It Takes A Village...

... or "The Odyssey of the Orange Marmalade".

But first... a word from our sponsors. Oh wait. We don't have any sponsors. Hmm... what to do with the 'dead air'... I suppose I could just carry on with the tale? You'd like that? Ok then...

It all started on a Sunday fair. No, I said "on" a Sunday fair, not "at" one... focus. So, it started on a Sunday, yesterday to be precise. And it was fair. Yes, as in beautiful, now are you going to let me get on with this? Ok, so the day began unusually early (for me) and even stranger, it began outside! No... I didn't fall asleep in the yard or on the front step! Alright... I suppose it was a little vague. After I exuberantly threw back the covers - scattering a selection of hissing and spitting cats in all directions - and skipped through the house singing to little twittering blue birds and cute little bunnies, while sparrows tied pink bows in my hair, before dancing my way out of the back door and into the back yard. Better? Puh-lease! Anyone who knows me will know that I'm unlikely to have jumped out of bed and I do NOT do pink! It's called artistic licence. Our sarcasm if you prefer.

So, standing outside by the pool - being shot rather direct and disgruntled looks by said aforementioned cats - I noticed a section of the garden that had been dying for some attention for a while now. Or, if you consider the state of it... living for some attention! I knew that there was a lot on my to-do list for the day, but I figured "How long can it take?". Let me take you aside right now and point out that any time you have that thought... Stop! Stop whatever you are doing or thinking of doing and walk away. Perhaps even run. For it is a well known fact that any time you think "How long could this take?"... it will take HOURS!!!! And yet, I continued. What on earth was I thinking? Well, I'll tell you what I was thinking... I was thinking that maybe this time I would be the exception to that rule. Let me tell you... I wasn't. Not even a little bit. It was a reality check. No... no money. I wish :-)

So, there are two hibiscus trees and a bougainvillea hiding in that lot of green and I figured that it wouldn't take long to rip out the clingy creeper (creeper - not creep. I shoot creeps, although ripping sounds like fun...) and weedy grass that had staked a claim on that spot. They were like the early settlers who fanned out across the land like a colony of desperate ants in search of a new bit of land to claim. They had carefully monitored this corner of the garden using an impressive network of spy bees and attack pigeons. It didn't take them long to notice that nothing much was going on there. So... they sent in the scouts. A few "expendable" plants - like that new ensign that shows up in an episode of Star Trek. You've never seen them before and the minute they get a line or a spot on an away mission, you know that not only is someone going to die... it will be them! So... these first, expendable, plants carefully set up camp in that corner and after a few weeks of sneaking around, they realised that no-one was paying them any attention. They sent word to the main colony and within a remarkably short period of time "poof"... there they were! So, I've walked past them for months, listening to the sounds of their parties and drunken gatherings (at all times of the day and night) and for some reason... Sunday morning it was time to EVICT! It was a sneak attack and one which I thought would be executed with the speed and precision of the attack on Pearl Harbour (which was horrible, but it was quick, which was the point I wanted to make), but instead it had all the stealth and speed of an attack slug. Yes. Slug. Not sub. Yes... I'm sure. My "quick" eviction project took almost 3 hours and was thigh weakening, back aching, shoulder straining, exhausting work. And you can imagine how much enthusiasm I had for even the idea of marmalade making when I staggered inside eventually. I was wiped out, but (evil grin) ... so were they!!


Now... you're probably wondering what on earth this has to do with Orange Marmalade. Ha! You thought I couldn't hear you mumbling in the back there! Well... it was important to set the stage for the type of day that it was. Otherwise... how could you possibly understand? So... having worked for 3 hours in the garden (looks nice doesn't it?), I went inside and was confronted by a pocket of oranges. No, I don't mean literally. They're oranges!? They did however lie on the kitchen counter and taunt me... You promised to turn us into Cinderella... you promised we'd be special... you promised it would be today... They were right. I had promised that they would be changed from mere (wonderful) fruit to something glamorous and desirable. I had promised that they would have a glittering future in pride of place. I just hadn't told them that they'd be cut, drained, chopped, boiled, sugared and bottled in order to achieve it. I didn't lie... exactly. I just didn't tell them everything. No need to alarm the volunteers after all. Is there?

So, I gathered a sharp knife (crucial to ensuring minimum discomfort to the fruit during all procedures... oh who am I kidding? A sharp knife is vital so you can work faster and easier!), a bread board, sugar (not pictured), juicer, oranges, lemons, lemon juice and lime juice... all the things I would need in order to do this. In the background of the pic, you may have spotted a pot. THIS is no ordinary pot. It is in fact a stunt pot. My usual jam pot was too intimidated to appear in this segment (and too small to be blunt) and so I had to employ a stunt pot. It is HUGE. Really. Really. Huge. I had to lever it away from Miss Twinset who thought that it would just about be large enough for her to make a decent punch in. To put it in perspective... it would have been enough punch for a block party... in New York! So I handed her a teapot and told her to make do! She's been in a sulk ever since, but I noticed that she was delicately sipping tea out of a fine bone china cup. Only - when she went to pee (she does that a lot. It's the booze)... I took a sip and it was not tea. Not even close!



