Bread and Pheasants

I have always thought there is a difference between urban and rural poverty – I only know about the rural side.

We lived in a village and we were sometimes broke, rather than always poor.

There were days when bread and eggs were it for an evening meal, my single mother coming in late from her job and the meal up to me and my sister to create. 

There isn’t too much you can do with eggs and bread, but those times taught me how to look in the fridge and make something out of what was there.

And I had been taught by my mother, who loved to cook and my grandmother whose definition of the heart of the home was to have something baking or bubbling.

We didn’t have food waste issues – we couldn’t afford it.

But we did have cooking skills and that made all the difference. If I had been taught to garden as well as I was taught to cook with whatever we could afford, I’d be opening the (currently a lot less than perfect) garden to the public. 

Currently only Steve, our lovely postman sees much of it. I rest my case.

There is a real difference between broke and poor.

If you are broke, it is a temporary situation and the chances are you have some food stocks – and to this day, when I am neither broke or poor, I have a stock of tinned tomatoes on the basis you can always start a meal with a tin of tomatoes.

(Once when I was living in a posh flat overlooking Tower Bridge, my mother came to stay and opened a cupboard to find my tinned tomato stash. Even she, a woman who knew a few things about making ends meet, thought I might have been a bit excessive in my stockpiling.)

If you were rural poor in my youth, you ate a lot of pheasant, apples, runner beans, potatoes.

Pheasants shot by neighbours or friends would be dropped on our step, vegetable gluts were shared around – we weren’t gardeners but looking back, we should have been.

Whilst a roast chicken was a special treat and my mother’s speciality, Viennese Beef, was only for high days and birthdays, pheasant was a regular. 

So, I am now rural and not poor or broke, or just managing, or dealing with loosing may job  but I have held on to my roots, and am now thinking about what to do with stale bread and a pheasant or two.

I have started volunteering at the Free Shop in Petersfield. (You can skip the next bit if you know about it – I have to say I didn’t until recently.

Anyway, we get food from the local supermarkets which is just at its best before date and gluts from gardeners and allotment holders, and people can come in and take what they want/need for free and that means it doesn’t get wasted.)

We get a lot of bread and I have been thinking about what to do with it. 

I made a bread pudding – rather dense and I am not sure that it has received ecstatic reviews but I will re-think the recipe.

This week, I am experimenting with a savoury bread and butter pudding.

Caramelised onions, tomatoes with herbs, bread and butter, eggs, milk, cheese. All layered and baked.

Meanwhile, yesterday, I was on an enjoyable village litter pick up organised by a ‘new’ local, and yes we got stuff out of ditches and hedges – nice rural areas apparently attract people who want to sit in a car, watch the sun go down and throw their empty bottles out of the window.

(Come and sit, chat, watch birds, do other much more exciting things in your car, but can you take your litter home?

Mind you if you did, what would us middle class people have as an excuse to socialise and be outraged at the same time.)

Anyway, I was talking to the man who organised said litter pick and he and his wife are thinking about setting up a project to get the ‘excess’ pheasants to people who needed a helping hand.

Now, I am not sure that the people who come into our Free Food Shop would pick up a pheasant but I bet they would if it was in a pie or a casserole….

So, for that we need a fridge, and I have possibly got to move from hygiene level 2 to 3 – watch this space.

This takes me back to my youth, so I am up for it.

I need to crowd fund a commercial fridge ( £1,000). I need to work it all out but I think it might work.

Anyone know about crowd funding – I’ve never done it before?

And before I forget – urban poverty…

Some years ago, I spent time with the CEO of Lewisham Council. We were talking about nutrition and food.

He told me to think about what it was like to live in a high-rise flat as a single parent, with two young children, to get to the bus stop with them, change buses and get to Tescos with two tetchy kids.

Then you could see that buying in bulk would be cheaper in the long run but you don’t have the money to buy in bulk.

You don’t have the ‘training’ to cook so it is all seriously hard work, and whatever you buy you have to take home on those buses with your kids.

How much easier it is to go to Costcutter and buy a pizza. 

And who could blame that parent.

Did I Tell You About My Holiday?

I will start with the apology that we were lucky enough to be able to go to Florence and surrounding areas in September.

Now the apology is over, I can tell you some stuff about it.

So, as I was saying, we got to go to Italy when there were few other tourists – well there were some young German professionals who had driven down to Italy – some not so much working from home as working from the terrace of a pleasant agro-tourisma.

I could show off about the places we got to stay which we would never normally be able to afford or book. Shall I ? Oh, you look less than enthusiastic at the prospect of me boasting.

Are you sure you don’t want to see some photos? Really no? OK then, I will move on…

But just let me tell you this. Because there was no queue and not many people, there was space and time to look at some pictures. I won’t go on about the big stuff but look at this. Who’d have thought – Mark Rylance in the Uffizi.

