Beer Bread

I am brewing some ale. Today, I siphoned it out of the fermentation bin, leaving the velvety sludge of yeast behind. The sludge smelt so incredibly delicious, filling the senses with powerful beery, yeasty, malty fumes, that I couldn't bear to chuck it all away.

I used a couple of dollops in with wholemeal flour, a spoon of malt extract, slosh of fermenting beer, pinch of salt and some milk, to make bread. It was a complete experiment, because I had no idea if the yeast would work well enough to make the bread rise, or what it would taste like.

Toasted beer bread, buttered

It was a brilliant success! It smelt like a dream bakery from a century ago, as well as a bit of pub carpet (in a good way). Honestly, though, it was such a wonderful smell. Tasted damn good, too! It had a really full flavour that was miraculously similar to the smell.

One slight draw back; my bread had a bitter aftertaste. With butter and jam or cheese, the bitterness wasn't noticeable, but the beery flavour still was. Next time, though, no actual beer, and more malt extract.

The yeast took longer than packet yeast to start working enthusiastically, but after a couple of hours it was really going for it. I kneaded it again, made it into a twisty loaf, left it under cling film to rise again, and then baked it at 180˚C for about 20 - 25 minutes. It came out with a moist and crumby texture, and you know the rest.

I left the lovely, pretty beer loaf on the kitchen surface, and when I went back to take photos, this was all that remained. Which must be an excellent sign.

Bread remains :)

Now, what to do with the rest of the sludge... There's way too much to use just by making another non-bitter loaf. Any ideas?

Thanks to Embratur

...for sending me a mini Brazilian food journey, when they heard about my distressing tale, below.

I got some malty Palma Louca lager, some lovely smooth, chocolaty ground coffee (Taylors of Harrogate's Café Brasilia), and some Guarana soft drinks, which remind me of coach trip service station stops in the Amazon. Plus some recipes and the photos from a foodie trip around Brazil. I loved the beer and the coffee, but the trip pics just made me jealous!


Thanks, guys! :)

BRRRRAAAASSSIIIIIIIIWWW!!! (Brazil) 1st stop, Bagé

The bus slowly drove away from our Wild West town, trundling leisurely down the dirt road, past the border without stopping… we were there! We’d made it to Brazil!

After a short while, the bus rolled onto the smooth tarmac of the Brazilian highway. The prairie landscape continued, and two hours later we entered Bagé.

It was late afternoon, but still hot and very sticky in the town centre. It could have been a town anywhere, with shady squares, old stone buildings, and modern, scruffy-looking department stores. We were relieved to get to bank machines and internet cafés, and found the coach ticket office.

We’d planned to head straight up north, cross-country, to go to the Iguaçu falls, but there was no bus route to take us that way. We’d have to go East, to the nearest big city, Porto Alegré, to catch a connection. With our bus leaving the next afternoon, helpful locals directed us to a cheapish hotel.

Our spacious room at City Hotel looked out over the hazy rooftops, and we were exceedingly pleased to take off our sweaty clothes, have a shower, and put on clean clothes for the FIRST TIME on our trip! It was the first time it had been hot enough to wear anything other than our only warm outfits.


The view from our City Hotel window

We headed out for the evening, first of all stopping for a beer. We bought our drinks from a kiosk in a restful square, and sat at plastic tables. We were so excited that we were actually in Brazil, and the palm trees and warmth enhanced the satisfaction.

Bagé is a real backwater country town. Most people seem to be pretty impoverished, and we were very noticeable as strangers. Later on the trip, Brazilians were amazed that we'd been there (which made us feel like explorers, whilst they were just perplexed at why the hell we'd wanted to go there). We loved it. The locals were a colourful mix – not just in terms of the complete melting pot of Hispanic, white, black and everything in between, but also their clothes tended to be brightly coloured.

This is where we first noticed the female fashion for leggings (enhancing generally very large arses), teamed with huge, chunky platforms and piles of cheap bling. The large arses themselves are the fashion and without one, you just don’t have sex appeal. A couple of boys dressed like 50 Cent limped shadily about. Black and hispanicky-looking cowboys chinked around in their spurs, dressed in beautiful primary-coloured gaucho outfits.

