Did Gordon nuke it?

Like virtually everyone I know, the recent natural disaster in Japan has given much cause for thought, if not a prolonged wince of pain.  I have little direct link with Japan, though what there is is more significant than it might be: about ten years ago, my sister took part in an exchange with a Japanese school and so we had a Japanese girl stay with us for about ten days.  The cultural differences were palpable, and the language proficiency on both sides lent a good deal of weight to the film ‘Lost in Translation’, even though the title is misleading.  This seems a tenuous link until I say that both she, name of Myka, and her family, were from Sendai.  It is a chilling feeling, needless to say.

            Aside from this, what is perhaps less surprising, and less heart-warming, is the speed at which the focus of the news has moved from a serious natural disaster to the fate of a nuclear power station that has suffered damage as a result of the earthquake.  What I find still harder to swallow is that this has started a debate about nuclear power and has been leapt upon as an instance that proves nuclear power should not be used.  I shall content myself with being a bit cross at the insensitivity of criticising Japan’s governmental provision-of-energy strategy during one of the biggest natural disasters to hit it in living memory, and almost certainly further back. 

Complaints about the strategy of which nuclear sources were part, have included whether or not a power station of that size and age should be used, as well as what place nuclear power has in the modern world.  Unfortunately, when we want to have a coherent strategy for producing energy that is balanced with the Earth’s environment, the probability in practice is that it will include power sources that to not affect this balance either way—of which nuclear power is an example.  This is unless we are to make a gargantuan and frankly impractical change to other methods.  We would, in chemistry terms, be trying to go from an entirely exothermic-reaction-based system, to one based on endothermic reaction(s).  On that basis alone it sounds unrealistic.

There are various misconceptions concerning the provision of electricity though.  David Mitchell showed one such misconception in the edition of Carpool in which he featured (search YouTube.com ‘David Mitchell Carpool’), citing the looming energy crisis, as it seems to be called by the meeja, as the result of privatising the Utilities.  Needless to say I do not think anyone would claim privatisation is problem-free, however what it does do is remove the political element from services provided.  It is frequently the same people who complain about privatisation as complain about the standard of services that are managed by politicians.  Can it be had both ways?  Well, no, it cannot.  A serious point is that the reason why we have this ‘energy crisis’ is because we use more energy than we can produce without noticing the cost, either in financial or in environmental terms.  The reason why we have the infrastructure we do is partly a reaction to Trades Unions’ activity in the 1970s and 80s in which said Unions made it impossible to regulate the supply of electricity according to demand chiefly from burning coal.  Whether or not the workers on strike had a valid reason for doing so is not at stake: the point is, an infrastructure based upon several sources was constructed and gave rise to a consistent supply of electricity.  This infrastructure necessarily included nuclear power.  It still does to this day, as it does in Japan.  However, with fossil fuels falling out of fashion, becoming more expensive, less efficient, and being increasingly less televisual to boot, where are we to go? 

The only route left to us, as far as one can see, is one that includes nuclear power.  This makes me a bit uncomfortable, as it is not a problem-free solution.  On a different note, I suppose that means that dear old Gordon got it right.  This is a strange feeling as it is the first time I can be sure I have agreed with the man.  I could never have voted for him, not least because he had no mandate to govern to start with, something I think is indefensible in a democracy (take that, Col. Gadaffi).  Trouble is, on this point, Mr Brown’s apparent endorsement of nuclear power probably was right, despite the bashing he got from the media.  Nuclear power is no less unsafe than any other method of generating electricity, especially if one is as fortunate as we are in Britain, not to live near an Earthquake zone. 

We are left with a choice: either cut down energy consumption drastically, or make practical alternative sources of power work.  And that means a bigger role for nuclear power, tsunamis, or not.

A taste of food: truffles

The following food column can also be found published by The Felix, the student voice of Imperial College London, here: http://www.felixonline.co.uk/archive/IC_2011/2011_1486_A.pdf

Truffles always sounded slightly remote to me.  Not really in an impossible way, more an unlikely one.  And if like me, and Daniel Barenboim, you are more immediately interested in the impossible rather than the very difficult, or the unlikely, perhaps they are not something you have yet considered much either.  Ever the scientist though, my interest to learn more about them was primed from conflicting information about them.  They are in chocolate but also are grated, well, thinly sliced, onto (savoury) starters and put into soups.  Manifestly they were not the same and so I took my sweet tooth, grabbed the chocolate bull by the horns and set about trying to find out more. 

