Tales from the Chicken House

remembering summer

2011-10-22T12:29:00.000-07:00

30th of July, 2011, 8pm
I'm writing this curled up in a woollen rug by a crackling log fire, having at last arrived at Inverpattack Lodge. We broke our journey at The Soldier's Leap, where we ate apples and walked barefoot on the rocks above the river. Dragonflies darted across the water.

We arrived at the house, hastily unpacked, and then piled back into the car for the short drive along the road to 'the beach' - the shore of the loch really, but it's long and sandy and bordered by pines. It's just past the fairytale-looking gatehouse, and as you drive up the road you get a glimpse of white sand and dark water through the trees. There were warm patches in the water, and we capered about like mad things before racing back to the beach to hop about with towels and dry clothes and sand-shoes.

10pm
The fire has died down to grey wood ash and one smouldering log. The upturned branches of the feathery fir in the garden are a fuzzy black against the pale grey-blue of the sky. There have been mugs of tea, and homemade ginger biscuits, and now we are sitting companionably with our books, occasionally reading aloud bits that strike us as particularly interesting or amusing.

The house is comfortable, in a slightly run-down sort of way. The chair covers are all faded, with worn patches on the arms. The hearth-bricks need to be properly cemented, and the front porch still leaks. There are no books, only sales catalogues for Fine Art auctions, and things like 'The Game and Wildlife Conservation Trust Christmas Gift Catalogue'. Yes. Really. It's full of things like rifle cases and game safes, and personalised champagne bottles.

The pictures look like they have come in job lots from various auctions - colour prints of grand houses, town markets and harbour scenes in the lounge, 18th century prints of grape sellers and green bean sellers in the hall, and religious pictures of a vaguely Italian flavour in the dining room. Given all that, it's big enough so that even with 11 of us it doesn't feel crowded. And there is a very nice large footstool in the lounge that is just right for propping your legs against.

31st of July, 10.15pm
The fire is smokily falling about in embers. I think the wood may still be a bit damp from the woodshed. Even the weather was damp today - dull and cloudy. We had a lazy morning with newspapers and cups of tea. We finished a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle of Ludwig the Mad's castle in Bavaria, apart from the sky, because -really- what point is there in bits of blue that all look the same?

We took a walk up the road behind the farmhouse before dinner. The weather cleared up a little on our return; we could see the rock face above Inverpattack bathed in sunlight, with dark clouds behind.

1st of August
Another dull and damp day. Woke around 7am and curled up in one of the chairs by the window in the lounge, with a mug of tea and Mountains of the Mind. Caitlin came back from a run to the beach for a swim. I thought this was an excellent idea, but in the end some of the others wanted to come too, so we all piled into the car and drove down. I had my red cotton dress on over my swimsuit, and it billowed up and clung a bit, but once we were in the water it was fine.

It was freezing - even colder than Saturday, but I took it slowly this time so I would get used to it. The hardest part is once it gets to above your waist. Did more swimming this time. Swimming into the waves always seems more satisfying than swimming back to the shore - the shore never seems to get any nearer. We ran up and down the beach to get dry.

Back at the house, in the warm shower, my palms turned purple with the shock. Recovered with hot coffee and second breakfast. Swimming in lochs is so much nicer than in public pools. You can see the trees and the mountains, and watch the mist coming down.

3rd of August.
On the way to Fort William we stopped by the road along the loch so that Malcolm could swim out to the little island with the ruin. He's wanted to do it ever since he saw it. Katy and I sat on the rocks by the side of the water and watched. We ate some rolls and shared a packet of crisps and crunched on apples. They were the kind with the shiny red skin that tinges the white flesh underneath pink when you bite.

From a distance, the island looked like a small Wild Cat Island. I sat warming my bare feet on the rocks. Small rock-spiders crawled in and out of the shade. We watched Malcolm's head bobbing in and out of the waves. Once he got near to the island we lost sight of his head against the rocks, before we spotted him moving up to the tree-line. We waved our arms and whooped and yelled 'Well Done!' He raised an arm, and disappeared into the trees. We looked down into the peat-coloured water, and waited for him to return.

Back on the road, we made a detour to High Bridge - the site of the first action of the '45. There was a cairn by the side of the road, with a sort of path leading off into the woods. There were thistles everywhere, and broken branches fallen across the path. The wooden platforms across the boggy patches had boards missing, and the footpath was overgrown. We turned towards the sound of the river, and then we could see the ruined arches of the bridge.

It is made of grey stone, and has a rusty red splint of ironwork spanning the broken arch. It sticks out at an odd angle, and ends abruptly in mid air, never reaching the other side. The central pillar has a larch tree growing out of it, spearing straight up to the sky. Below, the river is a narrow gash in the rock; folded stone layered up to form deep cliffs. The tree trunks are covered in soft moss, and the bank falls away steeply beneath your feet.

After dinner, we all decided to play cricket on the beach. The boys set the wicket and stumps up, and Katy and I collected things to burn, as the midgies were descending. We made three attempts to steal embers from a camper's fire further up the beach, and we succeeded just as we were on the point of giving up. The wind blew towards the cricket players and foxed the midgies for a while. Malcolm smoked his pipe, and walked up and down the beach. We spent the rest of the time going back and forth trying to find things to burn. Once the light had completely faded, and the embers had died down, we piled wet sand on top and headed for Inverpattack.

5th of August
The glass in the windowpanes of the house is old glass, the kind that almost distorts the view outside if you look at it from a certain angle. I like it better than new glass. It seems gentler, somehow. It softens the outside; blurs it around the edges and makes it look like a painting, or a slightly out-of-focus photograph.

But I can't see out the windows now, as it's dark and the curtains have been pulled. Jacob and I are the last ones sitting up. It's a quarter past 11 now, and I can feel tiredness pricking behind my eyelids. The fire is smouldering away. It's gone out, really, but Katy wanted to burn the last of the logs. I should probably be packing.

on the river

2011-08-09T01:45:00.000-07:00

We had a good time at the farm. We lazed about in the garden with newspapers and books and mildly alcoholic beverages. I had brought my 'Flowers of Britain and Europe' book, and Gerald and I went around the garden ticking off various plants. Katy came to stay, and we walked along the riverbank to find a good paddling place. There were tiny fishes darting in and out under the bridge. Lots of nettles and hogweed. We traipsed alongside the horse field until we came to the stepping stones, and we sat and dipped our feet in the peaty water. After a while, we decided to walk back up the river in the water, and scramble out as best we could by the bridge. Katy and I chorused 'Dark brown is the river, golden is the sand. It flows along forever, with trees on either hand...'

Gerald looked at us and shook his head, 'You girls...' he said, and splashed further upstream in silence.

foxhat tearoom

2011-07-13T06:39:00.000-07:00

This, it turns out, is another winner for Ayr. Individuality is returning. It's been open since early March, and sells clothes and household objects as well. Now, by that I mean that it sells Joules clothing, and beautifully-made dresses in cotton-lawn, and little, wispy bits of scarves. And 'household objects' means retro metal signs, re-conditioned furniture from a local source, oilcloth by the metre and olive spears and salt spoons and strings of fairy lights. I actually found my brother's birthday present in there (it's on Friday, and I feared a fruitless search through town, agonising over two or three things that I didn't really want to buy him, and that I wasn't sure he would very much want either). But I was browsing after tea and -lo! there it was on a table. A little, metal bottle opener with a silver stag's head at the end. It has a pleasant weight in the hand, and is tactile and attractive as well as being useful. There was a letter-knife as well, which I much preferred, but boys never do seem to open letters properly and I'm sure the bottle opener will get used much more than the letter-knife would.

The tearoom is set just in a corner of the shop, with a large wooden dresser to display the cakes on. It's styled like a room in a house, with a fireplace and wood-burning stove (not a working stove, unfortunately) at the back, a standard-lamp, and wall-paper on the back wall. The (vintage) chairs all have Cath Kidston oilcloth seats, and the wooden tables are all painted the same colour of sage green-blue. The china is 'proper' china, with matching cups and saucers and cake-plates. Grandma approved. Tea for two was in a large teapot, and we had individual Victoria Sponges. The sponge was very light, but there wasn't enough jam - I only had a little in the centre of my cake. They also had scones, malteaser slice, and various biscuits. Tea and cake for two people came to about eight pounds in total, I think, but I wasn't paying, so I don't know exactly. The tea was teabags, not leaf.

lunch at Dulallys

2011-07-08T14:57:00.000-07:00

Work today really tired me out for some reason. Hoovered all of the rooms except the spare bedrooms and the drawing room. Hoovered the stairs (killer on the knees) and the upstairs and downstairs hall. Cleaned three bathrooms and mopped the kitchen floor. But -good thing!- Rosetta gave me an extra fiver as I was leaving.

'Because we're going away for two weeks.' she said. (which means I won't be getting paid).

So I decided to go out for lunch. I popped home, picked up the netbook, and cycled along to Dulallys tea room. It's only been open about three months, since the last tearoom there closed at the beginning of the year. It has vintage and retro signs up on the walls, pictures at odd angles and clocks showing the wrong times. They have a good range of (leaf) teas, as well as cakes, scones, sandwiches, soups and light lunches. Tea comes in a proper teapot, with a knitted cosy (you can buy your own to take home) and vintage cups and saucers.

I had the minestrone soup, with bread and butter, for £3.50. Big chunks of pasta and vegetables. Nice and warming. The teashop has free wi-fi so I checked my emails and browsed blogs while eating - felt very 21st century...I know, I know. This was the FIRST TIME I have ever used a laptop in a cafe. (I put it down to not having a laptop while at Uni.) Then I just had some 'morning tea' (proper leaf again) at £1.80.

It's a friendly wee place, reasonably busy, and I can recommend the scones (I tried one last week). It's nice having a place in Ayr that actually feels like somewhere in St Andrews. Although, if it was in St A's, there would be more people my age in there - rather than people about 30+ years older than me. I find that a lot. Places that -in St A's- would be full of students are places 'for middle-aged people' in Ayr.

*sigh*

spelt and ginger biscuits/lemon drizzle cake

2011-07-06T15:37:00.000-07:00

My grandparents won a hamper at Christmas and gave me a packet of spelt flour from it, because I am The Baker in the family and would therefore know what to do with it. It has sat in the kitchen looking pretty since then, because I have been afraid of it. There was a Sophie Dahl recipe that sounded delicious (spelt pancakes with cream cheese and lemon) but I never got around to making it.

