is working through. I have listened to it so many times now that I am just as attached to it as I am to Farrar, from the gentle ache that opens with I Horo’s Na Hug Oro Eile, to the wild elation of a new father in Isaac’s Welcome to the World.

My heart lives with track number 9, a medley of three songs: Caoineadh Johnny Sheain Jeaic (lament for Johnny Mac Donncha), Lorient Mornings and Illean Aigh. There is a story being told here, of love and loss and gentle gratitude for the joyful moments.

The shift from the first song to Lorient moments happens around the five minute mark, with rain drops of piano music. No matter what I am doing, I find I have to stop and look at the stereo. Everything falls into Illean Aigh, the sound of the fiddle swaying like a boat over waves, steered by a man searching for something unnamed among the sea lochs.

The laments are offset with lively tracks that bring back a whirling “spring will come” positivity, and I challenge you to try to make it through The Head Roaster and The Last Miles without tapping your foot.

Canaich is set for general UK and Itunes release 21 June. I have checked Duncan’s Myspace page and there aren’t any samples of the new album up yet, but listening to the tracks there will give you a good sense of his style. You can also order the CD or listen to tracks on Duncan’s Web site.

When I am passionate about something the first thing I want to do is share it, which is why I am bursting with excitement to give away one copy of Canaich.

To enter, leave a comment below about your experience with Scottish folk music. When was your first introduction to it, or how does it influence you?

If you do not have a blog to link back to, you can enter by emailing me at scotland4thesenses@gmail.com and including “Canaich CD” in the subject line.

Winners of last month’s Scottish Breakfast Tea giveaway will need to sit this one out, but do visit Duncan’s Web site and give his music a listen, and be sure to join in again for July’s giveaway.

The deadline to enter will be Thursday, 24 June. I shall pluck the name from the hat of treats on Friday and run to the post office on Saturday morning!

****This giveaway has now ended. Congratulations Anne!****

Ink and images: Robert Smail's legacy

I was not firing on all cylinders the day I visited Robert Smail’s Printing Works in Innerleithen. Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that prior to joining the tour I had skipped breakfast and spent most of the morning walking the hills.

Led by costumed tour guides playing characters from Victorian times, I wandered, slightly dazed, over the wooden floorboards, through the room where the waterwheel once churned power for the machinery, and upstairs to the caseroom, where the air hung thick with the tang of eau du ink and wrought iron. This was my favourite room. I loved the light and airy feel of the place, despite knowing that when it was still in use, it would have been cold, drafty and lit by oil lamps.

Modern living sometimes makes us forget the countless small details that go into creating a finished product. The caseroom is a shrine to detail. What initially can be perceived as clutter is actually the meticulous filing of thousands of metal cases, each carved with a tiny letter or number.

This is moveable type, in which the cases are stacked one by one to form words and sentences, with separate cases for gaps and punctuation. When they are all loaded and crammed into a form so they do not shift or fall out, the ink roller is swept over the top, making a sound like a strip of wet Velcro being peeled away.

An aloof looking eagle sits atop the ornate manual printing press, which glides smoothly on rollers to and from its destiny of transferring ideas onto what were once unassuming blank sheets of paper. Words in print. It is still magic.

Throughout the tour my attention was drawn by the numerous photographs hanging on the walls. Along with running the family's successful printing business,  Robert Smail was a keen photographer and with his trusty bellows camera, gathered hundreds of images of local scenes and people. One of the museum staff members said they still have many of Smail’s original plate glass negatives.

They are remarkable photographs, simple but capturing the intricate character of the people and landscape of Innerleithen. I took photos of two of the photos, but the reflection of the glass made it difficult and these shots do not do justice to the story Smail’s images tell.

The printing works is run by the National Trust for Scotland and is open from April to October. Even if you have no interest in Victorian era printing technology, the property is worth a visit just to see these photographs. I may have been too tired to make the most of other elements of the tour that day, but since my visit I have often thought of these photos. If ever a book of Smail’s photographs is published, I shall be among the first in line to buy a copy.
*****************************************************
Thank you for visiting my blog today. I have a surprise banoffee curd update. Having read of my regret for not having purchased a jar of Baxters banoffee curd when I had the chance, my friend Alison (also known around Edinburgh as “Miss Spotlight”) was at Ocean Terminal recently and very kindly bought me a jar.

