Blackberry Curd Tarts

I think I ate my own body weight in blackberries last summer. Behind our flat in Chelmsford were miles and miles of blackberry bramble, and it seemed like we were the only ones picking them. All-you-can-eat blackberries! I was in heaven. Thinking about it now, Chelmsford seems like some kind of mythical promised land - not the land of Milk and Honey, but of berries and rosemary:


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Maldon: Earl Grey Shortbread

When I moved to England in 2010 to go to school, my friend Christina and I hadn’t found a place to live. We had been seriously stressing out about it for a month or two – we didn’t want to be homeless when classes started, but it was impossible finding a flat when we weren’t there to see it. Christina left a week before me, and by some "friend-of-a-friend" miracle she met up with Brad and Tony, also from Canada, who took her in to their home. When I landed at Gatwick a week later, Brad had driven well over an hour from Maldon, Essex to get me. At like 7 in the morning. Can you imagine doing that for someone you’ve never even met? I wouldn’t – I’m ashamed to say I’m not that nice.

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