For some reason, on Tuesday, I decided that I wanted to make biscuits. Unfortunately, I'd used the last of the 'normal' flour in the bread-maker (yes, I have a bread-maker. Go ahead and Judge Me, all you Sunday Times magazine editors). Then I remembered a recipe in Country Living for Spelt and Ginger biscuits. (Yes, I get Country Living. According to The Times, I am middle-aged and middle-class.)

The recipe was for 35-40 biscuits. I thought this would be too many. I was wrong. I spent Wednesday morning dipping the remaining biscuits into dark chocolate. By the evening there were five left, and that only because I wrestled the tin from my brother's hands.

I made lemon drizzle cake today for some museum colleagues who are leaving to look after castles in the country and museums in the city. Never made it before, and Tana Ramsay's recipe was the first one that popped up in google. Very good, but I made the decision to divide the mixture between two tins. Glad I did. My brother watched both cake tins leave the house with sad eyes.

Happily only one got eaten at the party. He ate three huge slices before it was back in the door an hour.

a tale of april

2011-04-22T13:52:00.000-07:00

We rented a house, with a mill wheel in the back garden. The road wound alongside the loch, through fields with new lambs and ended in a farm track with coconut-smelling gorse and tiny violets beneath the trees. We took the farm collies for walks, saw the calves in the back field, and spotted high-hovering birds of prey from the kitchen window. We flew power-kites on the beach and sat on the grass eating ice-creams. We rang a a big brass bell to call the ferry and crossed by boat to a crumbling castle set on an island in the marsh. I saw frogspawn lying like a rope of black-hearted pearls in a river-pool beside the forest track.

My fritillaries have come and gone, the salad rocket is flourishing, the clambering rose is doing tolerably well, although I am waging war with the ants at present. The plum tree has lots of leaves and no flowers and the pear tree has little leaves and far too many flowers. I do not have high hopes for fruit this year. The potted basils are coming along nicely thank-you very much and are enjoying the sun they get in the front room. The trees in the streets all around us are heavy with pink blossom, in every shade from crushed cranberry to palest blush.

I went a walk in Corsehill Gardens this afternoon, after the heat of the day had passed. The lichen on the trees was a 1950s colourway of mustard yellow and teal green. The walled garden is full of things growing - weeds mostly, but they have their place too. The fig tree has new leaves and even some figs growing. The rose trellis is recovering, although it needs encouragement to grow along the way, not up. In the park, the rose bed needs weeded, and the soil turned over. It's so peaceful to wander through under the old trees, with their smooth or weathered trunks, and their spreading branches. I'm very grateful to have such a place nearby to go to, and don't mind doing my bit to make sure others enjoy it to. I took away a whole bag of rubbish that I'd collected. Some people around here don't seem to know that it's a public garden though - I heard one lady protest to her friend yesterday, 'Oh, but can we go in there? I always thought it was somebody's garden.' One summer, I climbed on top of the wall, past the old chimney-pot, and read The Great Gatsby for school. It was warm, and I could look out across the Old Racecourse to Arran in the distance. I had chocolate, and tangerines and apples, and lay there all afternoon, watching people on the path below who had no idea I was up there.

The weather we've been having this April makes me think of summer. It's actually warm outside tonight - that heavy, scent-filled warmth that makes you think of foreign countries and past summers.

happy things

2011-03-02T09:15:00.000-08:00

*the bunch of flowers that has lasted (in various incarnations) for weeks
*taking 3 more bags of stuff to the Oxfam shop
*my 'new' teal cardigan, picked up at said Oxfam shop for £3.99
*sunshine
*Birt and Tang Ginger tea
*hearing old friends over the phone
*seeing little peeps of pink on the cherry blossom tree
*snowdrops
*bulbs coming up through the earth

comfort food (vegetable soup)

2011-01-27T09:23:00.000-08:00

Spent today in and around the house - one of those days where you don't anticipate doing much, and end up surprising yourself with the amount of things ticked off the list. Also spent a great deal of time eating, happily enough! Started off with breakfast: put the portobello mushroom under the grill and dried the dishes while waiting for it to soften. First laundry wash of the day went on (lots of white school shirts). Turned the mushroom over, chopped the feta cheese and tomatoes, and piled them on top, with a drizzle of olive oil and a crunch of black pepper. Under the grill again. One egg, poached to perfection (this is a rare enough occurrence for me to make it worth mentioning) balanced on top of the mushroom, with a grating of parmesan cheese and yet another grinding of black pepper. And a rocket and spinach salad with a splash of Little Doone sweet balsamic dressing.

Hung the first washing up on the line outside, and bunged the second lot into the machine (bedding and towels). It was still slightly frosty outside - the bucket had a thin layer of ice. Washed up the dishes, and did the ironing, minus the boys' shirts. Watched The Saint and The Professionals while doing the ironing. I know, sad. I can't even claim that I watch them for the clothing. And Roger Moore isn't exactly good looking. The sunshine tempted me outside, so I pulled on my airforce-blue jumper and armed myself with scissors to tidy back some of the dead ferns. Found some snowdrops by the front door, and lots of our bulbs are starting to push up through the soil. Hung up the washing, and put the third and final load on (hurrah!)

Decided to make soup for lunch. Loosely based around a 'peasant style soup' Katy and I made while cleaning at the (freezing) farm. It is very easy to make, and is rich, buttery and filling.

butter (for frying)
1 onion
2 sticks celery
5 medium sized potatoes
handful of mushrooms
2 ham stock cubes
sprinkling of dill
pepper to taste

*chop the onion, celery and potatoes and fry gently in the butter in a large saucepan. Chop the mushrooms and add to the pan.

*crumble stock cubes into a jug and fill with a litre of boiling water. Pour into the pan and return to the boil. Turn down and simmer for about 20 minutes or until potatoes are soft.

*Gently mash the soup, then add the dill and the pepper. I don't think this needs any salt as the stock cubes are generally salty enough, but if you're using home-made stock you might find you need to add a little.

*Given my vague ingredients list, at this point you might look at the soup and think it's too watery. This is fine. Just let it simmer a little longer with the lid off until the surface of the soup turns all golden and buttery. Doesn't it look good?

*Ladle into bowl/bowls (serves 2, maybe 3?) and slurp away with lightly toasted pitta-breads (this was the only bread we had in the house, and -hey- it works!)

Cleared away the lunch dishes and hung up the laundry (story of my life), then decided to do some baking. Orange and chocolate chip cookies with a hint of ginger. They taste like Terry's Chocolate Orange. But nicer, because the chocolate hit is tempered by the biscuit dough and the sharpness of the orange. Used them to bribe Liam to do his piano pieces when he came in from school.

sub zero

2010-12-07T09:59:00.000-08:00

My uncle Ian dropped off the christmas tree today. I walked out over the golf-course looking for firewood but only picked up enough to fill a small bag. Weather today was bright and sunny, but very cold. Cleared out the grate and set the fire (it's now sparking and cracking smokily away, but should come through soon). Made bread, about which I was rather dubious as I didn't really have the right amount or sort of yeast - but Liam ate a slice and declared it edible.

The sultana cake (made yesterday) is clearly better a day after making. The crumb was much firmer today and easier to cut - more like a loaf cake. However I feel another trip to the grandparents may be in order, as no one else in my family apart from me likes sultanas!

Walked round to Katy's for lunch - she had made Nigella's Tortilla Soup. Basically a chicken broth, with chilli-fried tortilla strips, chopped avocado, coriander, grated cheese and lime wedges for squeezing. Very warming and good-for-you feel. Exactly what is needed in this weather. We were both full afterwards and couldn't even eat any cake.

Rolled back to my house to finish chores and take the bread out of the breadmaker. Then called Katy and suggested ice-skating. We met up on the Old Racecourse (but not before I'd been stared at by small boys and nearly been hit by snowballs and pinecones) and found a suitable patch of ice.

I was very shaky at first, but didn't fall over. My legs were shaking so much though that I thought I was going to fall over. The amount of ice we could skate on got bigger as we skated - eventually we could do a circular route, which improved things no end. Felt ridiculously Victorian with my white boots, frocky coat and green wrap skirt. Don't think the Victorians had jeans though. Again, vastly impressed with the 50 year old skating boots. The blades are badly in need of re-sharpening, although I'm leary of getting this done as a) they might condemn the blades as they are slightly corroded on the picks and b) I hear newly re-sharpened blades are vastly different from the normal run of things and it might just be too much of a shock for me as these haven't been re-sharpened in at least 25 years. On the other hand, they do really need it.

I hope we're able to go out again tomorrow as the ice should be better and my confidence greater. We skated until it got dark, and inspected a few potential skating spots on the lower course. Got home and remembered the washing was still hanging out on the line. Grabbed basket and peg-bag and discovered that the clothing was frozen onto the line. Have heard of this happening in other climes, but never thought it would happen to me. If it hadn't been dark I would have left it on the line as apparently they do eventually dry. Instead, hauled the stiff shirts and towels indoors and draped them over the radiators and the winter-dyke.

Minus nine outside! Walking Bute later with Katy - we will be donning fur coats and taking the vintage star atlas with us, as per usual. Found Perseus last night, and tonight we are going to try and spot Sirius.

glimpses of november

2010-11-30T14:15:00.000-08:00

15th of November
It's November, a firey, frosty morning and I've just cut three sweet peas from the canes at the front of the house. Two are white; the last one is lilac, fading to green around the edges. In a few minutes I'm going to go back outside and deadhead the climbing rose. My re-potted geranium is doing well inside - in a terracotta bowl on an old blue and white plate that my great aunt gave me from the outhouses years ago. My aloe vera plants are struggling bravely on, although the largest one probably needs a deeper container.
I am drinking darjeeling tea out of my Midwinter cup and saucer, bought for £4 at an antiques fair in St Andrews. The cup is a very 50s shade of blue, with a pearly sheen to the white interior. The plate is decorated with sputnik inspired explosions in pink, grey, blue and black. Aunt Anne asked me to help her in the garden today. I finished cutting back the lavender bush in the front garden, then swept up the leaves on the patio by the back door. Anne planted spring bulbs up in pots. Lunch was a spinach and watercress salad, hot butterbean stew and saffron rice. Anne's garden is divided into distinct compartments: the patio and dining area, the bench and bird bath, the garden shed looking out onto the central planting bed, the small lawn at the back of the garden and the 'kitchen garden' and composting area. We left seedheads and seaholly stalks in place on the flowerbeds to give some structure and texture to the garden in winter. I pulled up the last of the cosmos and turned over the earth with a trowel.
16th of November
Nutmeggy porridge for breakfast today, with another pot of darjeeling tea - this time in my Susie Cooper 'Dresden Spray' cup and saucer. This one has a very 30s feel to it, with a delicate floral pattern and warm green interior. I read through my old Furniture History notes from university while eating breakfast - I'm going to volunteer at the newly opened Robert Burns Birthplace Museum in Alloway and some of the information on rural interiors should be relevant.
Picked up two broken 'Golden Rod' stems from the garden and put them in a tall, twisted jug with a yellow base and a gold rim. Made Sour Cream and Apple Muffins. Messed around with coats and scarves for a while (eventually decided on Grandma's old wool and grey silk kilt jacket and mum's Greek scarf in blue ) then headed out into the cold to walk to my grandparents' house with a basket of homebaking.
Saw lots of holly berries and rosehips standing out against the dark branches and shiny green leaves. The Iris foetidissima patch is showing lots of seedheads and one or two have actually started to split and dry out already. Must remember to go back and collect some for decorations. Also made note of suitable ivy strands for twining up staircase.
Helped grandad in the garden, tidying up the leaves, until gran came back and we had tea and sampled muffins - the apples stopped them from being too sweet and the oats formed a nice crunchy topping.
17th of November
Today was a bright, blustery, rain-washed day. I hung up the washing, set the fire and washed the dishes. Felt low today, probably because things didn't turn out as planned. Chocolate chip fudge cookies in the oven now. They look a lot fatter than the ones in the magazine, so I may squish the next batch with a fork before putting them in the oven. It's dark outside now - it gets dark so early. I wish our kitchen was more comfortable to sit in! Still, I've got my stool, which is what I'm perched on now, with my legs propped up against the worktop.