Anyway, moving on, I am an atheist but the Best Beloved and I do like to visit a church. 

And there were some very fine examples in Italy ( did I mention we were there in September?…)

I do like a good fresco and some of them were very fine indeed.

This is the drunkenness of Noah. I didn’t know anything about this biblical story so I looked it up and it turns out there are various interpretations including this one which I find a bit hard to believe:

Another explanation offered is that Noah was after the cognitive powers that could be harnessed through alcohol, wanting to broaden his horizons in the study of Torah.

Now I know that whilst any one of us can believe that we are much more witty and erudite when we have had a drop too much – we would be wrong – but I can’t ever recalling anyone I know thinking that a gallon of wine was going to sharpen their brains to the point where they could study complex theological texts to get never before known insights.

Then there is this explanation:

Noah wasn’t trying to imbibe spirits to lift his own. He also wasn’t looking to drink in moderation to jump-start his brain. Noah’s plan from the beginning was to go all in, to get completely under-the-table, stripped-down-to-the-flesh plastered.

Having witnessed extreme depravity and immorality, and the destruction it left in its wake, Noah had come face to face with the consequences of sin. Noah got drunk (and subsequently disrobed) as an ambitious attempt to return the world to the innocent time before sin. He was trying to undo and reverse the negative effects of Adam and Eve’s sin in the Garden of Eden.

Really? Let’s get really drunk and drive out all sin. I think you need a stronger drug to be able to convince yourself of that.

Anyway, in the same church there was this lovely fresco marred only by the fact that Jospeh seems to be having his dream whilst covered by a rather cheap and nasty duvet cover. ( Sorry, if it  matches the one you love most.)

Indeed that duvet cover seems to have been all the rage with San Gimignano painters as look, here is another one.

(Job lot at the local Dunelm maybe.)

Now, this one is part of the decoration in a bedroom and the series of frescos  which are the equivalent of a wedding day photo album.

An interesting way to start your wedding day is apparently riding on your new husband’s back and beating him. I make no comment, but clearly the onlookers in the bird hide are somewhat surprised.

I am impressed he keeps his hat on throughout the whole series of events…..

I love this next one because that young man has clearly just remembered he has forgotten his mother’s birthday, or to renew his MOT, or any number of things we have all forgotten with Covid brains.

What exactly he is doing sitting at the bedside of someone who insists on wearing his hat of office in bed, is anyone’s guess.

I used to work for the National Rivers Authority and learned quite a bit about flooding – and the misery a flooded home – so I am interested in San Frediano and his rake.

This ex-Irish prince-come-hermit was appointed the bishop of Lucca.

( I can tell you of a lovely place to stay in Lucca if you wanted some holiday information, just saying.)

Anyway the good people of Lucca came to said bishop and asked if he could do anything about the flooding of the River Serchio and Fred ( as I am sure his friends called him) took a rake to the river’s edge.

The legend goes that he persuaded the river to follow his rake and took it away from the danger zone.

There are all sorts of things I could say about movement of water courses in flood plains and displaced water and canalising rivers and the impact and so on and so on. But I won’t bore you.

What I will say is that by the looks of the strapping lads and the work going on, the bishop was smart enough to get a few more flood resources to hand than just his rake.

And finally, there are times when you need a break from church visiting.

More on Aunt Jessie

Just a quick re-cap: the Best Beloved and I have an autumn project to find out who Aunt Jessie was, and who painted her.

So, this is a long read and there is only one picture

Two strokes of luck and serendipity have got us this far:

Aunt Jessie was Jessamine Thompson, a dressmaker by profession, born 1874 and who died in a mental hospital in 1943.

She lived as head of the household with her brother James and sister Margaret, in Heaton and then by 1939, she was living alone in Jesmond.

We only ever knew her as Aunt Jessie, and had no other information except that she had come down the female line to my BB, and that his mother’s family were based in and around Newcastle.

Having posted about this, it turns out the BB’s niece was smart enough to ask her grandmother (Joan) about Aunt Jessie and to get her grandmother to write out that bit of the family tree – and was is more, she had kept it. 

This is what Caroline ( aforementioned niece – it may be hard to keep up with all these family links..) knows:

The picture is Jessimane Thompson. She is Joan’s actual Aunt. Sister of Joan’s mother Margaret Thompson. Daughter of James Thompson and Jane Ellen Watson who married in 1868. Jessimane never married. Her sister Elizabeth did and named her daughter Jessimane

Caroline also said her grandmother had said Aunt Jessie was clever and independent, and indeed she has that air about her.

Meanwhile, as they say, I was Googling trying to find out about the art scene in Newcastle in that period when I came across a really interesting leaflet called Artists in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne 1820 -1900.

(We were pretty sure Aunt Jessie had been painted around the turn of the century judging by the clothes she wears – but what do we know…..)

