The big 200 and an Italian feast

So it’s my 200th post! Very exciting. I haven’t been swimming in a little while as I’ve had a cold so I’m going to try, from next week, to swim 200 lengths in honour of it. Not all at once. I’ll try a bit each day. I need to do 30 each day, right? Wish me luck!

I’ve got lots of birthdays and excitement this week so am going to give it til Monday to start the challenge. Thanks for staying with me or joining me along the way. It has been lots and lots of fun. To celebrate this milestone and to embrace my recent trip to Italy and in honour of seeing a friend for the first time in ages, I prepared an Italian feast!

I got a beautiful cookbook the other day. The most beautiful cookbook I’ve ever seen.

It’s full of Venetian recipes and the antipasti section is amazing. In an effort to impress, I insisted on making one of everything!

I finished work at 3pm and had timetabled in when to start everything so that I’d be ready by 7pm. I suddenly realised, at 3.35pm, that I didn’t have almonds for the cantuccini biscuits. I set my white wine and white wine vinegar and juniper berries to boil (for the pickled chicory) then I quickly grabbed my purse and ran down to the shop. I got the almonds and ran back to the house…. When I said ‘I quickly grabbed my purse’, that’s exactly what happened. I grabbed my purse AND NOTHING ELSE! I was locked out. There was no-one else with keys who would be back before 6pm. We had taken the spare key from the next door neighbour because it didn’t work anymore, it was always getting stuck. We kept meaning to get another cut, but didn’t. O no! The next door neighbour walked by and I explained my predicament. We went in her garden to see if I could climb over her fence into my garden and try and figure a way to get in. It’s not really a climb-over-able fence so I was stuck outside, pan boiling inside, on a tight schedule for preparing dinner, with no way into the house.

We eventually got in but another neighbour played a very risky game of almost falling through a roof to do so and it all took about an hour. I was VERY behind schedule.

When I was back in the kitchen, I pickled my chicory, made my duck stock, grilled my aubergines and dressed my rocket. I was back on track. As I was whizzing the almonds in my food processor for the cantuccini, it popped and stopped working! This was NOT on my schedule! It wouldn’t have been a very big deal had I not needed to whizz the duck breast fillets for my duck and porcini mushroom meatballs. My only option was my handheld whizzer thing. You know the type that you stick in a pot of soup to whizz all the lumps out?

So there I was, with a handheld whizzer thing, trying to whizz duck breasts. I got it done in the end but it wasn’t easy and bits of mashed up raw duck kept flying about and sticking to my face and arms.

I threw together an apparently Italian drink, minus the alcohol – elderflower cordial with mint, lemon and ice, then topped up with ginger beer.

I was nervous about attempting the Carta di Musica (music paper) as it needed to be rolled really really thin. It’s basically a paper thin cracker made with semolina. It went surprisingly well. I had some rocket and walnut pesto I had made that morning and after grilling some aubergines with parmesan, mozzarella and basil then rolling them up, I was almost ready to go. I just wrapped the end of a few grissini sticks in salami and pickled chicory and stuck them in a glass, put some dressed rocket into the braesola and rolled it up and put some truffle butter in a dish and we sat down and dug in. (Yes, you heard me right, truffle butter! I finally got some! And it was totally worth it.)

At this point, I noticed that the caster sugar was on the side, unopened and realised that in my panic over the food processor breaking while I was making cantuccini, I had forgotten to put the sugar in! What I had was a savory almond dough! I whipped the biscuits out of the oven and binned them then mixed some sugar into my remaining dough. It didn’t really mix in very well though. I just wrapped the dough in clingfilm, fridged it and hoped for the best.

Next was the main course. We had a parmigiana, a roast tomato risotto, a duck and porcini meatball in a duck stock and tomato sauce, and scallops and pancetta on a bed of minty pea stuff.

The parmigiana looks quite large and intimidating, I didn’t realise that when I cut it!

After eating everything and having a bit of chitchat and sneaking another meatball or two, it was time to address the cantuccini disaster. I cut my dough into six pieces and put it in the oven. It did not go well. Because there wasn’t enough dry stuff in the mixture, it didn’t bake hard enough. It also wasn’t sweet enough. I made us espressos in a percolator, which were really strong, and we dipped our biscuits in.

