It's Beginning to Smell A Lot Like....

CHRISTMAS!!!

No, before you all phone the medics in a panic, I haven't totally lost the plot. Nor did I hit my head and no - before someone asks - I haven't been at that mystery punch that Miss Twinset and the Other One regularly cook up. I've seen it glowing eerily in the pantry and I don't drink potentially sentient life forms! In fact, I strongly suspect that following a nuclear explosion, we'd be left with dayglo cockroaches, the mystery punch and those two in the corner. After all, if they can drink it and survive, there's a good chance they're bomb proof! Actually, there is at least one other thing that will be around long after mankind has ceased to exist... fruit cake. Don't ask me why it never goes off... after all, that's why they invented Google! I'm also not sure why the universe decided to make fruit cake almost indestructible because I can tell you that it's a rare thing if they last past a few days in this house!

Ok - so it's October. I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that popular legend suggests that you bake your Christmas cakes and puddings round about now so that they have sufficient time to "age" well and by "age" I mean "absorb substantial quantities of brandy". However, this particular recipe tastes just as fabulous even if you make it Dec 24th, so I'm not going to spin you that yarn. However, I will point out - and not only because the Other One is waving her hands frantically to get my attention - that it does leave you less time to get loads of brandy into the cake. And brandy is important! I cheat by soaking my cherries in brandy all year round :-) Sneaky! Also quite tasty when you just want to eat one :-)

Ok, so you start be measuring out all the fruit and nuts and putting them into a bowl with the brandy and soaking them overnight. This is where you ideally need a kitchen free of Tipsy Tarts (sorry, couldn't resist) as I caught Miss Twinset with her head in the fridge debating turning my cake fruit into some seriously flammable breakfast muesli!! While I don't think it was an entirely bad idea, some of us have real jobs too and showing up soused and claiming it was the cereal that did it, probably wouldn't go down well! So, when you're ready to begin, you need to take 4 heaped tablespoons of flour and stir that into the fruit mix. This will coat the fruit and stop it from doing it's best "rock" impression! Sigh... Miss Twinset is frowning. It's hard to ignore because she looks like a confused kitten, but still... It means that it will stop the fruit from sinking straight to the bottom of the cake. The flour on the fruit helps it to "float" in the cake mix and that keeps it evenly distributed. In another dish, mix the flour, cinnamon, all spice, cloves, salt and bicarbonate of soda so that it's ready when you need it. In a large mixing bowl, cream the butter, then mix in the brown sugar and eggs. Um... I know that cream comes before butter (although I'm a tad surprised that the Other One, a woman with a Swarovski manicure, has any idea about churning butter or anything to do with milk products). It means to beat the butter until it is light and fluffy. It can be done by hand, but seriously... seriously? That's why there are electric beaters!


In a jug, mix black treacle and apple juice. It's a bit like trying to combine tar and water at first and this part I do with a hand whisk. Then the trick is to mix alternate dry and wet ingredients into the butter, egg and sugar mix. I see Rolling Stones lips and tongue in that treacle pattern, but that could just be Ruby's sense of humour :-) When you've mixed everything together except for the fruit, you'll be left with a strange, wet mixture that looks like it's about to split. No (chuckle), not run away. Split back into it's separate ingredients. Don't worry, it's supposed to be that way. Yes, I'm serious... it really is supposed to look kinda like curdled ... um... cow production :-) At this point, you're ready to add the fruit and fold it into the mix.

If you're really well organised, then you probably lined and greased your baking dish of choice before you even weighed out the butter, but to be honest, I forgot. It's not serious though as the batter can stand for a bit while you catch up. Just don't let the Other One anywhere near the spray-and-cook though... it's great for greasing the baking dish and also (I've just discovered) for turning an innocent kitchen stool into a health hazard for Miss Twinset. Turns out that she isn't quite as graceful as the Other One when it comes to holding onto a drink when she's slipping and sliding... but at least it was only a little white wine and she was wearing a housedress today (with pearls... of course), so all is well. I think we'll even get over the shock of the housedress... with therapy! :-) So - when you have your cake tin / Pyrex dish / tuna tins (I'll explain later) greased, lined and ready, simply pour the cake batter into them and pop them into your pre-heated oven and bake for 3 - 3 1/2 hours or until a skewer stuck into the middle of the cake comes out clean. Obviously the smaller cakes will take less time, so keep an eye on them. After all, it's bad enough they can last indefinitely without turning them into a prime example of dwarf bread... If you're not a Discworld fan, my apologies, but it's a reference that would take too long to explain :-)

