A Trifle

Wedding planning madness is being interrupted this weekend by Jeremy turning old.

To celebrate, we're having a big BBQ where we'll smoke a pork shoulder to make pulled pork and accompany it with many many delicious sides, demonstrating conclusively that Americans know how to do BBQs in a way us Brits would never imagine. British BBQs of sausages and burgers certainly have their place in my heart but this is something else. The mere addition of mashed potato is enough to convert me, but throw into the mix collard greens, corn bread and jambalaya and I'm sold.

I recently discovered that an array of English roast-dinner accompaniments go surprisingly well with BBQ. cauliflower cheese has been a massive hit, and I think roast potatoes and yorkshire puddings would fare well also. So in a strike of genius, I decided that for Jeremy's party I would make a traditional English trifle. A taste of home that would integrate well with the BBQ deliciousness.. I checked with Jeremy on whether the ingredients would be available in our local supermarket and I set out on a humidity soaked quest to obtain them.

It took me about an hour of traipsing around the supermarket and one phone call to Jeremy asking for descriptions of brands / boxes / locations before I finally had a basket of passable trifle ingredients.Here is what I found out, in case you too want to make trifle in America.

- Custard is called Pudding and is to be found disguised as Jell-o. Birds custard does exist in the 'British Foods' section but it was, like everything there, prohibitively expensive.

- Jell-o, as we English already know from watching far too much American TV, is what they call Jelly, only it comes in disconcertingly powdered form, rather than the temptingly edible gelatin cubes that I grew up with.

- Lady fingers don't exist but I settled on Vanilla flavoured wafers, which seem comparable but are found with the cookies rather than baking section.

- Jam, as I'm sure everyone knows, is Jelly, which is fine only it lurks in the bakery section, plus by this point I was getting confused with the jelly / jell-o thing anyway.

I was then asked at the check-out if I was paying with food stamps, which either says something about me or the food I was buying, I'm not sure.

Sorry, that was SO un-pc of me. I take it back. 

So, armed with my dubious substitutes for trifle ingredients (what would Delia say?) I am going to attempt to wow Americans with my British culinary skills.

I can't say I'm holding out a huge amount of hope. 

Waiting for the phone to ring.

I'm waiting for Jeremy to call. This isn't unusual - Time Difference, being decidedly against me, means phone calls have to be pre-arranged and I have to be finger-poised, ready to answer less the ringing awakens some poor housemate / long-suffering couch-lender.

Relationships via phones are not much fun. The majority of the time, we talk about 7pm EST (12am GMT), when Jeremy is cooking & eating and I'm half asleep.

This is an average Hannah-Jeremy conversation:

Jeremy: "What's up"

Hannah: "Nothing"

----- Silence -----

Hannah: "What's up with you?"

Jeremy: "Nothing"

------Whizzing / whirring / crackling noise ------

Hannah: "What's that noise?"

Jeremy: "Oh I'm just making some pasta / baking bread / making mozzarella / [insert obscure and complicated food making process]"

Hannah: "Cool"

----- More whizzing / whirring / crackling -----

Hannah: "So what happened today?"

Jeremy: "Nothing - was at work"

Hannah: "Yea, me too - pretty dull - don't have much to say really"

Jeremy: "Sweet"

Hannah: "Huh?"

Jeremy: "What?"

Hannah: "I said I didn't have much to say and you said sweet. You're not listening are you?"

Jeremy: "Sure I am"

Hannah: Hmmmm

------ Sound of Jeremy's jaw clicking as he chews -----

Hannah: So ummm I'm pretty tired. Think I might go to bed now

Jeremy: Ok cool

Hannah: Night then

Jeremy: Yup. Love you.

Hannah: Love you too.

The problem with phone relationships is there's no room for coming home exhausted, kissing hello and crashing on the couch in amicable silence. There's no room for silence. So on the frequent occasions that neither of us feel like talking, the relationship has a feeling of emptiness, and as I put down the phone I worry we'll have a marriage of silence with nothing to say to each other. I know it's not true, but no matter how sternly I talk to myself, the feeling I have when I put down the phone feels like a status declaration of the relationship.

Of course we do have good conversations. There are times when one or both of us is feeling talkative and we can happily chatter away for hours (always at the expense of my under-eye shadows). But on the whole, the phone is a necessary evil and I don't think either of us will be sad to say goodbye to it. In fact, I may refuse to speak to Jeremy on the phone ever again - I'll certainly forbid him from talking and eating / cooking on the phone for all eternity.

I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to coming home to Jeremy cooking me dinner (!), being able to kiss him hello and demand hugs at awkward times during the meal preparation (an endearing trait of mine) and just knowing from looking how each other's day has been. We'll talk of course, but only when we want to and not during food processing. I. Can't. Wait. And thank goodness I can't wait, because if I wasn't feeling so top-of-the-moon excited about sharing my life with Jeremy in the same time-zone / continent / house, I'd be sat in a corner crying my heart out about saying goodbye to my friends and family. Buzz kill? Thankfully not - that's how excited I am. Good thing. Phew.