Cornflower

Friday links

     I see regular "Friday links" posts popping up on various websites, so I thought I'd do a tiny book-related one here today. My thanks to Margaret for mentioning Read It Swap It, a means by which you can swap the books you're finished with for others that you want. As far as I can gather, the exchange is a straight one, i.e. I give you A and you give me B, whereas on Bookmooch, the books you give away generate points for you with which you can 'buy' other books. I haven't used either service so can't speak from experience, but both look like interesting ideas for those who don't mind parting with their books.

     For anyone who'd like to carry their library around with them, how about this? I wouldn't mind one!

Mastering the art of food

     I don't often mention television programmes here but I must talk about Masterchef, which we've been watching with increasing amazement and admiration at the talent of the finalists. For those unfamiliar with it, it's a cooking competition run over several weeks which demands not only a high level of skill and inventiveness but the ability to cope with service in a professional kitchen. Contestants were put through ever more varied and challenging tests from feeding a squad of soldiers in high humidity in the Belizean jungle to cooking for some of the world's top chefs at a formal dinner.

     The three finalists, James, Emily and Jonny were quite outstanding - Emily in particular showed a fantastic imagination for food with complex taste combinations and brilliant presentation, while the competition seemed to bring out Jonny's abilities and let him discover just how far he could go. James, the eventual winner, shone from the start as a natural and instinctive chef with the technical skill to underpin his gift, and watching him and his fellow competitors at work was quite inspiring.

     I can't pretend to match the Masterchefs or come anywhere close, but here's the quick pasta sauce I made last night when I remembered I'd forgotten about these Jerusalem artichokes ( which came from David, our veg. man ) and thought I ought to use them. I peeled and steamed them for seven or eight minutes, and while they were cooking I set some chopped leeks and garlic to soften gently in olive oil. I then sliced the artichokes and put them into a very hot griddle pan with some smoked bacon until they developed caramelised stripes, and meanwhile I added a little cream and a splash of cider to the leeks. The combination worked!

Simply thrilling

     Having said the other day that I rarely read thrillers, one of my absolute favourite books of last year was a thriller, albeit one written by a poet. Resistance, by Owen Sheers, impressed me so much that I immediately passed it on to two very stern critics (Mr. C. and my mother) neither of whom could put it down, and then I gave a copy as the prize in the most recent BAFAB draw.

    It's set in 1944 in an isolated valley in Wales and imagines what would have happened had the Germans invaded Britain during the Second World War. With the men of the valley disappearing suddenly and without warning to join the resistance movement, the women are left to cope with harsh hill-farm life alone and to live side by side with the small occupying patrol with its own secret mission which arrives in this remote place.

    It's very taut and tense, quite beautifully written, and reminded me of Bruce Chatwin and William Trevor, but Owen Sheers has a distinctive voice of his own which really deserves to be heard. I can't recommend this book highly enough, but I wonder if all you more experienced thriller readers out there might recommend some of your favourites in this genre?

    And a postscript to the BAFAB draw: Alison, who won, was extremely kind and gave me a copy of one of her favourite books in return, so I have The Time Traveler's Wife to look forward to, and hope to get it to the top of the TBR pile soon.

Raw materials

     I'm picking up today where I left off on Monday's post on the subject of "playing", but more specifically on being creative. I was interested to read in the comments about people's preferred methods of "creative play" (for want of a better description), for example, working with clay, arranging flowers, hand-painting yarn, photography - and yes, Simon, it's just a sheet of white printer paper and why it sometimes goes blue-ish as in the picture of the pen, below, I haven't a clue!

     What we do with our chosen raw materials depends on a number of things including, apparently, the right brain/left brain balance: how far can we exclude or ignore our left brain "critic"' and let our right brain create freely. Not glamorous or arty in the least, but I find I often get good ideas when I'm doing the ironing and I'm convinced it's because the left side of the brain is concentrating on steaming out those creases and folding shirts accurately so it's too busy to interfere with the other half which is musing on subjects for this site or thinking about how to describe and appraise a long novel in a paragraph or two.