Sour Cream and Apple Muffins

2010-11-30T13:46:00.000-08:00

I made these back on the 16th of November, but couldn't remember where I had written down the recipe. The recipe is taken from Diana Henry's 'Roast Figs and Sugar Snow' although I adapted it to suit my own tastes and what I had in the cupboards. I decided to cut the amount of sugar in the topping and exchanged the pecans for an oatmeally crumble instead. I re-jigged the amounts of the ingredients and opted just to use the crumble mix on top, rather then in the middle as well. Oh, and I used semi-skimmed instead of full-fat milk because - frankly- these are rich enough without that. This recipe makes ten muffins.

What you need:
70g of oats
70g of sugar
a quarter teaspoon of cinnamon
200g plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
75g butter, cubed
75g sugar
pinch of salt
a quarter teaspoon of cinnamon
125g chopped apple
100ml sour cream
splash of semi-skim milk
1 egg (UK medium)

What you do:
*Preheat oven to gas mark 4/180 deg celcius
*Mix the oats, sugar and cinnamon together
*In a separate bowl, mix together the flour and baking powder. Rub in the butter. Stir in the sugar, salt, cinnamon and chopped apple.
*Beat together the sour cream, milk and egg and add gradually to the flour mix.
*Divide the batter between ten muffin cases and sprinkle with the crumble topping.
*Bake for 20-25 minutes in the preheated oven.

batten down the hatches

2010-11-11T13:02:00.000-08:00

Autumn is here. With weather warnings in place, the wind howling down the chimney, and the rain battering at the windows I'm feeling rather besieged at present. Already an old chestnut tree across the street has fallen victim to the weather - one of its heavy branches cracked right off and fell onto the pavement below. It's a pollarded tree, but it's been neglected and so there was lots of whippy branches protruding from the convoluted central knot.

Ran across to inform owners and offered help of brothers and self in shifting it. Armed with saws and kindling knives we proceeded to hack at side branches and drag them into the back driveway. Even with two strong boys, three women and one girl it still took us a good half hour to clear the pavement. At least they'll have plenty of firewood. Another of the branches looks headed the same way - have just noticed that someone has parked their car underneath.

The winds outside are so strong that I can almost lean back into it and not fall over. Then, we are on the coast, with a long road forming a wind channel up from the sea. Despite my cough and sore chest I need only the merest excuse to get wrapped up and out into the weather. I've been cooped up inside all day and am feeling the need of some fresh air.

In other news - we stayed out at the farm in Straiton recently (while the weather was still nice) and had a wonderful time. Gerald drove up from England, and Katy and Bute(labrador puppy) came out to stay, as well as several of Connor's friends (including one straight off the bus from St Andrews who slept on the sofa - he must love us dearly).

We dug out old bicycles from the pig shed/toy store, went on rambling walks to the village, finally climbed up the hill to the monument and had a fireworks display with the neighbours. Saw the milky way, and lots of shooting stars and went on long moonlit walks with a thoroughly pampered dog. Made scones and lemon tarts. Gerald claimed a pheasant after a passing car had hit it and presented it to 'the women' in gleeful triumph. Mum refused to have anything to do with it, while Katy and I donned black binliners and did the necessary. It was a beautiful bird - I saved the tail feathers. Cooked it and served it with a blackcurrant jelly sauce and potatoes. Will find photos and post them later. Gerald said that Katy and I were 'real girls' - who could cook and bake and pluck pheasants and go up hills. We are still chuffed at this.

Another recipe ticked off from the Diana Henry book - pumpkin and gorgonzola tart. Very impressed with the pastry, less so with the combination of flavours. It may just be that we in Scotland aren't used to pumpkin. I felt it needed to be served with a huge plate of rocket and parsley to balance out the richness of the tart. Also managed to cut myself while peeling the pumpkin, which might have prejudiced me somewhat. Adam, my four year old cousin was watching me roll out the pastry and was absolutely fascinated. I let him loose on the offcuts with a small pastry cutter and showed him how to make mini pastry cases for lemon tarts. He was so proud when his gran came to pick him up!

a one-pot supper for September

2010-09-16T10:18:00.000-07:00

Well, almost one pot. Adapted from a recipe in Diana Henry's book, 'Roast Figs Sugar Snow'. Serve with a parsley and rocket salad, and lots of bread for mopping. Serves about four.

1 red onion
4-6 small pears
4 pork chops
a good sprinkling of rosemary salt
ground black pepper
4 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tbsp red wine vinegar
a good sprinkling of soft brown sugar
Handful of blackberries

1. Preheat oven to gas mark 6. Par-boil enough potatoes for 4 people. Chop the onion into large crescent moon wedges, and the pears into strips, leaving the skin of the pears on. Put the pork chops, onion and pears into a large roasting dish, and sprinkle with the rosemary salt and the pepper. Drizzle the oil and vinegars, stirring to make sure that everything is coated.

2. Roast in the oven for 15 minutes. Add the potatoes, and give everything a good stir, turning over the chops and using a spoon to cover them with the juices. Sprinkle a little brown sugar over everything, and add the brambles evenly. Turn the oven down to gas mark 5 and roast for another 30 minutes.

3. Roughly chop the parsley and rocket, and wilt on the plates with a little of the left over juices from the pan. Add a few uncooked brambles if desired.

Still tastes good re-heated the next day, for lunch after a blustery woodland walk!

garden days

2010-09-04T16:17:00.000-07:00

Each morning this week I have been outside watering our assorted collection of pots: tomato plant and sweet peas on the step, the geraniums flanking the door, the parsley and sage in front of the living room windows, and the cordyline that we thought was dead, but which has since produced seven new shoots from the old stump.

My roses have produced new buds, and the peach-coloured climber by the window has fresh green leaves tinged with red. Our weather has been wonderfully sunny, and I've been revelling in the domestic.

I write lists and tick things off. I put on endless washes, and hang the soap-scented clothes on the line to dry in the breeze. The chickens think I'm bringing food and race out from under the potato plants. I generally make a loaf of bread once or twice a week, although it's lucky if it lasts a day in our house!

Last week I made a courgette cake with a lime icing. This week it was madeira cake with lemon zest. I have a bowl of apples waiting to be turned into cakes and crumbles. The plum tree, never very prolific, is still recovering from my brother's over-enthusiastic 'pruning'. It nevertheless managed to produce about 20 fair-sized fruits. which I have been picking as they ripen. Warm from the sun, and drunkenly sweet, there is nothing like a homegrown plum. (Saying that, the Kentish plums in Morrisons looked acceptable enough for me to pop them in the trolley, although I'm sure there must be plum-orchards nearer than Kent. Still, better than Portugal, eh?)

We dug the first of the pink fir apple potatoes up last week, and have been very impressed with the yield so far. The freshly manured soil we planted them in has resulted in some strange shapes, but I don't mind if they look like something from outer space as long as they taste good.

I cut flowers from the garden and arrange them around the house: sweet-peas and roses on the windowsill in the hall, next to the photograph of my papa as a baby propped up on a stiff upholstered chair, and of his father, in profile, subdued in black and white and shades of grey. The purple papery flowers with their silver-green stems in an old bottle on the mantelpiece. I found the bottle at the greenhouses; the front is flat and slightly concave, and bears the image of a bird impressed into the glass. The night-scented stocks sit in a blue-glazed pottery vase on the table, occasionally dropping tiny flower heads onto the cloth.

Now that Liam is back at school I have more time to myself in the house, and I try and keep myself busy. Katy, George and I went bramble-picking last week, and returned with scratches, nettle-stings and fingertips stained red, but a basket of berries that eventually produced a soft-set jelly, perfect for lazily dribbling over toast. We've been re-reading John Buchan's 'Huntingtower' aloud, and lay on the lawn in the late August sun, drinking leaf tea and eating scones, and gathering the beechnuts into piles.

Of such moments is summer made.

pasta

2010-02-15T14:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Katy and I made pasta. We didn't take any photographs so I decided to make it again today. I roped Liam and his friend Sam into help, and we hung the finished pasta to dry on a clothes hanger from the central light fitting.

I love my pasta machine. It was a birthday present a few years ago, and it is shiny stainless steel and Italian.

Katy and I spent the entirety of Saturday in the kitchen, which was lovely. First of all we made preparations for our cough sweets (putting the tea on to brew) and then we made the pasta dough (8oz flour to 2 eggs). While the dough was resting we measured out the sugar for the sweets, and then we began to roll the pasta through the machine. There are 6 different settings to work through, and the pasta sheet got thinner and thinner until finally it was transparent. Hopefully I'll be able to use the machine for strudel pastry as well. The pasta sheet then had to rest again before we could put it through the cutter.

Bute, Katy's blonde labrador puppy, lay hopefully on the floor beneath the finished pasta. We'd given him the off-cuts from the first sheet, and he expected more of the same.

Pasta finished, Katy and I served it up with olive oil, parmesan, black pepper and a very nice Chilean red. That was all it needed. Liam and I had the same again today, although I added a squeeze of lemon, which just finished it off.

