Backdoor weddings

We went to a backdoor wedding recently. No, wait, I don't mean that. I mean a backyard wedding. But that name has sort of stuck for me. When chatting to a British friend, she tongue twisted it into a backdoor wedding, because frankly it's not the sort of phrase Brits get to say very often. First of all we don't have backyards, we have gardens. But more to the point, we don't get married in our backyards or gardens or indeed anywhere other than a place licensed according to the Marriage and Civil Partnerships Regulations.

The Brits are missing out, because a backyard wedding is a lovely thing. Informal, intimate, purely focussed on the two people and their vows, surrounded by friends and family - oh, and maybe a Dudeist priest. TLOML is ordained by the Church of the Big Lebowski and in that capacity can conduct legally binding wedding ceremonies. For real.

It wouldn't happen in England, that's for sure. There, only a minister or a proper, registered registrar can marry a couple.

One of the many lovely things about this backyard wedding was how relaxed it was. We hung out, drinking wine and chatting, until the couple were ready to say their vows, at which point we gathered to watch them exchange vows under a charming chuppah on the lawn.

That also wouldn't happen in England. First of all, there'd be no alcohol in sight. No alcohol or food may be consumed in the room where the ceremony is to take place, for an hour before the ceremony. Not sure if they are afraid of people getting wed without their senses about them, or just crumbs spoiling the vibe or what.

You also can't get married outside, as you need to be wed within a permanent structure. My BFF got married under a cool little gazebo, with guests sitting outside, which was a creative and charming solution. But gazebos that have been recognized by the Home Office are few and far between. And so, as a result, are backyard weddings.

Which is a shame. It was no St George's Chapel, but this backyard ceremony was truly one of the loveliest, most heartfelt and honest weddings I've ever been to. 

A better breadth of butter

Two failed butter dishes, rejected because they were so annoying, and I finally get it. I realize why so many butter dishes here are long and skinny. Long and skinny in a way which makes no sense when you're trying to accommodate a normal sized pat of butter.

But of course, it's because I'm buying European butter. The American stuff comes in 'sticks'. No, I'm not kidding. A pat of butter is made up of two sticks. I realized this the other day when my glance fell on some Land o' Lakes 'butter' (horrible crumbly stuff) - and put two and two together when I read a recipe that called for 'a stick' of butter.

It's madness! Butter shouldn't come in a stick! It's firm, but not hard enough to be a stick. It's not soft either though, by the way, which makes it very difficult to smush into a measuring cup when a recipe calls for a cup. Which is another thing: why measure it in a cup? Well it turns out that a cup is 2 sticks, or a pat. So it's actually not that difficult. I suppose it's easier than using measuring scales which are apparently beyond the nous of the American home baker. Took me a couple of recipes to figure the stick thing out but I'm pretty sure life would be easier over here if we all just used a proper, precise system of weights when baking.

Anyway now I know, so I no longer have to work out what a stick or a cup of butter looks like. And thanks to TLOML, we have a lovely new butter dish of just the right proportions.

The one on the top is the old one, perfectly shaped for a stick of butter but look how a real pat of butter splays out over the edges. The one on the bottom is the new one, showcasing what is probably half a stick but could just as easily be a perfect pat. Peace is restored in the toaster/ bread bin/ butter dish corner of the kitchen.