I was mesmerised by the gauchos, who seemed to come from another world and era. Well they were mainly quite old, so sadly maybe Brazil is indeed loosing them to the past. But anyway, their fancy gathered trousers were tucked into knee-high leather boots, with immaculate shirts and string ties on top. Embroidered jackets and Brazilian cowboy hats finished off the look. Each cowboy had his own coordinated colour scheme.

After our beer, we walked around the town centre for ages, looking for somewhere to eat. There wasn’t much choice. There didn’t seem to be an eating out culture. We finally found a pizzeria, which was more expensive and clinical-looking than we would have liked. Bittencourt Pizzeria was empty when we got there, because we were rather early – we’d had a long day and hadn’t eaten since the border bread that morning.
The theme of the restaurant was that you pay one (big) price, and then you can choose whichever pizzas you want, or wait for the staff to come round with slices of all different ones. We thoroughly enjoyed gorging ourselves on the tasty pizzas, which were not amazing, but had been cooked in a proper pizza oven, from fresh dough. They served sweet pizzas for dessert.


Pizzaiolos at Bittencourt Pizzeria

As the restaurant filled up with diners, I began to uncomfortably realize that although most of Bagé’s population was quite dark, everyone in the restaurant was pale. I started to feel like a stupid rich bitch just by being in there, and got quite upset about the striking race divides between rich and poor. I’d have to get used to this…

When we left the restaurant, it was dark, and the streets were buzzing with people. We walked back towards the hotel, popped in to the hotel bar for a couple of flavoured vodkas, and then strolled the streets to take in the lively atmosphere. Students were touting for cash for the new term, and gangs of kids hung out around little food kiosks that had set up along the pavements - this was the local eating out culture. It was our first evening in Brazil, and it seemed that Brazil was brilliant!

Next Day:

The next morning, we had a several hours to kill before our bus to Porto Alegré, so we had great fun drinking milky coffees in the square and discreetly taking pictures of each other in an attempt to snap the gauchos in the background – people kept warning us to look out for dodgy people (by tapping their noses and raising their eyebrows) – we were being watched, so we didn’t want to act like even more obvious tourists by asking the cowboys to pose for the camera. Actually, people were staring a lot, and we did feel like targets, but what could we do, other than be careful?




We bought some delicious rotisserie chicken to eat on the go, and caught a bus through dusty streets, to the coach station on the other side of the town. We sat in the 1st floor station café for about 2 hours, people watching. Kids carrying their school artwork, other kids being chased by security, dolled-up women, taxi drivers in vests…

We bought fruit (including the nicest mango ever in the history of the world) and water for the journey, and joined the bus queue/crowd.

Into Africa - 20th August 2007

I'd never been to Africa before. I didn't know what to expect. After a long, delayed flight with two stops and quite a bit of daytime wine, I was knackered and dozing as we landed on the dark, rainy runway. The airport was bustling and confusing, with men jostling to ask if they could take my bags. But the first things that struck me were that it was warm (I feel the cold badly, and hadn't experienced properly warm rain before), and the air smelled wonderful, of woodsmoke, charcoal and soap.

Luckily, I was with my father, who knows the place. He knew which guys were genuine luggage handlers, and our bags disappeared to be taken separately to the hovercraft. I was wide awake by now, and sucked up the atmosphere and sights, as we bumped along in a bus, with stalls and people and palm trees lit up by strings of lights and the bus headlights. A few potholes and a sand dune later, and we were dropped at the beach, to await the hovercraft. It had stopped raining, and there was a brightly painted, scruffy beach bar, which sold cold beer. The beer was served, as is the custom, with a tissue wrapped around it. It was my first taste of the local beer, Star, which would become my main fluid intake over the next few weeks. I felt very lucky and alive, as I gulped my beer, whilst watching the hovercraft's lights get closer to the beach, drinking in the palm trees, people and the bar, and enjoying the warm breeze.

First Experience of Freetown - 21st August 2007

Breakfast at Hotel Barmoi could involve eggs, sausage et cetera, but the whole time I stayed there I went for their toasty Sierra Leonean coffee (sadly, the only place I found local coffee!) and fruit, which was either papaya with lime and sugar, mangoes, bananas, or a combination of two.

