Recipes

Greek Take-Aways

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Some food just tastes better in its original surroundings.

A good greek salad tastes better when you are sitting at a table overlooking the sea, that it ever does at home in Deepest Sussex – even if you have the ripest homegrown tomatoes and cucumbers, the posh feta you have splurged on, really good olive oil.

(Though it has to be said not every Greek salad in Greece is brilliant – just saying.)

But though I am on about Greek food in Greece, can I just add I had one of the best dosas I have had in a long time in a tiny south Indian street place in Athens – see below.

But back to where I was, and apparently, and not entirely surprisingly, the Greek salad as we know it had only been around since the 60s or early 70s.

‘Everything started at the end of the 19th century when the Greeks were still ‘counting the wounds’ from their bankruptcy of 1893 and the Greek-Turkish war of 1897.

The main meal then consisted of vegetables – cucumber, olives, onions and (later) tomatoes and just sometimes cheese, with bread.

If you lived in the countryside, you took your vegetables whole, wrapped in a cloth, to the fields.

If you lived in Athens, you cut them up, put them in a dish and added olive oil, salt and oregano – that’s posh city folk for you.

Apparently, there was some tax which limited what you could charge for a basic salad to locals, and the growing number of tourists arriving in the 60s and 70s.

Folklore has it that an enterprising restauranteur in the Plaka area of Athens dropped a slice of feta on top and that meant it was no longer a basic salad – and he could charge what he liked. 

My take aways ( as it were) from this year’s Greek holiday (want a photo – well here you go) were Fava, chickpea stew and lamb baked with thyme ( and no doubt, time.)

Fava, just in case you don’t know, is basically yellow split peas cooked to a creamy mush with added flavourings.

It is a popular appetiser but beware, in the wrong hands it can turnout bland and, occasionally and unforgivably, lumpy.

If you get the flavourings right you can eat it by the spoonful all on its own. If you don’t you need all kinds of additions to make it tasty.

We had a very good version on the day we met our new friends, and the Best Beloved and I had another lovely and delicious lunch with them ( see previous blog about picking up friends on holidays).

It was Sunday lunch.

Unlike in Deepest Sussex , chickpea stew is a local Sunday lunch tradition, cooked for a long time on the stove and in the oven.

It had a dark, almost gravy-ish sauce, was unctuous and generally very good. I am pretty sure it was started Friday and left to its own cooking devices for a good long time and then kept to let the flavours all steep in.

I had the tavern’s speciality of lamb with thyme and though I am sure this is a speciality of eating places across Greece, it was very good indeed.

We left our dog with long-suffering neighbours whilst we went on this jaunt to sun-kissed shores (want another photo? well if you insist.)

And as this island has very little in the way of shopping-for-a-thank-you-present to offer, I decided to bring Greece to them and cook a Greek meal.

So by the time you read this, I will have made a chickpea stew with lamb and thyme and maybe Fava to start.

I will let you know if it was a satisfactory thank you.

If not, the dog gets it…..

Grated Tomatoes

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Have you ever grated a tomato? I can almost hear the shouts (from my small but perfectly formed group of readers) saying what?? Open a can of nice Italians. Job done.

But dear reader(s) I am here to tell you that though it is a more lengthy process than opening a can, it can be really worth it.

If, at this point you are still not convinced, you need to go and find something else to do – knit your own jumper, dig up the ground elder (though that is a thankless task) etc etc.

Anyway, if you are still with me, let me tell you again good things are possible with a grated tomato.

But first you need to hear a story about sausages.

As long-standing friends will know, I work at some events across the year which are a mix of gardening exhibitors/stallholders and large marquees of food and other artisan makers of everything from jewellery to pottery.

Anyway (again) one of our food stands serving sausages is called Giggly Pig http://www.gigglypig.co.uk/sayhello.html

Yes, the lovely Tracy is an ex-con turned pig farmer – who knew? and employs other ex-cons to work on the farm, come to the shows – and sell sausages.

I bought some, and some of which which were pork and fennel. (They are excellent and please buy some if you can.Tracy’s vision and making it work – just saying.)