I felt a bit feeble, with my savory, slightly soft almond thingys. So I implemented a back up plan. There was ice cream in the freezer! Mascapone, cherry and pistachio. Score! The dinner was rescued and we tucked in.

All in all, a success, I think.

Happy 200th post to me! What a fabulous way to celebrate.

A trip back in time to the workhouse

It’s Wednesday and it’s time for Rambler5319 to take over with his guest post again. Enjoy….

 

Perhaps you remember the post NaCl (from 1st Aug) about salt: its early production techniques and different uses. In it I said I would try and visit the Salt Museum at Northwich in Cheshire and last Friday that’s what I did. First thing to note is that, a couple of years ago, the place changed its name from the Salt Museum to the Weaver Hall Museum & Workhouse. I had intended to write up on the whole visit but there was quite a bit of interesting stuff on the workhouse so will do that this week; next week will cover the salt bit of the Museum and another site visit.

I arrived, in boiling sunshine, an hour or so after opening time and yet was still able to choose any spec in the completely empty car park!

Here’s the front entrance

The Museum is housed in the refurbished original buildings of the old Workhouse, built as you can see in 1837, the year Queen Victoria came to the throne. The irony is that an original salt museum, built in 1887 by two local businessmen involved in the salt industry, collapsed due to salt mining subsidence! A replacement was built in 1909 and eventually the collection moved to Weaver Hall in 1981.

I went in and paid my entry fee; parking was free. The curator led me through to the start point – the video room; a film show for one as I was the only visitor so far. After the brief intro film, the first displays were all workhouse related. Of course the workhouse was never meant to be an easy life; it was tough in order to deter people from taking it as an easy option. No state handouts for people to become dependent upon. All inmates had to work. Children were educated in the belief that by so doing they would improve themselves and their prospects. Here’s a quote from a 1901 Poor Law Handbook:

“The care and training of children are matters which should receive the anxious attention of Guardians. Pauperism is in the blood, and there is no more effectual means of checking its hereditary nature than by doing all in our power to bring up our pauper children in such a manner as to make them God-fearing, useful and healthy members of society.”

Interesting that they saw ‘pauperism’ as an inherited (“in the blood”) condition.
Here’s a poster, from a London workhouse in 1902, showing one kind of job people were given to do – in this case, Oakum Picking:

Note, from the write-up, the effects on people doing this work over a period of time. I’m sure they are what today we would call RSI (repetitive strain injury).
Next up was the laundry area and here are some examples of items you would expect to find there:

You can see the two signs to encourage the workers to keep going: one says, “Hard Work Is Its Own Reward” and the other hanging on the right wall, “Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness”. Do you believe it?

An interesting chart was this one below giving the daily & weekly meal allowances for each category of inmate: male, female, child, over 60s, nursing mothers & sick. Have a good look through and see what you reckon to those meals if you had to eat them.

In some areas of the country H.M. Prisons allowed each prisoner 292oz (8.27kg) food per week; workhouse rations, in the same area, were set at 137oz (3.88kg). Meals were to be conducted in silence and sometimes without cutlery! However if you look at the allowances in the Northwich Workhouse some do seem quite generous. I was curious as to what they might equate to so did a quick measure on my kitchen scales of some of the food rations there.

For example, here’s a pic of the over 60s allowances which they could have in place of the breakfast gruel.

Here’s the same sugar ration in a jam jar:

1oz of tea per week equates to the tea in approx 14 tea bags (had to add a bit as theirs would have been loose tea); that means approx 2 cups of tea/day. 5oz butter looks reasonable but it has to last a week. The sugar pile on the plate is 6ins (15cms) diameter, or roughly half a jam jar, but as they were not getting any other sweet food maybe that just had to do. Apart from sugar in tea what else would they use it for?

Bread weight works out at roughly 1 slice (modern day) = 1oz (on my bread anyway); that means men got the equivalent of 12 slices/day, (adding breakfast & supper together) which seems quite a bit more than I’d consume. Most days men got 2lbs (908g) of potatoes.