Lunch over, we began to make the boiled sweets, commenting that perhaps it wasn't the best thing to be doing after consuming half a bottle of wine between the two of us. The tea was flavoured with clove and ginger, and this was boiled up with the sugar to the hard crack stage. At the crucial point, the phone rang, setting us back somewhat. Several spoons and bags of icing sugar later, we had a griddle full of amber coloured drops and a work surface covered in golden threads of sugar.

little red riding hood

2010-02-11T16:55:00.000-08:00

Today I went a walk through the woods, looking for firewood. The sky was blue and scattered with clouds, and a light haze hung over the trees on the distant hill. Although the air was frosty, it was warmed by the sun. Everything seemed bright and beautiful.

three views of housework

2010-02-09T09:50:00.000-08:00

'Grace was a born housewife...Anything to do with the running of a house, even the unsavoury business of candle making, was a joy to her, and she knew of no greater bliss than the preparing of the fruit of the earth for their reception by the stomach of man...The longings of her soul were satisfied when her cake rose nicely and the joint was done to a turn.' - Elizabeth Goudge, Towers in the Mist

'Through the years the three women had lit the fires and spread the sheets, scrubbed the floors and washed the dishes, polished the furniture and baked the bread, tended the children and nursed the sick, comforted the sorrowful and prayed for them. Caroline could never understand how women could dislike looking after a house, especially an old house like this one. Did they never pause sometimes and sit quietly as she was sitting now, and remember the other women and feel their present toil a part of that toil? A sort of freshness came when one did that, as though the work were a clean wind or a running river that lived for ever to cleanse impurities away.'

'But it was the stout strength of the kitchen that had impressed Sebastian. This room had known for generations the meaning of hard work. Backs had ached here, carrying pails of water from the well, loads of wood, heavy baskets of apples and pumpkins. Women had worked early and late, washing and ironing, baking their bread and brewing their wines, worked until they had hardly had a leg to stand on...He was aware of past labour much as Caroline was, only in her day-dream there were no backaches, no sense of the driving obstinate force that seemed to make this room a physical powerhouse.' - Elizabeth Goudge, The Heart of the Family

I've done a wheen of housework today and the house feels clean and fresh. The sky was blue and I managed to hang some washing out on the line. I got my driving instructor to finish up outside Seafield Stores, down by the beach, so I could buy a pint of milk and walk back up in the sunshine. People stood by outside, looking at the vegetables for sale or posting a letter.

The air smelt like spring.

thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's holly...

2009-12-16T11:42:00.000-08:00

...especially if thy neighbour is a bishop. The holly tree is very tempting, hanging as it does over the wall onto the street. Thoughts of midnight raids with long-handled secateurs doth frequently run through my head. I do have a basket of holly by the fire waiting to be distributed around the house. This, however, although bright green and festively prickly, has not a single berry.

Catriona and myself have been raiding the local golf-course for seasonal greenery. A fairly substantial amount of ivy now adorns the banisters, highlighted with little red pendants of rose hips. A wreath on the front door was made by myself, much less expensively than the ones on sale in the local garden centre, and much nicer too, if I do say so myself. The aforementioned holly was also taken from the side of the golf-course.

A fair amount of Christmas baking has been going on, with the cupboards groaning under the weight of cranberries(both fresh and dried), plums, apples, pears, soft brown sugar and various other seasonal ingredients. Biscuit dough is in the freezer, ready for rolling out and popping in the oven. Tonight's offering is a plum pastry tart, courtesy of Diana Henry's wonderful book Roast Figs and Sugar Snow. And for my birthday I was given Falling Cloudberries by Tessa Kiros.

Unfortunately two of our chickens died at the beginning of the month, including my favourite wee black one with the Tudor ruff. It was very distressing for all of us, especially as I'd had to leave the little one in the morning when she was first ill, and when I came back she was dead. Still, according to all accounts, we've been very lucky with our chickens, and not lost any to foxes. They've even begun to lay again.

Whilst rummaging in the attic at my grandparents' house, I discovered an old shoebox filled with vintage glass baubles: green, gold and red. Some of the silver fittings have broken off, but with the help of cord document ties (Catriona's idea) they will soon grace our smaller, retro Christmas tree.

For now though, mum and I are wrapping presents by the fire, aided by wine and Carols from Kings. Well, mum is wrapping, and I am typing this. Happy Christmas!

p.s. I didn't think anyone was reading this blog, let alone Dobbies.

Just Plummy

2009-09-05T15:23:00.000-07:00

We have one plum tree in our garden, and this is the only time of year that I eat plums (I just can't bear to for the rest of the year - they never taste as good). Given that my brother was a little enthusiastic with the chainsaw a couple of years ago, we haven't had any plums for the last two years. So I was very loathe to waste any, even the small or blemished ones.

Whenever I eat plums, I think of the story told by the grandmother in 'An Old Fashioned Girl' (Louisa May Alcott). In it, the girls decide to be bad by eating as many plums from the tree as they like. The plums however, are bruised and split, and so they decide to make them into a syrup. This is a little more difficult than they expect, and on being discovered, they accidentally drop the pan of hot, sugary plum syrup on the kitchen turning the ringleader's feet purple and blistered. It all ends happily however, with the invalid being pampered on the couch and fed nuts and sweet things.

For a book with such an obvious morality complex, it's pleasant to find that a little naughtiness is not frowned upon. Now, on to the recipe! Apologies for lack of accuracy in measurements: I am of the 'throw it in a pot and see what happens' breed of cook...

good handful of plums
enough water to cover
some caster or preserving sugar

*First take your plums, and with a sharp knife, make 4 vertical cuts from end to end, on the points of the compass.

*Place your plums in a heavy bottomed pan, and cover with a layer of sugar, stirring them to ensure that the plums are coated. Allow to sit for a while.

*Pour on enough water to cover, and simmer until the plums are soft (this may take some time).

*Sieve to remove stones. Return juice and pulp to the (cleaned) pan and add four heaped tablespoons of sugar (you may need more or less, depending on the amount of plums). Stir to dissolve, and turn up the heat.

*Boil rapidly until mixture reaches setting point (a teaspoon dropped on a cold saucer and set in the fridge will wrinkle after one minute).

*Take the skimmings and mop up with pieces of bread. Pour the rest of the jam into clean, warm jars and leave to set. You will need to stir it occasionally to stop the fruit rising to the top.

This makes one or two jars, depending on quantities.

Rocket Science, or, Gardening With Sticks

2009-04-25T13:13:00.000-07:00

My aunt came up to stay at the beginning of this week, staying one night with Harriet, her god-daughter, and one night at my house. The weather was fantastic, with the unclouded blue skies and wide horizons of the east coast on a (very) good day. We went long walks in the Fife countryside, and relaxing ambles around the town, nosing into various shops and stopping regularly for necessary food and refreshments!

Knowing how much I miss the rocket that we have growing in our garden back home, she bought me a packet of rocket seeds from the garden centre, and the other day I decided to plant them. All well and good - the only problem being that we have no gardening tools here in our student accommodation, and no small, inexpensive trowels are to be found now that Woolworths has left a gaping hole in Market Street.

Still, I'm not one to be stopped by trifles. I hand weeded a grassy patch from underneath the apple tree, and hoed it and raked it with a suitably spiky stick. Then I improvised a watering can from a plastic bottle with holes punched in the lid. Lastly, I spiked the seed packet with a twig and stuck it in the ground as a marker.

Oh, and my aunt also left me a very good brown rice salad recipe that I have now made twice. Bought the vegetables from Birrell's Grocery Warehouse that is affiliated with the Grocer in town and is four minutes walk from my door. The staff are wonderful and will let you wander around (within reason) and pick up your own stuff. So much easier than walking to South Street, which is, admittedly, only another five minutes away, but it is up a VERY steep hill and that makes all the difference.

Vegan Orange and Olive Oil Biscuits

2009-04-01T09:33:00.000-07:00

I made these at lunch and I just had to share them with you. These are vegan only because I didn't have any butter in the house (Well, apart from the last shavings of my ultra expensive farmers market Jersey butter), and I didn't feel like using the organic eggs for what was essentially my essay-writing induced craving for something sweet and crumbly. As it was, they turned out very nicely. Rambling preamble over, here is the recipe.

What you need:
one cup flour
a quarter cup brown sugar
a quarter teaspoon bicarbonate of soda/baking soda
85 mls olive oil
grated zest of one orange
about 2 teaspoons orange juice
(a couple of strands of saffron would be good as well, but I didn't think of this until I was actually sitting down and eating them. Then again I have been going through a phase of adding saffron to just about anything as I have somehow acquired the largest collection of saffron ever owned by a student.)

What you do:
*preheat oven to gas mark 4 (180C/350F)

*Mix the flour, sugar and raising agent of choice in a bowl. Add grated orange zest.

*Measure out the olive oil and add the orange juice (and saffron strands, if using).

*Pour oil and juice over the flour mixture and combine to form a dough.

*With floured hands, divide into about 7 round lumps and place on baking tray about an inch or so apart. Press down lightly with a fork.

*Bake for about 20-25 minutes until goldeny brown on top and remove from the oven to crisp up on a wire tray. Let cool before eating (I know it's hard, but if I managed it so can you) as the insides are still soft and hot oil burns!

These really need to be enjoyed with tea or coffee. A lemon variation would be excellent as well. After a lazy, rather non-productive morning, I have managed to write 500 words, and plan on writing at least another 250 before going downstairs to see what I can scratch up from the cupboards for dinner and generally mooching around for as long as possible. Then I'll come back up here and write yet another batch of 250 words, bringing the total word-count of the day to a nice, round 1000.

Travelled to Edinburgh yesterday, and since a return ticket costs £10.50 (I can get to the other side of the country for that!) I was determined not to spend the entire time in the RCAHMS office looking at architectural plans. Left the bus at 1.30pm, and set out to walk to 16, Bernard Street. Didn't get off to a good start, by going across Waverly Bridge and having to ask directions. 'North Bridge? Oh, that's up there...' *points upwards*

Oh, up there. *cranes neck* Ah. I do like Edinburgh, but sometimes I wish that it hadn't been built on lots of hills and thus have many bridges at different levels. North Bridge discovered, I realised that if I'd continued walking up beyond Waverly Bridge I'd have got to where I wanted to, but oh well.

It was busy! St Andrews has been, for the past week, a bit of an empty town, given that most of the other students have left here for sunnier climes, or at least, home. This little small-town girl felt a bit overwhelmed, but zig-zagged through the crowds with the rest of them and tried to blend in (though to be honest, the fabric bag with the monotone screenprint saying 'St Andrews' probably gave me away...)

