Busy bee

Having a three year old around

is good fun.

We cooked up some pancakes

when I might not have bothered otherwise

and did an experiment with bicarbonate of soda and 

vinegar mixed with food colouring.

The internet is full of good ideas for things to do with children

(all I had recourse to when mine were young was Child Education Magazine

and a book called Something to Do)

and the means to carry them out is available at the click of a button.

If anyone needs a plastic pipette or 20 litres of white vinegar

I'm your woman.

Something went a little awry with my order.

My phone was requisitioned for these rather arty shots.

Helping Grandma

Exquisite timing

With two loud bangs

our gas stove threw in the towel last night.

At first light the hunt began 

for anyone who knew how to fix it.

The usual rigmarole followed with The Four Seasons on hold.

The passing from hand to hand in various organisations. 

The out of order number, the wrong number,

the,

'We're very busy, everybody wants their cookers fixed. 

I will get someone to call you back between

24 and 48 hours.

Then it will be up to 5 days before anyone can come.'

The lying on the floor with a torch to find

the ten digit model number engraved on its intestines.

The very real possibility that it is beyond repair,

(it is twenty years old),

or the parts are unavailable.

I consider the option of buying a new one,

shudder at the expense

and realise that we will still be sailing very close to the wind 

for delivery and installation.

Plus I happen to remember that the floor was laid up to

and not under the stove in a close fitting chimney alcove and 

that it was an even tighter fit after the walls were tiled.

Likely the floor and tiles will be damaged

as the old one is extracted and the new one pushed in.

Although the entire electrics have blown 

and the gas is therefore cut off to the ovens and grill, 

the burners on the top will still work with matches.

Poached goose anyone? 

Kondo-ing walk of shame

As it's not warm enough to sit outside 

with a nice glass of something chilled,

I have been Kondo-ing the pantry this evening.

It goes without saying that I had many packets and jars

 of years out of date pasta,

 mystery grains, pulses,

a huge bottle of Monin ginger syrup,

stale ground rice, semolina, 

flax seeds, millet, hemp,

 Smash dried potato,

mung beans, moong dal, popping corn,

aduki beans, black eyed beans,

Horlicks,  drinking chocolate, and fancy herb teas,

but what really shocked me was the seven,

 SEVEN

different types of sugar, cluttering up the shelves.

Granulated.

Caster.

Golden caster.

Muscovado.

Icing.

Demerara.

Soft light brown.

Rainbow crystals.

No wait,

That's eight.

EIGHT 

different types of sugar, cluttering up the shelves.

The only one I haven't got is cubes.

Surely I don't need all those?

Well of course, granulated for

my brother's and builders' tea,

caster for light sponge cakes and meringues,

golden caster because Nigel Slater said so,

Muscovado for rich fruit cakes,

icing, for icing,

Demerara for putting on top of cakes

because Nigel Slater said so,

soft light brown for brownies,

and rainbow crystals for. . .

old times sake, because my parents used to put it out on the

coffee tray if we had visitors

and I wanted to amuse the children with it.

This isn't going well.

The only one that didn't spark joy was Muscovado

because it had gone rock hard.

You can tell I am a child of the fifties,

 born just as sugar came off rationing.

Must I stop eating cake?

Cheering up

Freda asks what we are doing to brighten up January.

May I submit my origami wreath

in colours to co-ordinate with a jam pot?

Also a possible kitchen floor colour change.
The blue linoleum of twenty years service
was mysteriously and irrevocably damaged
around the time that the new windows went in.
Yellow is being considered.
It is even more blazingly sunny than this photo suggests.

The cyclamen are doing their best to cheer up the view from the window.

Getting there slowly

Sweet orange pastry for the mince pies -

Josceline Dimblebey's recipe every year.

Red cabbage and apple with sausages and mash.

Winter walks of course

even if we nearly forget to get out in time.

A winter surprise.

But it has been very warm.

Advent windows,

(one of them mine).

The tree at last despite a hissy fit with the lights.

A shining light on these darkling days.

Christmas in the Spring

 A three hour transformation took place in my kitchen today.

The team - Art Director, Stylist, Photographer and Publisher

brought nearly everything they needed

(that tea pot got lucky)

to create an impression of a bright spring day in the country

on an exceptionally dull December one in town.

As far as I could tell,

all that was going to remain of the original location,

was a hazy impression of a 'country' garden in the background.

Even the table top was theirs,

carefully selected from a backgrounds rack

in a props warehouse.

Who knew?

The cake, though scrumptious looking,

was deemed to be a little too messy,

so I stepped forward with an offer of knives

to tidy it up.

Later someone found a plate of macarons in my fridge

and decided that they would be just perfect

for the Waitrose version of the advertisement.

Bunting was called for but later abandoned as 

too much in the way of the copy that had to be added later.

I believe this is one of the selected shots,

possibly destined for Sainsbury's or Tesco magazines

as I can't see any macarons in it.

Disappointingly no flowers or cakes were left behind.

I am not familiar with this author

so I have looked her up for you.

Now I can bring in the Christmas tree.

Kitchen tour under cover

I am lucky to have a sizeable kitchen.

Size isn't everything though.

The work triangle is abysmal. 

The huge window is to blame.

Glorious though it is to have it centred on the best view of the garden,

it makes a U-shaped layout impossible

and as a galley it is too wide.

It is cold too being NW facing.

So cold, that we have belatedly bitten the bullet

and decided to get double glazed windows.

To the right of the window is a fridge and plastic box 

and baking tin cupboard.

Above the fridge is the inaccessible cupboard for

biscuits, crisps, chocolate and cakes.

The 'children' can all access this with ease now.

I still have to stand on a chair, which is just as well.

There is normally a butcher's block under the window.

It blocks the heat from the radiator.

The range stove (not an AGA, I've never wanted one) 
is in the chimney breast

and the sink unit is to the right of it.

Here are the crockery and glass cupboards, 
with a dropped level work surface for pastry and bread making.

The liquidiser, kettle and coffee machine all stand out on top.

I don't have a food processor since it went 'phut'.

 This is where we eat.

The shelf normally houses various plates, jugs and Poole Pottery jam pots.

The picture above I wrote about here and here and here.

Twenty years ago I had a bench made to store toys.

The Play Doh basket is still in there.

It may be needed again.

The tiles are very warming.

The butcher's hooks hold my utensils.

The mantleshelf above that holds yet more jugs and vases.

The sink unit has three cupboards above

which hold all the spices, oils, vinegars

and miscellaneous bottles and jars.

The three shelves hold a selection of the newly culled cookery books

presently in favour.

Fruit bowls stand on the corner unit and saucepans beneath.

The door to the left goes into the utility room.

Everything is in there being covered in a fine layer of dust.

The mess is indescribable.

I know the men are doing their best but there is hammering of masonry

and drilling of plaster and none of it can be avoided.

I am sitting upstairs and am also

covered in a fine layer of dust.

The men speak a very rare version of Farsi Blokeish.
They are from Afghanistan.

Now go and visit Sue.

She has a lovely new red floor.

Cooking for friends

Garden flowers and apple tart.

We had many visitors yesterday,

three of them Japanese girls from Kyoto University, one a college friend,

two of them our highly expectant son and daughter-in-law.

Watercress soup,tarragon chicken with tomato chilli fondue 

from the Ballymaloe cookbook

(one not jettisoned because of the holiday memories it holds), 

butternut squash risotto and rocket and watercress salad,

the first baked apples of the season and a fancy apple tart

and cream with salted caramel ice cream.

The little yellow dish is from the Sandwich Glass Museum in Massachusetts.