Now comes the tricky part... even trickier than keeping the location of my brandy supply a secret from the Tipsy Tarts... keeping the cake around for longer than a day or two with my folks around! The cake is moist, rich and totally yummy (another technical cheffy term). We find that it's best served un-iced with brandy butter, but really... it's so good just as it is, that you'd better get in there before it's all gone.

I know that many people don't like fruit cake and I'm pleased to tell you that it's not a requirement for enjoying the Festive Season. And yes, I haven't forgotten that it's still a while until the Festive Season. I baked for my Mom (who bats her eyelashes beautifully when she wants something) and also for one of my best friends who was visiting from Europe. Her cake is tucked away in her luggage, soon to tease some lonely sniffer dog at an airport far, far away ... :-) Hmm? What? Oh... the tuna tin reference from earlier? Well, small baking tins are quite expensive, but a washed, lined tuna tin is the perfect size for making small "gift" cakes and it's also a great way to recycle. Please - just wash them properly, after all, there is nothing worse than tuna flavoured fruit cake :-) Euuuuuuwww

So, I guess I should probably tackle my Christmas Cards next huh? Hmm... maybe, but first... I think it's time for some cake :-)

Until next time...

Let's Get Cracking...

...with those eggs! No, this isn't the first exciting round of "Is it an omelet, is it a glaze, is it a fried egg sandwich?" It is in fact one of the steps in today's "Dish of the Day", but more on that later. I'd like to start by thanking both Ruby and Phin for behaving the past two weeks... I've not lost, misplaced or been unable to find a single thing in the kitchen and in the garden, my tomatoes and broad beans are yielding crops... which makes me hippity-hop-happy!! José was still hunting for the toothpick... I tried tactfully suggesting that he get another one, but actually he claimed it was too soon to replace it. He was prepared to try something new though and is now happily ruminating on a piece of straw. Hey, if it works for him, who am I to argue?

So, it's been a while since I entertained you in the kitchen... hell, it's been a while since I entertained myself in the kitchen, so it was high time and with friends visiting from Germany, the stage was set for something special! I just wasn't sure what or when... and then it happened! We planned a large braai (or bbq for those of you not from SA) and while the men took care of the meat, I was asked to take care of dessert. No problem (insert evil chuckle here)... leave it to me! But what was I going to make? A great question and the answer is one that I think will surprise you as much as it delighted both Miss Twinset and the Other One :-) Brandy Pudding! Also known as Tipsy Tart if you prefer. Considering the usual state of my kitchen companions, I'll give you a moment to consider the implications of selecting that title before I continue... Got it? Done giggling? Good, then let's continue.

This recipe is actually quite simple and really delicious. As with so many of my recipes, this isn't an original. I'm quite capable of inventing a new dish, but with the old favourites, many recipes are similar and it would be difficult to eat the dish and "divine" what the ingredients are... after all, it's not as if I'm an idiot savant when I come to recipes...

(swoooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh. C R A S H).

My apologies for the break in our blog ladies and gentleman. I felt the need to stop and throw a bottle of wine across the room at the Other One. You'll be distressed to hear that it was a really good wine. I was pleased to see that although it didn't score a direct hit, it did hit the wall next to hear and she has just had a free Merlot rinse. All over her recently done hair. And white Valentino Dress (this season)! Why? Well, she had the cheek to chirp that I was only half wrong... drop the 'savant'. Hmph.

Ok, so back to the Dish of the Day... Brandy Pudding :-)

The first thing I should tell you is that this particular recipe claims that it makes enough for 12 - 16 portions. It probably does if you're having dainty, ladylike portions that would be applicable at a nice Southern afternoon tea. However, most people will have a larger portion and we've found that this generally serves around 10 very "unhealthy" sized portions... ideally with custard, ice-cream, cream (or all of the above). It's dessert after all. With booze in it!

