Cornflower

I'm in the pantry

    Yes, I  bought the book! It's quite beautiful and just the spur I needed to make me re-organise my own pantry. It hadn't occurred to me that there is a whole 'pantry culture' out there, but there is and more power to it, and 'pantry aficionados' all have their own memories or references to share. I remember my grandmother's pantry, its flagstone floor, its shelving - some slate, some wood - the things she stored there from china and pans to the butter, cakes and so on. It faced north so it was always cool, and from its small window you could see the garden and beyond it, a glimpse of this place.

    The book's author, Catherine Seiberling Pond, has a blog appropriately titled ...in the pantry.

Pantries, pianos and pretty things

    Some links today to things interesting, sad and inspiring.

Over at The Runcible Bin, Mrs. Lear is talking about pantries (you should see my pantry - no, really you shouldn't as it needs a proper sort out and is not a pretty sight just now, so perhaps I should get that book!).

Today sees the closure of Britain's last piano factory - how times have changed from the days when pianos were almost as ubiquitous as televisions are now. If you are at all interested in piano music (or in Paris) I thoroughly recommend T. E. Carhart's The Piano Shop on the Left Bank (and Dark Puss, you'll be pleased to know that I was playing the other day, and the Poulenc was fairly respectable).

Lastly, while flicking through an old magazine yesterday I found an article about this treasure-house of trimmings, ribbons, buttons and other pretty things, and I know there are a lot of us who enjoy a virtual browse of this kind!

Searching the collections

 

       The V&A website now includes a comprehensive collection search facility by which you can access one million object records. Click here to find it, and then refine your search as you wish - I put in 'cornflower' and all these came up (and coincidentally, the bottom right hand picture on that page is the late 18th. century version of our dinner service and I'd never realised those were cornflowers).

I'd better put a warning here, though: visit these collections at your own risk as serious time-wasting can result; just look at the knitting pages, for example, or textiles...

Rowan

... berries, not yarn!

But this post isn't for remarking on the perfect colour match, or discussing the progress of that sock,

 

it's just to say that coming up soon will be some things you've recently asked for or about which I haven't answered yet, so please stay tuned, but meanwhile here's another 'purl' from the remarkable Mrs. Zimmermann, (this one can be found in Knitter's Almanac):

"Some may gasp and stretch their eyes, but knitting and reading at the same time is just a matter of practice. Of course, you must love knitting and you must enjoy reading; if you don't love them equally, one at a time is sufficient...[but] start practising and your new skill will be acquired more quickly than you think possible. Train yourself first by knitting with your eyes shut, and then by reading to yourself while knitting."

Productivity

     I love this passage from Eizabeth Zimmermann's Knitting without Tears:

"Today knitting can still fill odd moments. Think of the frustrating periods of time we spend just waiting; waiting for the coffee to boil; waiting in the car; waiting until the fish bite... Those who ride daily to work could finish a sock in a week if they would spend the time knitting. Imagine! Twenty-five pairs of socks a year. Twenty-five Christmas present problems solved. Have you realised how most men yearn for proper socks? Men I hardly know at all are constantly and wistfully and broadly hinting that I make them a pair. Sometimes I do. My own husband is so well supplied that I practically never have to mend any socks, as the wear is spread out over so many pairs. It's like the women who get married with a dozen dozen sheets and towels; you never see them at the white sales."

    I can see I need to up my game a bit!

A twist of wet leaves

    Heavy rain and fallen leaves combine to make a natural mosaic on our flagstones.

    The post title comes from the lovely, autumnally subdued A Letter in October by Ted Kooser.

Books and cakes - 22

    We've been reading A. E. Housman's A Shropshire Lad for the Book Group this month (our thoughts on the poems are here), and with a marked absence of culinary references within the lines themselves, I had to take a geographical link for the baking for the book.

    I could, I suppose, have gone with "hop-yards" and "Ludlow beer" and made some kind of ale-infused cake, but instead I discovered Shrewsbury Cakes or Biscuits and had a go at them.

     As you'll see from the recipe (I used the one given at the top of that link) they are flavoured with caraway seed, nutmeg and rosewater. I have a cold and can't taste or smell anything just now, but I'm told that these ingredients are apparent in the finished biscuits!

 

If you scroll further down that article you'll see that there's another version of the recipe given which coincidentally comes from A New System of Domestic Cookery by A Lady, the 1816 edition of which has just been reprinted by Persephone Books.

On the Aga: which colour would you choose?

 
 

     Just for fun  - and before we leave the subject of Agas for a while - what about colour?