Anyway, it was a really interesting read and as a long shot, I looked up the author, Gill Hedley, and sent her an email asking if she might be able to point me in the direction of research. 

I was thinking she might point me in the direction of an amateur art historian with an interest in the period who might be able to – well, actually I wasn’t sure what.

We have no signature on the painting as far as we have found yet, so identifying the artist and even their relationship is going to require research skills we have yet to discover in ourselves…

The other night, waiting for the kettle to boil as tea in bed with a good book is an essential, I was checking my emails and imagine my delight when I found this:

What a nice email to receive, especially prompted by something I wrote so very many years ago. 

I now write more or less full time, largely biographies, so this sort of research piques my interest. I’ll start by saying that it is a very nice painting. I have no instant idea of the artist but am happy to look a bit further. I have looked up Miss Thompson (what a lovely name, Jessamine) on an ancestry site and find she was a dressmaker born 1874, died 1943. Very sadly, that was in a mental hospital as I expect you know  Forgive me, if you did not. Perhaps she lost someone 1914-18. She lived with a brother and a sister in Heaton as an adult and was the head of the household. Then in 1939, she was on her own in Jesmond, where I grew up;  she was in a street very near where I lived when I wrote that leaflet.

I would guess the portrait was painted before the war, maybe 1910, but why? Did she have a friend who was a professional painter? Maybe the artist was a dressmaking client or his wife was? The artist and the sitter knew each other, clearly. This is not a commission.  Intriguing.

I will look at all the portraits in the Tyne and Wear museums collection to start with. These are all on the wonderful ARTUK website but I have it in print form which makes clicking through a bit easier.

How annoying to have no signature. Is there nothing on the back at all? Nothing to be seen anywhere on the front under a very strong raking light? You are safe to use spit on a soft cloth to enable a closer look in either bottom corner…socially distant, of course!

Anyway, your really long shot has found its aim and I will see what I can do.

 Best wishes

Gill

What a stroke of amazing luck to find someone who has much better things to do, willing to help.

If you have any doubt that Gill Hedley has better things to do than research Aunt Jessie, see here

https://www.gillhedley.co.uk

And I have found an art restorer who says she will have a look at Aunt Jessie and tell us what is needed to fix her up.

She said it was not necessarily all that common to sign a painting especially if the sitter and the painter knew each other well and the painter was not a big name.

So, even when we get the back off, we may be none the wiser.

I sent a photo to a Newcastle auctioneers to see if they can shed any light and got a reply saying portraits weren’t great sellers – if you don’t have any connection with the person, why have it, except to decorate a room in your B&B and who wants to pay much for that…

He said,

An excellent painting that unfortunately, may struggle to find a market.  Portraits are particularly difficult to sell.

Auction value is probably less than £60.  We would accept this for auction but you should consider carefully before proceeding.

I take this as meaning, please don’t put this into an auction ( not that we ever would.)

So, here we are so far.

But who was Elizabeth mentioned by Joan in her family tree conversation as we know that Jessamine had a sister Margaret ( mother of Joan) and a brother James who are in the records.

So, to add mystery. An ancestry site records an Elizabeth Thomson, daughter of James and Jane Ellen ( Jessamine’s parents’ names) and she was christened in September 1874.

Which is the same birth year as Jessamine.

But there is no mention of her except for Caroline’s record that she married and had a daughter which she named Jessamine….

And who painted Aunt Jessie?

Soup

The Observer monthly food supplement this week was 20 of the ‘best’ seasonal classics. It happens every year – food publications do an autumn special on comfort food.

Now, I may be a little stuck-in-the-mud, not down-with-the-food-kids, but I cannot see a beetroot and egg salad as autumn comfort food. Nice easy recipe but I am not sure on these darkening evenings, the Best Beloved would see a beetroot salad as anything very comforting.

Neither am I convinced by fish fragrant aubergines  and likewise chickpeas, swiss chard and soft poached eggs – but that maybe because I am not a huge chickpea fan and have never mastered a poached egg.

( I have never doubted that Jeremy Lee has a much more refined palate than me but would love to hear that his real idea of comfort food is spaghetti hoops on toast.)

Risotto yes, dal yes, a really good bolognese yes, but where are the savoury pies, cassroles/stews? I fancy the tomato curry but expecting to get ‘fresh green peppercorns 2 branches’ in Petersfield is as likely as hearing the government say they might have got a few things wrong.

So, onto soup. 

I should point out at this stage that I have taken no photos – artful or otherwise – of the soups I make so recipes come without illustrations. Sorry.

There is a rather interesting soup recipe in the Observer supplement which I might do. 

And hats off to Olia Hercules (partly for having such a good name) but also because she says what all soup cooks know, suggestions on  what you can substitute, and using up stuff from the freezer or fridge.