Now I had a number of requests for the recipe and I'm sorry if you were expecting something complicated, but here it is... Oh. The other one just interrupted me to point out that you can get marmalade in jars. She knows because her upstairs maid brings it in on a tray with her breakfast. Sigh. How does she think it gets into the jars?? I'm going to enlighten her ... and you? Ok. SO I decided to use 5kg of oranges (around 17 as it turned out). First, I had to chop them in half across their middles (in other words, not from end to end. If you do it end to end you can't juice them. You'll figure it out). Then I juiced them all (including the lemons. They would be the little yellow things in the bottom left of the centre image). Let me tell you... after 3 hours in the garden, juicing this fruit was not fun, but I couldn't let you all down. As you're juicing the fruit, put the juice into the pot and keep the pips out. Now, I'll be honest. Most recipes suggest that you put all the pips into a muslin bag (musliN, not MusliM... this is a non religious specific blog!) and boil them in the mix. I didn't do this for two reasons. First... only the lemons had pips (figures) and second... I didn't have any muslin in the house *shrug*.



Having juiced all the fruit (finally), a task that took easily 30 - 40 minutes... No, I'm not kidding. I said my arms were tired and boy... were they :-)... May I continue? Thanks. After I juiced the fruit I was left with this bowl full of half oranges and lemons. That needed to be "sliced into strips"... Um. Well. As you can no doubt see, my marmalade is "rustic"... and by rustic I mean "chunky"... and by chunky I mean that I had more to do with my time than finely slice oranges! Besides... have you ever bought marmalade that was essentially orange flavoured fine jam with 3 rather embarrassed slivers of orange peel lurking near the bottom of the jar or tin? I hate that! I rather like the orange peel and so I make my marmalade for me :-) My blog... my kitchen... my marmalade :-) That's my story and I'm sticking to it.



When you've sliced everything, add it to the juice already in the stunt pot. Now add enough water to cover the fruit and turn the heat on. At this point, I added some extra lemon juice and about 1/4 cup of lime juice. You need to simmer the mixture until the rinds are softened. In a pot of this size, it took roughly 2.5 hours... so be prepared to commit a lot of time to this project (but only for this kind of quantity). When the rinds are finally softened enough, add the sugar. Now as you can see, there is 2.5kg of sugar in the pic (around 5.5 pounds). However, I actually added 4kg of sugar to the pot in total (around 8.8 pounds) for 5kg (11 pounds) of fruit. That is a S C A R Y amount of sugar! It made Miss Twinset faint and the other one subjected me to a lecture on diabetes, but I have to point out that you need the sugar in order to make this a marmalade and not a warm orange toddy. I did consider adding brandy, but I didn't want Miss Twinset to see where my booze stash is, so I had to skip that idea. Now you need to let this cook away until it has thickened sufficiently to set. While this is happening... pre-heat the oven to a low heat eg 70 deg Celsius (158 F) and put your jars onto a tray in the oven to warm. This is so that they don't crack when you put the hot jam into them. The only way to make either of my kitchen cohorts crack is to literally hide their booze, but I wasn't in the mood for that... it was such a beautiful day! Besides... the chances of them still being conscious when it comes to bottling, is next to zero... so why worry?



Now... this step (cooking it out) is likely to take a while. For this large pot, on a low heat, it was a long time. I'm not kidding. A smaller pot wouldn't take as long. I promise. By the time I was ready to bottle the finished product, the other two had long gone. The jars weren't hot, but it's advisable to hold them with a cloth. This is purely because the jam is boiling hot and you will burn your hands through the glass if you don't. When you've filled the jar, you need to put the lids on straight away. This will actually help to seal the jar and it has a satisfying "pop" when you open it... just like it's store bought cousins! I made about 18 jars (10 large and 8 smaller ones) and I have to say that this marmalade was fantastic and tart. Even with all that sugar, it has a great traditional marmalade flavour!


So... after all that work and the muscle aches that followed after... at least I have the yummy product to enjoy! And if you're wondering about the title... I think it would have been easier and quicker if I'd had a village to help me :-) Let me know if you try it (your own... not mine) and how it turns out.



Until next time...

Just a Bit of Old Bread...

You'd be amazed what you can do with a bit of old bread... I mean, for one thing, the other one's entire staff practically live on bits of old bread. Well, that's when they can find any. I'm not saying that the other one is "tight" (you could bounce a quarter off of her), but there isn't any room for her staff to have luxuries in her budget. Ok... that isn't quite right. The look she is throwing my way is quite damaging and I fear that there may be legal reprisals if I continue in this vein... so, let's get back to the bread shall we? Yes? Wonderful idea.

Ok... the bread. It happens from time to time that I get over enthusiastic about buying bread. Or to put it another way, I over-estimate our households ability to consume high volumes of carbs. And if you know me, you'll know that carbs and I are on really good terms, so this is difficult to do! However, it does happen that sometimes half a loaf will find that it has been unceremoniously placed in a bag on the bin for any hungry passerby to help themselves to. It must be a rather peculiar feeling to find yourself taken home by a young lady who so clearly loves bread, only to find that when the shiny "new bread" feeling has worn off, you are callously dumped and replaced! In fairness though, I try not to do this too often any more - the feeling of guilt and waste was getting to me - but there are also times when the bread will cower at the back of the bread bin, behind the "new bread", until there is enough penicillin to treat a small village. I hate that. It goes a peculiar colour and slithers out eventually like Jabba the Hutt, intent on kitchen supremacy! No. It is far better for the bread to go out the door and be used by someone who needs it.

