Latin Bean Stew with Bacon and Onions

1/2 lb thickly sliced bacon, sliced into matchsticks
2 medium onions, thinly sliced
Salt
3 15 1/2 oz cans of Roman or small red beans, rinsed and drained
1 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
2 bay leaves
1 tsp sugar
Freshly ground pepper
Chopped cilantro, crème fraîche, and lime wedges to serve

Put bacon into a large skillet, cover, and cook over moderate heat until crisp, about 7 minutes. Transfer bacon to a paper towel to drain and pour off all put 2 tsp of fat from the skillet.

Add sliced onions, cover, and cook over medium heat until onions soften and release their liquid, about 5 minutes. Add 1/2 tsp salt and cook, uncovered, stirring frequently until onions are golden brown–about 20 minutes.

Add bacon, broth, vinegar, bay leaves, and sugar to the onions and reduce to a simmer over moderate heat. Reduce the heat to low and cook stirring frequently until thick and stew-like, about 20 minutes. Discard bay leaves and adjust seasonings. Spoon beans into bowls and serve with freshly chopped cilantro, crème fraîche, and lime wedges.

At least it seems as though there are at least that many, and each scintillatingly more beautiful than the last. After flying from Zagreb to Split, Karen and I took a connecting ferry to Supetar, the largest town on the Dalmatian island of Brač. To the tune of the David Bowie song Young Americans on Croatian radio, faintly amused but fairly clutching each other, we careened over the Vidova Gora mountain and arrived in Bol bruised but none the worse for wear from our vertiginous taxi ride. “All the way from Washington,” indeed. Oh boy.

The rolling landscape of Brač is peppered with piles of grey stones cleared away to facilitate the cultivation of olives, figs, wine, and sour cherries. The island’s principal export is the the brilliant white stone used, most famously, to build the palace of the Roman emperor Diocletian in Split. Bol is a popular tourist destination and is the oldest settlement on the coast of Brač. Fragrant with citrus trees and lavender, it’s most famous for its magnificent horn of pebbly beach, the Zlatni rat or “golden cape” that stretches out into the Adriatic just west of the main town. There are a few Roman ruins near the prominatory, including the foundations of a villa rustica and piscina, a farm house and bath, and pieces of an ancient water reservoir. One of Bol’s hidden jewels is the 15th-century Dominican monastery that lies east of the harbor and its excellent archaeology collection and beautiful chapel.

Vinko, one of Karen’s friends from Washington, D.C., grew up in Bol and has recently moved back to be the head chef at one of the restaurants in town. We made arrangements to stay in one of his family’s self-catering apartments and spent much of the next few days relishing his amicable company and truly amazing cooking. One afternoon Vinko invited us to his parents’ house for a delicious mixed grill lunch and wine made from the grapes of the family vineyard. The meal was assembled in the family’s backyard smoke house, which was filled to bursting with centuries old heirlooms and wine-making equipment. Afterwards, Vinko’s father gave us a memorable tasting tour of his wine cellar and a few precious bottles of his prized homemade olive oil, for which I’m most grateful!

Ironically, I set out for Donja Stubica on 22 June, the Croatian national holiday set aside to celebrate uprising against the fascists in 1941, and the trip was scenic but harrowing. Stations were not always well marked and it was an adventure to figure out how to change trains in Zabok without speaking a word of Croatian. Still, my luggage and I eventually arrived safely in one piece, and, with the help of two friendly locals who guided my way, I followed the railroad tracks to the spa hotel where Karen was staying.

That night featured a terrific evening of music and traditional Croatian cuisine to celebrate both the end of the conference and, not least of all, Karen’s birthday. It was especially kind of one of the event’s organizers to include me in the night’s festivities even though I wasn’t part of the academic programme. (Thanks again for your kind hospitality, Željko, and for making me feel so very welcome, hvala!) There wasn’t much nostalgia for Marshall Tito expressed over dinner that night and most topics expanded instead on some of the papers presented at the conference during the week. Some of the more interesting tidbits discussed that evening included:

• Tradition has it that flies buzzing around a corpse shouldn’t be killed as they might actually be the person’s soul.

• Sleeping in the light of a full moon was thought to put one at severe risk for becoming a werewolf, as was being a seventh son.

• Many early folk medicine recipes include feces as a primary ingredient. (As strange and gross as it sounds, this is actually an early form of vaccination and perhaps an example of early homeopathic thinking.)

• In certain parts of central Europe, pieces of coal and charcoal were traditionally thought to have cleansing properties and were ritualistically used to ward off the evil eye. (Interestingly, we still use charcoal in this way today, to filter water for example.)