Soup is a staple in our house not least because the BB has home-made soup with bread and cheese every day for lunch come rain or shine. He likes his smooth, so a stick-blender is great and not much washing up. 

I like variations on a minestrone but as he is soup king, smooth soup commentary comes first and you will have to go to the end to find the chunkier stuff.

Did you know that the word restaurant morphed from restoratif, which was soup sold by street vendors in 16th century Paris. https://soupmakerguide.co.uk/soup-through-the-ages-the-history-of-soup/

I like that, soup is restorative, healthy and comforting and a great way to use those veg found at the back of the fridge or reduced in the supermarket, or a glut of tomatoes or courgettes etc etc.

It also keeps for days and is a good source of the 5 veg a day.

I am no good a writing recipes – no wonder all these chefs and famous cooks have assistants to test and be accurate with quantities, it is not that easy.

But here goes with some soup stuff.

Basically, you need some stock, some veg, meat if you want it, and some thickening agent – potatoes, sweet potatoes, red lentils, squash….. 

If like me you like to get a few meals out of a roast chicken, you can make stock and that adds a real nice depth. Take your carcass and put with a litre of water and some flavourings – peppercorns, herbs or spices as you fancy a bit of salt, a bayleaf or two always helps I think.

Simmer for an hour or so. Take out bones and pick off chicken slivers and put back in. If you want a concentrated flavour then simmer briskly until reduced to half the quantity.

Soup 1 is a combination made from what was left at the back of the fridge more than a decade ago – I realise that sentence could be misread, so a minimum of food hygiene considerations do need to apply.

Soup 1

Chop up a two red peppers and get rid of seeds. Chop up some leeks say three of them. Some sweet potato chopped – one large, or two small say – these are quantity suggestions.

Obviously, the smaller you chop everything the quicker it will cook.

Cook the peppers and leeks in a glug of oil as Jamie Oliver would say, until softening and don’t let the leeks go brown at the edges.

Add in a litre of stock – cube, fresh, I use Marigold Bouillon – and the sweet potato. As well as any herbs/spices you fancy ( I don’t use any in this soup.)

When everything is nicely soft, blend it and taste so that you can add salt or pepper or whatever.

Soup 2

Take some frozen peas – use the same amount as you would a serving of peas per person. 

Peel and chop up some potatoes ( not new potatoes as they don’t mush well.) Use a medium sized potato per two servings.

Add in stock  to cover the potatoes and peas to say two centimetres above the veg. Bear in mind you can always add some stock if you end up with something too thick but it is not easy to take it out…

Cook until potatoes are soft and if you have some fresh mint, add the leaves in just before you think everything is cooked. If you have mint jelly or mint sauce, you can add a dollop after you have blended it. Best in mind that mint sauce is quite vinegary so be careful and taste as you go.

Soup 3

You can never overcook a mushroom – I am sure that is not strictly true but it is always surprising me that recipes suggest that you can cook a mushroom quickly and they are clearly just plain wrong.

Chop some mushrooms and gently fry in the aforementioned oil. Don’t worry if lots of mushroom liquid comes out, just keep going until if is pretty much gone. 

If you are channelling your inner posh cook, you can add a splash of mushroom ketchup ( and yes I can get that in Petersfield).

And you can put some dried mushrooms in hot water whilst this is happening and if the water becomes gritty you can lift out the mushrooms and add to the stock or if there is no grit add the liquid too.

I add some dried tarragon into the cooking mushrooms – a sprinkle.

Bear in mind that like cabbage, cooked mushrooms are a much smaller business than raw ones.

Brown mushrooms make better soup that white ones – but hey ho, let’s not get too picky.

Right, so you have been cooking the mushrooms for say half an hour, gently.

Peel and chop some potatoes/sweet potatoes quite small so say you have half the quantity of potatoes as you have cooked mushrooms.

Add potatoes, mushrooms, stock, etc to a pan and cook until the potatoes are done.

Blend and taste.

If you have a thick soup you can add some milk or cream and that does make it taste rather luxury-ish.

Soup 3

This is made of food from the excellent free shop in Petersfield which is run by volunteers and offers free food ( unsurprisingly) gleaned from people’s allotments, the local supermarkets who give stuff which is coming to its sell by date.

Chop up some courgettes/nearly marrows/marrows. Also chop up some tomatoes or use tinned tomatoes ( the best you can afford.)

Fry the courgettes and when nicely golden add fresh tomatoes and cook until they are a soft.

Meanwhile chop potatoes or sweet potatoes and cook in stock – stock should cover the potatoes with say an extra two centimetres. 

When pretty much cooked, add in courgettes and fresh or tinned tomatoes.

If you like you can add a dollop of pesto after you have blended, and stir around.

If you are feeling luxury-ish then before you blend – let the soup cool a bit – and add in a whole Boursin cheese.