This week however, the bread tried a new tactic on me... and to great success. It was a victory of strategic timing and a lucky break in the weather. In other words, this loaf missed bin day and today it was raining! So. There I was with just over half a loaf of sliced bread in the bread bin and a full (soft, fresh) loaf on the counter. What was I to do? And then inspiration struck. Colder, rainy weather... stale bread... comfort food... There was only really one thing for it. Bread & Butter Pudding :-)

At this point, I have to say that Miss Twinset is not a fan of carbs. Unless she can suck them through a straw and they're likely to cause a tremendous amount of intoxication. However, she's terribly intrigued by the idea of a dessert made out of nothing more than bread, butter, milk, eggs, sugar and fruit. I love simple things in the kitchen. I must do... after all, I kept them two around don't I? Hee hee. Ok, so as you can see, it's a simple collection of ingredients. 12 slices of bread, 100g of fruit, 60g of brown sugar, 3 eggs, 500ml of milk, 5ml of vanilla essence, a 'sprinkling' of nutmeg and enough butter to spread on the 12 slices of bread. Most of these really are store cupboard ingredients (refer back if you're lost), so this is something you can throw together when the stale bread presents itself. Now... I know some of you may be wondering about "product placement" in the picture. I can assure you that I do not receive any monetary consideration for the products that I use. Would that I did! It would certainly make life a bit easier (and by easier, I mean cheaper of course). That butter product for example is rather pricey and I have often wondered if it wouldn't be cheaper to keep a cow and make my own! Of course, the manure could be a problem... still.... :-)

Ok, so you start by cutting the crusts off of the bread and then you butter them. As you can see, I am innovative (lazy) when it comes to buttering the bread and I melted some butter in the microwave and used a brush... It was certainly quicker than painstakingly buttering each slice the old fashioned way! Once they're buttered (the bread, not the kitchen gnomes), slice each slice into 4 triangles and arrange them into a dish in a pattern of your choice. As you can see, I've gone for very much the traditional "pyramids of Egypt" design, but it works for me. Sometimes I'm not that decorative... after all, once you've dished it, no-one knows if you spent 10 minutes or 1 putting it together. For you though... I put in the time! Thanks. I knew you'd appreciate it.

Now, once your bread is resting in the dish and you've added the fruit between the layers, break the eggs into a bowl and whisk them. It's only right to thank the stunt hand for stepping in again. There's no shot as good as a genuine "eggs being beaten" shot. Even if I did have to calm Miss Twinset down when she threatened to report me for abuse. The other one was quite intrigued by what came out of the egg shell and how it changed... the best part though was watching her fall off her stool when I told her where the eggs came from! She didn't spill a drop of her martini though. Totally fascinating. I'll have to try to video it sometime! At any rate, once your eggs are beaten, add the milk and beat and then add the vanilla essence. As you can see, the milk and vanilla turns the liquid pale and it smells yummy... don't taste it though. No really. Don't. Don't taste the vanilla essence either. No matter how good it smells. I'm not kidding. Oh well - you'll only make that mistake once (I know).

After the vanilla, you need to add the sugar and beat the mixture until the sugar has dissolved. This is about the only really hard labour part of the recipe and even then, you could do it really slowly... it would just take. a. really. long. time. So, for arguments sake, let's assume that you did it quickly so that we can move on. Agreed? Good! Now pour the milk and egg mix over the bread and fruit and then sprinkle a little ground nutmeg on top. Garnish with a bit of extra brown sugar and then leave the dish to "rest" for about 20 - 30 min. This is so that the bread can soak up the mix. Or, for the other one, it was the time in which she mixed herself a fresh jug of sangria. It's not a martini, so at least it was something new... and I made her use that bottle of white that I was meaning to cook with and hadn't got around to using yet. It tastes a bit odd, but she's so soused most of the time anyway, that I'm not sure she even noticed. Waste not. Want not.

When the dish has rested enough - and you've scooped the semi-conscious form of Miss Twinset off of the floor - put the dish into an oven pre-heated to 180 deg Celsius. Bake it for about an hour until the 'custard' has cooked and the top is golden brown. Remove from the oven, carefully, with oven gloves, and place on a board to cool. If you're planning to eat it straight away, it's delicious with cream, custard or ice-cream, but in this case... I'm going to save it for tomorrow and take it to my Mom. It's a favourite of hers and I didn't tell her that I was making it. Mostly to surprise her but also in case I didn't get around to doing it :-) Hey... I'm honest!

Now... tomorrow is for making marmalade and there may be another surprise... who knows!?

So... until the next time :-)

All Domestic and Stuff...