Arrived safely at the office at 2pm, and spent just over two hours in there. Decided to catch the 5.45pm bus back to St Andrews and then walked slowly along to the aptly named St Andrews Square to eat a late lunch in the sunshine. The tram-trouble really is ridiculous. I hope it's worth it when they are finished.

Still having the best part of an hour before the bus was due to leave, I popped into Jenners and headed sraight for the Valvona and Crolla foodhall. Was thrilled to discover that they stocked both Dunlop Cheese and Dunsyre Blue (from Ayrshire) as well as lots (and lots) of parmesan, but eventually decided on some Salami. I was tempted by the Strawberry and Pink Champagne Jam, but resisted. Although once I run out of leaf tea I may have to go back and buy one of the new tins of Taylors of Harrogate Imperial Gunpowder. I am a lover of tins. The patisserie section was particularly mouthwatering, although I am not that enamoured of meringues to pay the prices they were charging.

a lament for the queue

2009-03-27T07:40:00.000-07:00

For some reason, I decided that Friday at 1 o clock would be a good time to go shopping.

It isn't.

Even the 'handbasket only' till was surrounded by a crowd of schoolchildren, buying hot pies, bags of sweets, and sugared water. Now, I don't mind queuing, in normal circumstances. In fact, I generally relish the opportunity to participate in such a nice, civilized tradition.

But this was a bear pit!

So there I was, clutching my little basket of milk, cheese, wholemeal pitta bread and Dorset cereal, forced to push my way through hordes of noisy adolescents.

(Oh, I am up on my soap-box today! Poor children - they probably don't deserve my harsh remarks)

Two boys attempted to wheedle their way ahead of me, but my faith in the queue was redeemed by a nearby lady, who actually leant over, tapped the miscreants on the shoulder and said the wonderful words 'Excuse me, but I think this lady is ahead of you. Can you please go to the back of the queue?'

Chief miscreant bleated - 'but the grown-ups tills are over there...'

Sorry? Is there a sign over this till saying 'Those under the age of eighteen only' ? I think not.

'Well,' said the lady, 'we are in this queue and we have as much right to be here as you. So you can go to the back of the queue or go somewhere else.'

Defeated, they slumped off to another till. And my fellow queuers and I silently cheered and clapped. Out loud however, we merely shook our heads and lamented the lack of queuing spirit in these youngsters.

I had homemade tortilla and bean stew for lunch today. I have three 500g bags of dried beans so I am attempting to use them up. Haricot beans, adzuki beans, and black-eye beans. Despite the length of time it takes, I like the process of making beans. Having a bowl of brightly coloured beans soaking on the counter makes me feel so terribly organized.

yet another day of reading (and potato scones)

2009-03-23T12:50:00.000-07:00

After another day of online reading, Lord Bute has finally been laid to rest. This morning I went a walk along the Lade Braes before beginning to read, and picked up some fallen daffodils. The council has been managing the woodland, cutting down invasive trees and creating woodpiles, and so on, so it looks rather bare at present, although the flowers are mostly all out in bloom.

Had parsnip soup for lunch, then back to the reading. Made some chocolate britscotti for Laura as she had her presentation today. They were a little crisper than I like them, but they were given the ok by Laura, so I suppose that's all that really matters.

New recipe for dinner tonight - fed up of eating mashed potatoes. These were listed online as 'Irish Potato cakes' but to any self-respecting Scot they'd be potato scones. The original recipe is from the Country Living website, although I modified some of the ingredients. This apparently serves one, but I got enough for two helpings out of it (although, I will admit that I managed to eat all of it. I was hungry. And I didn't think they would keep well...)

--Potato Scones--
150g potatoes
12g butter
10g flour
olive oil to fry
seasonings
dried herbs (I used rosemary)
*cook the potatoes in their skins on a medium heat for half an hour.
*Drain, peel and mash the potatoes, topping with the butter so that it melts through.
*Sieve the flour over, and mix. Add seasonings and herbs.
*Form into a largish square and quarter into triangles.
*heat some oil in a large frying pan and cook the triangles all at once, a couple of minutes each side.

I served these with a pile of baby spinach, some tomatoes, a drizzle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar and a handful of sunflower seeds. And some turnip. Lovely.

But I can't wait to make these for breakfast some day, with bacon and a poached egg.

Laura and I watched 'Come Dine With Me' last night, and spent the time happily hurling sarky comments at the really annoying lady who so obviously expected to win it. To be fair, her dinner party did go really well, and her food looked delicious, if a tad pretentious. But there is such a thing as tact. Her complaint about the wine was just plain rude, and she came across as very shallow. Then again, it is reality televion - what do I expect?

sleepy sunday

2009-03-22T10:22:00.000-07:00

Made some parsnip soup today. Have been reading Hunter Blair's biography of Lord Bute online, and while it is a wonderful read, I should much prefer it if I were able to curl up with it on the couch, or even read it at the kitchen table. Reading online is such a strain, and then there is the distraction of the internet to worry about.

Still, the sun is filtering through the curtains, and the delightful smell of toast is wafting up from downstairs (regardless of what you might think, it is in fact after 5 o clock in the afternoon).

Everything feels sleepy and quiet. Lord Bute is in Rome, and feeling the weight of public disapproval. Poor boy.

Spring in St Andrews

2009-03-17T12:13:00.000-07:00

The apricot jam from Vienna

Another all-inclusive update about life in the old grey toon. Spring is upon us, with daffodils, blue skies and oversized sunglasses. I've been taking some lovely dusk walks along the beach and picking up lots of seaglass (one of the perks of living in a seaside university town!)

Morag came to stay the weekend before last, and we made chocolate britscotti and these scones that you can see below. They were so yummy that I ended up making a half-batch last week.
Last Friday I took the morning off and walked out of St Andrews, right out to Craigtoun park. I slipped under the fence in my usual manner before realising that the spring season had started and they were now charging for entry. All the gorse is coming out into blossom and it smells like coconut essence. On my way back I stopped on the hill just before you can see the outskirts of the town and lay back on the tufty grass and looked up at the sky. Oh, and the apple buds are coming out on our trees!

On the cooking front, I made a spring risotto last night - my usual trick of 'toss things in a pan and hope for the best'. I can now report that it is possible to make a tasty risotto with ordinary rice, dry apple cider and a few ingredients culled from the freezer and store-cupboard. Good, because I am hopeless at boiled rice. Sally arrived after dinner, and over a cup of tea mentioned that there was still some rhubarb pie left from Tat's '3.14 pie day' on Friday. Hotfooted it round to Lamond Drive and helped myself to a slice of pie, then walked into town for a bit to walk it off. I love rhubarb pie. What am I saying? ANY pie. (and now 'pie' looks funny because I've typed it so much).

Choir practice today - Oliver treated us to the Beatles' song 'Blackbird', arranged by himself. I think we made a pretty good shot at it, considering there were only 7 of us and we only had an hour. Then along to the Ladyhead via the blood bank (they don't want my blood unless I gain weight).

I have been working my way unchronologically through John Buchan's novels at the rate of one an evening. Archie proposed to Janet last night, while hunting poachers. The night before last they went on their honeymoon to some ruritanian state in South America. Haven't started this evening's installment, but it's set mostly on a Greek island and features Sir Edward Leithen (top lawyer) as the narrator.

If anyone hears of an empty Scottish estate needing tending, please let me know. I long to tramp moodily through damp ferns and bracken, a ferocious-looking (but friendly) dog at my heels, and collapse into a weathered leather hunting chair by a smoky fire at the end of the day - accompanied by the necessary whisky and soda.

sacher torte challenge: the results

2009-02-22T14:08:00.000-08:00

Grated Bournville waiting to be melted.
Six eggs - oh my! (and please note that none of them are broken)
Adding the 'powdered sugar' (and then you'll have to imagine me running around the room afterwards with my mouth open, trying to 'eat' the sugar - no photos supplied!)
My gran's old tin - lined, greased and floured in preparation.
Making the chocolate icing.
The finished creation!

It was Lisa's idea to put dried apricots on top. Look at the contrast between the fruit and the dark chocolate! This is definitely one that would be easier with a modern mixer - our arms got very tired. Not only did we have to whisk the egg whites, but also the cake mix itself was required to be whipped 'until frothy'... Now, how many cake mixes do you know that look frothy? It took a lot of arm work, I can tell you! I managed to guess the time and temperature quite well, given the lack of instruction in vintage receipts. I suppose most people were better at approximating times/temps in the 1930s.

In the end, we decided that if we were going to do the thing, we might as well do it properly, and put the apricot glaze inside the cake, even though it meant more work (I am terrible at cutting cakes in half - I'm always afraid that they will fall apart). I know that it is supposed to be iced around the sides as well, but we ran out of chocolate. Besides, that rustic look always works so well.

And no, we did not consume half the cake by ourselves. Lisa took away just under half for flatmates and the girls in the workshop, and Laura and Alison (the girls that I share with) each had a slice. Tomorrow I shall parade the remains through town and offer slices to Dawn and the other staff at the Art History dept. If I'm feeling benevolent I may even offer my tutor a slice. Making cake makes me happy. Eating cake makes me happy. But giving cake away is the best feeling of all. Is there some sort of moral message in that?

Let them eat cake, I say.

culinary challenge: sacher torte

2009-02-21T14:31:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow I am going to attempt to make sacher torte, following a recipe from 1937. This is in preparation for another sacher torte, to be made in the near future, which will have actual apricot conserve from Vienna. John has promised to bring back some for me the next time he goes over to visit his son.

I am compromising on ingredients for this one. However, the next one I will make with eggs from my own chickens, chocolate that hasn't been bought at Morrisons, and some nice flour and icing sugar.

Still, please don't think that I've bought the cheapest ingredients for the trial run. I mean, the eggs are organic free-range, the chocolate is Bournville, and the apricot jam is at least Tiptree.

Having palpitations over using 6 eggs in one cake, however. Must remember to breathe. Thank-goodness Lisa is coming over to help and provide moral support.

I will let you know how it goes, and will of course take photographs.

A Nigella Christmas

2009-02-13T12:56:00.000-08:00

Well, my mother and I made our own mince pies, and mincemeat, thanks to Nigella's recipe. I also made some of Nigella's christmas tree biscuit decorations, and iced them and added little bits of chopped up dried cranberries (I had a lot of time on my hands).

Katy and I also made Nigella's christmas pudding, complete with suitably retro (genuine!) sterling silver charms, which I spotted at the St Andrews Preservation Trust Christmas Fair and nabbed for the princely sum of a full one pound coin.