After breakfast, I was plunged into the incredible hustle and bustle of Freetown, and had my first experience of the torrential downpours of rainy season. We dodged rivers of rainwater and beeping traffic, and slipped into the quiet calm of the Crown Bakery for lunch. The Bakery feels like an unassuming London café but is relatively expensive, and has a Sierra Leonean and international menu. I chose deep fried fish in a bun, which turned out to be cod, and was yum. Pa had fajitas which were good n’ tasty.



In the evening we went to Alex’s, a mainly open-air seafront restaurant. This is a pretty major place to eat in Freetown, where loads of ex-pats eat (the prices being too high for most locals), and all nationalities drink in the sports bar next door, but it would be difficult to find without someone in the know; it’s tucked away behind shacks and stalls. I had bonita fish in a coconut sauce, with draft Star, chips and salad. The start of things to come…

Cassava Leaves & Mud Cakes - 22nd August 2007

Went to the coolest place for lunch; D’s Bazaar, in Freetown. The kitchen is basically a landing on the stairs, with a couple of gas rings, and pots everywhere. It is expertly managed by two cheerful cooks. The first-floor café was bright and clean, with colourful tablecloths and plastic flowers. We got a table by the balcony, and ate spicy cassava leaf stew (which had ‘cow meat’ in it), with rice, and a delicious dish of ‘special rice’, which consisted of spicy, tasty rice served with fried chicken and fish. We drank Star beer.



In the afternoon, I went to the Freetown post office - the only place you can buy postcards - and walked around the centre of the capital, where, being white and female, lots of people shouted to try to get my attention, to buy their wares or just to say hello. There wasn’t any difficult or uncomfortable hassle, except that I wanted to buy some chillies in exchange for taking a picture of a fantastically colourful market stall, but the women running it wanted to charge me a fortune for the privilege. I didn’t have that kind of cash, and didn’t want to feel ripped-off, so I contented myself with buying what looked like flour-covered pastries, possibly similar to baklava. They felt curiously heavy and solid, but the girl who sold them to me didn’t speak enough English to tell me what they were, other than that they were “rich”.

I took my treasures, which smelled spicy and sweet, to the office where my father was working. I asked his colleagues what I had bought. They said they were hand-rolled, dried sea mud, which was full of minerals and meant for pregnant women to eat. They're called 'wojo', meaning clay in Creo. Not to be discouraged, I gave one a go – after all, they were so fragrant! But, unsurprisingly for dried mud, my mouth was filled with an almost tasteless, ashy, dry, powdery substance and grit. I’m sure they’re very nutritious…

Lebanese Mezze

Supper was fantastic Lebanese mezze served in the Lighthouse Restaurant - another comparatively pricey seafront eaterie. I didn’t enjoy the atmosphere here as much as in other places, but that may have been because there were less people around (it was raining and there was one of the metropolis-wide power cuts). But the surroundings were beautiful, and we thoroughly enjoyed the food! Our selection included fattoush, tabbouleh, mutabel, little spicy sausages and meatballs encased in rice and fried. Oh yeah, and we drank Star beer. Then finished off with rum.

There is a strong Lebanese presence in Sierra Leone, with loads of second and third generation Lebanese running thriving businesses, and Sierra Leoneans feeling “like bothers” towards their Lebanese friends.

Chimps & More Cake - 23rd August 2007

My third day started off with a trip through Regent - the first place where freed Caribbean slaves settled and built a village. It has not changed much since it was established, with Creole architecture and beautifully tended vegetable gardens among the lush foliage, by the river. We were on our way to the nearby Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary.



Chimps are still hunted for meat in rural parts of Sierra Leone, and their babies sold as pets to rich people in Freetown. Numbers are estimated to have fallen from 20,000 in the 1970s, to less than 3000 now. Both the hunting and the keeping as pets are illegal, but it’s not always easy to educate people about that fact.

Some pet chimps are mistreated and chained up, whereas others are treated like spoiled children. We met one grumpy, rock-throwing male, who used to have his own bedroom with a TV. Even if they start off pampered, cute baby chimps turn into unpredictable, large, very strong, wild animals, and are consequently mistreated later on. The sanctuary takes in these chimps, which are seized from dealers or their adopted families, or handed in.