Rootling around in the freezer one day I found them, and rootling around in the fridge I found a fennel bulb.

And I had some properly nice tomatoes.

So, here is what I did.

No of course it is not a proper recipe, but a general idea of what you can do…

Grate your tomatoes. Get your usual cheese grater, cut tomatoes in half and grate against the large grater side. The skins stop you grating your fingers.

Put what all of what you get into a pan/casserole. I was using a Le Creuset inherited from my mother who sent me off to university with them, and I have them still. But other not-so-posh pans will do nicely.

Better tomatoes, better result, so please don’t do this out of season. And even in season, keep the tomatoes out of the fridge so they have chance to develop their flavour.

At this point I would like to say firmly, that no, a tin of tomatoes, however good, will not do instead. 

You need the thinner ‘sauce’.

Now, take your fennel bulb and cut around the tough centre and keep the fronds for decoration.

Cut the layers into slices and fry gently in butter, be generous – yes not that healthy but it does work, believe me.

It takes a while but you should either eat fennel raw ( in a salad with orange, say) or very well cooked and softened – and in this case you want it well cooked.

Cook your sausages however you like.

Add some Marigold bouillon to the tomatoes, a splash of white wine and at this point you can slice up some new or old potatoes and add them in and then cook gently.

You might need a pinch of sugar if your tomatoes are not just perfect – which mine weren’t.

Keep tasting the sauce and add pepper, more bouillon, whatever, if you need it.

Now, if you want a thick sauce, then take some of it out of the pan with some of the potatoes and whizz them up with a hand-blender and put back into the pan.

Either way, then add fennel and its butter, cut up sausages and snipped fennel fronds and serve to an appreciative Best Beloved and neighbours.

By the time I remembered too late that I should have taken a photo ( beautifully lit) of the finished product – but hey ho, it had gone and no one wants a picture of the washing up in waiting.

Mushrooms and Beans – yes really

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Well, there is a limited readership for this, I’m sure. If it is any temptation at all, there are some simple supper recipes involved – mind you only if you like beans, and indeed mushrooms and are not bothered about having food photos because there are none.

And, by the way, you are not wanting exact measurements and timings etc.

Hope I am not putting you off too much………

Otherwise, it will be back to Oxfam books next time.

So, I am a big fan of beans (and lentils) which apparently turns out to be a good thing as they are very good for you – and are cheap.

And, I am one of the very lucky people who doesn’t need to count the pennies.

( Me, and the Chancellor Rishi Sunak apparently. At least I am not making other people pay more than they can afford with no help from the Government whilst ensuring my multi-million pound lifestyle is protected. And has no idea that some families cannot afford for everyone to eat different breads…… Just saying.)

And, having listened to the BBC Food Programme ( an excellent listen) on beans I had a bit of a conversion. I had always bought tinned beans, now ( because I can afford it), I buy beans in a jar.

The taste is indeed much better and a whole lot easier than buying the dried beans, soaking them and cooking for quite a long time – before you even get to a sauce.

Mind you, I can see that coming on.

There are still some tins in the store cupboard and they will have to be used. And they’re OK, we’ve been eating them for years.

Meanwhile, I am stuck at home with a mild case of Covid and seem to spend my time doing some book research (see next blog) and, of course, cooking.

I asked my neighbour to add a couple of things to her food delivery order and one of those were some mushrooms.

Not the white button ones, though I can find ways of using them, but the large field ones – meaty without being meat – and very useful in the kitchen.

A while ago, I had some and made for us and the neighbours, mushrooms with tarragon and sherry. (Mmm you say ?- well hold on and I will tell you how to make them.)

I am of the view that it is very hard indeed to overcook a mushroom but recipes are always suggesting you can cook them in a matter of a few minutes. 

They are wrong. A bold statement I know, and one I have made before only to get messages which are the equivalent of a sharp intake of unbelieving breath.

But trust me. Don’t assume a mushroom meal is a quick meal. ( Perhaps a stir fry, I will concede, but really that is it. Not a step beyond.)