Soup 4

Take whatever veg you have in the fridge – parsnips, carrot, celery, potatoes, broccoli, cauliflower, swede, garlic. ( Not aubergines – never known a good aubergine in a soup) and put them into a pan with stock and a handful of red lentils. Cook, blend and that will work. You can add herbs and seasonings so taste as you go along. Sprinkle with cheese, brush stale bread with oil and cook in a 180 oven for say ten minutes or put under the grill and chop up into croutons. 

I know that was a bit slapdash as a recipe but hey if you have read so far, you will be a soup making expert.

Soup 5

So, at last a chunkier soup.

And here I steal from the River Cafe so I will just give you the link and say follow that and you will be onto a winner.

https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/river-cafes-winter-minestrone

However, if you want something that doesn’t require cavalo nero, use a cabbage of any kind.

And here are some other options.

Carrots chopped, celery chopped, onions chopped, leeks chopped, garlic chopped.

Fry carrot and celery gently for quite a long time so that the edges go a bit brown. Add in onions and leeks and garlic. Add in a tin of tomatoes or not as you prefer.

Add in stock and bring to the boil. Add in a handful of pasta – any one will do including broken strips of spaghetti.

Take a tin of beans – any beans will do. Including baked beans but rinse them of their sauce and of course, red kidney beans need a very good rinse.

Add in some chopped chives, some parsley to counteract the garlic, or any herbs you have.

Add in some cooked ham/chicken/whatever you have – or some cooked mushrooms (see above and make sure they are cooked.)

If you want a thicker base, take some of the soup and blend then add back into the soup.

Aunt Jessie – Our Autumn Project

We have a habit of planning projects when we are on holiday – if you ask me, I can tell you of planning a joint book on the history of the lens planned in a particularly dramatic thunderstorm in Croatia (planned but never realised and there is a story about that thunderstorm but let’s not get distracted…..) – this time, it is to discover who Aunt Jessie was.

Aunt Jessie has been passed down to my Best Beloved from his mother Joan and she was a woman who comprehensively left home – once she was gone, she was gone.

So, the BB has no idea who Aunt Jessie was and why her picture survived in his mother’s affections and belongings.

But she did, and she has been part of our lives.

In Brussels she hung above our fireplace visible from outside, and once someone stopped me as I was leaving the house and told me how much they enjoyed seeing her every day as they walked past our house. ‘She is such a wise woman,’ she said.

Aunt Jessie has moved with us, she hangs in our sitting room and now watches us occasionally clean, watches my BB write his history of Europe, and me and the dog watch Antiques Roadshow.

She needs a bit of cleaning and repairing which we keep meaning to do – but we really want to know who she is.

It is our Autumn/new lockdown project and I am hoping by putting this out into the ether, someone will help us on our way.

Was she really an aunt, or just a family friend who got called auntie by the children – I had lots of people like that in my childhood.

Who painted her, when and why?

We don’t have much to go on.

But here is what we have:

Joan’s parents were Margaret and Harold Tait. Harold was a ‘sea-going engineer’ according to their daughter Joan’s birth certificate.

He was a ship’s engineer on an oil tanker and torpedoed outside Harwich in the first world war.

They lived at 50 Tosson Terrace, Newcastle Upon Tyne when Joan was born in 1918 – she was an only child.

Margaret’s maiden name was Thompson.

Joan’s parents’ names were not uncommon and they were married in 1915.

Harold died on February 13th 1957 at Westgate Road, Wingrove.

Margaret died in June 1964 in Tunbridge Wells – where Joan was living – and she live with the Witney family for a while and then went into a home and died in 1964.

Joan went on to marry Kenneth Percy Witney and gave her address as 76 Simmonside Terrace, Newcastle and her father’s ‘rank or profession’ as marine engineer.

They were married in Kensington in 1947.

She was private secretary to the Scottish Secretary and was commuting between Edinburgh and London where Kenneth was private secretary to the Home Office Minister Ellen Wilkinson. ( And she is worth looking up.)

Kenneth gave his father’s name and profession as Thomas Charles Witney, missionary, but that is another story….

So, that is what we have.

If anyone has any ideas on who she was or how to find out more about Aunt Jessie, thank you.

For Rosa

I can still remember the day I got my A level results.

I was expected to get an A (an A star by current standards) in English.

So, I had always been a bookworm and knew more about books than my fellow students, would be called back by my English teacher talk about books I had read which were not on the curriculum.

I had written a short story which got a national award. 

I was really on for a good grade.

I got an E.

I was absolutely devastated. 

I can’t even remember my other grades, I was so shocked by the English result.

So, a friend who had left school at 16 who was thoughtful, and in lots of ways smarter than me, and who died two year later in a motorbike accident, took me for a walk.

He made me walk a long way from my home, up to the Malvern hills and then up to the Worcestershire Beacon – and sit.