The idea is that after their rehabilitation into the enclosed forest of the sanctuary, they will be re-introduced into the wild. But there isn’t the funding to research suitable areas for release. Unlike wild chimps, they can be dangerous to humans, because they aren’t scared of them, so the chimps have simply collected in the sanctuary, since it opened in 1995.

Charismatic Dr Rosa Garriga joined the sanctuary as a resident vet a couple of years ago. She has made huge progress in publicizing the plight of the chimps and the work of the sanctuary in the local community, but is frustrated because so much needs to be done in terms of funding and research, which she feels she cannot do alone – I reckon she probably could, though! She’s a tough cookie and passionate about her work.

I’m one of those people who find chimps adorable and just want to cuddle and be friends with them, so it was a real treat to go and see some. But what made the experience even more awe-inspiring was seeing them in their ethereal natural habitat – rain forest-covered mountains. The photos don’t do it justice.


www.tacugama.com



We got back to Freetown in time for lunch, but then had a lengthy search for various cafés serving local food, all of which had closed down or were being cleaned up after a party! Then we stumbled upon Ki-Ki’s, in Campbell Street, where we had barracuda in rich tomatoey, spicy sauce, with rice and Star. I was lucky to be able to chat to Ki-Ki herself, because she normally lives in London, but was back in Freetown for the elections.

In the afternoon, I tried out the Salvonne Bakery, which has a range of heavy-looking pastries, cakes and bread, including small, solid croissants and steak and kidney pie, which I hear is delicious. I bought a little savoury cake, which was light and moist. Its fragrant sponge was mildly spicy, and flavoured with vegetables.



Notorious Paddy’s

In the evening, we went to the notorious Paddy’s, which is a sports bar, restaurant, and all night club, where everyone goes to party. I was with my dad, though, so the partying was limited to tasty kebabs, chips and Star, and taking in the pleasant surroundings. Paddy’s is one huge roof with not much in the way of walls, which makes it spacious and airy, adding to the chilled-out atmosphere. There's an area of tables to eat at, a big dancefloor, a central bar and games like pool.

Laughing Barman; Proper Night Out - 30th August 2007

Laughing Barman

Today we headed back to Freetown, and it was a relief not to consume a heavy Italian lunch and dinner. Breakfast was a cappuccino with Mabinti’s grapefruit, and then we snacked on her peanuts and some bananas during the journey.





When we got back to the hotel, we had a shower, and then went to the seafront poolside bar for drinks (pa – beer, me - Campari and lemonade. Too sweet but they didn’t have tonic). There was good local music playing, and I asked the barman about it. Then the barman turned out to be completely hilarious, because he kept erupting into uncontrollable laughter, waving his arms in amusement, at the most unfunny things – generally the lyrics of songs; “hahaha – he say he love her – hahaha – he say she beautiful and he want to be wid her – hahahahaha!” He kept doing this until I had the giggles so badly that the tears were running down my face, and I gave up trying not to appear to be laughing at him. He didn’t seem to notice or mind.



We then had supper at the hotel. I ate delicately fried snapper fillets and chips, while my dad had steak. Meat is not great in Sierra Leone, because the livestock numbers have not recovered since the hardship and pillaging of war. Now a lot of the available meat is imported, so a fresh, juicy, rare steak is not really a possibility – rare would be unwise for a start.

Proper Night Out

That evening, I had arranged to meet the foreign students in Paddy’s for night-long drinking and dancing. So, after supper my dad gave me a lift down there, and I met up with the students and their colleagues at the bar. The evening consisted of numerous bottles of Star, games of table football, hot, spicy chicken kebabs, handed out by bar staff, and dancing. The music started off as house music and techno, which seemed totally out of place, but thankfully moved on to reggae and African tunes half way through the night. I really enjoyed hearing Sierra Leonean music.

It was one of the student’s last night, and they all got absolutely rat-arsed – even more so than me! But I was supposed to be getting a taxi back with them, until they all got too drunk and drifted off. Luckily, I had been talking to some locals who knew the student’s colleagues, and who lived in the shanty town behind my hotel, called Sho-Sho Village. We all got a taxi back together, and I got to bed at about 7a.m – 45 mins before my father allegedly tried to wake me for breakfast.