I made lots of banana and spiced muffins. And I made stock.

I love making stock. Not particularly keen on the washing up afterwards, but give me a bowl of chicken bones, some bay leaves et al, a large pot and a sunday afternoon and I am a happy girl.

I got two stocks out of one chicken, as well as meals for 7 people (admittedly quite small appetites, but still.)

The bone stock smelt positively medieval: cloves and allspice.

Also went logging. My uncle has a section of woodland where he is allowed to manage the forest, and I spent a happy afternoon dragging logs and chucking bits of wood onto trailers. Then a muddy ride home on the back of the quad bike. Bliss.

The ash trees near the greenhouses have been 'topped', and thus will provide us with lots of firewood and kindling for a wee while yet. Could have spent all day helping to clear up, but had to start back for St Andrews as it was starting to snow.

Not done too much cooking since I got back last sunday. However, I have some chicken to use up so having a dinner party on monday night to celebrate the beginning of the Candlemas semester.

evening walk

2008-12-18T16:16:00.001-08:00

This evening I walked along the beach before dinner- along to the harbour. Hardly another soul on the beach, apart from someone walking their dog and a wee girl with red wellies. Lots of seaweed. Thought this one looked like some stylised art nouveau lady, with sweeping gown and trailing sleeves.
The harbour is a busy wee place, during the day - always people walking along the pier, buying and eating ice-cream, feeding the ducks.
The tiny bridge opens up to let the larger boats through into the sheltered harbour. On sunny summer days it's fun to sit and watch the men open and shut the bridge gates.
This boat is a faded red, and has 'Enchanter' painted across its prow in gold lettering.

Tomorrow is the last day of the Martinmas Term - my last ever one at St Andrews. I hope the Candlemas Term doesn't go as quickly as this one has. Tat and Sally came over for dinner - linguine with homemade tomato (and parsley and courgette and basil and onion) sauce. Chocolate biscotti to follow. Then sat down to watch Nigella Cooks Christmas with Laura. Gave her the venison I bought today as her christmas present - odd choice, I know, but we were talking about it the other day and I just had to buy it.

Dad's coming to pick me up on Saturday morning. I hope. Made 13 paper snowflakes today from old wrapping paper (which was originally an Italian calendar - now there's thriftiness for you!). Jeni came for tea this afternoon, and praised my biscotti. It makes me ridiculously happy when people like my cooking. I'm going to miss my Furniture History tutorial group. We had a good revision session this morning - all managed to sound fairly intelligent. I have mastered the art of saying 'I don't know'.

Four eggs left, so may need to bake something else before I go. What a shame...

Two Christmas recipes: Spiced Banana Loaf and Snow-Sprinkled Biscotti

2008-12-16T13:52:00.000-08:00

(I am quite proud of this recipe. One of the failings of banana bread (I feel) is its greasiness. Back in September I was fiddling around with my old banana bread recipe, and came up with a couple of new ones. One was a dairy-free version, but it was a little oily so I think it still needs some work. The one below, however, is my new banana loaf recipe. Calorie-counters take note: the amount of butter is reduced by half! )

200g plain flour
100g sugar
50g oats
1 tsp bicarb.
3 ripe bananas
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla essence
honey (up to a 1/2 tbsp)
1 tsp ground cinnamon
50g butter, melted
1 tsp cinnamon

*preheat oven to gas 4 (160C or 350F). Line, grease and flour a loaf tin
*mix together flour, sugar, oats, bicarb and cinnamon
*mash bananas in separate bowl. Add vanilla essence, eggs, honey and melted butter. Stir vigorously with fork
*make hollow in centre of dry ingredients and add liquid ingredients. Combine
*pour mixture into tin and sprinkle with oats, if you like
*put on top shelf of oven and bake for 40-50 minutes or until golden brown on top

Snow-Sprinkled Biscotti: too, too moreish. I have easily eaten almost an entire batch of these. And I only didn't eat the whole batch because my brothers got there first. These are ridiculously easy (and Uncle Gerald - if you are reading this, I'm upping the Nigella-factor here just for you, so I hope you appreciate it!) and look fantastic piled on a plate with a blizzard of icing sugar on top. The other good thing about these is that they don't call for polenta - so no last-minute, late night rush to the Italian food shop needed!

50g diced butter
90g soft brown sugar
1 egg
175g SR flour
1 and 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp each of ground cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, ginger...
15g good quality cocoa powder (please, please, please, NOT hot-chocolate powder)
icing sugar (for dusting)

*preheat oven to gas 3 (160C or 350F). Line baking sheet with tinfoil (you will be glad of this later)
*beat butter and sugar until creamed. Beat in egg, flour, baking powder, spices and cocoa powder
*knead on a floured surface, divide into two lumps. Flatten each by hand into two rectangles about 7 by 4 inches
*bake in the oven for 25 minutes. Remove from oven and let stand for about 5 minutes
*with a bread knife, cut into thin sticks about 1 and a half inches wide. Space out on the sheet and return to the oven for another 20 minutes or so, until they are crisp
*let cool on a wire rack, then transfer to a plate and dredge with icing sugar. Make sure you eat all the broken bits - quality control is so important...

pass the port, Alice; or, a discourse on confidence

2008-12-10T01:42:00.000-08:00

I was home for last weekend - spent Saturday choosing a christmas tree and wreath (and sampling stollen, cheese and stuffed olives in the Dobbies food hall). My uncle undid all the bindings to make sure that we got the most perfectly shaped one - and we did. It's a beautiful little (but not too little!) Christmas tree, and I look forward to putting it up in our front room.

The afternoon and evening were profitably spent in making a Christmas pudding (complete with vintage sterling silver pudding charms), listening to Kings College Choir carols, and drinking 'Pink Sapphire' - a lurid-coloured concoction consisting of Bombay Sapphire and pink lemonade. It even tasted pink!

Sunday was Christmas at Culzean, at our local NT property - or, as it is now called, 'The Enchanted Castle'. For many years this was a Victorian Family Christmas at the Castle, with costumed volunteers taking the parts of all the family and friends. In recent years, however, they've reinvented it as a fairytale castle, complete with characters from childrens' stories like Cinderella, Snow White...and Alice in Wonderland.

Guess who is Alice.

The Mad Hatter's Tea Party room is one of the most riotous in the castle. We have treestumps and large plants in pots, lots of cups and saucers, and one GIANT teapot, in which the Dormouse hides. We've got a fantastic cast: Stuart, who plays the Mad Hatter, and David, who plays the March Hare, are so funny together, and always get a laugh. The Dormouse this year (Gareth) is the younger brother of the boy who played it last year, Morgan (who is now playing John in the Lost Boys room). It seemed as if we never stopped! I must have poured endless cups of 'tea', and the cucumber sandwiches vanished as the day went on. The little cakes didn't stand a chance. By the end of the day, I was shattered, and ready just to collapse on the couch at home. Never mind that I've got to do it all again next week.

Yesterday was a much busier day than I had thought. Sally and Tatiana came for breakfast: tea and porridge. I visited the library, and popped along to the Ladyhead to have some tea with Charlie. Charlie had to leave early to attend the Art History choir practice session, and hinted that there might be port and mincepies.

Never one to miss out on free food, I trotted along to 9, The Scores several minutes after he had left, and sure enough, port, shortbread, stollen and fruitcake beckoned in the downstairs hall, next to our lovely (real) christmas tree. Several songs later, most of which I mimed my way through (especially 'Jesus Christ the Apple Tree'), we were standing on the stairs, carolling our way through Once in Royal David's City -helped substantially by the second glass of port. Despite my lack of confidence and/or singing ability, it was good fun, and I hope they continue with the choir next year.

But how come I can stand up in front of complete strangers, dressed in a blue dress, white tights and a pinafore, pretending to be Alice, and not have one single bit of stage fright - and yet I'm too scared to sing in front of people I have known for four years, even after drinking port!

not your normal sunday lunch

2008-11-23T15:10:00.000-08:00

Chickpea and cous-cous salad, with a seeded roll and half a glass of wine. This was left over from friday night dinner with Lisa. I simply added the chickpeas and more vegetables (because I'm a greedy girl and ate all the mushrooms. I equal a hobbit in my liking for mushrooms) and made more cous-cous in my lovely cast-iron Le Creuset pot (50p from a church sale). I have since decided that dried chickpeas are more trouble than they are worth. However, I managed to get all the vegetables from the grocers shop on South street, and have an extra onion, lots of spring onions, raisins, a lemon and some tomatoes left over, and it cost me less than £2.50.

Have I mentioned how much I love our grocers shop?

Today was raisin sunday, and I made snowy gingerbread muffins for my academic children's tea party, which I did take a photo off, but my computer seems to have lost it. And it snowed! Oh, it snowed. To only an inch thick, but it was enough. Much more than it's ever done in recent years here. Artsy photos over at lumber-room but here's a photo of the town:

lavender's blue

2008-11-02T11:56:00.000-08:00

My hands and clothes smell of lavender because I've been out in the garden cutting back the lavender bushes. The one by the front door was particularly large. I have a tray full of lavender heads warming by the radiator. It was nice to be out in the evening, with the little last bit of light, my breath visible in the cold air. If it's nice tomorrow then I'll cut back the thyme and rosemary too.

The picture is from a book I found the other day - called Jane's Country Year. My favourite type of illustration!

strange fruits

2008-10-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

Ever seen one of these? According to my uncle, who grew them, they are prickly cucumbers. They taste like slightly acidic cucumbers. But I think I'll call them snozzcumbers.

What about one of these? We grew these outside our front door - they are greeny yellow with purple streaks and splatters. They taste of a combination of lemons and melons.

Anyone else have weird and wonderful fruits?

tomato tango (and Chocolate Cake recipe)

2008-09-08T13:33:00.000-07:00

It is almost a crime in our family to dislike tomatoes. I think this comes from early exposure in the greenhouses - scoffing wee paper bags full of cherry tomatoes - juicy, red gobstoppers. Certainly the smaller varieties have a sweetness that makes them perfect for eating just off the vine, or adding to pasta. And yellow tomatoes can equal an apricot in their texture and flavour, just enough bite to make eating more than a second-long sensation. The smell of ripe tomatoes can instantly send me back to being two years old, frilly bonneted and playing in my swing hung from the greenhouse struts. Or being 4 years old, with dungarees and a fistful of pea-pods. I used to hide underneath the tables in the propagating house, building 'castles' in the sandy soil and eating tomatoes.

