Cornflower

Right and left, before and behind, the fen lay shrouded ...

 

 

    "... It was past four o'clock and New Year's Eve; the snow that had fallen all day gave back a glimmering greyness to a sky like lead.

    'I'm sorry,' said Wimsey, 'Whereabouts do you suppose we've got to, Bunter?'

    The manservant consulted a map in the ray of an electric torch.

    'I think, my lord, we must have run off the proper road at Leamholt. Unless I am much mistaken, we must be near Fenchurch St. Paul.'

    As he spoke, the sound of a church clock, muffled by the snow, came borne upon the wind; it chimed the first quarter.

    'Thank God!' said Wimsey. 'Where there is a church there is civilisation. We'll have to walk it. ... Br'rh! it's cold. I bet that when Kingsley welcomed the wild north-easter he was sitting indoors by a good fire, eating muffins. I could do with a muffin myself ....' "

    That could be books and cakes taken care of! Whether or not we end up eating muffins by the fire, I hope lots of people will join in with the Cornflower Book Group's March read.

    (The picture is nothing like the East Anglian fen country but seemed to have the feel of the day described. Details here).

Musical Monday

    If you could do with some uplifting music, pause your day for a few minutes and listen to this piece, Seek him that maketh the seven stars, by Jonathan Dove. A word for those in a hurry - it does take its time to build and for its shape to become apparent, so stay with it and you'll be glad you did. For those who like to know a bit about structure, you can read a brief analysis by composer Phillip Cooke.

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    Another musical offering, but just words this time: Stephen Hough wonders, would Rachmaninov enjoy Twitter?

Dragon's teeth

    Out at Cramond this morning (if you've read The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie you'll remember that Miss Brodie and her girls spend time there at Mr. Lowther's house),

low tide enabled us to see the full extent of 'the dragon's teeth',

wartime defences against submarines and torpedo boats which run from the shore to Cramond Island.

    Looking through the teeth up the Forth to the west, just visible there is Barnbougle Castle, part of the Dalmeny Estate.

Rebuilt by the 5th Earl of Rosebery in the 19th century, its main purpose was to house his library (it still performs that function), and incorporates a gallery hall in which he practised his speeches when he was prime minister.

Glorious technicolour

    The third outing this week for How To Be A Domestic Goddess was to make Supper Onion Pie:

"This is just what I want to eat for supper when it's dark early and I'm tired", says Nigella. "It is a pie, yes, but not one with pastry that needs rolling out: you just make a cheese-scone dough and then press it over some onions, already softened and aromatic, in the pan."

    While those red onions are cooking down slowly on the hob, you could do as I did and go and take a picture of the technicolour sunset which matches the pinks of the food -

then mix up your dough, lay it over the onions (we did the whole thing in a Le Creuset gratin dish so no faffing about and minimal washing up) and bake for around 25 minutes.

    Turn out and serve. Even our cheese-hater liked this enough to ask for it again, while for those who didn't have to be persuaded, the savouriness of thyme and the jolt of mustard in the dough balanced the sweetness of the onions. V.g.

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    Before it's been and gone, I must just mention Farmhouse Breakfast Week and the wealth of breakfast ideas and recipes on its site. There's something for everyone there from the traditional to the less well-kent (porridge with Nutella, anyone?).

Cookbook of the week - How to be a Domestic Goddess

    I'm a bit late with 'Cookbook of the Week' - though in fact we had a little taste of it with Saturday's cake - but what could be better for this time of year and for anyone feeling a bit below par than Nigella's tome on "baking and the art of comfort cooking", How To Be A Domestic Goddess.

    I've made the garlic and parsley hearthbreads, combining a marvellously cushiony dough - the texture was just perfect - with a sweet and nutty topping made by roasting several heads of garlic and then puréeing the softened cloves with chopped parsley and olive oil. The quantities given are said to serve four generously, and generously is the word; we had the breads with pepperonata and some good sausages for the carnivores, and there's plenty left to be reheated for lunch today.

    One point to note if you make these, the recipe specifies a tablespoon of salt for the dough itself; I felt that was too much and used considerably less (unhelpfully, I just judged it in the hand) and it turned out fine.

Some corner to sit and think

    This very short but beautifully expressive piece of writing by the pianist Stephen Hough caught my attention this morning, so I offer the link in the hope that reading his words will give you a moment's restorative contemplation.

Making Monday - listless

    Felled by a bug, all I've had the energy for today is a bit of soothing sock knitting, but over at 'Making Monday HQ', Natalie has to be productive this week so she's asking for tips on list-making, mind-mapping, etc., anything to help get things done. This is a subject of endless fascination to me so I'm eager to see what people come up with.

    Back to the needles, and those with long memories may recognise that sock-in-progress from a year ago; it languished untouched 'til yesterday when my listless state caused me to pick it up, but I'm forging ahead now - interesting that it's only when I've been glued to my chair, for one reason or another, that I've been able to get it done.

Books and cakes - 47

    "Lady Audley looked up from her occupation amongst the fragile china cups, and watched Robert rather anxiously, as he walked softly to his uncle's room, and back again to the boudoir. She looked very pretty and innocent, seated behind the graceful group of delicate opal china and glittering silver. Surely a pretty woman never looks prettier than when making tea. The most feminine and most domestic of all occupations imparts a magic harmony to her every movement, a witchery to her every glance. The floating mists from the boiling liquid in which she infuses the soothing herbs, whose secrets are known to her alone, envelop her in a cloud of scented vapour, through which she seems a social fairy, weaving potent spells with Gunpowder and Bohea. At the tea-table she reigns omnipotent, unapproachable ...."