• Dante’s grandson owned what is now the oldest apothecary shop in Zagreb.

Canned heat for sale? It’s to be expected that Croatian summers are more broiling that those in Scotland, but the mild Glaswegian spring had me completely unprepared for the sweltering 38°C temperatures beyond the Alps–that’s over 100°F for you Americans out there. Hot, hot, hot! Without the ample supply of cold Croatian beer and Mitteleuropean hospitality this trip would have been brutal. I flew to Croatia’s capital to meet Karen, a good friend who had travelled from the States to attend a museum conference. While she and her colleagues learned about medicinal folk remedies and how to avoid being cursed by werewolves, I was left to myself to discover what Zagreb had to offer. Thankfully, the capital is known as a city of museums–much of them air conditioned–and abounds with generous cafes and shady tree-lined esplanades for when things heat up.

I began my trip by exploring the Gornji Grad, the twinned upper towns of Gradec and Kaptol that make up Zagreb’s historic nucleous. Connected by a spit of land known as the Bloody Bridge, these neighbors (and former rivals) contain the best preserved medieval buildings in the city, including the famous St Mark’s Church and ancient Lotrščak Tower. I made a point to stop at the Stone Gate, the only entrance to survive from the city’s 13th-century fortifications. It contains a popular shrine to the Virgin Mary who is said to have appeared in a vision at this spot in the 1760s. (I almost had some heat-induced visions myself.) After a well-deserved apertif at a cafe on Tkalčićeva Street, I bought fruit and a spicy smoked sausage called kulen at the Dolac Market, a large open-air bazaar near the cathedral and Trg bana Jelačić, the main square. Brilliant oranges, juicy melons, and jars of Dalmatian honey spilled out over the cobbled sidewalk.

Many of Zagreb’s museums are situated in the Donji Grad, or lower town, which was planned in the late-nineteenth century on the Viennese model and is centered on a “green horseshoe” of public parks and promenades. This series of squares and parks would be difficult to traverse even in optimal weather conditions, but over several days, while visiting some of the museums and galleries enroute, it’s a great guide to understanding what Zagreb is all about. Broad boulevards are lined with impressive pastel-colored Habsburg buildings. Quirky shops and innumerable restaurants and cafes fill this area of the city. Since Croatia is where the necktie was invented, I made a point to stop and buy one at Croata Cravata, the famous boutique.

Farther from the town centre are two green oases, Maksimir Park and Mirogoj Cemetery. As luck would have it, the youth hostel where I was staying was located in the Ravnice neighboorhood close to the Kraš chocolate factory and Maksimirska, the largest public park in Zagreb. Designed in the 19th century, the park contains the city zoo, numerous pleasure pavillions, and several lakes. Its secluded winding paths are ideal for shaded, lesiurely walks, and when a rest is in order the hilltop cafe is the perfect place for flâneurs to sip cappucino and watch strollers on the promenade below.

Designed in Neo-Renaissance style by Austrian architect Hermann Bollé in 1876, Mirogoj is said to be one of the most beautiful cemetery parks in Europe. Charming cupolas, arcades, and ivy-covered walls lend the place a romantic atmosphere, and, although it’s situated some distance from the city centre, the cemetery is well worth the extra effort to explore.

I’ve got my marimba packed and ready to go! This is a pretty close approximation to how I feel this afternoon. A little goofy, a little giddy, and totally thrilled to be travelling to Croatia tomorrow. I’m beside myself with excitement to meet my friend Karen, who is travelling from the States to attend a museum conference in Zagreb this week. After we spend a few days in the capital together we’ll celebrate her birthday in style by flying to Split and explore the islands of the Dalmatian coast by catamaran. Stay tuned for a full update.

As if this isn’t enough, I have other news to be excited about. We have guests! Mike’s family will be arriving in a little over a week to spend two fun-filled weeks with us. And next month, our friends Kelly and Imogen will be our guests over a long holiday weekend. Hooray!

While I’m not going write a comprehensive update on everything that’s happened in the last two months, I did want to make a point to say how fantastic it was to see my friend Ludivine while visiting Paris in April. The two of us met last year while working at the National Building Museum in Washington, D.C. and we’ve remained in touch despite the recent twists and turns our lives have taken. Ludi, it was terrific to see you and I hope that you’re able to visit us in Glasgow sometime quite soon!

One thing that was particularly difficult was that my dog Gus passed away back in the States. He meant a lot to me and made me realize just how much dogs take care of their owners as we take of them. I try to take some comfort in knowing that I gave him a good life, and, perhaps, that some small part of his spirit is now able to be with me here in Scotland.

