Category Archives: Blogworld challenges
The BeanBlogger’s A to Z Guide to Beans
Recently on the London Bloggers’ Meetup Group website I noticed a competition about BEANS. The prize is a lovely luxury bean bag from Ambient Lounge and all the entrants have to do is write a short (Epicurienne? Short? That’ll be the hard part…) post about BEANS. This made me think. Hard. I love beans, so I decided to create an A to Z to help me to remember how many varieties there are.
A Well, this has to be for Ambient Lounge, the supplier of the bean bag prize/s for this competition. They’re super-cool, are used to furnish Kensington Roof Gardens, a top London club with views over London, and there’s even a sun lounger bean bag – how hip is that?
B There are loads of BEANS beginning with B: Baked, Black, Broad, Butter. Beansprouts are great for salads and stir fries. The Adventures of Beans Baxter is a US TV series. Brazil is currently the biggest producer of dry beans and I come from the generation who all know what a Bean-o comic is.
C Did you know that the Chickpea is a bean? Now you do. There are Cocoa beans for hot drinks and chocolate making, Coffee beans to keep us awake, Castor beans which give a delightful flavour to sugar and the Common bean which can be used for just about anything. Coral beans and Cranberry beans are a bit more exotic. In France, Cassoulet is a wonderful meal comprising duck stewed in its own juices with fat, white beans. It’s a hearty winter meal in itself.
D stands for Designer Bean Bags upon which to launch oneself after a long day of arduous work, while watching The Food Channel. There is also a Dolichos bean which sounds delicious.
E is for Edamame, or soy bean, upon which patrons crunch in smart Asian food establishments.
F The Fava bean is another name for the Broad bean. Fagioli is the Italian word for bean. Flageolets are wonderful, juicy white beans which are popular in France (and in Epic’s London kitchen) and Fabaceae is one name for the family of plants whose seeds become BEANS on our plates at home. Flatulence can be the embarrassing result of eating too many BEANS but BEANS are too tasty for us to worry about a bit of wayward wind, no?
G The Green bean is a staple of many a mean-and-three-veg dinner, but for something a little special, you could always seek out the Goldmarie Vining Pole bean.
H Haricots Verts are the French green beans and who doesn’t know the slogan ‘Beanz Meanz HEINZ?’. Hannibal Lechter of ‘Silence of the Lambs’ is renowned for the following spine-chilling quote: “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti,” and on many an international boardwalk you will find teenagers doing unbelievable tricks with their bean-filled hacky-sacks.
I is for India, the second most prolific producer of dry beans in the world.
J is for the eponymous Jack, famed for the magic beans that grow into a giant beanstalk in one of the most popular fairy tales of all time. There is also a variety of bean called the Jack, and everyone has a favourite colour of Jelly bean, although the manufacturer, Jelly Belly, has extended the flavour options so far that having just one favourite is probably a thing of the past.
K is for Kidney beans.
L stands for Leguminosae, another family of plants responsible for giving us beans. There is also the Lima bean variety and LL Bean, the classic clothes mail-order catalogue from the States – very New England.
M Here we find Mung beans (edible) and Rowan Atkinson’s doofy character, Mr Bean (not). Monty Python sang ‘Spam spam spam spam spam spam spam baked beans spam spam and spam is delicious, trust me!’ Personally, I can’t stand Spam but will take the baked beans any day.
N is for Navy beans, and
O is for Onions. The gardener’s advice is to never grow your beans next to onions – it will end in tears. But onions as a base for bean dishes will add texture and flavour.
P Beans grow in Pods, just like Peas, which are also beans, but let’s not confuse the issue by going into that here. It’s a whole different blog post. Polyanthus beans and Pinto beans come under Beans Beginning With P.
Q Beans form a vital ingredient for the classic Mexican Quesadilla.
R is for the classic Runner bean, the Refried bean used for Nachos, the Red bean, the Rice bean and the Roman bean. Go one up on the Joneses by serving the Roc d’Or or the Royalty Purple Podded Bush beans at your dinner parties.
S Beans are seeds and when planted will grow more beans. Beans beginning with S include Soy beans, Sieva beans and Scarlet Runner beans. The Latin name for the Sword bean is GLADIATA (perfect to give you energy before taking on Russell Crowe’s mates in a Colosseum somewhere). Spilling the beans will only get you in trouble.
T is for Tepary beans, and Tavera beans, otherwise known as French green filet beans.
U finds us with the Urad bean which is black with a soft white interior and highly popular in India, and
V gives us Vanilla beans and Velvet beans – what a sumptuous name.
W stands for Wattie’s, the New Zealand company who canned the baked beans I ate during my downunder childhood and
X is a tricky one so I’ve cheated – X is for TeX-MeX, a cuisine which makes great use of the humble bean.