Ingredients

- 250 gram dates, stoned and chopped
- 1 cup boiling water
- 1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
- 1/2 cup (125 gram) butter
- 1 cup (200 gram) soft brown sugar
- 2 large eggs, beaten
- 2 cups (240 gram) flour
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon ginger
- Pinch nutmeg
- Zest of 2 oranges
- 1 cup (100 gram) walnuts or pecan nuts (chopped)

Syrup
- 1 1/4 cup (300 ml) soft brown sugar
- 1 tablespoon (15 ml) butter
- 3/4 cup (190 ml) water
- 1 cinnamon quill
- 2 teaspoons (10 ml) vanilla essence
- Pinch of salt
-1/2 cup (125 ml) brandy

Method
- Pour the boiling water over the chopped dates in a saucepan or microwave dish.
- Heat to boiling point.
- Remove from heat and mix bicarbonate of soda into mixture. Mix well and leave to cool.
- Cream the butter and sugar, beat egg in to make a smooth mixture.
- Sift flour, baking powder and salt over the creamed mixture and fold in.
- Mix in the spices and the nuts, stir in the bicarbonate of soda and date mixture and mix well.
- Ladle into a baking dish. Use a dish with a base that measures approximately 280mm x 280mm.
- Bake at 180°C for 40 - 50 minutes or until the puddings springs back when pressed at the centre.

** Prepare the syrup while the pudding is baking.
- Heat the butter or margarine, sugar and water for approximately 5 minutes.
- Remove the mixture from the stove and stir in the brandy, vanilla and salt.
- Pour the warm syrup over the pudding as soon as it is removed from the oven.

Now... if you're an observant bunny (and I know that you all are), you will have noticed that I don't have my full range of photographs. There is a perfectly logical reason for this. The batteries died on my camera. Yes - I'm aware of the fact that I should have had a spare set. However, my spare set of batteries are currently on a permanent relocation to Denmark. You see, they were unfortunate enough to witness something that they shouldn't have and were whisked away in an unmarked black van in the dead of night, never to be seen again. They've been given new identities as lipstick tubes and currently reside in a small, nearly unheard of Danish town... leaving me a set short. You think I jest? Well - you're only half right. You see they really are in Denmark, having been left there accidentally by a travel companion last year (along with his charger and a pair of shoes). It was traumatic and I don't want to talk about it :-) Kidding! Ok, ok, I know that I've had plenty of time to buy new ones, but I just haven't ... yet. I swear, I will do it now as I don't want to get caught short again! In case you were wondering, the picture of the completed pudding is off of my cell phone and is a great example of "here's one I made earlier"... from June! It's how the pudding looked though, so I don't think you'll mind.

I wish you could hear the sniffling and sobbing from the corner of the kitchen. The Other One is of course nearly paralytic about the damage to her Valentino dress, but is slightly mollified by the remarkable fact that she can duck and weave like an extra from the Matrix and not spill a single drop of her martini... really, how does she do that? Miss Twinset is sniffling due to the loss of the wine. She was looking forward to that bottle and it was all I could do to stop her licking the walls!! I poured her a glass of the Buketrabe. She's not really into semi-sweet wines, but at this point, she's not proud, she's desperate and if it has an alcohol content, then she's game to try anything. There was an incident once with a packet of wine gums on a road trip... but that's a story for a different day!

Until next time...

No Way José!

As regular readers will know, this blog isn't purely about food and cooking, although I write about it a lot... and as you can no doubt gather, it would be fair to say that I enjoy food AND cooking. If I were a pixie, I'd be ground staff as I'm fairly sure that there are no wings available to lift this love of food off the ground :-) Ok. I'm not that large. I'm more towards the comfortably padded (Nigella) end of the scale (without the serious boobs... and yes, I CAN say boobs. It's my blog. So there!)