I chopped these tomatoes to the sound of my brother playing the piano in the upstairs hall. I love having a musical brother. It's like having my very own soundtrack. Sometimes he'll play what he wants to play, and then The Music of the Night and Tell Me It's Not True (he's going through a musicals phase at the moment) will resound through the house, leaving me with melodies and lyrics stuck in my head all day. At other times he'll allow me to call the tune and I'll sit sewing to Waldvoglein or chopping tomatoes to Die Wanduhr (these were his pieces for his grade 3 piano exam - variety will arrive soon with grade 4 practice pieces.)

-Chocolate Cake-

150g SR flour
150g sugar
150g unsalted butter, melted
20g good quality cocoa powder
3 eggs
1 tsp vanilla essence
jam for centre
icing sugar for decoration

*preheat oven to gas 4
*sift dry ingredients together
*whisk eggs with vanilla essence
*make well in centre of dry ingredients and add egg and butter. Combine
*pour into lined, greased and floured cake tin
*bake for 30-35 minutes
*leave to cool, cut cake in half from side to side. Spread jam on lower half, generously
*cut circle out of top half. Eat circle. Place on lower half, squidging down on the jam. Dust liberally with icing sugar

Serve with Earl Grey tea to a hungry schoolboy.

elevenses (or, Eleanor's Fantastic Scones)

2008-09-05T08:08:00.000-07:00

Just the thing for elevenses: Scottish Hedgerow Tea, homemade scones, and homemade bramble jelly. British flags optional.

Today I fed the chicks, washed the dishes, cleaned the sink, hung out the washing, cycled to High Greenan House and back, and picked some brambles. Then I sat down to eat elevenses, before drying the dishes, checking the washing on the line, doing the ironing (while watching Bargain Hunt), making and eating lunch, and bringing in the washing as it started to rain. Oh, and I also managed to read two chapters of Ring of Bright Water.

This afternoon we sold three of the chicks. The lady is coming to pick them up on tuesday. I'll be sad to see them go, but it means we have another £12 to spend on chicken feed (which, contrary to public opinion, is NOT cheap) and less hungry chicks to feed. She seemed nice, and wants them as a present for her mother, who knows about such things.

Eleanor's Mars Bar Scones (mars bars optional - although they are FANTASTIC)
makes 8
8oz SR flour
pinch of baking powder
rounded dessertspoon sugar
up to 2oz butter
about a 1/4 pint of milk to mix or use discretion
(one chopped mars bar)

*preheat oven to gas 8 (225C)
*mix together flour and raising agent
*rub in the fat and then the sugar
*(add in chunks of mars bar)
*make a hollow in the centre of the mix. Add most of liquid and stir quickly with a metal spoon until combined into a workable dough
*cut dough in two, shape each half into a round, and quarter
*place scones on a floured baking sheet on the top shelf of the oven
*bake for 5-10 minutes

(if making mars bar scones, then the chocolate and caramel will have melted to form hot, gooey and sweet pockets within the scone dough. Eat hot)

Autumn is definitely here. There's a tree along the road that always turns colour early, but now the others are following suit. This morning was bright, but cold. I've been collecting kindling and -inspired by Country Living- I tied it up into neat little 'fire bundles', ready to use. No more trudging out to the shed and chopping wood in the rain and cold because we've run out of sticks - hurrah!

store-up Sunday

2008-08-31T13:06:00.000-07:00

Today was such a dreary day that I thought I'd start off with a photograph of some blue hydrangeas and some pink sweet-peas (a variety called 'Rosy Dawn'). I love sweet-peas. My grandma grows them, my great-aunt grows them , and my aunt grows them. These ones are from my aunt's garden. For as long as I can remember I have arranged these pastel-coloured flowers in jam jars and posies. There is something childish and amateur about them, short-lived and having to be re-planted every year. Yet they can surprise too - bright red and purples abound on my grandmas canes this year, spilling over onto the path in front of the house. Hydrangeas are different. They are big and confident at first glance, yet quickly fade to the colour and texture of old tissue paper. They feature heavily in Country Living design schemes.

This was the dreary weather that we had today. It rained horribly about 3 o clock when we were still at the greenhouses. We took shelter in the propagating house and picked tomatoes. Our car was loaded with soup tomatoes, eating tomatoes, leeks, cucumber, corn-on-the-cob, courgettes, a marrow and a bag of brambles. Mum and I sealed ourselves in the kitchen and stored it all up. Tomato soup bubbling at the back of the gas hob, the sharp smell of chopped coriander, onions and tomatoes slowly melting together to make a puree, leeks washed and chopped, and corn frozen.

The first jelly of the year! Brapple jelly. I love it because it's so rough and simple, and yet I feel like an alchemist of old while I'm making it. The juice of the brambles and apples as it drips from the sieve into the jug is the colour of liquid rubies, and I wonder how something so strange and beautiful can have been on the hedge a few hours ago. As I pour this juice into the pan and add the sugar, stirring to let it dissolve, I always think it looks like satin, or silk, with a dark, almost oily, sheen to the surface. I think it is never going to 'go', and waste endless saucers attempting the 'wrinkle' test. But it always does. This time it set beautifully too. I ate it dropped onto vanilla ice cream, but I think it tastes better on toast.

pots of character

2008-08-29T11:48:00.000-07:00

These are interesting pots. They have the marks of life's rough and tumble on them. They have chips, blotches, and stains. The potter's fingerprints are forever pressed onto their sides. Some have rims, some have lips, some have only a raggedy jaggedy edge. They have stories.

These ones were stacked up and left to decay at the back of the greenhouses. Spiders and slaters made dusty homes and brought up huge families in them. Snails left silvery tracks across them, and moss left patches in all shades of green. Glass slipped from its wooden supports and shattered over them. Leaves blew over from the hedge, and quietly rotted. Slugs came, to the dark and damp spaces between the pots. Brambles stretched leggy tendrils over them.

But before that, they had been useful. They had stood neatly in rows on slatted shelves, in the warm propagating house. They housed small but sturdy plants until they were outgrown. And then new plants. Always growing, always used. Spring and summer, season after season, year after year. Busy and prosperous.

But then things changed. Fewer customers came to buy vegetables or flowers. People got older, and couldn't bend to lift pots heavy with soil, or to dig over the earth. Life slowed down. The propagating house was cleared of all excess pots. They were taken, stack by stack, and put away.

Forgotten.

the short Scottish summer...

2008-08-18T14:24:00.000-07:00

That was it. We've had our one day of sunshine - now we can say hello to rain and wind until next year. Still, we managed to put yesterday to good use. Mum and I left the boys asleep in their beds and headed up to the Old Toll, where my great-aunts live. My uncle Ian and his cronies were 'working' in the greenhouses - involving lots of hard work and several cans of beer. We collected the fruits of their labours: 3 bags of cherry tomatoes and yellow tomatoes (including a 'black cherry' variety that is delicious and sweet), a big bag of split tomatoes for soup, two cucumbers, a courgette, a bag of sugarsnap peas and 6 corn-on-the-cobs. There is a whole house planted up with leeks - just waiting to be made into leek and tattie soup!

After gathering up our loot, we wandered around the back of the greenhouses, tiptoeing over the broken glass and pushing back brambles, and came to Aunt Jean's house over the drying green. I pilfered the last raspberries before ringing the doorbell. We were welcomed with open arms and cups of coffee. And a wee slice of toast and butter. Aunt Jean had promised to look out some old photographs for me, so I pored over them, oblivious to all else. Some of them I recognised from the glass negatives, but most of them were new to me. Well-buttoned ladies staring out at the camera, old gentlemen with beards, young men standing proudly next to shiny bicycles. A group of children, 3 little girls (in velveteen dresses) and a wee boy (in skirts) hovering briefly for a photograph, probably bribed with toffee or ha'pennies. These were my great aunts' cousins, all older than them, because their mother was so much younger than their father. I think she was 17, and he in his 40s.

After heading home, we rolled up our sleeves and tackled the garden. First the chicks and their run were moved to the sunnier side of the garden. The hen house was tilted on its side, scraped out and hosed down, then left to dry in the sun, before being lined with fresh newspaper and hay. We moved the old belfast sink from beside the back door to the sunniest spot by the back wall. I washed the dirt and grime off the sides and lined it with old fire bricks, before filling it with compost. Parsley, chives and ginger mint were duly planted, and well watered.

I foolishly volunteered to turn the compost - a mammoth task given that it hadn't been turned in a long while. Luckily mum delegated the weeding to my youngest brother and came to give me a hand. By mid afternoon it was done, and two paving slabs placed in front of the compost bin to make all further composting trips that bit easier. Next to go was the honeysuckle. Out came the secateurs, and snip snip snip went I, in my quest to eradicate the blackfly that haunts our honeysuckle every year. I also took off all the shoots from the pear tree up to head height. We may now be able to actually sit on our decking. Found four ripe plums on the plum tree and a few more unripened ones. This pitiful crop is the result of my brother being a little too zealous with the strimmer last year. We cut back lots of the vegetation, and gathered in some seedheads.

And today it poured, giving all our garden a much needed watering.

flatbread

2008-08-16T13:39:00.000-07:00

We often make fajitas for dinner. Last night we had fajitas for dinner. But these ones were different. We didn't just make the filling - we made the actual wraps themselves. I actually had them for lunch and dinner yesterday - first time at Catriona's house (where we whipped them up in no time in her fantastic kitchen, and then gobbled them down with natural yoghurt, honey roasted veggies and lettuce) and then again at home, with Liam's friend Ally lending a hand to roll them out.

These are fantastically easy to make, and I had so much fun making them - they are definitely being made when I go back up to uni. The recipe is from the River Cottage Family Cookbook, which is on my wishlist for this christmas and birthday. No one ever seems to buy me cookbooks. The only cookbooks I've received are 'student' ones...and these I put down hurriedly after seeing a 'recipe' for beans on toast. Saying that, the people using the shared kitchens in Halls last year were a mixed bunch - the 'toast' people, the 'pizza' people, the 'pasta' people (eg, instant macaroni, shop bought sauce, etc), the 'pot noodle' people... *shudder*. On the other end of the scale, there were quite a few who bought ingredients, not meals, and filled the kitchen with their chopping and boiling and cooking.

Still , I'm looking forward to sharing a kitchen with 3, not 30, people next year.

Sunshine Cake

2008-08-16T10:48:00.000-07:00

100g SR flour
100g butter
100g sugar
25g dessicated coconut
2 small eggs, whisked
1 small lemon, zest and juice
1 small lime, zest and juice

*Preheat oven to Gas 4

*Put flour, sugar and coconut in a bowl and stir

*Add eggs and butter. Don't mix

*Add zest and juice of lemon and lime. Mix

*Pour into lined, greased, baking tin. Sprinkle with a little coconut

*Bake for 25-30 minutes.

chick, chick, chick, chick, chicken....