Like most people I have had truffles in chocolate selection boxes, those which include truffles start more or less a cut above the cheapest ones.  These I found a disappointment and rather avoid now: poor-quality chocolate with a chalky texture, frequently with too many nuts, inside also-not-very-good chocolate.  I like milk chocolate more than most others but if it is too milky or too greasy I cannot say I enjoy it for anything other than a source of fuel, albeit an important job for food. 

Anyway, so next, rather than look up what it was or should be, by chance I came across some much better ones, namely the Pink Marc du Champagne truffles from Charbonnel et Walker.  These are quite exquisite, if you can get past the frankly unnecessarily pink presentation.  I still think even now that they are sufficiently well put together that one alone is just right.  I should say how these are constructed.  They use white chocolate, and so have non cocoa, only cocoa butter in them.  Marc du champagne is an impossible-sounding thing really, as Marc is a drink made from the fermentation of grape skins alone, after they have been removed from the wine, or in this case, champagne, making process.  Typically this is done to supplement income when a bad year drives down the yield of grapes.  The same thing happens in Italy but there it is known as Grappa, and is perhaps more familiar than Marc though both are very bitter.  Pink Marc is perhaps unusual as it requires a mixture of both white and red grape skins to make it.  Either way, the bitterness seems at odds with the white chocolate but in this case it works well because the sweetness ad fattiness are reined in and so the flavours balance well and are deeper.  Only trouble is that a box costs £10 in the Gloucester Road Waitrose and there are only about nine in each box.  Worth it though.

Pralines are often mixed up with truffles, they are quite similar.  If your experience is like mine, they will also have been disappointing if not very similar to the cheaper truffles noted above.  Supposedly they are a type of truffle which does contain nuts, though can be either almonds or hazelnuts.  Normal truffles are made with chocolate mixed with cream or butter and flavoured, typically with a spirit.  This is similar to the ganache used to decorate pâtisserie in which chocolate is melted at body temperature before the cream and/or butter is mixed with it.  I must say that mixing chocolate and cream and adding a flavouring sounds rather achievable.  Time to experiment I think...

I do not have a nut allergy but I do not have a massive keenness either.  However, a recent present of chocolates and champagne showed me that it can, and indeed is, done well with nuts.  And more to the point, milk chocolate, but it worked.

A medical adventure part I?

The following food column can also be found published by The Felix, the student voice of Imperial College London, here: http://www.felixonline.co.uk/archive/IC_2011/2011_1486_A.pdf

MRI machines make a peculiar sort of layered whirring noise, both when one is in them and one is waiting to be in one.  And at other times I should think but I did not stick around for those. 

            First, I was waiting there.  I had found the place thanks to a helpful map and a plethora of road signs I did not need except for the fact that they told me where the un-sign-posted road, was.  The cheery woman took my forms, checked over the sundry details and sat me in the room with the lockers in it and explained about what to do with the key and so on.  I suppose I needed to wait until the previous patient’s scans were complete.  It was a slightly nervous wait in a small room, with large, off-white cabinets on either side of me, the large surface of the doors being broken up only by plastic badges reading SIEMENS in that revolting green they use.  My foot’s smarting a bit.  I have walked for over an hour today, I calculate, more than I have done for a while even if it was mainly in trainers.  After I do not know how long, my phone being both off and in the locker, I get called in.

            At the beginning of last December I was unwise enough to wear hard shoes on hard ground.  This is normally fine, though in the past I have had achy feet from doing this for too long.  A grave error ensued as it turns out.  My left foot, one of the metatarsals in fact, is very slightly achy after wearing those shoes on the Monday.  I choose to ignore it, I am unfit and the left leg is the weaker anyway.  After Tuesday it is really quite painful so I stop wearing those shoes and revert to my rubber-soled hush puppies.  The achiness gets no better and over the next few weeks, the damned thing starts to swell up as well.  I put this down to a bit of a trauma – this was the diagnosis last time anyway, and I can rest it soon as it is sit-on-your-arse-it-is-Christmas time.  I am still limping but whatever. 