Although I intend to introduce many other skills that we shouldn't be losing as generations slip by, today I'm going to tell you a bit about my garden. There are two reasons for that. The first is that it's Spring here and the garden is full of new secrets and fresh colours and the second reason - but by no means a deciding reason - is the fact that Miss Twinset and the Other One are pixie hunting in the kitchen. They've decided that Ruby is to blame for the rapidly diminishing alcohol stores and no amount of explaining that even if she was helping herself, it would be a teaspoon full at most makes any difference. They are totally convinced that somewhere in my kitchen is an extremely sloshed (and slooshy) pixie who possibly resembles a rather ripe tomato rather than a svelte fairy, due to the numerous bottles of booze that she's liberated from the store cupboard. Of course, their search is being conducted with all the precision of a blind tattoo artist and it certainly doesn't help that their "field rations" for the day consisted of a case of wine, 2 bottles of vodka, 3 limes and a bucket of ice! So... I've run away to the garden.



Now there are a few reasons why being in the garden is therapeutic... for a photographer like me, it affords me plenty of opportunity to just play and be creative! However, as I've said before, I'm not a particularly talented gardener. It would be fair to say that I could kill gravel!! I'm the only person I know who has managed to annihilate not one, but TWO cacti in the past few months. I'm not quite sure how... It's a talent I tell you! However, I really love gardening and the satisfaction of seeing something grow and thrive. Don't look shocked... it happens. Generally when I mostly let nature take its course :-) The only part I don't enjoy as much is when José - the garden boy - taunts my lack of knowledge and skills. Considering he spends all his time leaning on a large garden fork with a tooth pic hanging off of his lip, he doesn't really have the right to an opinion. After all, I've yet to see him have a go at anything useful. It's always... "you're planting that there?" or "if you think that's best" or "and you thought it would grow (snort)"... but so much as ask him to pull a weed and he comes over all "Yo no hablo Inglés" Hmph!! He would like to point out though that he is Spanish and not South American. I think he's neither, being rather freckly and with red hair, but I'll take his word for it!



The other thing about my garden is of course that the undesirables - slugs, snails, caterpillars, weeds - all seem to find it a highly desirable and seemingly safe haven! In fact, I've no sooner rid a section of garden of some of them, then a fresh colony pops up. I swear they've mastered transporter technology and if we could listen in, we'd hear them hailing ships on all frequencies and declaring my garden a habitable area with great air and rich soil deposits. It can't help that I've planted a rich assortment of snacks for the landing parties now can it... ? No. However, I'm fighting back and perhaps... if I'm lucky... I may get a few beans and tomatoes for myself :-) Now... it's not only about flowers or vegetables or fruit. It's about ALL of them in equal measure.

You see, our ancestors (no... not 1000's of years ago... maybe just 3 or 4 generations ago) grew a lot of their own food to suit their needs. Carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, whatever... Of course, they also kept chickens, geese, goats a pig or two and perhaps a cow. We've already covered the likelihood of me keeping a cow in suburbia, but to be fair... the keeping of fowl (birds, not something bad... although a large amount of chicken poo certainly IS foul) is governed by local law. Even if it weren't... I have 7 cats and I'm against cruelty to animals. The cats, not the chickens. Imagine being able to see and smell your toy / snack and not be able to reach it? Torture! Ok... it won't be much fun for the chickens either... I'm getting off track though. My latest obsession for my garden is fruit trees. I already have an orange tree, lemon tree and naartjie tree, but I've since added an apricot tree, a pear tree, a plum tree and a nectarine tree. Now. You may be thinking back to my earlier statement about being talented enough to kill gravel and wondering how I manage to keep my garden growing at all...? If you've been keeping up, you'll know that I have a theory... and it's a doozy!

I suspect that it's a green thumb that's behind it all. Yup - a green thumb! Or thumbelina. Well, that sure got José's attention... his arm slid right off the top of that large garden fork right before his jaw thudded into it! I think he even dropped his tooth pic :-) You see, I don't have enough time to really devote to planting and maintaining my garden and yet it seems to do ok... even thrive! The only explanation that makes any sense to me - even though it is totally illogical to most - is that there exists a sub-culture of garden pixies. Cousins of our dear Ruby if you will. Their sole task is to look after the gardens of enthusiastic gardeners and to reward them with flowers, trees, fruit and veg at the end of it all. Green thumbs and thumbelina's :-) They're assisted by garden gnomes, of course, who generally take guarding duty, but I think mine must sleep all day while invaders sneak past them :-)