It is…delicious. Thicker than I thought it would be but so smooth and rich, a perfect mingling of banana and toffee. Sweet. Very sweet. So sweet that if you eat half the jar in one sitting, it will feel like your teeth are disintegrating (Not that I would know anything about this). I have this great idea to make profiteroles filled with banoffee curd and cream, and doused thoroughly in chocolate. I would call them Banoffee Diabetes Balls.

It’s a good thing my veggie box from East Coast Organics was delivered this week. I can offset today’s overindulgence with a weekend of green goodness.

A very Scottish...curry

Many years ago, when the idea of moving to Scotland was still lurking behind an penchant for Celtic music and British telly, I was an English literature major at the University of British Columbia.

One professor, whose name I cannot recall, possessed a deep monotone voice that was fed by one of those English accents you would expect to hear in an old fashioned gentleman’s club. Only once did he speak of British food. Slowly, pausing periodically for effect, this is what he said:

“The food in Britain…as you know…is terrible. If you can avoid eating while you are there…do. Unless of course…you are having a curry.”

Now obviously I don’t agree that the food in Britain is terrible, but I do agree that the curries are spectacular. There is a world of flavour waiting to appeal to every palate, from mellow kormas to taste bud busting vindaloos.

By far the most popular curry in Scotland (and the rest of Britain) is the Chicken Tikka Masala. Last year Glasgow City Council backed an MP’s bid for Glasgow to be officially recognized by the EU as the home of the famous dish.

Just as Vancouver is recognized as one of the best places in the world to eat Chinese and Japanese food, so it is with Scotland and curry. When you come to Scotland, don’t miss a chance to try some of the best Indian food outside of India itself.

Today marks The Scottish Love Curry Awards 2010, and to celebrate I have made the famous Chicken Tikka Masala, using a recipe I gleaned from the internet.

Behold the ingredients for the marinade, which consists of lemon juice, a teaspoon of crushed garlic and ginger, a generous blob of plain yoghurt, and a teaspoon each of chilli, cumin and coriander.

Go slow. Curry responds well to letting spices mingle, so let the marinade-covered chicken (cut into bits) sit in the fridge overnight.

A chopped onion, some more ginger and garlic, as well as more cumin, coriander and chilli are fried up and some tomato puree is tossed in before the chicken. Oh the beauty of it when the mixed spices start to heat and the scent blooms from the pan. The cream is added last, and the whole thing is served with rice (and a sprinkling of fresh coriander over top, if you fancy it).

There are many recipes on the web. Some call for ghee, which adds another dimension of (calorie dense) flavour to things.

Can’t get enough Scottish curry? A few extra links for curry lovers:

Check in with the Scottish Love Curry Awards to see who came top this year.

Based in the Highlands, Caledonian Curry has created some wild and wonderful sauces. With names like “The Kilt Lifter,” “The Sporran Splitter,” and “After Burns,” you know you’re in for an adventure.

Follow the exploits of Trampy and the Tramp’s Glasgow of Curry. Worth a read: their interview with Scot Shaw about his attempt to take on Scotland’s hottest curry at Kismot in Edinburgh.

What is your favourite curry?

Baxters in the Borders: a foodie's regret

If I am lucky enough to be travelling through the Scottish Borders and I am near the town of Selkirk, I cannot pass up the opportunity to stop in at the Baxters shop.

Baxters has been around in Scotland since 1868 and has several shops around Scotland, but I love this one (just off the A7) because it is like walking into a foodie’s daydream.

The well-lit open plan space includes a section on the left that is dedicated to cookware, although admittedly I do little more than let my eyes pan quickly past so I can focus on everything located to the right, namely the food.

Cunningly, there are samples of various dips set up near the entrance, making it difficult to move past the chipotle, bean and chilli chutney without picking up a jar.

I am a danger to myself and others in this shop. Shelves of biscuits and traditional fudge, a deli with cheeses and handmade chocolates, posh crisps and shelf after shelf of pretty jars of preserves.

When you have tired of samples you can wander into the attached café and gaze at the gargantuan desserts behind the glass. Unfortunately I cannot recommend the steak sandwich. Go for the giant scone - I wish I had.

Here is where the regret comes in. I gleefully oggled the jars of banoffee curd, imagining the creamy gooey toffee and banana goodness inside, but in the end I did not buy one. Now if I want one I will have to take the bus all the way to Ocean Terminal to buy it. I know, I know - the trauma. But it’s my blog - don’t mock my pain!

Most people know Baxters because of their soups, but they make truly delightful chutneys and jams as well. I am sure the banoffee curd is also worth swooning over. When I finally do latch onto a jar, I shall let you know.