Here’s my plate with 1lb (454g) so half a day’s ration:

That’s 19 smallish potatoes so 38 for a day’s worth of 2lbs.

There were some other historical exhibits but not related to the workhouse or salt industry. Here’s one poster, advertising a concert at a local dance hall, in the early 1960s.

You could have seen the Beatles play for an entrance fee of 10/- (or 50p/80 cents). Notice you also got The Cadillacs and The Psychos on the same bill. The following week Gene Vincent was due to appear with “HMV Recording Stars” The Outlaws; tickets were only 7/6 (37.5p/60 cents) for that one. And you could dance for four hours (7.45-11.45pm) – if you had the energy. Ah, those were the days, eh?
Then I came across this one. It was quite a high toilet from the ground to seat level. I wondered why? The note on the top warned the reader not to use it in the corridor (as if anyone would in a public place!). You may be able to read that.

It also said to lift the lid to find out more info, so I did and here’s what it said inside:

Imagine that – no flush. You just leave the waste, which dropped down a long pipe, to be washed away by water from the kitchen. It didn’t say if the toilet was likely to be located upstairs or downstairs; if upstairs imagine the length of the pipe down to the ground floor where your number twos would wait for someone in the kitchen to empty the sink. Hmm…..(I understand some people pooh-poohed the idea of including this exhibit….haha.. See what I did there?)

The next exhibit was interesting because of why it was made: “the model of the canal boat Wren was presented to Rev R.V. Barker, at the end of his ministry, by the local boatmen and the address was signed by the captains of the canal boats – Wasp, Beagle, Bunbury & Wren – in recognition of his ministry to them in Nantwich in 1879.

After the museum I headed north of the town to sit by the canal and have my sandwiches.

What a lovely peaceful spot and, a few minutes later, just the chugging sound of a westbound narrow boat passing by.

Different pace of life on the canals! 4 mph speed limit though most go a bit slower to prevent damage to the banks caused by the waves the boat creates as it goes along. Soon it was home time and back to the hustle & bustle of city life. (Time also to remember that we today have much to be thankful for in state and government provision so that the poor don’t have to go to institutions like the old workhouse any more.) It had been a really interesting day out.

My love affair with Waitrose

It’s partly because of the cool rush of air that greets you as you enter. It’s partly because of the amount of things that have ‘organic’ written on the label. It’s also kind of because there’s a whole aisle dedicated to yoghurt. Actually, there are plenty of reasons why I have a long-standing love affair with Waitrose. Let me just tell you about what happened last time I went to see the love of my life.

My shopping list had these things on it:
Shampoo
Conditioner
Asparagus
Something for dinner
Sugar
Eggs

Let’s enter my head to see what actually happened.

Oo! The cool air rush. Mmm. Nice. Ok, grab a trolley. I wonder if people think I’m a grown-up cause I’ve got a trolley. Hee hee. I love pretending to be a grown up. Oo! There’s an offer on something! Raspberries! I’ll just get one box. And another. Ok, I’ll get four! I can make jam with them. I love making jam….

And so it starts. It’s one of those days. One of those days where I have to have one of everything.