Y is for the Yardlong bean and
Z is for ZE end.
That’s my A-Z of beans. Now if only I had a big fat bean bag to fall into… I’d be a very happy BEAN indeed.
Gordon Gracious Deary Me… Let’s WIN some GIN!

It’s a happy day when someone sends me something food or drink-related to play with. It’s far preferable to those depressing brown envelopes with windows that usually fill the mailbox. So it is that I am the grateful recipient of a Friday with Gordon’s pack, comprising an adult-size bottle of Gordon’s gin, 6 smart highball glasses with Gordon’s logo marked ever so discreetly on their sides and a cookbook by the F-Word man himself, Gordon Ramsay.
So to what did I owe this gin-tastic pleasure? The Telegraph is promoting its new Friday supplement, The Friday, sponsored by none other than Gordon’s itself. The Friday is filled with great ideas for how to get the most out of those two precious days we call The Weekend, from cocktail recipes (naturellement) to themed takeaway ideas, relaxation tips and that useful tool – a countdown clock telling you exactly how many days, hours and minutes you have to wait for the next weekend.
Well, I’m having fun thinking up all sorts of wicked things to do with my Gordon’s tonight, but in the meantime, we have an Epic début in the shape of a competition. That’s right, G&T lovers, if you would like to win a Friday With Gordon’s pack with which to kick on your very own gin-themed weekend, you may enter here. I’m sorry to say that I have to restrict entries to UK residents only for this one, and you must be over 18 to enter because those are the rules I’ve been given by the nice Gordon’s people.
So here’s what you do:
Tell me in any way, shape or form who is your ‘Gordon Gracious Me’?
(that means in a comment, haiku, photo, video or any other way that can appear on this blog. Points will be given for originality.)
You have until midnight on Friday 9th October to send me your entries. Then we’ll take a vote and send the winner their very own Friday With Gordon’s kit.
Viel Glück, PEEPS! Now, for a word from Mr Ramsay:

One thing at a time…
January has been a total twister of activity. It’s a very good thing that we had such a decent break over the silly season, because when I got back to work on 5th January, I felt like a house had landed on my head, which is actually quite an appropriate use of simile because it’s the crash of the housebuilding market in particular which is giving me grief at The Day Job. By 11am on our first day back, an announcement had been made to staff concerning future redundancies looming on the London skyline, and by the end of Tuesday, we’d made another group of people jobless.
The first month of 2009 has not been entirely doom and gloom. It’s certainly been a toughie, with long hours at work and stressful meetings aplenty, but fun has not been left entirely on the doorstep. A few days into the working year, I was invited to hang out with Jason Mical and the gang at Edelman. In case you’re not one of those dedicated Epicurienne readers who memorises my each and every post, Edelman does the PR for Stella Artois and Stella Artois had an airship over London last summer and through my blog I won a prize to go up in the airship but because the weather was so well um English and my luck was a bit um er pants, I never actually achieved the much coveted flight in the beer blimp. (you can breathe now) BUT I did get to meet Jason, and Jason is a lovely chap who gives me Stella Artois branded glasses, so we think he’s pretty cool and I’m trying to finish the post I wrote about our night out but The Day Job keeps getting in the way.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, Monsieur and I went to the Ice Bar at Plateau in Canary Wharf, in order to be force-fed chocolate martinis and other vodka-licious delights with those splendid people at Splendid Communications. A post on that is on its way also. All I’ll say for now is that Smirnoff Black makes other major voddy brands taste like engine fuel.
Last week’s highlight was wedding-related. Monsieur and I are turning into Bridezilla and Groom of Doom as we kick off the New Year by trying to organise our nuptials. As I’ll explain to anyone with ears, I was born without the bride gene, but I really am trying. Honest, I am. Unfortunately, due to the closeted nature of a boom in British bureaucracy, all my careful planning to get the venue organised totally screwed up but it’s NOT MY FAULT.