     There is a growing body of literature on the subject of "releasing" one's creative powers, and the following are books I've read and found useful: Julia Cameron's famous The Artist's Way: A Course in Discovering and Recovering Your Creative Self (has anyone else ever tried morning pages?) and her The Right to Write: An Invitation and Initiation Into the Writing Life, and Betty Edwards' equally well-known The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. If you can recomend any others, please do so in a comment.

     While on the subject of raw material, writers often say they find theirs like scavenging magpies, picking up sparkling ideas where they happen to come across them, and the overheard conversation can be a fertile source for this.

Here's an exchange between two ladies lunching at the table next to mine recently:

"Oh, silly me, I've left Nigel Havers in the car!"

"Keep him, darling - I don't need Nigel."

You may not want him, madam, but there are others who'd jump at the chance!

Tracks through the snow

     Have you ever watched a film and been so involved in the action that when the tension gets too much you've gripped the edge of your seat and shouted "No!"at the screen?  That was exactly my response to the book I've just read. I ought to point out that I almost never read thrillers, I rarely read detective novels, but the two are combined in Tom Rob Smith's Child 44 to quite stunning effect, and if others are as good as this then I shall be a convert to the genre.

   Set in post-war Stalinist Russia, the book's central character is state security officer Leo Demidov, highly-trained, dedicated, loyal to Party objectives. In a regime where, officially, crime does not exist, Leo begins to suspect that the death of a child on Moscow railway tracks was not a tragic accident but a horrific murder. Unable to suppress his doubts, Leo is demoted and exiled to a town in the Urals where another child is found dead in circumstances identical to the first.

    What follows is an intriguing uncovering of the truth on different levels, levels which are apparently constantly shifting. Can Leo trust his wife, Raisa, or is she an enemy of the state? What of his fellow officers - which side are they really on? And as the child killings continue across the country, how can Leo possibly find the murderer?

    Tom Rob Smith draws together all the plot strands skillfully, plausibly, and the result is an assured and deeply engrossing novel. Though its subject-matter  - which is based on real events - is harsh and at times horrifying, it's not gratuitous and is sensitively handled. It is insightful, atmospheric and fascinating in its detail of life under the suppressive regime, but the human story stands out too, and as for suspense, well, there could hardly be more!

Mounting pressure

  In the light of our current reading of Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth, my thanks to Carolyn for letting me know about the serious financial difficulties faced by Mrs. Wharton's Massachusetts home, The Mount. You can read about it here.

Playing

     I never really took pictures before I had this website; family snaps or a lovely view, perhaps, but I didn't just photograph objects for no reason other than that they looked interesting or pleasing. Now, my eye responds differently to what I see so I tend to spot the way light is falling or see a shadow or notice rain on leaves as I wouldn't have done before, and thanks to the wonders of the digital camera I can have a go at capturing those images and if they don't come out, no harm's done.

    Five days without the camera last week meant I missed it and the chance to play with it. Having it back yesterday, I spent a while arranging these little acrylic memo holders and seeing what they looked like in different combinations and from different angles, and the childlike sense of fun I got from something so simple was lovely - like playing in the sandpit or finger-painting or drawing with no thought of accuracy.

The important thing about this was that I kept 'the critic' out - nothing had to be 'right' or perfect, it's all just experimentation and if the result happens to be pleasing, so be it, if not, no matter.

   

     Because I have absolutely no technical knowledge about photograhy at all  - I haven't a clue, in fact - my usual perfectionist self leaves my photographer self alone to get on with it, and that's quite liberating. I do other creative things in which 'the critic' really does hold sway, but playing with the camera is just play.

So that leads me to wonder how other people play. What do you do with no thought of technical or aesthetic correctness, where your inner critic (if you have one - maybe you don't!) is firmly excluded and your mind free?

Potatoes with cheese

     Nigel Slater's The Kitchen Diaries: A Year in the Kitchen must be our most used cookery book in the last few months. His recipes work, he writes well, his dishes tend to the simple and involve few ingredients; the results are unfailingly excellent. We tried his cheese-smothered potatoes recently and have been back to them several times, varying them slightly on each repetition.