            Funnily enough, I was seeing a medic around this time.  Needless to say she asked me why I had not been to see my GP.  I said it was all rather trivial and would get better.  The fact was, I could not walk far without being in some pain.  Still, I rested it over Christmas/new year, after I got back from my parents’, for a week.  All seemed to be better.  I wore trainers for as long as I could, and looked forward to my second placement which would have to be in softer shoes.  This all seemed better though once the swelling of the soft tissue had disappeared I was left with a hard lump on my foot.  This clearly was not going away, and neither was the on-and-off aching.  At this point I did book an appointment.  Had to wait three weeks as there was nothing outside the hours of 0900-1600 before then.  Sigh.   

            I chatted to my GP who was great; she referred me for an x-ray.  Being nosey I wanted to look at the images so I did, albeit only on a small screen.  A large calcified lump was evident, two in fact, one on each of the two larger metatarsals.  Evidence of at least one stress fracture, oh bugger.  Turns out the disapproving medic had been right after all.  I cheerily went on my way, texting her with what little mobile phone battery I had left at the time, to say she had been right.

            What I was not expecting was a second referral.  My GP rang me personally to say that the consultant radiologist had recommended that I go for an MRI scan urgently as a close inspection of my x-rays had indicated that the bone growth was abnormal.  She knows about my research background and so she needed say no more than that to get her meaning across.  I did not know what to think.  I still do not, now. 

I went for the scan.  It seemed to go along alright.  I left in rather a daze.  Outside was colder than inside, unsurprisingly, though switching my phone back on I got a message saying I had not been given the job I had put in for.  No feeling.  I had asked to see the images afterward the scan, but after a momentary stiff pause the unidentifiably-accented nurse-radiographer declined with a tone that suggested that it was more trouble than it was worth to organise that.  I had no desire to be rude so accepted this without playing ‘the doctor card’, and left. 

The next piece in this particular story has yet to come I am afraid.  Hopefully I will know whether or not I have cancer by the time you read this, though.  Watch this space. 

Is context enough to suppress intellectual snobbery?

Imperial College, along with Oxbridge and another member or two of the Russell group, is frequently described as elitist and its students and staff as intellectual snobs.  I cannot see that, though that might be because such comments are from the sort of people who probably did media studies at the University of the-arse-end-of-nowhere.  On a more serious note, I cannot really say I mind terribly being called an elitist, though only if it is my meaning of elitist that is used.  I do not think the view of the world for my version of elitism is unique to me; I certainly hope it is not.  Yes I like nice things, and I want the best and there are standards I am not prepared to drop.  However, in teaching at least, that has to work both ways. 

            Having done my PhD, I am currently enrolled on a PGCE course that is also at Imperial.  In order to complete this course successfully I must be teaching in schools for a certain number of days and so I have been doing a lot of teaching practice across two London comprehensives.  In order to gain experience of teaching, I am given classes that span a range of ages (11-18 years) and abilities: ‘least clever’ sets up to (predicted) A grades at A level.  I enjoy teaching this range and I enjoy teaching the ‘least able’ pupils as much as the most able.  What I do not like are the pupils least able to shut up, sit down and face the front—but that is another story, mostly involving detentions in which I make them write out reasons why they should do as the teacher asks. 

A possible danger with calling myself an elitist is that it sounds awfully similar to an admission of snobbery on my part.  If Julian Fellowes is to be believed, we are all snobbish to more-or-less the same degree whether it be looking up, down, or sideways.  A recent happenstance from my teaching practice draws on these themes, as well as how we examine pupils’ understanding.  In order for it to be understandable it I should first explain context in teaching.  Context is basically a teaching tool that is used to bring scientific concepts within children’s grasp, and a number of teachers find it is particularly useful with lower-ability groups as it makes the concept easier to explain and leads to better understanding.  An example of context in a forces module in physics would be to use the movement of a car or aeroplane to explain friction, drag, weight &c.