Anyway, my neighbour has a tendency to press the order button generously and now I find that I have a lot of mushrooms arriving this afternoon.

Part of the reason is the sherry and tarragon mushrooms I made for her and she liked quite a lot – so she added the big mushroom order.

So, here is what I did, – stuff:

Some nice mushrooms – remember mushrooms cook down to nothing (not quite the dramatic diminishing of fresh spinach when it is wilted, but not far off.) So, one container of supermarket mushrooms will feed two (ish).

Some chopped onion. I use half a small one for two of us.

Dried or fresh tarragon – to taste. Now fresh is lighter than dried, so up the quantity for fresh and be careful of the dried.

Garlic. Take a clove or two and if you want a stronger garlic flavour then chop it up. If you want a milder flavour crush them but keep them in one piece and fish them out before you serve it.

Some stock.

Dry sherry.

Chop the mushrooms to the size you want ( remembering they will shrink.) With the field mushrooms I do slices. Clearly, and you are not going to need this advice, the finer the slices, the quicker they cook.

Fry gently in a good amount of oil. Don’t stint but you are not deep-frying here. Don’t warm the pan and oil first, just put them all in.

Be prepared to wait and stir and check your emails, and stir……

Once they have got a good start in cooking, move to some hotter heat and add a lump of butter so that they brown a bit at the edges. It is worth it.

Once that happens go back to middling heat and add onions, once they have gone translucent, add the garlic.

Then some sherry – a generous slosh and you can always add more. I use some stock made from Marigold Bouillion. 

So we are planning on mushrooms in a sauce so not too much so that they are swimming lengths in too much liquid, but not so little that you can’t tell they are in a sauce. 

And some tarragon – if you are using fresh, save some back and chop very finely to scatter over the top of your finished mushrooms.

(This is not MasterChef so we are not talking amazing presentation just a little dash of poshness.)

Dried, I’d say a dessert spoonful, but we really like tarragon.

Cook, taste, and keep going until you are happy.

And again, you can always add more liquid(s) but it is hard to take it away so potter along adding as you fancy.

Meanwhile, back to the beans.

So, I had some frozen cauliflower and some (in a jar) butter beans.

Cook the cauliflower as per instructions or cook from fresh. Add some beans and whilst still hot, add some butter and finely chopped chives ( because I had them) and use a hand blender to make a puree or mash. ( Puree is best, I would suggest.)

Serve this under the mushrooms, and you have a very nice supper. As attested to by the neighbour and my Best Beloved.

Given that we have a shed load of mushrooms arriving that will be on the menu in the next few days.

And just before I go, a few more ideas because, as you can tell, I have not had much else to do whilst the plague keeps me at home….

Do the mushrooms as above but cook to be much drier and without the sherry and add in some chopped bacon/ham or not, if you don’t want meat.

Cook some pappardelle or any other long pasta you have.

Just before pasta is ready, add a large spoonful/ladle full of pasta cooking liquid and a few minutes later some creme fraiche to make a creamy consistency.

And, if you have any leftover puree/mash….

Make a sauce with (in my case)  tarragon and parsley.

Chop some onion, fry as per above and add herbs and a good slosh of white wine and some stock. 

This time you are looking for more liquid. 

When pretty much cooked add in a spoonful at a time of the left over puree to thicken the sauce and service with roast chicken thighs and some purple sprouting. Sauté potatoes if you are in the mood. 

Sauté potatoes = Par boil potatoes and fry in oil until crispy on the outside and soft in the middle.

Squid and Friends

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Apparently, hearing is the last sense to leave the body. Well, for me the last activity to leave the Covid lethargy, is cooking.

No surprise there then for anyone who knows me.

Meanwhile, it takes days to actually get round to cleaning the kitchen floor, I have been dithering and dathering about which Coursera course to sign up for – even though they are free and only require a minimum of concentration…..

All those things I did in April, have not been done since. 

I have no pictures of my culinary disaster so here are a few winter pictures.

So this, dear reader, if you are still with me and not off to do something more interesting, is a story of squid and friends.