Here's the gist: heat some olive oil in a large, shallow casserole dish (you'll need a decent-sized surface area) and add chopped onion or leek (the latter is better, I think) and plenty of garlic if you like it. Leave to soften gently while you slice unpeeled, waxy potatoes thinly - you'll have to judge the quantities depending on whether you want this as an accompaniment or a main dish in itself. Add the potatoes to the pan along with generous seasoning and toss them in the hot oil and the onion/garlic/leek mixture. Cover the dish and put it in a slow oven for 30 minutes or so, until the potatoes are tender, then put thin slices of Taleggio or Fontina all over the top of the potatoes and return to the oven for a few minutes to let the cheese melt (the Taleggio will go very runny indeed, the Fontina will hold its shape a bit more). Serve on its own or with a green salad containing bacon, perhaps. It's scrumptious and just the thing for cold days.

     NS specifies 120g. of cheese for 500g. of potatoes, but if he'll pardon me, I think that's a touch on the stingy side, so I put in lots more!!

     The potatoes pictured here were used in this great dish earlier in the week. They are an unusual variety, Shetland Black, sweetish, earthy and worth seeking out (ours came from Waitrose) if you're a tattie fancier!

Three books

      Still camera-less, so words must suffice, but those of Edith Wharton are keeping me amused. I am 75 pages into The House of Mirth and am intrigued by its central character, Lily Bart, and so keen to know her fate. By the way, if you're not already reading this for the Book Group and would like to, please do join in - all welcome. A quick word on editions - I chose the Oxford World's Classics one deliberately as it is printed clearly on good quality paper, has useful notes and an introduction by a specialist (which I shall read at the end), and that all helps to 'make' the book which can so easily seem less than satisfactory due to poor production.

     I put Mrs. Wharton aside for a while yesterday to pick up the book which had just arrived: Child 44 is a first novel by Tom Rob Smith (kindly sent to me by Simon & Schuster) which comes out in a week or so. It's out of my usual reading sphere being a thriller, and it's set in 1950s Stalinist Russia, but the opening section is very strong and I'm keen to get back to it.

     A quick and enjoyable read this week was Clare Chambers' The Editor's Wife. I could describe it in terms of Simon's eight-word synopses by saying: "The end of the affair; or is it?" It's a deft, fluid, romantic story with good characters (especially the socially inept Gerald). It has pace, a light touch and much to keep the reader interested, moving between contemporary Yorkshire and London literary life twenty years ago, and it's very well-observed.

     But so much for curling up with a good book, I've got to go and unload the washing machine and then visit the supermarket - for a full load of shopping. How's your weekend looking?

Almond cake

     This cake is incredibly quick and easy to make and very good to eat, either warm as a pudding or cold with tea or coffee. It's a slight variation on Nigella's Easy Almond Cake from How to Be a Domestic Goddess,  - I omit her vanilla and almond extracts which I've found scarcely make a difference and I cook it for a shorter time than she specifies so that it's very moist and almost squidgy in the middle. All you have to do is put 250g of softened butter, the same quantity of good quality marzipan and 150g of caster sugar in the food processor, whizz them together until smooth, then add 6 large eggs and 150g of self-raising flour. Pour the resulting mixture into a buttered and lined baking tin (approx. 24cm diameter) and bake at 170C/gas 3/on the rack on the floor of the Aga baking oven for 25-30 minutes. Leave to cool in the tin. The house will be filled with the most enticing, warm and comforting aroma.

     I have no camera today to show you the one I've just done, but in true Blue Peter fashion, here's one I made earlier! (Raspberries optional).

Saying it with flowers

     I know very little about the language of flowers, though from what I read it wouldn't be hard for a floral message to be misinterpreted, but I've put these flowers here to say just one simple word to Cornflower readers: Sorry!

I owe an apology to anyone who has left a comment recently and not had an acknowledgement or a reply from me - other things have claimed my time and I've been neglecting my email. The backlog is too big to tackle I fear, but at least I can say that every comment is read and appreciated, and where I've asked for advice or information that's all been filed away for future reference.