My experience relates to teaching a unit on electrical circuits to a bottom-set year 7.  As part of this unit they are required to learn that electricity is a flow of electrons.  There are a variety of ways of describing this.  It did not occur to me to use a particular context so what I did instead was to teach it in terms of ‘look what happens when we disconnect the wire’ and ‘we know it is energy in the circuit because the bulb lights up’.  They seemed to understand, and the checking-of-learning mechanisms (called plenaries) I used pointed towards this.  However, in order to avoid the ethically unsound ‘teaching to the test’ I had not looked at their test paper before teaching this unit.  This was perhaps a good idea for two reasons, however one of the questions used an analogy of an electrical circuit to test the understanding, comprising of a circle of children as the flow of electrons, bananas as the ‘energy’, a banana stall as the cell and a monkey house as a bulb.  Although most of the pupils got the mark for understanding that the children in the picture represented the flow of electrons around the circuit, few got the mark for explaining why the picture/analogy was not a good model for a circuit.  Answers were typified by this one from a Sikh pupil “there are no wires or cells or bulbs, its [sic] just stupid”.  Although I agree with the pupils’ sentiment, this did lead me to wonder whether I had unwittingly allowed an ethnically-diverse group of ‘low-ability’ year 7 pupils to start to become intellectual snobs before they had so much as heard that phrase.

            

Giving nurses a good bashing, can we?

The following food column can also be found published by The Felix, the student voice of Imperial College London, here: http://www.felixonline.co.uk/?article=891

Why attack nurses?

           I feel for nurses. I don’t mean the sort of nurses who wear fishnets and appear readily in a Google images search, I mean the sort which work in hospitals up and down the country. After a recent report from a nursing ombudsman, this profession is in for yet another bashing for reasons I can only think of as spurious.
           The recent accusations that are levelled at nursing staff in particular relate to a small number of very select cases, where nurses have been accused of poor care for dying patients. You will understand that as a scientist I am suspicious immediately.
           Of course it is difficult to watch someone die, especially if it is a loved one who is, by definition, irreplaceable. It must be impossible to know what to do or where to look or what to say. Perhaps that is part of the problem. Should people who are not trained in healthcare, healthcare provision or even medical science and who are in an emotional state be in the driving seat on NHS reform?
            Nursing can, of course, be done badly. But this applies to teaching, train driving and fox hunting as well though. That, as we have seen is not a good enough reason to lay into it. The trouble is that nurses will not fight back. They are a compassionate race who, like medics of all kinds, are blamed when things do not go the way a sick person, or the relative of one, may wish them to. Let us try to look at it from the nurses’ perspective. They have hospital policy, a boss, a consultant (or more than one) and innumerable guidelines to satisfy. And you can bet none of them went into the profession for any of that.
           Even on a practical level, you have a ward of people needing your attention, do you attend to them or do you sit at the deathbed with the family? It might surprise you to learn that relatives interviewed (BBC Today Programme, Friday 18th February 2011) seemed keen for nurses to sit there with them without consideration of other duties. With the best will in the world, and even if it were practicable, is it reasonable to consider that this is what everyone wants?
         All the cases are littered with such incongruities to the point at which one cannot determine whether or not any malpractice was evident. Healthcare staff of all sorts do a magnificent job, usually under very difficult circumstances. Will working against them in this way help anyone’s healthcare? I think not.

Russian Service or the French? I think I'll have the English, please

The following food column can also be found published by The Felix, the student voice of Imperial College London, here: 

http://www.felixonline.co.uk/?article=624

Russian Service or the French?  I think I'll have the English, please

         One of the things all the top chefs say is that one of the reasons they are in the job is because they like putting a plate of food in front of someone. A good recent example of this is Nigel Slater, whose early life was dramatised on the BBC over Christmas – arguably more for the gay kiss than for the lemon meringue, one might say.  

          The problem then comes with how this is going to happen. You might think, well, duh, cook the food and then dole it out. Putting together the flavours that one wants to serve for various occasions is usually not transferrable; the way food is served at a wedding will be utterly different to that of a few friends at home, arranged at only a few hours’ notice. Added to which, as any QI geek will tell you, thanks to an answer from David Mitchell for which he was awarded ‘Teacher’s pet’ in the ‘Food’ episode of series 6, there are two ways of doing this.  