2008-08-16T09:59:00.000-07:00

First they were very small and sweet...
Then they got bigger. But still sweet.
Let's just hope that they don't ALL turn out like Basil.
We hatched one chick under Sybil, who then became besotted with the little black bundle of fluff and abandoned the other eggs. We put these in an incubator (on loan from Tarelgin Farm) and I spent several days with my ear pressed close to the plastic, listening for tiny cheep cheeps. As soon as the first egg cracked, we averaged one new chick a day, sometimes two. In the end we hatched 13 chicks in total, including Sybil's chick. Sadly the 13th chick wasn't strong enough, and died after about a week; the others, however, are fit wee fellows (although hopefully they are not ALL fellows). They have their own enclosed run in the garden, and are a source of much interest to our original ladies and lad.

Home for Summer

2008-06-22T03:17:00.000-07:00

I've been home for almost a month now, and typically, I've not been able to get near the computer for hoards of teenage boys (well, only two, but at 17 and 13 they take up a lot of space).

Plenty of updates to make, not least of which is that we now have chicks. Two at the moment and one hatching right as I type. Watch this space!

I have made 'proper' rhubarb pie, with rhubarb from my great aunt's garden. Proper in that it has a shortcrust top AND base. I was very proud of myself, can't you tell!

We've been clearing out the attic in preparation for a sale - next Sunday at the Citadel, Ayr, if anyone wants to know- and also made a trip to Ikea to try and solve my desperate clothing problem. Came away with a £16 flatpack that, with a lick of Craig & Rose paint now looks very elegant.

I do two hours of weeding on Saturday mornings now, which brings me in £11. Not quite a fortune, but enough for me! I've also been making little fabric flower brooches and decorating them with beads and buttons. I'll see how they do at the sale next sunday.

Off to feed the chickens now, and check on the incubator and brooder. More updates later!

Apple and Pinenut Pasta

2008-05-18T09:49:00.000-07:00

When I was wee, we used to get cheese and apple as a snack. The acidy sweetness of the apples went perfectly with the smooth, crumbly texture of the cheese. And I've just finished reading an article in Homes & Antiques extolling the wonders of apple pie and cheese.

So when I looked in the storecupboard tonight and found only apples, pine nuts, pasta and cheese, there was no doubt in my mind what I was going to be making. It was nice to get the cooking pans out for a bit - I've been too busy studying lately to get much in the way of food done at the weekends beyond the odd piece of toast and lots of fruit. (Saying that, I did participate in a muffin-making session yesterday, but that was just to help out a friend use up the cheap Tesco blueberries).

Apple and Pinenut Pasta
(makes one large plateful)
1 apple, cubed fairly small
generous handful pine nuts
enough pasta for one person (about a handful)
olive oil
cheese (I used Tesco mature cheddar, but if I was choosy it'd be a nice crumbly lancashire)
I also used a slosh of fig vinegar.

*Put pasta on to boil, with pinch of salt
*Put pine nuts in a dry frying pan until coloured (I like mine verging on burnt)
*Chop apple
*Remove pinenuts from heat, add apple, drizzle with olive oil and fig vinegar (if using)
*Return briefly to heat, just enough for apples to soften. Remove from heat
*Drain pasta, add to frying pan. Add a drop or two more olive oil and mix to coat the pasta
*Turn onto plate and crumble over with the cheese.

Now if I was at home I'd have this on a bed of rocket (or other similar garden greens) and serve with hot crusty bread. Perfect for a summer evening! (Although I had to be satisfied with perching on a pile of chairs in K3, drinking nettle cordial from a jam jar because my glass was at the bottom of my locker and holding the baking-powder.)

The Grocer's Shop, South Street

2008-05-13T12:45:00.000-07:00

[Pomegranates]

I love our Grocer's Shop in St Andrews. It always has a tempting array of fruit on its outside stall, and smells of earth and tomatoes when I open the door. They frequently have oranges and grapefruit on special offer (oranges at 5 pence each, Pink Grapefruit for 10 pence!) and do 'student boxes' for £5. Vine tomatoes cost a pound a vine, and onions and carrots are a few pence each. Their rhubarb is candy-pink and perfect, and comes wrapped around the middle with brown paper. The people at the desk are always polite and helpful, and don't mind if I buy bushels of tomatoes and spinach and onions, or just one apple. They are also next to the flower stalls and so it feels like a tiny little market right in the middle of town. They provide lots of photo-opportunities with their lovely looking fruit.

Better late than never

2008-05-12T09:44:00.000-07:00

Exciting news! Sybil, our eldest chicken, has begun to lay! (I was home for the weekend, so this is straight from the chicken's beak). Her eggs are slightly browner and shinier. They were all out in the garden over the weekend, enjoying the sun and scratching away in their favourite spot. They love the new greenery, and stalk through leaves and plants, popping their heads up occasionally. I brought 2 eggs back with me - they are going into a spiced apple cake. However, I must now grab my books and run - Tat is making banana bread in the kitchen.

(oh, that reminds me - Mum and I made Date and Walnut loaf on Sunday morning - and banana bread. Will maybe post recipe later.)

Bread and Butter Pudding

2008-05-05T11:53:00.000-07:00

200ml milk
1tsp vanilla essence
2 eggs
45g sugar
3 slices bread
raisins
2 tsp cinnamon
butter
drizzle of honey

*whisk eggs and sugar together
*gently heat milk and vanilla essence
*grease oven-dish
*layer ripped and buttered bits of bread in dish with raisins and nutmeg, topping with a final layer of bread
*drizzle honey over top and press with wooden spoon
*mix milk with eggs and pour over the dish, soaking all the bread. Gently press
*let sit for at least half an hour
*place in an oven at 200C (Gas 6) in an oven tray half full of water
*bake for about 45 minutes

Comfort food...

It's not what you know...

2008-05-04T13:56:00.000-07:00

...it's who you know.

At last: a genuine Tale from the chicken house! I'm afraid this is a second-hand Tale, as my mum is just off the phone - but it is a Tale nonetheless.

The last time we made the trek out to our local farm shop, besides buying about forty pounds worth of meat (admittedly, we were buying orders from friends too), we also got talking to the lady behind the counter about our chickens. One thing led to another, and by the time we walked out of the door, she had offered to lend us her incubator, if we ever wanted to raise chicks.
"Just telephone before you come out next time, and I'll bring it over from the house," she said.

So, this morning, my mum rang her up and told her that she was coming (to spend another twenty or so pounds), only to be told that as the lady was alone in the shop she couldn't nip out and get it. Still, off my mum went in the afternoon to pick up our monthly ration of meat (my teenage brothers are hardened carnivores), and was presented with a 24-egg incubator and two poultry magazines. My mum is now known up there as 'the chicken lady', which I find rather amusing as, five years ago, I wouldn't even have considered putting 'my mum' and 'chickens' in the same sentence. Now she feeds them in the back porch. And she's thinking about getting a duck.

Jerusalem Biscuits

2008-05-01T13:41:00.000-07:00

2 cups flour
1 cup butter
1 cup honey
1 tsp bicarb.
milk to mix (about 1 tbsp)

*Preheat oven to 140C/Gas 2
*Combine flour, butter, honey
*Add milk a little at a time to form stiff dough
*Turn onto floured surface and knead gently
*Roll out to 1/4 inch thickness and cut out shapes
*Bake for 20-25 minutes or until golden
*Place on wire tray; once cool, dust with icing sugar

(Makes 25 small - These are excellent with coffee)

I wanted to make biscuits today, but I didn't have any sugar. This is based on a recipe for 'honey shortbread', but I had to improvise as the measurements didn't match up to my scales. I ate one 'to taste', gave one to the porter, set aside four for my friends, and took the rest into the Ladyhead. Also took the remains of the lemon sponge in for Leigh-Anne. I'm not posting the recipe for lemon sponge because it's just a plain sponge flavoured with lemon - nothing special. Next up: banana bread. I realise that I've only been posting recipes here - this is intended to be a chronicle of my life at home, and next year, when I move into private accommodation at uni. However, it's also a good place to share and store recipes. I promise to get some real 'tales from the chicken house' soon!

Parsnip and Apple Soup

2008-04-22T01:24:00.000-07:00

A tribute to the Ladyhead, where I first tasted this wonderful combination of flavours!

5 parsnips
2 small potatoes
1 large onion
1 medium apple
2 cubes vegetable stock
vegetable/olive oil (2tsp)
salt/pepper/curry spices
cream to mix

*Heat oil in large saucepan.
*Add chopped parsnips, onion and apple.
*Mix and simmer for 15 minutes.
*Make 1 litre of stock, and add to the pot along with potatoes and curry powder.
*Mix and boil gently for 20 minutes.
*Liquidise and season to taste.
*Add cream.

Enjoy with homemade soda bread!

Raisin and Chocolate cookies

2008-04-18T11:31:00.000-07:00

115g butter
115g sugar
1 egg
1tsp vanilla essence
175g flour
60g raisins
60g chopped chocolate

*preheat oven to Gas 4. Grease baking sheets.
*cream butter and sugar, then beat in egg and vanilla essence.
*fold in flour, chocolate and raisins using metal spoon.
*drop onto baking sheet, leaving plenty of space. Flatten slightly with back of fork.
*bake for 10 minutes or so.

Makes about 32 small (half a tablespoon each)

For picky brothers, leave out the raisins and add more chocolate.

Soda Bread

2008-04-18T00:50:00.001-07:00

I have been neglecting my blogs lately. A fortnight of home and coming back to piles of reading and essays tends to do that. I did lots of baking/cooking over the break, and here is a recipe for soda bread. My brothers love this bread, and gobble it down about as fast as I make it.

Soda Bread
450g whole wheat bread flour
80g plain flour
slightly under a tsp salt
1 rounded tsp bicarb.
1 rounded tsp C of T
about 450ml milk OR water

*turn oven to Gas 6
*mix dry ingredients together with large metal spoon
*add milk quickly to form a sticky dough. Knead lightly in bowl to combine
*with floured hands, transfer to floured baking tray and form into a loaf shape
*with a sharp knive, cut a cross onto the middle of the loaf (helps it to rise)
*place in oven and turn down to Gas 4
*bake for 1 hour

For a lighter, less crumbly bread (good for toasting) use 500ml buttermilk instead of the milk, and replace 250g of the whole wheat flour with strong white bread flour. (Admittedly this one came about because I didn't have enough whole wheat bread flour, but happy accidents are often the best.)