Let me get some bananas for banana bread. And a few aubergines. They’re always good. I guess I’ll make a parmigiana with them. So I need tomatoes. I’ll get some strawberries on the way to the tomatoes. Beetroot! Oo, I like raw beetroot shaved into a salad with smoked salmon and rocket. Laura! Calm down! You don’t need everything! Yes I do, I NEEEEED the beetroot. I need it. Ok then, just get it and shut up. Yesssss, beetroot in trolley. Do I need to stop at the fresh pasta section? Not really, but I like lingering there and looking at it and pretending I’m in Italy. Right, moving on, my favourite sections are coming up. The meat and fish counters. I can feel my eyes lighting up. O no! Here I am in front of the counter ordering tons of fish, before I can stop myself. I’m walking away with a bit of everything, scallops, prawns, squid, mahi-mahi, tilapia, salmon, rainbow trout. What on earth did I do that for?! When can I possibly eat all this fish?! O well. Down the chicken aisle. Oo, what to get? The turkey’s on offer, or some duck? Don’t be ridiculous, why would I get a duck for normal dinner at home. I must learn to distinguish when fancy dinner is required and when to just do normal dinner. Ok, I’ve actually got enough fish to feed an army, so maybe I don’t need any chicken. And so to the yoghurt aisle. Too much choice! Too exciting! The nice Waitrose yoghurts made with Jersey cream are amazing. I’ll get one of each flavour. There are about ten flavours. I don’t need them all but I can’t stop myself. And some of the passionfruit flavour. Mmm. And a large vanilla one. Mmm… And some of the Greek stuff. Omygoodness, there is NO way I’ll be able to get all this home. Ah well, keep going. Skip the freezer aisle. Next aisle, tins and cooking stuff. Actually, I’ve run out of ground ginger and oregano so let me get some of those. Next, to the juice, yessss, they’ve got that iced peach tea, two please. Round to the crackers and cereal aisle. I need oats and I’ll get some crackers too, they’re good to have in. Next aisle, need chocolate for making flapjacks. Eggs, yes please. Sugar, two types please. Flour, yes please. I need hazelnuts too actually. I can feel this is becoming slightly crazy. I can’t stop though. Next aisle, spend a while deliberating over which shampoo and conditioner are most suited to my hair. Last aisle, do I need anymore washing up liquid or clothes softener? Foil? Cling film? No I think I’m fine.

And so I emerge from the last aisle, hurrying a little as I try to stop putting things in my trolley. Ridiculous. I didn’t even have everything e.g. parmesan for the parmigiana, salmon or rocket for the beetroot salad I planned, the asparagus that had originally been on my list, etc. I practically ran to the tills, like a guilty lover, trying to pretend the rendezvous had never happened. But it had. I had three heavy shopping bags to prove it. It was one of my silliest shopping trips ever. How much do you reckon I spent? Have a guess and I’ll reveal the answer tomorrow.

Coffee

I’m a bit worried to say this because I know how passionate people get about this issue. But I think it’s time to finally say it. I don’t want my readers labouring under any illusions about me.

So let me just say it.

I don’t like coffee.

In fact, I think it tastes quite horrible.

I’ve tried. I’ve really tried. I’ve worked with coffee for ages now. Sometimes I make a drink wrong by accident. So I think to myself, rather than waste the cappuccino, I’ll drink it. And I always regret it. It’s just not tasty. Sorry, coffee lovers. I just don’t get the coffee thing. It’s not tasty.

I used to go to a nice restaurant in central London sometimes, before an evening class I was taking and I would order a black coffee. I loved sitting in the window watching life go by and drinking my black coffee. Like a real grown up. I was not enjoying my black coffee at all. I’m useless with super hot drinks anyway, so it took me forever to take my first sip. Then I’d add sugar so I couldn’t taste the coffee so much. So the entire exercise was essentially pointless, the only real point being to make me feel a bit sophisticated and, really, who was I kidding.

If I’m in work and I have a coffee, I go a bit mental. I talk very fast and run around trying to do everything all at once. It’s not good

Recently, I decided to get into coffee drinking again. But my order ended up being so complicated that I could feel how annoying I was when I was asking for my drink. Because I don’t like coffee, I thought I’d try decaf. I also thought that if I’m going to drink coffees often, I should at least limit the damage and get it with skimmed milk which, incidentally, steams much better than semi or full fat, it goes really smooth and silky. So I’m decaf and skimmed, awkward central. Then I’ve noticed that when I get latte or cappuccino most places, the foam on the top is really dry and I don’t like that. I like it when it’s creamy and got really fine bubbles. So I get a flat white.

A decaf skinny flat white.

Ridiculous.

I stopped ordering it after a little while because I could hear how stupid it was.

So that has been my interaction with coffee. I make it. I do NOT drink it. I wish I was more grown up and loved it. But I don’t. I just don’t.

M is for…

MARSHMALLOWS!

This was a very nerve-wracking experience for me so I thought I’d do another ‘What runs through my head when I’m…’ about it.