Squid is cheap, and is best if you cook for a few seconds or a really long time, or both. ( I am sure there are other such ingredients but none spring to mind – mind you, not much ‘springs’ to mind these days.)

The Best Beloved was not a squid fan when he met me – mind you he was not a Labour voter, good at buying jewellery, hoovering, putting the washing on, enjoying long lunches with friends.

I converted him to squid stew with various adaptations of a Hugh Fearnley-Wittingtstall recipe.

You make a tomato sauce – a good one – fry the squid for seconds and put in the sauce and then both of them on a long slow cook. (Bottom of the Aga for those of us who live in Deepest Sussex).

You can add potatoes and fennel an hour or so in. 

I have made this, with variations, loads of times and so it counts as easy, familiar, comfort, not meat, cheap, flexible, appreciated – and most importantly to this story, whilst you are doing something else.

So, all was in hand when I realised I was approaching the time for a family call and went into the oven to check the stew.

Well the squid was nicely meltingly ready, but the fennel (always a tricky ingredient) was a bit hard.

(Dear reader, I know this is going on rather long, but there will be a nicely uplifting bit about friends soon-ish.)

So, I decided to take out the squid and put the rest back in the oven, though this time in the top (hot) oven of the Aga and get on with the call.

Call took longer than I thought and so it was the charred remains of a tomato sauce I pulled  out of the oven. Inedible, no I mean it, not possible to rescue.

I had squid, and a memory.

My lovely sis had returned from living in Milan.

She had spent time with staying with my ex-boyfriend, and various other people and then pitched up in Leeds to stay with me for a week. 

(She is still in Yorkshire – some many years later.)

If you are lucky, there are times in your life when you have a special group of friends. You spend time together, you do things together, you get along brilliantly –  you are caught up in a delightful web of friendship.

It has happened to me three times in my life, and I celebrate each of them.

This time was in Leeds and my sis was a pivotal part of it.

And, among many other things she brought us group of friends, a recipe.

Squid and peas and pasta.

In my memory it was summer and there were back doors open, our friends drinking wine and gossiping around the kitchen table whilst my sis cooked her meal.

So, here in winter, and lockdown, I looked at my cooked squid. Got some peas. Melted some butter and cooked the peas in it. Swirled them with the squid and the clinging bits of non-ruined tomato sauce and added them to some cooked spaghetti – using, of course, a splash of the spaghetti cooking liquid to meld the sauce.

I have to say at this point, this was not my sis’s way of making the dish but hey ho, I did what I could under the circumstances.

My BB duly appreciated supper – but I was back in a house in Leeds with my amazing friends, laughing, letting dogs run round the garden, swapping journalistic stuff, discussing politics, hearing stories of life in Millan, music on in the background.

There were BBQs, there were loves lost and gained, there was a sunny summer, and that was that very special time.

And no we are not all still in contact, but at the time I was pretty convinced I was living a very good life – and indeed, dear reader, I was.

Bread and Pheasants

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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.

From books to beans

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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

Nice Coincidences

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It has been a time of small coincidences in the Petersfield Oxfam bookshop.

(I’m no believer in fate, or things that were meant to be, but I like a nice coincidence as much as the next woman.)

One day recently, I was sorting through a small avalanche of donations and my mind began to wander to the catering for our annual winter lunch.

Feeding 30 plus people is not in itself hard as long as you chose your menu wisely.

Individual soufflés anyone?

Last year I made pies and I am, though I say it myself, a reasonable shortcrust pastry maker but pastry does require a bit of faff and multiply that by 30 people’s worth of faff and I shan’t do that again this year.

One year I made a chicken something or another which I got from inside my head rather than any recipe book and that was all very well until I learned a well-know chef had decided to come. 

My lodestar for deciding what to cook is a farmer friend who likes his food, is always very appreciative and – because he can’t do with eating standing up – he leads the way to our outdoor table and others follow, thus easing the elbow-to-elbow crush in the house.

So, there I am thinking about what he would like, his exacting palate – and praying it doesn’t rain.