          Service à la Française is the older of the two in western Europe. Various descriptions exist, but it seems that this was used for larger banquets and social gatherings. The food was served rather more like a buffet than a sat-down meal at a table. Thus, in order to get one’s choice of dishes, and to get the hot food before it went cold one had to be tall and long-limbed. Whether or not this was selected for genetically in any strong sense is unclear, but if it was it clearly counted against the French aristocracy later on, as longer necks are easier to guillotine.  

          Service à la Russe is the one we are altogether more familiar with, in which food is brought out in courses, one dish at a time. In company I find this too restrictive. How often in a restaurant have you seen a dish go past that you would like to try? What about formal dinners in which there needs to be special provision made for nut allergies, fussy eaters or people who choose to be vegetarian? Well, you hope they would tell you in advance but even if they do, there is an unfortunate isolating effect of a ‘special’ meal. I find myself wanting everyone to be able to eat together on a level playing field. Of course we could go down to the lowest common denominator and all eat like free vegans but as that made me want to reach for my gun, I looked for a different approach. Also, would it not be a bonus if they were able to enjoy the food and talk about it at the same time?  Food is not Granny-incest, it can be talked about without upsetting anyone.  

         So where does that leave us? We know the disadvantages of service à la Française, though it must have allowed 18th century French diabetics to fit in but it is awkward to organise food like that, especially for a smaller group like a dinner party. I call my solution service à l’Anglaise. I cannot be sure whether it is original to me – nothing in Larousse is similar, nor that I can find on Wikipedia. As that gives pretty much the two ends of the spectrum for gastronomic reliability I think I am safe in presenting it as original.  

         Service à l’Anglaise is based on two or three dishes to each course, typically with a theme between them. An example of a theme would be a flavour, such as paprika or Roquefort. It could even be something as simple as pasta, but two different roasted meats served with the same roasted potatoes and vegetables does not count as Service à l’Anglaise. Another problem with weaker formats is that it is a lot more fun to do other things – and gives everyone a chance to try things that are different, as well as no one being singled out.

         I designed the List of Comestibles (below) for a dinner party at which I had Jewish guests, thus it needed to be possible to avoid pork, shellfish and mixtures of meat and dairy products. I am reliably told that ‘eating Jewish’ usually means fish rather than meat anyway. There was also a cocoa issue.  

         The wine choice with this list must of course be in the proper sommelier tradition and thus go with the dishes as far as possible. I like chenin blanc, particularly South African ones as they are more acidic. This is often tiresome when taken alone, but with a dish like this starter will be a valuable flavour enhancer. Additionally, fresher whites will go well with fish and so this wine will also work with the Kedgeree of the main.   

         The theme between the pair of dishes for the main course was twofold. I put paprika in the rice of the kedgeree, and in the pastry. The inclusion of cheddar was originally by accident, but it worked well so I left it in. Though the pastry dish could go with white wine I think it works better with a light red. Anything too tanniny kills any subtlety in the paprika so an aged merlot or possibly one of the less fruity cabernet sauvignon is best. These can drift into the desert course (avoiding the faux pas of opening red wine in the sweet course), but the acid of the chenin blanc should have gone by the time the mellow, peaty digestif arrives. Lighter reds please my female Jewish guest – she has a liking for red wine but not pork – so it was also useful for the red to be compatible with the fish.  

         It is fair to say that service à l’Anglaise is not necessarily easier for the host than any other way of serving food, but with a little thought it means that you can be sure the food will not let you down.  

List of Comestibles

Raspberry Cocktail

§

Taramousalata, with Potato pancakes

South African Chenin blanc

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Bacon, Tomato and Onion Pie ~ Smoked Haddock and Paprika Kedgeree 

Cherry Tomatoes ~ Sweetcorn ~ Sweet Peppers

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Orange and Chocolate Cake ~ Raspberry Cake

Apple and Raspberry Ice Cream

§

Whisky ~ Disaronno ~ Port

More on this subject is being prepared and will, I hope, be published in due course :)

An Edible Adventure...