So... tomorrow is Saturday, which is traditionally the day on which all my chores get done. The other one wouldn't know a chore if it stood up and slapped her - and having met her staff, I'm fairly sure that she may well have been slapped by her staff, if not her chores - and Miss Twinset is (of course) the perfect housewife and swans around the house all week "keeping her hand in" on the chores. She has a set of those ridiculously twee pink rubber gloves trimmed in faux leopard fur. I'm not sure that she actually does anything with them ... I mean really? Seriously? She has a little pink apron that ties around the waist trimmed in white ruffles with a little pocket on the front. She keeps a hip flask in it. I haven't seen it personally, but I would imagine that it's the only way she can stay away from her booze supply long enough to dust a doily. Now... I have seriously considered getting help (no... not psychiatric help. I don't need that kind of help. I don't. Why are you looking so shocked?!?!)... I'm talking about help around the house.

Ok... so the plan on most Saturday's is simple. Step 1: Wake up. Repeat until you have successfully completed step 1. Once up and awake, gather all laundry and set the first load to washing. Often, this is something simple like "towels" or "bedding"... purely because I'm still playing hunt the laundry and trying to retrieve things from underneath the still comfortably curled up and slumbering bodies of cats - who can make themselves remarkably heavy when they don't want you to take that skirt / shirt / jacket that they're lying on! While the laundry is happily drowning, it's time to grab a broom (no, not the one I rode in on... that one is stored outside the front door and used purely for travel) and then it's clear, tidy, dust, polish, sweep, scoop, mop, collapse. The other one is shocked that a broom is capable of so many things. I am shocked that she knows what a broom is!! Perhaps I should elaborate for the less domestically accomplished amongst us. Clearing is done by hand, as is tidying. Dusting is done with a cloth or feather duster (it should be noted that using live birds is never acceptable or recommended! Their ability to shake themselves clean is a bonus, yes, but it's still illegal!). Polishing is done with a cloth and some spray on polish. Sweeping is done with the broom (yup - just this 1 part) and the scoop is done with a dustpan and brush. The mopping is done with a - wait for it... - mop! The collapsing part should be fairly self explanatory.

Miss Twinset is rabbiting on about how she does all this in "mere minutes a day"... allowing her plenty of time for "more enjoyable and gainful activities". I don't think that drinking your weight in gin is a "gainful activity". OW! Did you know that ice hurts when it's hurled at you? On the plus side, if it happens to cut you, the alcohol will act as an immediate disinfectant! And her drink will get warmer faster :-D If - like me - you aren't based at home all day, then it's only reasonable that you will set aside specific time to do the chores that domestic life demand of us all. In my Gran's day... it was most likely that she would be home-based, but that was then... and this is now. So Saturday is for getting all down and dirty. With the house work. Sheesh... you guys have dirty minds!

Now - the other one has rolled her eyes more than once and she's wondering what on earth was so important about all this (tempting me to drag her into doing it all tomorrow so that she can be a more rounded person... I'd have to catch her first though and she runs damn fast in those stilettos!) Well, the point of all this is that this is what I "normally" do. However, tomorrow will be a day for not only being "domestic", but for being a glorified, undeniable "Domestic GODDESS"!! How? Well, I won't be borrowing any pink, fur trimmed gloves (thanks, but no), nor will I be doing the chores in heels and a tiara (seriously?). I will be (drum roll please)........ Multi-tasking! No, sucking an olive while drinking your martini does not qualify as multi-tasking... Neither does reading a gossip rag while supervising staff! Sigh. Now that we've dealt with silly questions from the Galerie d'arachide (peanut gallery), let me elaborate.

Tomorrow morning - when I eventually succeed with step 1 - I will indeed put the first load of laundry on and clean through. However, once that is accomplished, I will (weather permitting) plant my new trees into their pots (yes, new trees!! A plum tree and a nectarine tree, but more later) and also make a large pot of marmalade. These tasks to be completed in addition to completing the laundry.

I'm exhausted just thinking about it all :-) Miss Twinset is smirking and the other one is just gobsmacked that I clean my own home. It must be nice on her planet, but I doubt I'd like to live there. So - wish me luck!

Until next time...

We're Having a Ball...

Ok, so as it turns out, I am heartbroken. Not just a little bit sad, but deep down, heartsore. One of my cats had to be put to sleep yesterday and it's left a rather large hole in my world. Now, Miss Twinset doesn't get it... she reckons that there are others (quite a few in fact) and besides, it's one less for her to be allergic to. The other one is a little more understanding, but only because she has a few of those adorable "handbag" dogs, one of whom she claims is directly related to a Hilton. Personally, although it's cute, I think it's closer related to a rat than a Hilton, but who am I to disagree with a pedigree printed on the neighbours best dot matrix printer! (If you don't know what a dot matrix printer is, google it! And NO, I'm not that old!)

I'm not sure anyone really understands it, but there you go. Now you may be wondering why it is that I am blogging today when all I want to do is crawl under my duvet and howl at the world... well, there are a few reasons. No, I'm not drugged up (well, I have taken something, but it's prescription and ... oh never mind), but as it turns out, my sense of humour functions perfectly well no matter what. I think it's a manufacturing flaw and I'm wondering if I can get a refund, but actually, the most important reason is that she used to lie on the sofa next to me as I write and I used to read these aloud to her. Her opinion was measured in how many claws were slowly driven into my thigh or the volume of a purr, but I feel somehow a little closer to her doing this.