Picture the following scene: Epicurienne tries to check available dates on ceremony venue. Ceremony venue tells her she can’t have dates until she registers intent with Monsieur. She calls local registry office to book a Saturday appointment to do just that but they won’t allow Saturday appointments unless there is a need for an emergency wedding. Apparently we’re not an emergency. Yet. So Monsieur and Epicurienne book a day’s leave and go to the registry office to register intent to marry. Everything’s proceeding as it should until the Nice Receptionist asks which room we’ve booked. Epic explains that no venue has been booked yet because the particular venue that has been chosen has insisted that it operates differently from other venues and therefore requires intent to be registered prior to setting a date. Nice Receptionist insists that this is not the case; that no intent can be formalised until a venue has been confirmed. Then she tells us we can always come back on a Saturday. (Receptionist immediately slides in the ratings from ‘nice’ to ‘bovine’.) Epic calls the venue people, hoping for some help from them. (Bunch of paper pushing losers springs to mind.) One venue person tells Epic that she must not register intent without a confirmed venue booking. Epic asks to confirm the booking immediately so as not to waste the day. Venue person (also of the bovine family) says she’s too busy to do that now and hangs up with a huffy sigh. Meanwhile, Monsieur thinks his future wife will never be able to organise the wedding and Epic tries in vain to convince her future husband that it really wasn’t her FAULT! The icing on the four tier wedding cake was when the Venue Person called back to say that they’re dealing with a new registrar who has been giving out misinformation and please would we accept their apologies for any inconvenience caused. Meanwhile, Epic’s Shirley Valentine fantasy of jumping on the Heathrow Express (alone – the fantasy only works with a solo traveller) and taking a plane to Wherever gathers momentum and it’s hard to keep her on London soil. Where’s that airship when it’s needed? In other words: Friday was complete and utter crap.
I have to say that staying engaged for the rest of my natural days is sounding more and more appealing, but I guess we should give it a shot, right?
So what might you be reading here soon? More about Venice, a LOT about Sicily where Monsieur and I spent New Year, some interesting facts about the Mafia, a review of Galler’s Kaori chocolate and my attempts to chase a little white ball around a golf course. In the meantime, here’s a song called Walking on Air, which is all about a creepy girl, sung by a Slovenian songstress called Kerli. When we were in Sicily, it played everywhere we went, especially on that bastion of the Italian radiowaves, RTL, where they insist on telling their listeners that they’re ‘Very Normal People’. Mmm hmm. Yep. Right you are.
(Double click twice on the You Tube to get past the embedding crash or link to the official Kerli MySpace site here
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=35040750)
Your last meal on the planet…

A comment from Grassroots Gourmet really got me thinking this morning. She wrote that Anthony Bourdain once stated that if he were on Death Row and had to choose his last meal, it would be Osso Bucco. That made me wonder: what would I choose as the last meal of my life? I’m still struggling to find the answer. Fresh sashimi and creamy Veneto cheese clash a bit. I’ll have to come up with a last-meal-menu from one cuisine type and one only.
While I’m pondering what that will comprise, how about telling me what YOU would feast on as your last meal on the planet? I’m intrigued to hear what you all love to eat.
Another meme – Seven Things…
My Blog Friend, Bunk Strutts of Tacky Raccoons fame, has tagged me in another meme. It’s seven things you never knew about the tagged person, and then I have to tag six more poor, unsuspecting fools to continue the Seven tradition. (Sounds like a severed head, Brad Pitt and some deadly sins should be involved, no? At the very least, I expect someone, somewhere is going to poke pins into an Epicurienne voodoo doll when they get this meme)
Here are seven things you never knew about Epicurienne:
1. My accent is so screwed up from living in New Zealand, Australia, Italy and England (with French Monsieur at home) that I have been asked at different times if I come from Canada, South Africa, Ireland, Sweden or Tasmania. It’s the Tasmanian guess that got me. Now Monsieur is getting good at mimicking my accent, which keeps me awake at night; he does my accent with an accent.
2. I make a fantastic seafood lasagne. It’s my culinary pride and joy.
3. I love bandes dessinées (graphic novels), including everything from Tintin to Persepolis.
4. I have a lot of time for Buddhism. It makes sense, hurts no one and shows kindness towards all living things.
5. I dream in technicolour every night. Some nights my dreams are so intense that I wake up completely exhausted.
6. My favourite landmark in the whole, wide world is the Eiffel Tower.
7. I speak English (mother tongue), French (with lots of mistakes), German (enough to discuss Kafka and the environment, preferably not at the same time), Italian (so that when Monsieur’s luggage went missing en route to Naples, I knew the words for contact lenses and shaving foam when we went shopping) and just enough Spanish to find me the nearest Tapas Bar. I can also say various random things in Japanese (including the numbers 1 to 99 but 100 escapes me) and Maori (welcome, white pig, and many different words beginning with WH- which you pronounce F-). Go figure.
That’s the end of my meme.
I tag the following six:
- Razzbuffnik of All The Dumb Things
- Single For a Reason
- Nathaliewithanh, although I still owe Nathalie a six-word meme from months ago; my problem is I can’t choose ONLY six words!
- Rax Lakhani, by way of revenge for his recent London meme-ing of me,
- Jim’s Muse
- Brandon of Mojitos and Burritos
Okay, kids. Put those Voodoo Stress dolls of Epicurienne to one side and get to work. Don’t forget to link back to me when you’re done, so I can learn about your own special quirks.

