I've never been lucky enough to see my thumbelina - and yes, I feel very sure it's a girl who runs my garden - or her band of merry henchmen. Perhaps if I had some of the "breakfast punch" that the Other One makes on a Sunday, I'd be fortunate enough to catch a glimpse... after all, she sees a LOT of stuff that isn't there. Worth a thought. However, I've spent many hours photographing my garden and often photographed her assistants as you can see here. During these hours in the garden, while I fumble my way through gardening 101, I've thought a bit about my thumbelina and I've decided that she wears a pale petal dress in a fetching lilac shade in Summer and Spring and a sturdy, furry seed pod coat in Autumn and Winter. Her name? Ah José, excellent question. I had thought to call her Rose as it is my favourite flower, but I could picture her turning her little freckled nose up at such a predictable name for a garden sprite. Instead, I decided she was more likely a Delphinium (largely because it's said to mean Big-hearted, fun). Of course, Delphinium is a rather long and stuffy name, so I'm sure she prefers to be known as Phin :-)

And now... while José scrabbles about looking for his lost tooth pic, I think I had better go and see what remains of my kitchen. I saw the Other One going in the back door with a hammer minutes ago and I can't have that!

Until next time...

Do You Believe...

....in Fairies? Or to be more precise (just for the purposes of this discussion)... in Pixies? You're looking a little confused and that's understandable. You thought the blog was about restoring the skills lost between our Grandparent's generation and ours... You're not wrong. No... I haven't been smoking the origanum (oregano) again (it was one time and to be fair, the Other one was smoking it and I took it off her in disgust... she thought it was pot. I did not. I only took a drag to see if it was really making purple bunnies come out of the ceiling tiles. For the record... it didn't and it was really unpleasant.) In fairness though, there were some pretty cool Fairies in the time of our Granny & Grandpa. And I'm not just talking about the closet queers of stage and screen... So, back to the fairies with the wings... you're still not so sure? Check these out... The Cottingley Fairies... They were very famous back in 1917...! Ok, so now that we've established that fairies are a part of the "Just Like My Gran"... can we continue? Thank you.



Ok, so whether you believe in fairies, pixies, gremlins, ghosts etc or not, at one time or another we've all blamed something from that list for something... "The email gremlins must've stolen the attachment"... "The fairies must've done it"... etc :-) Well, I have another one to add to the list. The Kitchen Pixie! Who scoffed? Come on... own up. I heard you... Was it you? No matter. The kitchen pixie is very real. And I can prove it! I've established this theory after many hours of deep contemplation and much investigation and there simply is no answer that fits better than a small, quick witted vixen in a Swarovski studded ruby gown who dwells in your kitchen and ... "does" stuff.

"Like what?" our beloved Miss Twinset asks. As well she might. Here it is. My Theory. The Kitchen Pixie... hereafter known as "Ruby".... is responsible for many of the almost unnoticed things that happen in our kitchens every day. The missing lid to your favourite Tupperware? She hid it. The plate on the stove that mysteriously stayed too hot and burnt that dish? She wiggled the switch. The loaf of bread that wasn't sealed and went stale? Yup, that was her too! Now... it's not all bad. In fact, it's more good than bad. You see, she has a wicked sense of humour and the pranks are just to keep you in line.

She's also largely responsible for the strange and inexplicable good stuff too! Examples? Well, you know that silver serving spoon that you've hunted everywhere for? The one that's well and truly gone and might have been pinched by your dotty Aunt Gertrude? Well, it's Murphy's Law that when you open the silverware drawer to prove that it's gone... there it will be, glinting happily at you from the top of the pile. You stare at it in disbelief while the family member shrugs and puts it down to your failing memory. If you listen closely at that point, you'll hear the tinkling bell laughter of the little minx as she darts out of view... ! Her favourite trick though is car keys! No matter where you leave them in the house (even the freezer... don't ask, it was a long day), she'll find them and return them to where you thought you left them, hours after you looked there (twice). It's enough to drive you mad, but it's all in a days work for her!