And I am still book-sorting away when I came across this little foodie delight.

IMG_2273

Usually, we have out winter lunch two weeks before Christmas which means it would be on December 16th but because of pressure on that end of the month, we decided to have it on the 9th.

So imagine my pleasure at finding that inside the book was this:

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Of course that doesn’t quite fit into the perfect coincidence, but it was nice non the less.

So, I thought I would have a read and see if there was any recipe I could use……..

IMG_2267

 

I am still not entirely clear what gets passed through a sieve…. and who would have thought Bovril was an essential ingredient in 1930s Chile?

IMG_2268

 

There is no doubt, none at all, that that asparagus would be well and truly cooked through….

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Chicken meringue – I am not sure my farmer friend would go for that.

And finally,

IMG_2271

 

It was interesting to gather that not everyone who bought this book would have had access to ice – no fridges.

Call me a lax cook if you will, but I decided against trying to source Nelson’s gelatine and boiling tins of pineapple, straining them through rinsed napkins and then adding green food colour.

Leaving recipes behind, I turned my attention to natural history. It is hard to be sure any patterns when it comes to what is donated to the shop.

Just as you lament the lack of paperback fiction, the shelves are nearly bare and you think, this at last must be the Kindle effect, a tonne of novels arrive.

So, I am hesitant to share my theory on natural history books but here goes anyway.

We used to get lots and lots of books about natural history – from birdwatching to fossils to geology to, and given where we are this is not surprising, a lot of copies of Gilbert White’s Natural History of Selbourne.

( I always saved a particularly good version of this to see at Christmas – it makes a good present.)

Recently though, we have had very little and when I say recently, I mean perhaps the last year or so.

My theory is that people no longer look at the small and local and want to see Blue Planet or programmes about lions of the Kalahari.

But we do occasionally get copies of books from the New Naturalist Series – they have marvellous covers and sell very well.

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(I could bore you with the background information on why some are worth much more than others but I am guessing you don’t really, in your heart of hearts, want to know.)

Anyway, we have had some in recently so I put together a table display of them and some other stragglers of natural history. 

It sold so well that instead of lasting a week, I had to re-think the table three days later.

We also get some books in the Wayside and Woodland series published by Frederick Warne. 

And, just after I had re-done the table, I’m sorting some books, and this came in.

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How interesting I thought, it is by a woman. I wonder who she was.

And inside I found this:

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It says that her book, this book I am holding in my hand, was the first book on dragonflies to ‘achieve wide popular readership.’ ( Now apparently worth about £25.)

It also says that Cynthia Longfield used some of her ‘ample private means’ to part sponsor the chartering of a ship containing ‘a band of natural historians’ who went on a exploratory trip to the Pacific.

She travelled widely in Africa:’ I find machetes so useful in the jungle.’

And guess what else it says about the Cynthia – she was asked to contribute a volume to the New Naturalist Series which ‘ quickly sold out, changing hands at a high premium until it was re-printed.’

Indeed the 1960 first edition is now worth about £90.

We have a copy. It came in with the other New Naturalists and my colleague who collects them valued them for me, so I didn’t notice her name. It is in our cabinet of valuable books.

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Satisfying coincidences all round.

Supper For Eight

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I am never quite sure just how it happens that you do for a supper for just eight people and it is not fancy, so no implements for removing lobster flesh for example, but by the end of the evening they have created enough dirty plates and glasses to generously coat every flat surface in the kitchen.

Admittedly, at that stage of the evening my loading of the dishwasher can be a little less than perfectly done, ( it never is perfectly done according to my best friend and dishwasher-loading perfectionist).

And to be fair too, we don’t put our glasses or cutlery in the dishwasher as they are old, from various French flea markets, and go cloudy or tarnished.

Even so, it is remarkable how eight nice, polite, interesting people can wilfully create such a lot of dirty stuff and laugh cheerfully throughout the evening as they do it.

But, whilst I can throw several shades of a dicky fit over my best beloved’s inability to put everyday breakfast bowls and mugs into the dishwasher, I don’t actually mind the clearing up after a ‘do.’