The other thing that I discovered today is that I didn't want to comfort eat (although I do have enough junk in the house to do it), I wanted to "comfort cook". Strange, but true. So... in the spirit of all things comforting in the face of absolute sadness.... Please join us for today's....

(Oh dear, I feel that it's only right that I warn you that I was using my phone again and as I said before, it's a wonderful phone, but a shit camera... It's my blog and I've decided that I can say shit if I want to ... so there!)

Dish of the Day

Frikkadels (or for those of you not living locally - Meat Balls). You're going to need some mince (beef in my case), some onions, bread, milk, eggs and seasoning of your choice. Also, fresh parsley if you're feeling adventurous. It's not really vital, but I think it adds something to the flavour. To the left, is 1kg of meat, 2 medium onions, 3 slices of slightly stale white bread, a handful of parsley, 2 eggs and enough milk to cover the bread. You'll see why later...

Ok, now you have all your ingredients ready, you need to start by decrusting your bread. You won't be able to see this from where you are, but the other one is dancing a jig... she sees it as terribly rebellious not to eat your crusts... I think her mother must've been a lot like mine (although without the money, the chauffeur, the housekeeper, the nanny and the Lear jet. Lord knows, the other one must've been raised in riches for her never to have seen the kitchen). Anyway, Once you have trimmed the crusts from the bread (pic 1 if you're keeping track), you need to put the bread into a dish and pour on enough milk to soak the slices sufficiently. While that is happening, you need to peel your onions and chop them. As you can see (pic 4 if you're lost), I prefer not to do fine chopping by hand and take great pleasure in using shortcuts whenever possible. Two seconds of whizzing and my onions are reduced to a far more user friendly size and soon tipped into the dish with the mince. I should warn you though that this will make you cry just as much as if you did it by hand. Both of my somewhat... how shall we put this? Useless? No, that is too cruel. Let's just say that both of them ran from the kitchen pleading other commitments, yet were back as soon as the onion had been safely added to the bowl. Convenient?

Right, now you need to get back to the bread... Yes, the bread that's been soaking in the milk. This is done to make it easier to mix in with the meat and as for why we do this... well, it helps to make the meatballs "stick" together. Now, take the bread out of the milk and carefully squeeze out as much of the fluid as you can and then add that to the bowl with the onion and meat. Then add your selection of spices - salt, pepper, etc, etc. Take your pick... it's your meal after all.

I also added garlic paste (from a tube), so it looks almost like a small white worm has taken up residence on the top of the mix, but I assure you that it is all in good order. Next, I chopped the parsley. If you don't have a nifty double blade, a simple knife will do. Again, you can choose to chop it as coarsely or as finely as you prefer. I did it finely as that is my preference. The other one turned her nose up at it... she didn't see the need for green, but as she is sitting at a distance merely watching the proceedings, I'm afraid she doesn't get a vote.

Next, as you will see from the pics above (see, I've made it fairly idiot proof for the other one. Miss Twinset has already proven that she has some cooking skills), it is now time to get your hands dirty. I did ask one of the others to give it a go, but the other one muttered something about an important call before rushing off and Miss Twinset apologised most profusely, but she'd just had her nails done (with real Swarovski, Iif you don't mind), so we had to hurriedly find a "stunt hand" and I'll tell you that the pay involved for this job was quite unreasonable. It was only a little raw meat and egg... the worst that could happen was to get sticky... I mean really. What babies!

When all the ingredients are thoroughly mixed, it is time to form the mix into balls (Oh grow up and get your mind out of the gutter!). For a burger, a large handful should do it. These are then dredged (covered) in flour, before being placed into the frying pan and pressed down lightly to form a "patty" shape. When they've had about 6 - 8 min on each side (Don't be daft... I certainly did NOT sit watching with an egg timer... it was a guess. I have a life after all and no need to sit watching oil heat up), remove them from the oil and place them on some kitchen roll to drain. This is entirely optional... I just prefer to have less oil on my meatballs :-)

The final part of my comfort cooking (and eating... 'tis true) was to whack - yes, it's a technical cooking term - two of them on buns and add some cheese! Of course, after the camera had been shut away, I added that dreadful tomato sauce for heaven knows I cannot live without it on a burger, heathen that I am :-)

So there you have it. The kitchen is a total disaster zone and I shall of course ignore the washing up until at least tomorrow. There are enough left for lunch tomorrow or perhaps a late night snack and somewhere... hidden in the back of a pantry.... I may even have some chocolate!

So let me love and leave you all. It's time for me to make some chamomile tea and lament the fact that my greatest furry feline fan is not here to hear this latest post. Oh, how she is missed. (The other one I'm sorry to say, was not missed and only returned from her "very important call" after dinner and I was quite surprised to see her).

Until next time...

In Praise of Apricot Trees... and Flowers!

Ok... This is just a brief update on the general excitement generated by the leaves that appeared on my apricot tree a while back... There are now three flowers on the tree and I'm quite intrigued to see what happens next... other than the tentative investigation of bees and butterflies. Perhaps I'll have mini apricots? All three of them :-)

More updates to follow...

Until next time...

Like Money for Jam...