In fairness, while she may move the whisk totally out of reach so that the sauce curdles, she's equally likely to find that missing recipe card and slip it under a magnet on the fridge (where you definitely wouldn't have put it yourself). She's actually an asset to the kitchen and her favourite thing is to watch you while you work and she's happiest while she's plotting her next escapade or surfing on sunbeams! Now, as she is the "kitchen pixie", you may wonder if she's any good at cooking. Truth is... from what I can gather... no. She's really good at eating though... as evidenced by that last cookie or slice of pie that simply disappeared from the fridge! And no... I didn't eat them! Hmph!

The trick to keeping your resident Kitchen Pixie happy is this... Provide plenty of yummy dishes for her to nibble off of. Leave the odd sparkly thing in the kitchen for her to play with (and keep) and always have something shiny (pot, spoon, bowl of water) for her to examine herself in. Oh... and don't take the pranks too personally! What happens if she's unhappy? You won't like it! I don't take any chances.... no, not even in the interests of providing a comprehensive blog on the subject. Ruby's here and I'm going to keep her happy!

So - all of you out there. Keep your eyes open and you may just catch a glimpse of a misplaced sparkle as it passes or hear a distant giggle... or find that missing pyrex dish :-) Proof that you may well have your own kitchen pixie. In the meantime... I'm going to stock up on sparkly things and see if I can't invite mine to participate more in this blog...

Until next time....

This Little Piggy...

We've all heard the children's rhyme - there's the compulsive shopaholic, the Miss Twinset wannabe, the carnivorous one who ate the cow, the vegetarian one who clucked in disapproval and the incontinent one who should've been cited for urinating in public... unless he was in diapers, in which case, it's probably not an issue. Pardon? I can't hear you when you're talking into your wine glass. That's better... breathe between mouthfuls Miss Twinset. The night is still young! Ok... you wanted to ask why he would be in diapers... well, he is usually the littlest piggy, so it's reasonable to guess that he might be a child. Yes - or a really short, old man. Happy? Great.... Still, funny how as children, we never noticed that the pigs were eating the cows. Wonder if that has some deep, dark meaning...? Anyway. Back to my piggy :-)

My piggy was none of the above. In fairness, I didn't know the piggy personally, but I do know that he (or she) had great taste (yes... tongue in cheek intended). To begin the tale of the piggy, we need to go back several weeks to a casual conversation which took place with a fellow kitchen connoisseur over the meet counter of our local supermarket. We were discussing this blog and my quest for ingredients for dishes to experiment with. I mentioned a desire to do a pork roast, but alas - queue mood music - the cuts were unsuitable, too large and expensive and with a heavy heart, we tore ourselves away. Scoot forward a bit until last week while I was still down with kidney stones and a phone call from my beloved Father who informed me that he had not only found, but (be still my beating heart) had bought me a suitably sized piece of piggy to roast. Squeeeeeee - queue jumping for joy :-)

So, the piggy had been secured - which as the Other One pointed out, didn't take much as it was already dead. Yes, she was aware of the fact that it meant we had it, but I think her sense of humour was making a rare bid for escape from the vodka haze that it found itself in that evening! The question now was what to do with it? And the first person who points out that we're going to roast it, is instructed to slap themselves on my behalf! The question was what was I going to do to it before or during cooking? Was I going to experiment wildly or do something a little more traditional? Hmmm... Considering the state of my health for the weeks preceding the grand roast, I decided to go with more traditional. Sorry, I'll be a bit crazy next time (and you know there'll be a next time!). Miss Twinset was all for doing a Riesling reduction and potato dumplings, but I told her that was a dish for a different day. So she drank it instead. No surprise really :-)

Ok, so once the piggy had defrosted (it had been kindly frozen for freshness until I was ready), it was time to prep the dish. For those of you who haven't been reading since the beginning... step 1 is turning on the oven! In this case, the oven was only preheated to 100 deg Celsius (212 F) as I had decided to slow roast this overnight for maximum tenderness. It also meant that I could ignore the meal for the better part of 12 hours and still get it done :-) To prepare the dish, I peeled 3 carrots and an onion. This (the onion) was chopped into 1/8ths and then I took a sweet Golden Delicious apple and chopped it into 1/8ths also... and cored it of course :-) These were placed into the bottom of my roasting dish with a little oil and some soya sauce. As you can possibly see from the pic, I spiced these ingredients. The pork was also heavily spiced with an assortment of things including loads of black pepper, salt, garlic flakes, dried garlic and even some barbeque spice! Yes. I am aware that this is not beef. Barbeque spice is not an elitist spice. No matter what rumours you may have heard. Moving on... when the meat was prepared, I put it on top of the onions, carrots and apple. Nifty tip... before you spice the top of the meat, dry it off with some kitchen roll. My kitchen guru told me (and he's right) that this will help it crisp up nicely :-)