He had timed it right, so we watched the sun go down and he said to me, ‘You are more than your A level results. Whatever you do, I will still be here, and you will be amazing.’

He wasn’t, and I wasn’t.

But I have had a good professional life which has had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with my A level results.

Easy to say now, if I was back on that day, or on this day with those stupidly given grades, I would still be devastated.

So, for my niece who is funny thoughtful, amazingly smart, who is surprisingly 18 and who still disarms me with memories of how we checked out my jewellery stories, who knows to take a water sprayer on a hot dog walk, who has passed her driving test, who has thought about what she wants to do with her life much more than I ever had at her age…and so much more that are just between aunt and fave niece.

I salute you.

I want to say to you, ‘I will still be here for you and you will be amazing.’

From books to beans

Looking for an alternative to Oxfam, no one who knows me well will be surprised to learn,  I have turned to food.

My grandmother who taught me, among many other things to make good pastry, and was no mean cook – her meat and potato pie was a legend in our family – was also of the generation who thought food waste was a crime.

My mother was a more adventurous cook – my grandmother thought olive oil should be bought from the chemist, and warmed so cotton wool could be dipped in it and put in your ear to sort out earache. My mother wanted to make an interesting salad dressing.

So, with these inheritances, I am embarking on a new volunteering career campaigning against food waste.

( Living on the cusp of Deepest Sussex and Hampshire, I contacted both county councils and Hampshire won hands down – a phone call a day later and a friendly and welcoming man talking to me about how welcome I would be – Sussex, not a word…)

I know quite a but about rootling around in the back of the fridge and finding a few ingredients which need using up – a poor childhood with a mother and grandmother behind me, worked wonders.

But if I am honest, I waste more food than I would like to.

At the start of lockdown, I was really good.

The fridge ( like the rest of the house) was cleaned and organised within an inch of its life ( that I must add, was a one-off.)

And I couldn’t nip into Waitrose at the end of an Oxfam shift to pick up a little something for supper. No Oxfam, no Waitrose, no driving anywhere….

Getting a few things added to next door’s Occado delivery was a heady delight.

And not a thing went to waste. 

But now, for the moment, things are easier and I am being more free and easy with my stocks.

Neither have I ever learned much about food waste except to know there is a lot of it and it isn’t good.

So, if dear reader, you have got this far and only really read my blog for interesting books stuff, now is the time to (hopefully) regretfully turn away.

Thanks to a friend here is a link which might you stop and think – only read if you are a meat-eater – 

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/aug/09/shelf-life-of-21-days-or-more-could-save-red-meat-waste-say-uk-industry-bodies?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Outlook

Who knew?

I will be talking to my local butcher about this.

Meanwhile, here is a recipe based on a desire not to waste food and the belief that a tin of tomatoes can be the basis of a hundred meals. ( I am lucky and therefore buy good quality Italian tins, but I can see Jack Munroe wincing as I write.)

Since lockdown, I have supplied some friends and neighbours with food – I can cook for four as well as for two and not everything will freeze so they have had my surplus.

I say that because my neighbour loved this.

We have grown french and runner beans this year. I was not a fan of runner beans until I ate them in Greece last year. And we now have a glut and I wanted to make something using them.

The Greeks cook them long and slow in a tomato sauce.

( Yes, garden space to grow veg, shopping in Waitrose, holidays in Greece – they are not a precursor to cooking this but I do realise how privileged it all is.)

Anyway, my friends and neighbours will attest to the fact that I rarely have a recipe so I will just talk you through it.

Aubergine Pie

So this is a pie which uses aubergines instead of pastry. You can fill it with anything you like – I have done lamb and mint, courgettes and lemon, sausages removed from their skins and broken up to cook with mustard and greens…… this version is vegan.

All you need to remember is that you need a tomato sauce and to make the filling thick enough to cut into ( maybe a bit sloppy) slices. Pasta helps with that but so would potatoes, lentils or just a sauce packed with vegetables or meat of whatever kind you fancy.

For four people:

Make a tomato sauce.

Fry some onions slowly for a while ( say a gentle heat for 20 minutes) then add some garlic to taste, some dried oregano to taste, or any other herb you fancy – fresh or dried. The only thing I am sure makes all the difference is a couple of bay leaves.

Add a tin of tomatoes, and keep the tin to one side. Cook, stirring and add some salt and pepper and/or my favourite Marigold bouillon. 

You need a thick sauce but you may need to rinse the tin of its last dregs of tomato-ness with some water to make a sauce not a burnt offering.

Of course you can make or use any tomato sauce you fancy or have.

Take the stringy sides of the runner beans and chop into any size you like, along with chopping up any other green beans you have.

Boil for a few minutes, drain and then put into cold water to keep them nice and green.

( If you have no green beans to hand, think about a tin of butter beans, or any other beans you have in a tin at the back of the cupboard.)