... or marmalade in this case. There is a small problem with having fruit in the house, or to be more specific, there is a problem with having fruit that seems to breed indiscriminately and with little or no concern as to what I am supposed to do with their offspring. I mean really... I'm not running a charity here. There are bills to be paid and fruit bowls don't wash themselves! Why, just the other day I caught the banana's - who are normally quite well behaved - having a disagreement with a lemon over space. It was most unfortunate and really quite unpleasant. I don't think I shall view a banana as innocent ever again. At any rate, I came into the kitchen today to discover that the fruit bowl had been taken over in a kumquat coup and the little blighters were everywhere! Worst of all, at least one of them was totally infested with mould and was valiantly attempting to infect everyone in his way... Of course, he suffered a rather unfortunate and not so sticky end... but this is a family friendly blog, so we won't get into the details. Of course, one down and several dozen more to go... what was I going to do with them all. Heaven knows, if you leave them unattended, they breed like rabbits (which reminds me... I must find out where the first breeding pair came from... hmmm).

So. Not much option then but to commit mass kumquat genocide! So into the kitchen I went, suitably armed with a new favourite knife of mine (a gift from my original and continuing cooking inspiration... My Dad!) and a chopping board. As you can see, I'd already been hard at work by the time I decided to take some pics. At this point it's only fair to say that this was a traumatic event for Miss Twinset who blathered something about killing unborn fruit before she popped an olive in a martini glass and retreated to her corner of the kitchen. Apparently, senseless brining (is that a word?) of olives is ok... as is turning helpless olives into hapless alcoholics. What? Oh... The other one is pointing out that considering how quickly Miss Twinset goes through her drinks, the olives don't really suffer for long. True. Anyway...

At this point in time, I feel it's only fair to point out that I was taking these pics on my cellphone. Great phone. (expletive deleted) camera. However, desperate times call for desperate measures and the battery charger fairies had the day off... Shrug. As you can imagine, the sight of these poor quartered bodies just about pushed Miss Twinset over the edge, even as she reached for a fresh slice of lemon garnish... apparently, there are different standards of cruelty when it involves alcohol.
So, having quartered all the kumquats, it was time to weigh them. This involved much negotiation on my part as it proved very difficult to get some of the more self-conscious kumquats onto the scale. Really, you only weigh 6g? I think not. Even quartered you weigh 10g easily! So... why was it important to weigh them? Well... it's so that I'll know just how much to sweeten them up later when it's time to add the sugar. Shock horror... imagine how much you'll weigh when I add your body weight in sugar :-) "Thud"... whadya know... kumquats faint! Who'd've thunk it :-)

From the scale to the pot... not much respite from doom and impending disaster there. I think we're on our second bottle of gin and I'm certainly not cooking with it. I told her to leave if it upsets her so, but she sniffed delicately into her lace trimmed hanky (seriously? lace trimmed?) and said that it was best for her education in the art of cooking and preserving if she stayed. So I told her that was fine, but to stop sobbing dramatically. These kumquats died bravely to be reborn into something far more useful. (Even if they didn't get a vote).

So, as evidenced by the glorious amounts of steam, the next step is to cover the chopped (ok, massacred) kumquats with enough water and then heat them to boiling point and allow them to simmer until the rinds are soft. I also added 3/4 of an orange and the juice of a second orange. No... they do not scream when boiled. As you've already pointed out, they're dead :-) Sheesh. Get past it already.

Ok, when the rinds are nice and soft and there is no chance that a talented horticulturalist could revive them, you need to remove the pot from the heat and stir in the sugar. In this case, there was about 350g of fruit (pre the late addition of the oranges), so I added 370g of sugar. Now stir the sugar in until you have a nice smooth syrup before returning the pot to the heat. As I explained to the other one... if you don't do that, then all you have is lumpy, warm, kumquat juice. Perhaps even sweet, unless you get bitter kumquats like mine... perhaps they were government employee's or stuck in a dead end 9 - 5... who knows. I can only guess that self-fulfilled kumquats would have been sweeter... Actually, self-fulfilled kumquats wouldn't have been squatting in my fruit bowl planning a hostile take-over!

Eventually, with a bit of patience, you will notice that the mixture has thickened and changed colour. The liquid is now far more syrupy than before (no, that is NOT a problem... that is what is supposed to happen). You will see that there is some "foam" on the top of the syrup... this you can remove easily by skimming a spoon across the surface of the liquid. Carefully! Hot syrup burns are NOT fun. No, I didn't burn myself, but the other one decided that she wanted a taste... her tongue is the size of an egg, but at least it's quiet around here (apart from the faint sound of ice clinking in a shaker).

Test the syrup to see when it starts to set when cooled. This is also easy, just take a spoon and drop some into a glass of cold water or onto a clean, cool plate. If it forms balls (in the water) or sets (on the plate), then you know that you're about there. Of course, if you have a sugar thermometer, then you just need to know what temp you're looking for :-) No... a meat thermometer won't work. That is for sticking in meat, not hot syrup. Sigh. Anyway - when it's done, then heat up your jars (so they don't crack) and then fill them with the marmalade.