I then popped the lid on and.... What? You're interrupting me. Can't you just mix another batch of martini's?? Why is there a lid? Well, you need to cover it to retain moisture so that the dish doesn't dry out and burn. I thought that was fairly obvious? (Picture a manicured hand tapping me on the shoulder) True. Considering that the audience may have more of the Other one in it than Miss Twinsets... I suppose it wasn't that obvious. May I continue? Thank you. Ok... so I put the lid on and put it into the preheated oven. This was done around 9pm on the Saturday evening and I went to bed and slept soundly while the piggy was snug and warm in the oven :-) The following morning, around 9am, I took it out of the oven and added some more carrots (just 'cos I really like them) and put it back in the oven.

While the dish was keeping warm, I peeled and chopped the potatoes that had to be added during the final few hours of cooking. When I'd quartered the medium sized spuds, I spiced them with salt and fresh ground black pepper and then tucked them into the roasting dish like a blankie round the piggy :-) No, not pigs in blankets, that's a different dish altogether! Ok, so the spuds are in and - as it's nearly 10am on a Sunday, the air is filled with the sounds of a cocktail shaker being shaken by a pro! Miss Twinset has opened her Sunday wine and has decided it's a good vintage after all. Took 2 glasses, but who's counting? I asked her not to breathe too close to me while I was cooking as I needed to be sober to finish this dish. That and the fact that I didn't know how alcohol would react to my pain meds :-D

After about 40 min or so, when the potatoes had cooked (with a turn in the middle of the cooking time), I removed the lid and turned up the heat a little so that the top of the pork could crisp. I let this cook for about another 40 min until it was ready and then removed the pork, potatoes, carrots and onions from the juice in the base of the roasting dish. This was then placed onto the stove top and over a medium heat, I added gravy powder to the juices. It's important to stir this constantly so that it doesn't go lumpy. If you add too much and it turns into "one slice or two?" gravy, you can simply add some more water to thin it out.

This was so easy to do and it was completely delish after having slow roasted overnight. In fact, it flaked apart when I tried to slice it and the bones came away totally clean - to the despair of my dog who had been holding out hope that there'd be something in it for him. I did give him some of the meat, but only a little bit as it was simply too yummy to share :-) Out of interest, the apple simply adds a touch of fruitiness to the gravy and is completely optional! I could've made my own apple sauce (and probably should've as it would've been a great way to use up the apples that are auditioning for the role of corpse on CSI in my fruit bowl), but I didn't. Store bought can be just as good and as it happens, I had some in the cupboard.

Miss Twinset is lobbying hard for a Riesling pork dish next time round (I had a great dish in a cloister in Germany... if I find the recipe I'll definitely make it), but the Other one is mumbling something about using brandy or rum or vodka... oh wait, not the vodka. That's for drinking :-)

So.... until next time....

Comfort Food...

... is never going to be a salad!!

Ok, so as it happens, I have been down with a kidney stone attack since 31 August... hence the silence on the blogging front! Sorry. Pain trumps typing every time :-) Now you may be wondering why I'm blogging now... Am I better? NO!! Cough. Urm... No, not at present. However, I've got really great drugs and I missed you guys :-) Strange but true :-) I won't dwell on it too much, but I have to tell you that it's a special kind of pain and something you cannot explain to someone else. If you've had it... you'll know. If you haven't... pray! Pray that you never do!