The following food column can also be found published by The Felix, the student voice of Imperial College London, here: http://www.felixonline.co.uk/?article=570



An Edible Adventure...


         I eat. Shocking stuff, you may be thinking, but it gives me a certain problem.  Fortunately I have no life-threatening difficulties – I am not allergic to nuts, wheat or milk.  I am allergic to Gillian McKeith, but that is another story.  What you should perhaps know is that I am tall.  I also take a not-extravagant amount of exercise.  Point is, I burn off a lot of calories.  That, combined with my predilection for boredom, means that eating the same meal three times in three days was not something that was going to last long. A former French flatmate – well, half French half American, not a good combination in this case – was derisive at the idea that this was possible even once.  However, I was hungry and wanted to avoid eating the one kilo packets of chicken or beef pasta which Sainsbury’s amusingly label as ‘serves 4’.
          What was the solution?  Learn to cook.  Well, at least a bit.  I had a degree to do, and although I wanted to fuel myself so that I could do it, so that I could ride and walk around and so that I could maintain the adipose covering of my otherwise-chiselled eight-pack, it could not be too time consuming.  Cue a stream of Delia, Nigella, Elizabeth David, Nigel Slater.  This is all sort-of fine and I am sure they have tested them all out and they all work and so on but despite doing a PhD in chemistry, following recipes somehow never massively appealed.  I mean, what if I do not get the right result?  What if I do not like it?  What if it is not enough or does not keep?   More importantly than any of those, however, what if the flavour is uninspiring?
          This became a double-problem.  I describe above the insulation on my Adonis-like solar plexus.  Well, there was a time when this insulation would have put the greenest flower children to shame on the scale of house insulation and so something had to be done.  I tried typical dieting, but it was hopeless, I was thinking about food all the time and eating just as much as I otherwise would have.  So, I cut out as much as I could of cream, ice cream, chocolate and so on.  I replaced them with other things that were not so calorific and started to learn to like them. Not easy, but worth it.  The good thing about that approach was that I could still enjoy flavour.  So, I did. I found recipes that seemed all right, but were lacking a certain something. I changed them.  This has lead, perhaps inevitably, to now four original recipes for different types of cake.  The ideas are not necessarily original – one of them is chocolate – but it is my recipe. I extended this to other dishes, and now I have a recipe for Lasagne that I can give to Italians without finding unexpected dis-membered bedfellows the next morning.  Some of it is self-indulgent, apart from the cakes and the cocktail.  I do not do a ‘Smoothie’ of any kind – sounds too much like a description of the technique of someone who gives good fellatio. Instead what I have is fruit whizz, which is far better for you and does not cost more than your tube fare to make.
          I have never been to catering school, nor am I likely to, but if you find you want to up or down the calories on your plate, my advice is have more fun with your food.

Black Cherry and Almond Cake

155g butter
10g walnut oil (butter is fine instead)
3 eggs
135mL Amaretto
165g white self-raising flour (SRF)
110g sugar
98g St Dalfour black cherry preserve.



– Add the butter, oil and sugar into a bowl, and warm gently in a microwave so the butter melts.
– Ensuring that the bowl and contents are not too hot, stir towards homogeneity then add the Amaretto and mix in.
– Break the eggs into the mixture and stir vigorously until homogenous.
– Add the Black Cherry preserve and mix in. (You may find cherry jam more convenient to source. However, it is sweeter than the St Dalfour, so alter the amount accordingly. St Dalfour has 52g/sugar per 100 g. Bonne mamman jams tend to have 60g/100 g so around 85g of jam would work, however the fruit flavours will not be as aromatic.
– Add flour and mix well. (You can replace 20-30 g of the SRF with plain white flour for a thicker texture. This will make the cake easier to hold with a cup of tea)
– Mix a bit longer, until it is homogenous (saving for the pieces of fruit).
– Pour into a greased 8” x 3” loaf tin; level.
– Heat in a fan assisted oven at 175°C for 50min. Allow 24 h under cover at room temperature before serving.