Alright, if you're a marmalade purist, then you're no doubt looking at the not very good (ok, very bad) picture of the final product and have probably made a note of the extremely dark colour of the syrup. Now, I'd like to pretend that this is a result of the camera, but I fear that Miss Twinset may well hack my blog in her drunken state (she's remarkably computer literate, but only when totally smashed) and spill the beans on me! You see, I had to change the laundry in the dryer and in those few minutes, the last remaining vestige of disgruntled kumquat turned the tables on me and the syrup went from nearly perfect to burnt! Oh well... There are a lot of oranges lurking and I'm still in a murderous state of mind... so you never know what will happen next :-)

Until next time...

Here we Grow!

I am beyond excited! Miss Twinset over there is beyond confused and the other one... well, the other one doesn't get it at all. I suppose I can't call her the "other one" for ever now can I? I was thinking about calling her "the cabbage", but it might be too confusing if I needed to refer to cabbage in a recipe some day and heaven forbid that it should seem that I'm condoning canabalism. I don't. Contrary to popular folklore... we are NOT the other white meet. No, we're not the other African or Mexican or Chinese meat either. It's an expression, not a comment on race. Short of being marooned in the Andes or on an island, it's not even remotely ok to consider eating another person. Now, where was I... oh yes, what are we going to call the other one? You see, Miss Twinset wanted me to point out that she was the star of our first conversation and from that it would be pretty clear that she does actually know how to cook. Her store cupboard may be more fluid than most bank accounts, but she does know her colander from her cooker. It's "the other one" that didn't know what the kitchen was. She has a point. So. That brings us again to the naming of the other one... I think we'll have to wait until a suitable moniker comes to me.

In the meantime, let's get back to why I'm so excited. You'd forgotten, hadn't you. It was the first thing I said... I'll wait while you go back and check. See? :-) I'm beyond excited because my apricot tree is finally getting some leaves again :-) It's the little things in life that can be the most satisfying. For months there has been nothing, but just this past week, there are tiny, fresh buds on all the branches, some are beginning to open, barely hinting at tiny, green leaves inside and then there are some that are already open :-) Ok. You're looking as confused as they are. Yes, I'm aware that it's a tree. Well, technically it's a tree. At present it's an enthusiastic but scrawny branch with some twigs protruding off of it. It will grow into a tree though some day and until then, it's being verbally encouraged to do so. According to the label, this type of tree will produce fruit in November, although this particular specimen is probably too young still. I'm still completely curious to see what happens this year though. It's exciting. Maybe there'll be flowers or maybe there won't. It's like waiting for a Christmas present to unfold before your very eyes. Or an excercise in Zen Thinking, because no matter how much you'd like it to happen faster, it's not going to. You simply have to wait.

Why would I want to grow my own? Miss Twinset makes the valid point that when they're in season, I could just buy myself some apricots. That's not the point though. The point is to take control of what we eat, what we use. Even if this tree produces fruit, the chances of me getting enough to do anything useful with for the next few years is slim. One day though... aaah. One day it'll be a different story. I'll use my apricots in salads or maybe a Moroccan Tagine... the possibilities are endless. That one - "other one" - wants to know what the point is then. The point is to grow my own. To know where the fruit came from and to know that I grew it. You see, I'm not a particularly talented gardener - I could probably kill soil if I didn't pay attention - but I'm a dedicated learner and I love the challenge. Besides - in case you haven't worked it out yet - the whole point of this blog is to start my own personal revolution amongst the people of "my" generation. Oh heck - the people of any generation! To get you away from the pc (after you've read my blog!!) and into the garden or the kitchen. To get you to knit. No, not the "bugs" that live in your hair. It's a handcraft involving needles and wool. No, not like the sewing needles, these are different. Don't stress about it for now, we'll cover knitting later.

So, what kinds of things am I growing? Well, it's only my first season of trying, but the house came with a lemon tree, an orange tree and a naartjie tree and I figured that's a good start! Since I decided to grow things, I've added tomatoes, broad beans and chilies (which is quite amusing as I don't eat chilies. At all. Never.) but I have huge plans to expand! I have an olive tree, a pear tree and of course, my apricot tree. Not exactly a roaring farm trade, but it's a good start!

Now, the chances of me getting Miss Twinset into the garden and getting her hands dirty are pretty remote, but I'm going to keep trying! In the meantime, go out and plant something. Something useful. Don't be like me, enthusiastically planting chilies that have no purpose in my garden. Ok, they're decorative, but that's their only purpose... just like some people I know!

Believe me, it's a satisfying sensation to go out and grab something fresh out of your own garden instead of running off to the supermarket for everything and besides - it puts you ever so slightly ahead of the perfectly manicured Twinsets of the world ;-)

Until next time!

Store Cupboard Cooking?

Right, so if - like me - you watch a fair amount of TV cooking shows (oh, you don't? No matter. Yes, I know there are sitcoms on... I like cooking shows!)... anywho... If you did watch the shows, you'd often hear them mention "store cupboard cooking". You're looking puzzled. It's quite simple really. It's not? Of course it is. Oh dear - no, they don't mean cooking with wood! They mean cooking with what is in the store cupboard. Now, if you're miss Twinset over there, this could mean a very wet, very intoxicating meal. After all, I've seen the inside of her store cupboard and if you need to have a gin bath or set up an impromptu nightclub complete with fully stocked bar then you're in the right place. If however you require something solid to eat, you're plum out of luck! If it doesn't clink or go well with an olive, she doesn't store it.