Dog and husband have a very clear attitude that this should be left to another day and that anyone who wants to be awake at 1am loading dishwashers, is on her own.

But I quite like that wind down with the BBC World Service telling me what is happening in Nigeria or about Indonesian political scandals, whilst I go about my business.

And I like restoring order after the chaos.

You need to know at this stage, I am not complaining about the mess because we had a great evening.

It was a kitchen supper not because we are posh people trying to show that we can do casual and informal, but because we are not posh people and have nowhere to sit everyone except in the kitchen.

The mix worked well – always a lucky break and not guaranteed, though in this case was a pretty sure bet – and though I know I am repeating myself, we had a lovely time.

I am sure you couldn’t care less what we ate but I am going to tell you anyway so if you are not interested, time to leave.

Mushrooms chopped up by a whizz in the food processor and saluted lengthily ( you can’t overcook a mushroom) with tarragon and then mixed with a very tasty cream cheese from Cornwall via Waitrose. Put on bruschetta from Lidl.

Winter minestrone with chard and beans and carrots and celery and garlic etc. The secret is to keep the rind ends of parmesan in your freezer and put one or two into the soup as it cooks.

Thin lamb chops marinaded in pomegranate molasses, olive oil, garlic and lemon zest and then shoved under a grill or in a hot oven until they are rightly done – not overdone, mind.

And my current favourite recipe – slices of new potatoes cooked in water, olive oil, garlic and saffron, mixed with artichokes ( please note from a tin, rinsed and sauted, not done from fresh, you must be joking,) green olives , parsley and it all coated with creme fraiche – then put in a puff pastry pie – and no, of course, I didn’t make the pastry.

( If you want the real version of this google ‘Cranks artichokes puff pastry’ but Nadine makes you do stuff with real artichokes and adds nuts and stuff which I am sure is pretty delicious, but my easy version wins for me I am afraid.)

Can I just remind you at this stage that there is something in the make-up of parsley with counteracts the next day less-than-delightful garlic breath so it is a must add if you are using as much garlic as in this ‘menu.’

I don’t eat desserts and am rubbish at making them, so very kind friend/guest made lovely lemon mousse thing – it disappeared without touching the sides.

Cheese, chocolates and all that malarky – but to be fair, cheese and chocolates hardly add a smidgen to the washing up.

A non-invited friend, who is not a cook, was practically salivating when I told her about the pie and I (gaily) thought I would have plenty of leftovers because of a lifetime habit of over-catering – blame my Lancashire grandmother who instilled the idea that hospitality means lots of food.

I invited her, her husband, my best friend and her husband for Sunday lunch.

Dear reader, there was little in the way of leftovers but that is another menu story…….

A Day in the Life

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So, here is a typical Reluctant Sussex Housewife day.

Be warned, dear reader, this is not that exciting, but what can you expect from a blog that tells you on the label that this is housewife-ness and deepest Sussex.

It is also a rather long day and so you might want to go and do something more interesting or self-improving.

So, the Aga is on. I do miss it in the summer but realise that you can’t have a large oil-burning block sitting in your kitchen with the back door open and sitting in just your knickers because it is just too hot.

But now, today, even with the lovely warm weather we have been having, it is now back on and there is a chicken casserole in it.

The first casserole of the autumn.

(The best beloved’s son and girlfriend were down at the weekend and wanted a fire – we lit one. The first fire of the autumn.)

But before I could get the casserole together, I had a few other things to do.

Get my BB and his car with a problem to the garage for 8 am, and then him to the station to go and do grown-up policy things in London.

Then I had to get to a meeting on health and safety and catch up with some news, more of that later, over the Downs and far away.

That in turn, required me to look casually competent, a look I don’t often have to do for dog walking/Oxfam.

Girls, that did require some thought – in the old days, that kind of ‘uniform’ would have been second nature but these days, I have to give it a bit of thought – not that anyone noticed I suspect.

