While my wife and I were born in the same English hospital (indeed there is a 50/50 chance that her mother was the midwife when I was born), both her parents were born in what is now the Republic of Ireland, but while it was still part of the UK.
My family have quite a few long distance marriages, including mine.
I prefer the cream of kasha I make after running some roasted kasha through my Back to Basics hand crank mill.
I do add hominy when I make pea soup. It's a Quebec thing. It isn't clear to me if grits are really hominy grits or if they're plain old corn meal mush. I assume the white variety is hominy.
Not the same, at least for hominy grits. To make hominy you soak dent corn in lye until the hull sloughs off. You can stop there or dry it out and grind it for grits. The polenta I've gotten is just coarse cornmeal and is yellow.
The easiest place to find canned hominy is in the Hispanic aisle. It's used in menudo among other things. I think you can get dried hominy but I've never seen it in markets.
My school was an all-boys grammar school but there was an all-girls high school on the opposite side of the road. The headmaster of the grammar school and the headmistress of the high school disapproved of "their boys" or "their girls" fraternising with "members of the opposite sex" on the pavements between the schools, but the tarmac between one kerb and the other was generally regarded as neutral ground, so the white line down the centre was a (rather risky) snogging ground ;-) Fortunately there wasn't too much traffic going along that road.
Our school had a swimming bath, so a couple of times a week a class of girls would parade through our playground to the swimming pool, and the entrance to the changing room was *very* strongly guarded by a couple of high school teachers ;-) On occasions, a girl would "accidentally on purpose" leave her swimming costume in the changing room for her boyfriend to find ;-)
Mostly the two schools were completely separate, but there were a few (a very few) classes in the sixth form which were shared - mainly on the arts side: no girls ever joined us for maths, physics or chemistry. Also the two school joined forces to put on a school play or Gilbert & Sullivan opera; they alternated between the grammar school and the high school as the venue for this. I helped with the lighting for several of the plays and operas, and took some photos for one of the plays. Our headmaster would have taken A Very Dim View (he always spoke in capitals!) of the antics I saw in the wings from my elevated position in the lighting gantry as the cast were waiting to go on-stage.
Almost all the teachers at the grammar school were male (and I think almost all those at the high school were female), but there were a few women teachers. My chemistry teacher in the sixth form was a lovely Lancashire lass only a few years older than us, though she kept a very distinct professional distance: she flirted a little and could be teased, but woe betide anyone who overstepped the mark.
One of the art teachers was built like a catwalk model: her clothes were perfect, her makeup was perfect, her perfume was perfect, she moved gracefully as if she was on castors. And yet (there's always an "and yet", isn't there?) she wasn't half as attractive and as fancied by the boys as she liked to think she was. I think she was guilty of "the sin of trying too hard" (she exuded an aura of "look at me: aren't I gorgeous"). She occasionally took sixth-form private study in the library, and she'd walk around, looking over boys' shoulders in a rather off-putting way, and making almost inaudible, slightly orgasmic moans as she walked around. Very odd woman. She gave me the creeps, and I wasn't the only one by a long chalk to feel like that. It was the chemistry teacher I dreamed of...
Ah, Blutwurst... I used to have it with eggs for breakfast not supper. I haven't seen it for a long time. I never had black pudding but I think it's heavier on grain than most Blutwurst or boudin rouge.
I think the mad cow paranoia spread to pig's blood.
I use the band saw at work to slice Tartine sourdough.
I forgot to mention the classic, Shrimp and Grits. Google that; it's a big deal.
Yellow corn meal is sold as both grits and polenta. The only real difference is the price on a menu.
My mom made hash from chunks of beef, onions, and potatoes, sort of a stew. We were poor so sometimes had grits for dinner with a bit of something on top.
We have Albers Quick Grits at our local Safeway. Amazon has it too. It's a pretty good classic white grits, basically a substrate for butter and salt and pepper.
Bob's Red Mill yellow grits, also at Amazon, is good, with a bit more flavor than the white stuff.
OK, grits and eggs for breakfast tomorrow.
I was born in the back of an already-ancient 1936 Ford.
How about Stornoway Black Pudding?
Similar situation in Guildford. Once, at lunchtime, I passed a mixed sex group. One of the girls broke away saying "I wouldn't sleep with you." and reaching the middle of the road "Even if you paid me!"
Yep. I know. I have zero interest in either hominy grits or corn grits. There's a decent chance I won't like polenta.
No menudo for me, thanks.
Bob's Red Mill is what I bought. I really like their red whole-grain bulgur.
That broadly matches my memory.
A lot of school and uni kit was in C/s or cps or 'cycles'. There was even then a move towards MKS harmonization of all scientific and engineering units, and we were gradually moving in the direction everywhere quite without any unnecessary intervention of political bodies.
I note from watching many car mechanic you tube videos that even proper US made cars are moving to metric screws. And things like a "12.5mm wrench" are mire likely than a 'half inch'
In S africa its called 'mealies' or 'mealie pap'
And eaten with the fingers. And a dollop of scalding hot curry on top as a savoury dish.
I have nephews and nieces in Berlin, Sussex, Cape Town, Sydney, Oslo...
It always makes me smile when people accuse Brexiteers of being parochial little Englanders. We are the descendants of the first globalists the world ever had.
It is those who never left home except to get as far as Benidorm who are the parochial remainers.
Did you like Bob's grits? Some people don't get into grits.
Mo likes "Bob's Red Mill 5 Grain Rolled Hot Cereal" which I admit is less disgusting than oatmeal.
The Albers white grits has a hint of bitter, easily overcome with enough salt and pepper and butter.
If you make a big batch of either, you can save the exess in the fridge and, next day, slice it into slabs and fry it, like a pancake. Serve with maple syrup and blueberries. It is tricky to fry, being 80% water. I think Italians fry polenta, same idea.
Southern and cajun/creole food used to be rare in the bleak frozen hinterlands. After Katrina emptied New Orleans, there was a culinary diaspora that greatly improved the country.
There are only two original American cuisines, cajun/creole and BBQ.
Food is like electronic design. Try something crazy now and then.
Both are great fairly scorched. Add garlic late so it doesn't burn.
George Bush senior had a great line:
"I am the President of the United States of America and I will not eat broccoli."
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