    Remember that, ladies, the next time you put the kettle on!

    As you see, tea features in Lady Audley's Secret, the book the Cornflower Book Group has been reading this month, but cake does not. There is much eating of chops and veal cutlets and the like, but baked goods rarely figure, with only a passing reference to "warm French rolls", indigestible pastries and sweetmeats, and "biscuits and transparent bread-and-butter". Lady Audley is such a devious minx that I doubt she has the taste for cake, though I expect her step-daughter Alicia would like something plain but flavourful, of which the odd crumb might find its way to her dog Caesar.

    To go with the book, therefore, I've made Nigella's Damp Lemon and Almond Cake from How To Be A Domestic Goddess, a fitting accompaniment to a cup of tea made by a mere mortal rather than the "social fairy" of the passage above. It is indeed nicely damp, and the zing of the lemon zest and juice and the marzipan-like almondiness make it everything you hope it will be.

    On the subject of books and cakes, here's an excerpt from the section on almond and lemon in the excellent, compendious The Flavour Thesaurus by Niki Segnit:

"Ground almond soothes lemon's sharpness in cakes and tarts. In Kew, southwest London, deep little tarts called maids of honour are baked and sold at The Original Maids of Honour Shop. They're said to date back to the time of Henry VIII - in Hilary Mantel's novel Wolf Hall [post on it here; its sequel is due out soon], Thomas Cromwell sends flat baskets of them to console Anne Boleyn's ladies-in-waiting. The recipe is a secret, but broadly speaking they're puff pastry tarts with a cheesecake-like lemon and almond filling."

Cookbook of the week & some more recommendations

    If you happen to have a copy of The Moro Cookbook then do try the tuna with oloroso (p.198 in my edition) because it's an excellent combination of flavours and makes a delicious and substantial dish.

    You need very fresh, quite thick tuna steaks, and you rub them with garlic crushed to a paste, then leave them to marinate in medium-dry oloroso sherry. Slowly cook some onions and finish them off with yet more sherry to make a sweet, fragrant sauce with a tang to it. Fry or griddle the tuna briefly and serve with the onions and a sprinkle of parsley - we had a salad and Hasselback potatoes, too.

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    A couple of recommendations from other books you may have to hand: the bolognese sauce from Pasta by Julia della Croce - I've used that recipe for years and have yet to find one better, and the tomato and mozzarella risotto from River Cottage Veg Every Day, discovered just this week and, by popular request, down to be made again at the weekend.

Read it if you dare ...

 

    ... details here.

Some winners and another draw

 

    The Roald Dahl stamps winners' names have been drawn and here they are.

    That's not an end to the giveaways, though, as later on today I'll have some books up for grabs!

Location, location

    Don't you love it when novels feature locations you know? An Edinburgh connection is usually a good draw for me, but I hadn't expected more than a passing reference to the city in Peter May's The Lewis Man which is set principally in the Outer Hebrides. However, the events of one major strand of the plot take place in and around the building pictured. Nowadays it's 'Modern Two', part of the National Galleries of Scotland, but fifty or sixty years ago it was an orphanage - there's a bit more about it in this post. Close by are Dean Village and the Dean Bridge - you can get a glimpse of them here - again, locations which play a very important part in the action of the book.

    The novel's epigraph is from The Old Fools by Philip Larkin:

"That is where they live: Not here and now, but where all happened once,"

and you'll see if you read the book - which I can highly recommend - just how germane that line is and how it relates to these Edinburgh locations.

Cookbook of the week - Moro

    On a visit to London a few years ago we ate at Moro, and it was superb. I would go back like a shot, but no matter how good the food, I doubt any future visit would quite measure up to that first one as we happened to meet Michael Palin there and he was absolutely charming. Still, happy memories, and ones brought back whenever I open Sam and Sam Clark's first book The Moro Cookbook, as I did yesterday to make soup and flatbread for lunch.

    First, the bread: wonderful! Very quick - only 45 minutes rising - and with a sprinkling of sea salt, a good brush of olive oil and some sesame seeds, extremely moreish.

    The soup is pea and ham, or rather Sopa de guisantes, a mixture of petits pois and jamón serrano blended with onion, carrot and good stock, flavoured with garlic, bay and mint. Leftovers did lunch today - I took a break from the editing to make another batch of flatbreads - and I wish there were some left for tomorrow.

Unravelling

   It's not often you come across a thriller or crime novel which has a knitting angle to it, but I don't think I'm giving away too much if I tell you that the Eriskay jersey (click here and then click on the three links in the box on the right to read a bit about it) plays a part in Peter May's The Lewis Man, sequel to his utterly gripping The Blackhouse.

    I gave a few words of introduction to the book on Friday, and now I'm racing to the finish this morning, pausing only to knit a row or two with wool which comes, coincidentally, from the very islands in which this series is set. I hope I'm doing as neat a job with my stranding as Peter has done with his plot, and as detective Fin Macleod unravels a mystery, I'm keeping my stitches firmly on the needles.

A winter salad

    Mr. C. has fairly got the bit between his teeth with my cookbook of the week resolution and he's been poring over River Cottage Veg Every Day especially, marking recipes he wants to try. Today for lunch he made a simple winter salad - the Kohlrabi 'carpaccio' which combines very, very thin slices of kohlrabi with shavings of hard goats' cheese, a sprinkling of thyme and a trickle of lemon juice and olive or rapeseed olive. Just season and serve and discover a great combination.