     They currently come in six 'Traditional' colours and eight 'Signature' ones (you can play around with all of them here), but then there are special edition ones such as Emma Bridgewater's Polka Dot up at the top. Mine is British Racing Green, and I discovered the other day that Dame Agatha's Aga was a fetching dark blue - did she mull over her plots, cup of tea in hand, leaning on the rail, I wonder?

    

On the Aga: seasonal food and dramatic moments

     I've been browsing through Good Food on the Aga by Ambrose Heath (first published in 1933 and reprinted by Persephone Books), looking at recipes for October. I love the author's pronouncements, from beginning the chapter with "The season of soups is upon us", moving on to "The weather will now allow us to eat our stuffed eggs hot, an unfamiliar way, perhaps."

     I also love the conceit that a few carefully chosen ingredients - and of course the Aga's own magic - can transform a less than appetising-sounding foodstuff into a delicacy:

"A Casserole of Tripe is an inexpensive and excellent dish," (I've never eaten tripe so I wouldn't know); "Partridges with Cabbage is a remarkable way of using old birds", and "Brussels sprouts can often be made more attractive if ... they are put back in the pan with a good piece of butter, some pepper and a little grated nutmeg; then put into a fireproof dish, sprinkled with some grated cheese, perhaps moistened with a little cream, which is browned quickly." I like sprouts plain and simple so that smacks of gilding the lily, don't you think?

"Apples make good puddings, and can even make tapioca palatable. Here is the way for whoever cares to try it..."

"Cheese dishes are always welcome for luncheon..." (I had a toasted cheese sandwich today but Mr. Heath might not rate that next to his Gnocchi alla Romana).

   In addition to the recipes there are beautiful seasonal illustrations by Edward Bawden, and lots of helpful tips on using and caring for your Aga.

     While my stove is a mere ten years old (a baby, as these things go), my friend Lindsay's poor Aga is almost of an age with the book, so he might profitably consult it to avoid any more dramatic moments - go and look!! (Though even his old lady has been adapted for a modern fuel, so he has no need for soot-rakes or riddling hooks, though perhaps her baffle plate has been misaligned....).

Opening out

      How time flies - I didn't think it was as far back as early June when I began this scarf, but here's the post to prove it. It's all finished now and has even been worn, though the model wasn't ready for her close-up, Mr. de Mille, so a rowan tree had to act as stand-in for the pictures.

I used one 55g skein of Posh Yarn Eva 4 ply (cashmere/silk) but the photographs don't capture the vibrancy of the peacock greens and blues - it is truly vivid in real life.

My shaped ends worked fine, and blocking made the openwork pattern open out considerably.

It's little more than 'yo, p2tog' all the way (a mere 300 hundred rows, not counting the ends) so if I'd just done a little every day it could have been finished long ago.

 

There's a moral there somewhere!

Yarn in the garden: branching out and casting on

    I finished making a scarf yesterday, but while it was blocking and awaiting its eventual model I took a work-in-progress outside for a picture amidst the pinky red leaves and branches of a dogwood.

It is the Branching Out Scarf (though I call this one Fondant Fancies) and I see it's almost a year since I cast on. Tut tut.

 
     But speaking of casting on, Clem asked (in a comment) for suggestions of patterns for men's fingerless gloves suitable for a beginner to tackle. I immediately thought of the hand/wrist warmers in Last Minute Knitted Gifts; I've made the women's ones and they were very quick and simple, but the men's version looks even more straightforward. 

Any other ideas?

Autumn pruning

     A lovely autumnal cake from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, not one for everyday, as it's pretty rich, but a dark, delicious treat for now and again.

It's from the October section of The River Cottage Diary 2010 and it's the Chocolate, Prune and Brandy Cake: soft prunes soaked in brandy folded into a wonderfully chocolatey mixture. It looks indulgent and it is (so two of us shared that piece!).

 

The diary's recipe pages are conveniently perforated so you can pull them out and keep them for future reference, and this one will most certainly be used again, but lest you think they are all for high days and holidays, January begins with the delicious-sounding but restrained (ascetic, even) Kale with Soy, Chilli and Garlic, and I've just spotted a homely Marmalade Bread and Butter Pudding for keeping out the February chill.

Fluff

 

Seedheads, clematis montana.

On the Aga: pancakes, etc

      Donna asked about Scotch pancakes the other day and some Aga fans asked for Aga-related posts, so I'll combine the two with a link to a very early post which includes the pancake recipe - our method being to cook them directly on the simmering plate, and a picture of 'the beating heart of the home'!

     By the way, the chopping boards on the left don't live there, but it's an excellent place to dry things like that, and for clothes it's brilliant too because it even 'irons' as well as drying!!

Henry wos here

     Not quite the Tudor symbol on the cover of Wolf Hall,

 but these plaster roses which adorn several of the doorframes in our (1824) house are quite similar!

(I loved the book, as you'll see).