Ending sentence with preposition
Prescriptive grammar has in the past prohibited "preposition stranding": ending sentences with prepositions (traditionally defined). This "rule" appears to have been invented in 1672 by John Dryden; for a long time thereafter it was uncritically recited. It had no basis in linguistic fact in 1672 and has none now.[8]
I never knew! But just did it - did you notice?]
Anyway, HELLO! I'm back! And here is why:
Yesterday evening, my dad and I, in our little rental Hyundai drove in some misty, scenic, hilly circles for a little while, enjoying the clouds and dramatic fog, the cows and lambs and sheared and unsheared sheep, and the general feel of the Aberdeenshire countryside. Upon reaching our destination, Kenneth and Rosalind had a lovely meal prepared for us. Whilst serving the steak and kidney pie (which I will go into further in a minute), Kenneth mentioned that he knew how much of a pie person I am, as he had read my blog! I hung my head in shame and admitted that my blogging had ended, that I am now just a blog-leach, reading the diligent work of other foodie bloggers and simply eating and keeping to myself what those with more heart would share with the interworld.
But then I realized, I can do it! I can make a come back! So here I am, and here's a little bit of what I've eaten in lovely Scotland in the past, oh, 24 hours:
-Vegetarian Haggis seems like a good place to start. My dad studied abroad in Edinburgh some thirty or so years ago, and ate often and heartily at a restaurant called Henderson's. Well, Henderson's still exists, though enlarged and less hippie than he remembers it back in the day. We ate there after flying into the city, and I had really, the most delicious meal. The haggis, of course, was just a cutesie name for a lentil, tomato, kidney bean, potato mashup of sorts (which was splendid and perfect for the rainy day that we were taking respite from) (haha! another sentence ended with a preposition!). Additionally, I had vegan mayonnaise, which was far superior to the real stuff and polenta cake with blueberries. What a meal! MMmmmM! Then, as a surprise for my dad, I bought traditional, homemade, bomb-diggity shortbread and a fruit scone (fruit being raisins, and scone being tender and moist and delicious, though not up to the standards of T or Nina's or mine) (speaking of scones, check these soon-to-be-baked-and-eaten-by-me-and-anyone-lucky-enough-to-be-nearby goodies out: Word). We ate them on the double decker bus back to the airport, from which we drove to Kenneth and Rosalind's lovely abode.
Arrival at Kenneth and Rosalind's meant a perfect supper, the main course of which was steak and kidney pie. Unsure that I would like kidneys, but certainly excited to try something new and heavily aromatic, I dug in. Oh boy! I found it to be the most concentrated meat flavor I'd ever encountered. It was splendid (as was the crunch of the crust atop it). And went perfectly with potatoes and green beans and wine.
Yes indeed, my Scottish culinary experience thus far has been quite pleasant. And with the gorgeous almost-rain clouds pouring across the geometric landscape and the pink-chested wren-like robins singing in the garden below, the loveliness of our days here has not been confined to the plate.
So with that, I reenter the blogosphere. I join the ranks of the Pioneer Woman (although I will not gender my recipes as worthy of either cowgirls or cowboys) and The Burning House (although I hope my readership isn't confined to the hipsters of the world), and Smitten Kitchen (although I have no baby, pictures of whom to ply you with day after day after day) (phrase #3 ended in a preposition in one blog post!).
Anyway, it's off to bed for me, with castles to visit and lochs to admire from the speedylostroadways and perhaps some dimply plum cake to make in the morrow.
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