Dog walked, BB on train, I found myself very early for H&S appointment, so I nipped into Sainsbury’s for the chicken (see casserole above) and incidentally a useful couple of bras – as you do.

So, the H&S stuff was in relation to The Garden Show which happens in June and I work there for a few days with many very nice people and especially my lovely friend.

Her role is to smooth the ruffled feathers of exhibitors and mine is to behind her making equally soothing noises whilst keeping an eye out for trip hazards and missing children.

I love working at The Garden Show and am there because of my late friend – she who plied me with wine and then, dear reader, imagine my surprise the next day, I realised I had agreed to be the H&S person.

Should I believe in people looking down, as it were, I would think that she would be splitting her corsets seeing me looking like someone who knew what they were talking about – but hey, the man who did know what he was talking about said we were fine, and there was nothing much he needed to advise us to do differently.

So, to run an event you have to have an eye on the big picture and the finer details and the great woman who runs it now, does just that.

She keeps an eye on the financial disaster unfolding for an exhibitor, she knows all the car parkers by name, she remembers the name of the young person who came for a bit of holiday money and wants him back next year.

And today, she had her eye on her daughter’s broken leg – no, skateboards, alcohol and children’s parties do not mix – the terms and conditions she needed to amend, a couple of dogs and their relationship, as well as being more thoughtful and smarter about H&S than I was.

So, enough about how great The Garden Show people are. I am sure you don’t need more eulogising, dear reader.

But just another smidgen of that: In the margins of that meeting, I caught up with stuff about people who are part of the family of The Garden Show – and yes I know that is a cliché but it is true – nepotism at its best.

Two of those people are seeing each other and do you know what, that was the best of news. Two very smart, funny, lovely, bright people and the news that gives you that warm feeing of things being good.

Dear reader, you can seriously give up at this point and help yourself to a large glass of wine or even go for a long walk, because there is more….

So, off back to Oxfam.

Now, I have been away for two weeks and it seems that in that time, there have been a large number of clear outs from schools and homes, of books they don’t want.

I thought I was on duty for the afternoon – not on the till, but clearing those books.

Boxes, bags, piles, tables, benches of them

Art books, paperback fiction, children’s books, out of date cookery books, Readers’ Digest books of Facts dated 1989, atlases with missing pages and missing modern countries ( John Le Carre era cold war atlases), a ( another bloody) collection of the complete works of Dickens, jigsaws with missing bits, aged library books, books from other charity shops with 50p written in pen on the inside…..

And more and more were coming in.

I slipped out to get milk for tea and bumped into someone I know and asked if he and his wife wanted to come for supper.

He runs the ‘proper’ bookshop and she is a really interesting woman who is helping set up the Harting Supper Club – I am sure I have told you about that before.

That’s what Petersfield is like, you bump into people – and that is nice and very Waitrose.

Anyway, back at Oxfam, I was upstairs and my colleague downstairs and we were filling sack after sack, after sack, after box, after sack – you get the picture.

In the end, I didn’t have to work the whole afternoon as I am working all day tomorrow – and do you know, there will still be boxes, bags, tables of books.

So I came home and put that casserole in the bottom of the Aga.

Meanwhile – and I do suggest you give up at this point because even I am getting bored – I sold a teak sideboard.

When we got back from Brussels and France, stuff didn’t fit in the house and ended up in the garage.

For some years, I have been planning on selling the teak sideboard but never had managed to get the bloody thing out of the garage – it is very heavy.

This weekend, the BB’s son and he got it out. I photographed it and put it on Gumtree and Ebay.

Clearly, I did not ask enough because it had sold – several times over – a few hours later.

Jim was first come, so first served. He turned up this evening and told me about how he and his wife had enlarged their house and now needed stuff to put in it.

He told me this as he peered into the garage and looked to see if there was anything else he might be able to use/buy.

And then he said, ‘ I read your blog.’

Good Lord, dear reader…..

So, I am getting the casserole out and awaiting the return of the BB and then it is tea and bed – another scintillating day in the life of a Sussex Housewife.

P.S. BB came home, ate some casserole and then turned Aga down to the minimum……