I hope these flowers will brighten your day as they have mine,

and if you come back later there may be some cake to sweeten it, too!

On with the dance

     On with the Dance (not the piano piece of that name I played as a child): Anthony Powell's "Dance" novels, and specifically volume 5, Casanova's Chinese Restaurant. I appreciate that writing piecemeal about a long series of books isn't perhaps of much interest to those who aren't already familiar with them, a bit like recounting the latest episode of a television series to someone who doesn't watch the programme at all, but still my ongoing discovery of Powell  - after an unpromising start - might encourage others to give him a go.

     The books' narrator, Nick Jenkins, has thus far been almost exclusively the looking glass through which we are shown the other characters, and that is at once fascinating and tantalising and quite frustrating. I'm keen to see if that role changes as the series progresses and we'll see more of his own life directly, rather than in relation to others. But in this volume we meet the composer Moreland, the ever-warring Maclinticks, and Stringham makes a welcome return in a very funny scene. Widmerpool doesn't figure much, but then there's the relationship of Mrs. Foxe and Norman Chandler which reminded me strongly (though less exaggeratedly) of that of Lady Montdore and Cedric in Love in a Cold Climate though sadly there's no equivalent of the apoplectic Uncle Matthew at Oxford station when he spotted the contrast piping on Cedric's suit!

     To return to Powell, you can read an expert account of the book here; I might add a humourous line or two:

     "Lady Warminster used sometimes to announce that she was receiving 'help' with one or another of her biographies from some fairly well-known figure....although it was never explained what form this took. Probably they adjusted the grammar."

     " 'Not now', said Miss Weedon, in the cosmically terminating voice of one who holds authority to decide when the toys must be returned to the toy-cupboard."

     And two which seem to express  - thus far at least - the books' philosophy:

     "In the end most things in life - perhaps all things - turn out to be appropriate."

     "....the rhythm of life would sooner or later be bound to bring us together again."

Powell and I shall be reunited soon for volume 6.

Going green

     Moving away from my favourite blues for a change, this is my latest purchase: Sophia 2 ply cashmere from Posh Yarn, and Tony has excelled himself with the colours in this one which Dee has aptly named "Undergrowth". My photographs really don't do it justice, but it contains myriad greens from spring green to moss, emerald to aquamarine and more.

It's on the way to becoming a scarf made in a simple slip-stitch pattern; that's the right side above and the equally pretty wrong side below. It's invitingly soft and the way the colours are developing reminds me of a tapestry hedge or a skillfully planted border.

   

Another passage from The Virago Book of Women Gardeners seems to suit this yarn; here's the designer Edna Walling writing in 1948:

" I love all the things most gardeners abhor! - moss in lawns, lichen on trees, more greenery than 'colour' (always said as though green isn't a colour!), bare branches in winter, more foliage than flowers, root-ridden ground with a natural covering of leaves, of grass....I like the whole thing to be as wild as possible....I like a mossy boulder....I like to throw myself into an inviting chair in the green shade of a large tree with my books on a low table beside me, but you might prefer to dig and to plant. I like to do that too....sometimes."

The blues

 

More from The Virago Book of Women Gardeners, this time from Eleanor Perenyi who sounds like a lady after my own heart: "I love blue more than any other colour. I am inordinately attracted to any blue substance: to minerals like turquoise and lapis lazuli, to sapphires and aquamarines; to cobalt skies and blue-black seas; Moslem tiles - and to a blue flower whether or not it has any other merit."

And I read that Edith Wharton created an all-blue garden at Pavillon Colombe near Paris....

Fading and falling

 

From flushed and frilly, to faded and fallen, these tulips show what E. J. Scovell meant in her poem "Deaths of Flowers" which is quoted in The Virago Book of Women Gardeners:

".... I would choose the tulip's reckless way of going; Whose petals answer light, altering by fractions From closed to wide, from one through many perfections, Till wrecked, flamboyant, strayed beyond recall, Like flakes of fire they piecemeal fall".

(More later...maybe!)