Now, what has this got to do with comfort food you may be wondering? Well, the truth of it is that kidney stones and medication can leave you feeling very sick. It's times like that that you need to find something to eat that appeals to you and that can be a hard thing! It doesn't help to have Miss Twinset sipping her glass of white wine and nibbling daintily on a cracker that's oozing one of those cheeses that smells like it was kept in a college freshman's gym bag for a month. That is not a smell you want when you're feeling sick let me tell you! I asked her not to do that and she dabbed at the crumbs on her lips with her hanky (yup, still lace trimmed) and frowned at me while she delicately speared a preserved fig slice from the main platter. She and the Other One had decided that they weren't going to cook while I was down and instead they had their tipple of choice, a cheese and fruit platter and a mixed box of crackers. I'm tempted to say that they ARE a mixed box of crackers, but that is a terrible injustice... to crackers :-)

So. While she was frowning at me, I was watching the cheese on the cracker as it glanced around shiftily and tried to decide when to make a break for it. I had visions of moving a sofa cushion months from now and finding that oozing lump of cheese holding court with the small change and crumbs that have congregated back there. It's a worrying thought. So, desperate to avoid that, I drew her attention back to the plate before her and then checked on the Other One who was shaking a fresh batch of martini's, stealing ice out of the wine cooler. Miss Twinset can cook of course, we've established that, but I just didn't feel like any of the food in her repertoire. I also didn't feel like coaching her through a new dish. Again :-)

Now. What I felt like was bacon and "Corned Beef Hash". The hash is simple enough to make, but when it comes to comfort food - especially when you're sick - it's best to do it yourself :-) First things first though. I had had a craving for bacon all week and as this was my first foray into the kitchen (other than for an almost unending parade of marmite, syrup and peanut butter sandwiches), I decided to make the most of it! So, bacon was my absolute first step... Now you may be wondering what is in the picture with the bacon. It's actually fried potato skins... waste not want not! They're really yummy and since I'd just peeled the potatoes for the hash, it was convenient. I also fried them with the bacon, so they had a great flavour.... but that wasn't the main reason I got out of bed :-)

Ok, so while the bacon was cooking for lunch, I peeled the potatoes and onions and chopped them all. The onions went into the same oil that the bacon had come out of. Miss Twinset glared disapprovingly at me, but I have to say, you can't waste flavour like that. I asked her if she'd throw out the last half glass of a bottle of wine and her horrified look said it all! So, with her safely tucked into the corner and the Other One still in the sitting room battling the ever escaping cheese, I carried on with the task at hand. It's strangely comforting to be cooking - especially something you want to eat! The onions were cooked until they were soft and browned (they picked up all the great bacon flavour).

In the meantime, while that was going on, I had put the chopped up potatoes on to boil. These would be mashed with milk, butter, salt and pepper when cooked... YUM! I could probably have eaten just the potatoes at that point... I don't often eat potato anymore and it's a treat :-) It's also a fantastic stress reliever when you've been held hostage by pain all week! You get to bash out all your frustration and I think it's fair to say that there wasn't a single lump left in that pot when I was done... I felt a bit better though. Shrug.

Now we come to the corned beef. This is always a troubling part of the dish for me. After all. It's meat. In a tin. That has a shelf life of 5 years. All of this is ok, but I always wonder why the tins are rusty when they were only made a few months ago? By now, the Other One had joined us in the kitchen and she was really turning her nose up at corned beef on the chopping board. I forget how sheltered she is with all her staff. And booze. I admit though that it never looks as great as it tastes. The only time I cannot eat it is when I find a bit of blood vessel in there. It's a bit like vienna's or polony. Don't ask. Don't tell. "La la la la la - I'm not listening to you - la la la la la" Yes. My fingers ARE in my ears.

Now, back to those onions that you've fried... yes we did - earlier. Focus! Add the chopped up corned beef to the frying pan. At this point, you can also add chopped tomatoes (I didn't have any) and then you fry this mix for a little longer until the corned beef breaks up. You can also add seasoning like salt, pepper, chutney - whatever takes your fancy really. Then, you tip the mashed potato into the frying pan and smoosh (we've covered this before... it's a real cooking term) the entire lot around until it's picked up all the flavour from the pan. Then you tip it all into an ovenproof dish and sprinkle cheese on top and bake it briefly in the oven ... or, if you're like me, you just microwave it melt the cheese :-)

It's certainly the ugly step sister of meals, but it tastes really great!! Comfort food the way comfort food was meant to be!

Until next time...

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...