When these Celebuchef's refer to store cupboard cooking, they make the fairly safe assumption that you have more than a few mouldy onions and an open box of stale (and slightly soggy) crackers in there. They assume that you have tinned vegetables, an assortment of dried bean and pea products, perhaps some exotic preserved peppers in a jar... then there is the usual - flour, baking powder, packet of biscuits and spare salt. They are also referring to the contents of your fridge. Yes, I am well aware that the fridge is not a cupboard. I'm also fairly sure that they are fully aware of that fact too! No, they're not confused. Now, may I continue? Thank you. In your fridge, they may expect you to have a selection of veg, some cream, butter (or margarine), eggs, a selection of cheeses - at least one of which should crumble, one of which should ooze, one of which should be blue and one should be Parmesan - perhaps even a half drunk bottle of wine. They're not really interested in the left over, dried out chicken pieces that should have gone out with last weeks trash or the mummified remains of who knows what that is cowering defensively in the back corner of the crisper drawer, armed with a toothpick that you don't remember having in the fridge at all.

There is another place that they're referring to when they talk about "store cupboard cooking". Oh dear, why are you drinking out of that wine bottle with a bendy straw?? This is not that stressful OR confusing. Alright, go sit quietly in the corner and slurp on your wine while I finish explaining this to everyone else. Oh... You would like to know? Well then, unhand the booze and pay attention. Sigh. No, you won't need your cheque book. It is a figure of speech! Now... the third place that they may be referring to when they talk about "store cupboard cooking" is on your counters. They will often times refer to grabbing some fresh herbs from the beautiful kitchen garden growing on your windowsill or fresh garlic from a basket hanging in the corner of the kitchen, which also contains fresh ginger. You may be required to use the zest of an orange or a lemon which - of course - you'll grab from your fully stocked fruit / veg bowl. This also contains avo's, banana's, two types of onion, 3 varieties of potato and some fresh chili even though you're allergic. Naturally, there are also 3 types of oil on the counter as well as a cheap and expensive Balsamic vinegar :-)

Now - like Miss Twinset over there - you may be looking a bit confused as to where I'm going with this. Unlike Miss Twinset though, you're not slightly tipsy from sucking good wine through a straw though, so I think you'll be able to follow what I'm about to say. Most of us do not have enough store in our store cupboards to even begin to prepare the dishes that they refer to in these "store cupboard cooking" shows. In fact, we'd have to prepare a shopping list (issue 1) and go to the shop for all the necessary ingredients before we could even begin! I admit that I suffer with a strong sense of kitchen envy whenever I see the ingredients which they consider to be "basic" in every home and look forward to the day when I too will have a large jar full of vanilla pods "just in case" or a pot of saffron - that I actually use!

For most of you, "store cupboard cooking" is the culinary equivalent of running a marathon with your shoelaces tied together! When you open your cupboards, you stare thoughtfully at the pasta selection, spare sugar, the half used bag of white flour and the unopened bag of brown flour you bought a year or more ago when you thought you might give bread another try (after all, the last batch has worked well as paving for ages and there's that patch next to the house that needs doing). There's also some basic baking gear - paper cups, vanilla essence and the like - and of course... the prerequisite three packets of jelly. If you're lucky, you'll find some packets of cup-a-soup and if you're really lucky, they may still be valid! In the veggie rack are a few onions and perhaps a potato peeping at you out of one of 47 eyes! In the fridge is a bottle of wine (half finished), some nearly out of date fruit juice, milk, butter, eggs, basic cheddar cheese, some possibly furry jam in a tin and in the crisper? Veg? Of course not. There's an old tube of garlic paste, some leftover margarine from your last baking endeavours and that chocolate that you've hidden for "emergencies". There's nothing that passes for a fruit or veg bowl on your counters and the closest you've come to fresh ginger in a while is when you passed it in the supermarket last week. You have your basic sunflower oil and brown and white vinegar (for chips you know) and possibly that bottle of Balsamic that a far more culinarily (is that a word?) enlightened friend gave you last Christmas.

Doesn't seem like there's much you can do with that does it? You'll be surprised! Fry up the onion, cook the pasta and use the flour, marg and milk to make a basic white sauce. Add some of that cheddar to make it a cheese sauce and you have a basic and tasty pasta dish. You could also use the flour, eggs and milk to make pancakes or flapjacks. There are always possibilities, but it will require you to have some imagination and to not be afraid. Calm down... there's nothing scary! We covered Kitchen Bravery in issue 1. I simply mean that you must be willing to experiment. No. Electronic equipment, cabling and a hunched, lisping manservant named Igor are not a necessity for this type of experimentation. In fact, if anything you do in the kitchen comes to life in more ways than just with flavour... well. Suffice it to say that you'll have a lot of explaining to do!

So - while Miss Twinset is off finishing her wine (waste not, want not), I trust that you'll all be putting your thinking caps on and redefining for yourselves what "store cupboard cooking" means for you!

Until next time...