Add to tomato sauce and keep cooking until everything is nice and soft – this is not a recipe for crisp veg and indeed runner beans are not nice like that if you were of a mind to ask me.  

Stir now and then whilst you are doing something else – I have some good book recommendations and you could easily get through a chapter whilst this is cooking.

Take four aubergines and slice them lengthways and thinly. Doesn’t matter if they have been in the fridge for a while but is nicer if they are fresher.

Heat a griddle pan on a medium heat for say five minutes if you have one, or a frying pan. Brush one side of the slices with oil.

Put in the pan oil side down. When they are softening and there is not much less good to eat than an undercooked aubergine – brush the dry side with some more oil.

When they are cooked put to one side  and get on with the rest of them.

When they are all cooked get a flan or cake tin or a dish.

Lie some of the aubergines on the bottom – pretend it is the pastry bottom of a pie. If you have a small dish or enough aubergine slices, you can bring them up the sides.

Then cook some pasta – short of any kind, broken up spaghetti, tagliatelle or whatever. 

Pasta/sauce ratio is up to you, but bear in mind you want to be able to cut the finished rest into slices

Add a the pasta to the tomato sauce with a drop of the pasta cooking water if the sauce will take it without turning too runny.

Stir and pile on top of the aubergine slices. 

Cover with the rest of the slices. Drizzle some oil on the top or indeed, if feeling flashy, some grated cheese.

Put in the oven at 180 fan and leave for about 20 minutes or half an hour.

Eat hot or cold and send a slice round to the neighbours and then wait for appreciative comments.

Two things I have learned so far:

Blimey, it is hard to write anything approaching a recipe if you didn’t start with one. 

I am not a food stylist. See below

Leaving Oxfam 1

My days at the Oxfam bookshop in Petersfield are currently over. 

Here is my long, and rather self-indulgent, elegy to those days so do feel free to get on with other important things in your day. 

But if you stay with me on this, next time you go into a charity shop, a bookshop or indeed any local – and please shop local – shop, have a thought about the work and thinking that goes into making it happen.

People are it.

You might think that people who volunteer in a charity shop are all ageing women who have led sheltered, domestic, rather boring lives and –  of course – you would be wrong. For a start, not all our volunteers are women – but that is just the start……

I have worked alongside someone who has sheltered children during the Biafran War.

Someone who has survived, and dealt with, two brain tumours and gone on to spend a lot of time out and about and at the theatre, been a stalwart of Oxfam, and who gently manages all of us who are in her orbit.

Someone who spends her other time dealing with disadvantaged kids and refugees as well as her children and grandchildren and will call to say she is a bit late because she is juggling all those things.

The book sorter who races through sorting donations as quick as he (apparently) cycles, the other book sorter who  deals with ageing and indeed dying parents and a business selling bee homes, and has chats with the DVD volunteer, who by the way is a film-maker.

A volunteer who made, among many other creative stuff, a street of snowy houses as a backdrop for the table in winter and has more creative ideas of how to make the table look good than you can shake a stick at.

The expert in old books who taught me all I know about every old book – binding marks, pagination, half-calf, the importance of maps at the back, the delight of period adverts …. and who always got a cup of tea, and sometimes a chocolate biscuit.

People with illness, disability, difficulties of all sorts going on in their lives.

People who have moved on from death or divorce, dealt with cancer whilst still coming into the shop, and people who are willing to be (sometimes) bossed into doing extra stuff.

An artist, a full time environmental worker who gives up her Saturdays, two vinyl addicts, a classical music expert, an immigrant over here to be near grandchildren, an engineer, a brilliant ex-teacher who taught me so much in my early days and who makes the shop a lot of money by putting clothes online – yes even a bookshop takes clothes and makes money out of them for Oxfam, the woman who has children in school and had a bored brain and wanted to give something back, a friend roped in to come and help, and the volunteer who (very surprisingly) introduced me to the books of Game of Thrones. 

I hope I have covered everyone but a sure I have missed someone(s).

Volunteers do everything from being at the till and dealing with difficult regulars, taking the towels home to wash, tackling a huge pile of donated books, pricing, shelving, re-arranging the books front-facing, re-stocking the shelves, moving stock to create space for new goods, checking off barcoded goods, looking up the value of a donated dress, measuring the inside leg of a pair of donated trousers, putting on the gift aid stickers (which bring in an extra 25% of the value of a sale), making sure the paperback fiction is in proper alphabetical order, spending an evening searching for the value of a donated book from the 18th century, putting out a display of special classical music and much more.

And that was all before Covid, So, now their brilliant contributions, thoughts ideas of this might work should all be brought together to make the shop work. 

And not for money, just for appreciation, a thank you, and of course for a very good cause. 