Yes, my relocation to Scotland is proving to be much more challenging that I had initially thought, but I aim to find a better way to communicate the jist of those feelings without delving too deeply into personal details.

Until next time.

Founded by David Dale in 1786, the New Lanark mills along the River Clyde processed cotton from the Americas, and, at its peak, employed over 2,500 people including approximately 500 children. The complex was bought out by Dale’s son-in-law, Robert Owen, a philanthropist with an interest in social reform. Under his oversight, the progressive social and welfare programs that were implemented in New Lanark paved the way for many of the labor laws and institutions that we take for granted today. Owen instituted early restrictions on child labor and financed the construction of the first infants’ school in Britain. He also established  a village store within the complex that was an influential model for the development of the consumers’ co-operative market. Also, from 1898, all residents had free electric light in their flats powered by hydroelectricity. Contrary to popular thinking at the time, Owen demonstrated that it was not necessary for industrial enterprise to treat its workers badly in order to be profitable.Most of the original mill buildings and residences survive and have been restored, and  Mike and I spent a sunny Sunday afternoon wandering amongst them along the Falls of the Clyde exploring the complex. One couldn’t help thinking about how the lives of the Scottish people that lived and worked here were intricately connected to so many narrative threads that I used to perceive as being more or less American, in particular, how the their livelihood was utterly dependant on the use of slave labor in the American south.

Liverpool, with its famous waterfront on the River Mersey, is a historically great shipping port, industrial powerhouse, and center of maritime trade. The city grew in prominence in the 18th century through sugar, spice, tobacco, and slave trade with the Americas and quickly became Britain’s most important and powerful seaport. By the start of the 19th century, 40% of the world’s trade is reputed to have passed through the port of Liverpool and the cultural and architectural achievements of the city reflect this wealth. Mike and I spent three days of our Easter holiday here where the Fab Four began, checking out the sights. Liverpool will celebrate its 800th anniversary in 2008, and there is ample evidence that the city is sprucing itself up for the big event. We passed several big construction projects along the historic waterfront, including the site of a new local history museum, and there are big infrastructure improvements planned as well, such as the renovations at the main train station and the construction of a new bus terminal hub.

A major draw for us was the chance to see the architectural model of Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral (R.C.), which was on view at the splendid Walker Art Gallery. Designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens in 1930 but only partially realized due to financial constraints, the cathedral would have dominated the Liverpool skyline and been the second-largest church in the world if it had been completed. Over 500 feet high, just the dome itself would have been taller than St Peter’s Basilica in Rome. A smaller modern structure by Sir Frederick Gibberd was eventually built upon the massive foundations and crypt, the only portions of Lutyen’s plan to have been actualized. Dazzling to explore, the architecture mixes a muscular classicism with brutally Modern and Byzantine elements. If you ever find yourself in Liverpool, it is definitely worth a look. If that wasn’t enough, as an added nostalgic bonus, Mike and I saw members of the local Polish community filing into the main crypt chapel while we were there to get their Easter baskets blessed by the bishop–just like my family used to do when I was young!

The river is central to Liverpool history, with the highlight being the Albert Dock, the largest dock and warehouse complex in the world when it was built in 1846. Today, the Dock houses the Merseyside Maritime Museum, an outpost of the Tate Britain, and various restaurants and shops.

Along Liverpool’s Pier Head are some of the city’s most impressive landmarks, recognizable from both land and sea. Most famous of these are the “The Graces,” a spectacular suite of buildings that served as the headquarters for Liverpool’s major maritime concerns: The Royal Liver Society, the Cunard Company, and the Port of Liverpool Authority. The Royal Liver Building is crowned by a pair of mythical Liver birds; popular legend has it that while one giant bird looks out over the city to protect its people, the other bird looks out to sea at the new sailors coming in to port. Nearby are the majestic Art Deco Georges Dock ventilator tower and the White Star Line building, the headquarters for the prominent shipping company that owned the ill-fated liners Titanic and Britannic.

Some of my most favorite parts of the trip were spent just wandering the streets and experiencing some of the local culture–wandering into shops, eating in cafes, discovering Liverpool’s pristine Georgian neighborhoods, and poking about the city’s Chinatown. One night we had dinner at the Philharmonic Dining Rooms, a terrific pub with a stunning art nouveau interior with intricate carved woodwork, repoussé copper panels, and great decorative tilework and stained glass. Mike was even inspired enough to have a pint, shocking!

Be sure to check out more photos from the trip on Mike’s Flickr page.