Ok, marshmallows! I’m going to make marshmallows! This will be amazing! Marshmallows. I can’t wait. Ok, the recipe. Nervous! Nervous! Ok, concentrate.

Sugar and water in a saucepan. Heat it to 216 degrees! What?! That’s so hot. Ok, jam thermometer, in it goes. In the meantime, whisk egg whites. I’d better do that now! Quickly before the sugar heats up! O goodness, it’s a race against time. Crack the eggs in, whip them up, ok, phew, done.

The. Sugar. Is. Taking. Ages. It’s been forever. The egg whites are settling a bit. Should’ve done them later. Why is it taking so long to heat up? O, wait a minute, the end of the thermometer has been touching the bottom of the pan, not the liquid! O no, I think I may have overheated it?! Quick quick! Get whisking the egg whites, pour in the sugar syrup. I think I burned it. Great. I think it’s burned. What do I do? I’ve just wasted all that sugar and those eggs now. Right, just keep going and see what happens.

It’s definitely burned.

Whisk, whisk, whisk. Dammit. Omygoodness, everything in the bowl just suddenly mixed together and swelled up and became one huge marshmallow! One huge bowl-shaped marshmallow. Amazing. I still think it’s burnt, I’ll just keep going and see if you can taste it after they’ve set.

Put half in a baking tray. Roll raspberries in icing sugar and cornflour and dot them over the marshmallow mixture. Other half of the marshmallow mix on top. O no, it’s sticking and the raspberries are going all over the place. Never mind. Just splodge it all on and hope it settles. Leave it for an hour and a half to set now.

Ok, hour and a half up. I’m definitely nervous again. Let me just turn it out of the tray. It’s stuck!! It’s stuck. I have the tray upside down and I am shaking it around like crazy. It’s stuck. Hmm. Calm down, calm down. Think. Spatula, slide round the edges, help it a little bit. Phew, it’s coming out, in one piece. A miracle! Loads and loads of icing sugar and cornflour and it’s sticking to me and to everything in sight.

Ok, breathe, calm. Cut into squares. Icing sugar. Cornflour. It doesn’t look burnt. I still think it might be. Taste one. O thank goodness! Not burnt. I knew it’d be fine. I knew all along. Phew. Need to get a second opinion. I wonder if any of my neighbours are in. Fill tupperware with marshmallows and find friends to get an opinion from.

That was fun. I think I’ll do some more soon.

J is for…

JAM!

Omygoodness. I love making jam. It’s so easy. But it appears to be such a skill. You essentially just get a load of fruit, add sugar and leave it for ages. I don’t even eat that much jam. Actually, I can’t remember the last time I had some, months ago. But I’ve made tons recently. Because it takes so long, it means I can loiter in the kitchen for ages, feeling nice and looking around at my favourite part of the house. With the time you spend loitering around, you can rustle up a batch of bread to have with your jam, should you wish. Jams and marmalades are fabulous homemade gifts. Don’t be intimidated. Just put a load of fruit and sugar in a pan and heat it. Plus, it makes you feel pretty Mastercheffy when you’ve got a batch done.

And to clarify, I’ve done some research, apparently the difference between jam and marmalade is that marmalade is bitter, presumably because it tends to be with citrus fruits and you use peel. But then there’s the added category of preserves. I think its something to do with whether the whole fruit is used and whether there is any pectin in it. Or just sugar. Hmm. It’s already got a bit too complicated for me.

Anyway, more importantly, what jam should I make today? There is normally some kind of discount or deal on at least one type of fruit in the supermarket so I’ll just let them decide for me. As an aside, if you were thinking of taking jam-making up, my most successful flavours have been fig and apricot. In terms of marmalade, I got my best feedback from a blood orange and cranberry mixture. Most unsuccessful flavour was grape, which would NOT set, no matter what I did to it. Good combinations of bread and jam are fig bread with apricot jam, apple bread with apricot jam and walnut bread with fig jam. Strawberry jam (soft set) goes amazingly well with homemade scones. I dare you to try jamming. Summer’s on its way so scones and jam are in order. Give it a go.