Marvellous Book Days

It seems like a very, very long time ago ( time has warped) that I was busy bossing people around in the Oxfam bookshop, clearing out donations, looking for hidden treasures and reaching around another book sorter to put a pile of rejects into a plastic crate. Oh, those were the days….

But this weekend, we had a pop up village book swap/stall/get a new read event – and it was lovely.

I set up a WhatsApp group for our village of 70 households and someone put on a post asking for books for her mother.

That set me thinking that there must be other people looking for something to read, so I put a call out for people to donate books and leave them in our garage to disinfect.

With the benefit of Oxfam experience, and the knowledge that everyone sometime in lockdown has had a clear out, I said one bag of books per household…… I didn’t want a tsunami of books just a quality bubbling stream of good reads.

And in they came.

Mind you I was never sure that The Book of Sexual Disasters or Jeremy Clarkeson’s 4th book might fly off the ‘shelves’ and indeed they didn’t – maybe next time.

The weather was with us – so sandwiched in between cold and windy weather, we had a day of sun.

A neighbour leant us her long table, my best beloved went to Tescos to get banana boxes to display the books, and we stetted to set up.

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People came and got books and chatted and swapped recommendations, and it was great to hear chatter around the yard – someone took a courgette plant I had been rearing and certainly don’t need, people waved from the lane, walked their dogs past us and stopped to take some books home.

I do realise this is a bucolic idyll blog and of course not everyone has that of a Sunday morning but one more nice story before I go.

So, one of the benefits of this horrible time is getting to know people I didn’t know, would never have met – we are a scattered hamlet – but now have and do.

I was delivering headbands – quite another story – on Saturday morning when I met up with  a couple and their dog.

She said she wasn’t coming for the book swap as she needed a book for her bookclub read which she was pretty sure we wouldn’t have.

‘Its called something like an impressive year,’ she said.

‘A Year Of Marvellous Ways?,’ I said.

‘Yes. That is it!’ she said.

‘I have it in the boot of my car,’ I said and gave it to her.

What was the chance of that….

This, dear reader, is my book of the lockdown.

And I have recommended it to six local people with very different reading habits and every one of them has loved it.

I don’t have one for you in the boot of my car, but I so recommend it 

Good reading whatever you are reading – but do go and find Marvellous, she is a real find.

Wine and the dog

Like many people, I am assuming, I have started keeping a plague diary. The problem is that like almost everything I do – especially at the moment – it is not well done.

So, I am left with a series of one line notes, written with no date and now seeming to be part of a list of memories from a far-gone era such is the time-warping experience of day-to-day life at the moment.

One aspect of our changed lives however is all too visibly present.

Jess was due a hair cut just as lock-down was called – in fact that day. With hindsight, I should have sucked her into the car, driven the five miles to her groomer – after all I wasn’t going to Snowdonia or Cornwall – and got her done.

But I didn’t, and now she is faced with the best-beloved using an array of more or less blunt scissors most days to just trim a bit here and there….

(There will come a day when I have to use those same scissors on the best-beloved’s hair and he will enjoy plucking my chin hairs – such are the admissions I am willing to make in these strange times.)

She is a sociable dog and has been very happy to have us both at home all day and a lot more people than usual coming walking past our garden.

She usually runs from one vantage point to another to bark at them – annoyingly I’ve no doubt though locals all call out ‘hello Jess’ – but now even she has largely given up on that, so many new people are coming past us.

Yesterday, we went for the full hour’s walk round a circuit we sometimes do. Usually the gardens I pass are empty but yesterday the circuit took twice as long as usual.

I met a lovely couple who gave me half a dozen eggs – they have chickens, ducks and geese so a interesting egg box – a lawyer working from home and helping asylum seekers, a volunteer for our local emergency group who I hadn’t ever met in person. ( She has a perfectly groomed dog and Jess was somewhat embarrassed as she might well have been.)

I met a family who are pretty sure they have had the virus but as we have no mass testing, they are not sure.

An asthmatic woman walking and living off the shopping from neighbours, a neighbour bringing me empty milk bottles.

So, this is the lovely neighbour who answered the call for the village to have some volunteers to deliver information including green, amber and red posters for people to put in their windows to indicate whether they were fine, in self-isolation, needing help.

The BB and I were having to get the packs together, work out who would deliver to each of the (only) 70 households and put them all together and in plastic bags hung on our back fence for those volunteers to collect.

It’s happening across the land I am assuming.

I am an expert at waving my hands in the air, saying I have a task to do and please could anyone come round and help. ( See also my wedding planning – done by a marvellous committee of women.)

This time, of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

‘Have a glass of wine whilst you do it,’ said my smart, thoughtful and oh so right neighbour.

‘Should have got a supply of white wine sorted,’ I texted back.

Ten minutes later a chilled bottle was on my doorstep. Lovely.

But they had no milk so I have upped my order from the milkman to supply them too. Thank you Matthew the milkman.