Martha's Marvellous Munchies

One of the pitfalls of moving to a different country is that words often mean something different to what you think they mean. A trolley is a form of transport that runs on rails down the street, rather than something you put your shopping in. That's a cart. Which doesn't carry as much of a connotation of "horse and" as it does in the UK. And I was recently gently informed that "jugs" more usually refer to a part of the female anatomy than to something you put milk in. I will have to get used to saying "pitcher". Isn't that what you hang on a wall? After a few years here, we are mostly au fait with the local lingo, and manage to turn up at the right place and avoid offending the natives. However, on Friday night, Graham found out that there was a gospel music concert going on at a local church. Our Americanism detector did not light up, and the predominant picture in both our heads was something like this: Big choir, bright colours, high-...

Well, I know all my neighbours to the east are heartily sick of snow already, but snow in Texas is about as common as cowboy boots in London, so you're just going to have to grit your teeth and listen to me rave about it for five minutes. If it makes you feel better you can always do the "12 inches? That's nothing! Bunch of wusses!" routine. We always enjoy mocking the locals when it rains and the news stations send reporters out to stand there damply telling us how wet it is. But significant snowfall is outside of our comfort zone, too, so we're happily staying off work and panic-buying cat litter or whatever it is you're supposed to do. So, yes, the photos. It was very wet snow, so venturing out was a rather splashy business enlivened by occasional plunges into ankle-deep liquid slush. Nevertheless, I sloshed my way down W 7th St, determined to extract maximum enjoyment from the situation. This guy didn't look too impressed. The snow stuck to the...

The sign caught my eye first. In blocky orange and black writing it said: THE HOUSE COFFEE BAR . It was attached to an unassuming building lurking in a spot where I was sure there had never been a coffee shop before. I ventured a little closer. The big metal dumpster sitting outside confirmed that this was still a work in progress, but there was a little piece of paper tacked to one window. I leaned in to read: We believe in ventis, extra shots and real conversation. We believe that love never gives up. We believe that church is more than a building. We believe the fulfillment of being the church is far greater than the feeling we get going to church. We believe that pretending only fools the pretender. We believe to love is to know that you're alive. We believe in getting it done. We believe in real people, real stories and real change. Ah- haa ! Not only a coffee shop, but a coffee shop with a church. Or maybe a church with a coffee shop. Either way, this was interesting. An...

This is a real organisation. I am not kidding.

The horseshoe of seats in the auditorium was already three-quarters filled and humming with anticipation. As we slid into vacant chairs, the band struck up a spirited rendition of "Amazing Grace". To the tune of " Ghost Riders in the Sky ". Yippee-ai-ay! The last guitar chords settled into silence. The guitarist, a man with a stiff grey moustache, said, "Let us pray." There was an instant flurry of movement as dozens of cowboy hats were removed and held respectfully in laps. Once the prayer was over they were resumed, although a few were later used as collection baskets for the offering. After a few more country 'n' worship songs, the preacher stood up to speak. For 22 years, he said, the Shepherds Valley Church had been praying that there would be a Christian service at the Fort Worth Stock Show, yet the organisers had been against it. All that time they had been making friends, cultivating connections, and finally somebody recommended...

The customer gave me a free rein on this one; as I recall they wanted the "Happy Birthday" and the four names in the corners, and then said, "make it look pretty". So I went for a vaguely mediaeval look. It would have been nice to been able to plan it out on paper first, but I like the general effect. Nothing super-spectacular here, but I had to get a photo because it came out so perfect! When the icing consistency isn't just right you get airbubbles, lumps or squiggles, but for once all the lines were beautifully smooth. This design was adapted from one in the book we had at work, but the champagne bottle was all my own work. Adds a touch of sophistication to what would otherwise be a little girl's cake. This was a big cake - a full sheet, which is something like 13" x 21". Hannah Montana had been a popular design for a while but this lady wanted something different to our regular design. As I recall we had about five separa...

One sunny Saturday afternoon we cruised along Highway 67 into Cleburne, Texas, a town and county seat about 26 miles south of Fort Worth. As we approached we were assailed on both sides by large plastic signs advertising the usual mix of chain stores, fast food restaurants and car repair places. We reached downtown, parked, got out of the car and looked around. It was dead. Apart from a few people painting a Christmas mural on their church window, there were no people around, no cars parked, and very few shops open. This, you will recall, was a Saturday afternoon, in near-perfect autumn weather. Where was everyone? Travelling around Texas, you soon learn that nearly every community will try and lure you in with the promise of a "historic downtown". As far as I can gather, this merely means that some of the buildings have been there for more than fifty years. A few, notably Granbury and Jefferson, are actually attractive and contain some functioning businesses. Many others...