Summer memories

This summer started off with sunshine and happiness.  We had a wonderful family day out at Bolton Abbey, full of tree climbing, splashing in a river and eating ice creams.

It was so warm, happy and picturesque I felt like we were living a scene from Swallows and Amazons or Five Go Adventuring Somewhere Crime-Free.

A couple of days later we went to one of our favourite places: Chester Zoo. Part of our picnic lunch for this particular visit - at least for Zach and I  - was some lovely ripe melon. I think this had a large part to play in what happened next.

We headed into Luke's favourite part of the zoo, the Bat House. I always have to brace myself for entering it because the smell is appalling. I follow the advice of the bloke from Neal's Yard cheese shop of taking some big gulping breathes on the grounds I'll get used to it in 30 seconds. This never happens. The whole time I'm there I feel my nose is being assaulted. However, bats are cool and Luke is cooler, so I go in every time.

There is a little tunnel in the Bat House where hideous things like blind cave fish are kept. As we came out of it, Zach said there were loads of little bats whizzing around him. Luke dismissed this as the wishful thinking of someone mistaking the air movement caused by the larger bats and pooh-poohed the idea. However, standing near Zach very still for a while showed he was right.  Tiny fruit bats were circling his legs. As we all stood still they circled us as well and started to land on our fingertips. They were particularly keen on Zach and me. Several nibbled our fingers before flitting off again.  It was utterly remarkable. We stayed for a good 15 minutes in the centre of this colony of wheeling bats.

As we left the Bat House and washed our hands, I remembered the ripe melon. I suspect the melon juice on our fingers attracted the bats once we were still enough for them to approach us. Knowing Zach, I am pretty sure he'd have wiped his hands on his shorts, too, hence them starting by circling his legs.

The rest of the day was fun as usual. I happened to be at the Giraffe House (my favourites - such beautiful eyes!) as they were getting their evening meal and enjoyed watching them run in. With such long legs they look like they are going in slow motion while moving very quickly. It's surreal. The keeper told me some new stuff about them - personalities, a possible pregnancy etc - which only reinforced my opinion that all zoo workers are lovely people.

The kids had a week at the grandparents' houses, swapping about a bit between them and generally having a wonderfully indulged time. They never miss us while they are away. This either means they are secure and happy or that we're just rubbish.  Pollyanna soul that I am, I'm choosing the former. Sad thoughts? La La La I can't hear you!

While they were away, some entitled soul smashed a side window in our front hall and snatched my handbag. This has caused more flipping effort than you would believe. It's astonishing how much stuff I keep in the handbag I use every day. It's not just the cash and the debit cards, it's all the other gear. Kids' library cards, gift cards, stamps, repeat prescription, Oyster card for London trips, photos of the kids and of my Dad as a toddler (I found it in my grandmother's things when she died and liked it.) Useful numbers, loyalty cards, a couple of tiny souvenirs that make me happy when I see them. Most of the make-up I use regularly. Indeed, I am mostly bereft of make-up as it appears I just shove everything in my handbag and apply it using the living room mirror. I lost 6 lipsticks amongst all the other stuff, which is VERY annoying.

Anyway, a good few days were chewed up by dealing with the police, crime scene team, insurance company, glaziers, and every single company I had a card with. My 'free week' felt a lot less free.

Fortunately, one of the highlights of my year occurred on the Friday - the annual trip to RHS Tatton with my Very Excellent Mate SJ. SJ is one of the most ace people I know. Unfortunately, my kids share that opinion so it can be very hard to have an uninterrupted talk when they are in the vicinity.  Tatton is our luxury - a full day looking at garden things, having a picnic and a damned good chat.

We got dressed up for Ladies' Day this year. Here we are reflected in chrome panels flanking one of the show gardens -

I am crediting my dress and the fancy hat thing I borrowed from my friend Kirsty for the fact that SJ and I were invited into one of the show gardens to sit in a remarkable globe chair I'd admired. Stepping over the barrier, I felt like royalty. Or Monty Don, which for gardeners seems to be the same thing. It was great fun.

On the Sunday Mark and I celebrated our 20th anniversary. Or 10th, depending how you count.  We spent the wedding money on the deposit for a house 20 years ago. Ever since then we've counted the day we moved in as our anniversary - other people had a wedding; we lived in ours.  On our 10th anniversary we went to the registry office with SJ and her partner Rich and got married. (We picked that date so there would be no confusion over when our true anniversary is.)
My idealistic feminism may reject the patriarchal institution of marriage but my pragmatic self wants access to Mark's pension and for him to have rights over the boys (they were born before the law about unmarried parents changed.) So, we think it's our 20th anniversary this year but other people might think 10th.

My lovely parents had the kids to allow us to go to London overnight. We ate a refined and delicious lunch at Rowley Leigh's Cafe Anglais on Sunday (Mark arranged it with himself in mind) and saw the truly wonderful Boyhood by Richard Linklater in the evening. We cried, we smiled, we were charmed beyond words. I do recommend it wholeheartedly.

The next day we went to the Matisse exhibition at Tate Modern. Mark bought me a Matisse lithograph for my 40th birthday - made during his lifetime and overseen by the man himself. We didn't know the original would be included in the exhibition as it is in private hands. It was - hurray! And WOW is it ever massive! I was thrilled to see it in the flesh, so to speak.  The whole exhibition was marvellous.

We had lunch at Bocca di Lupo (which Mark arranged with me in mind. I think Italian is the best of all types of food) which was utterly amazing. If you ever get the opportunity to go, I urge you to order a granita cocktail. I had the Bramble - gin, lemon, blackberry liquor - and Mark had the Bloody Mimosa - blood orange juice and prosecco. It was a good job the food was so amazing; in any other restaurant those cocktails would have been the highlight of the experience.

Back home we had a day divided between the den building event in town and the free Breeze festival, which involved me, the kids and a whole pile of their friends.  I used my Christmas vouchers for a patisserie day at Betty's (just fabulous). We had a big get-together with many of my Very Excellent mates and their families that ended with 16 people sleeping in our house. There was barely a patch of floor not covered in sleeping bags.

Miss B spent 16 days in Spain with her uncle and cousins. The lads joined her after a week, travelling with my parents. While they were at home without her we nipped off to watch Guardians of the Galaxy - top fun. We also had the highlight of Zach's whole summer: meeting the author of the Scott Pilgrim graphic novels. Bryan Lee Scott was touring to promote his new graphic novel, Seconds. It's a more mature story; very much a novel that happens to be told in pictures rather than a comic. Bryan was a lovely bloke, very friendly and encouraging. Meeting him, getting an autograph and a photo with him put Zach in a giddy, euphoric mood for days.  He even enjoyed queueing for 2 hours to be at the front of the line because talking to the people in the queue "was like finding my people, Mummy!" 

While the lads and B were away Mark and I were very busy on our summer project. I'll post all about that in the next little while.

June in a bottle

One day my daughter will look back on weekends like this with nostalgia. Not a ghastly "geez, I can't believe we did that rubbish," type nostalgia that hits me when I remember watching the Donnie and Marie show. No, proper, Proustian nostalgia when she smells the blossom in her adulthood.
Or at least I hope so.

It was warmer than predicted, the rain showers threatened didn't materialise and the sun beat down as the afternoon progressed. Her eldest brother was dossing in bed after a week of exams, her middle brother was still at a friend's house following a sleepover so Mark and I took her out on her own to the place of her choosing - in this instance, Meanwood Valley Urban Farm. We bought her a sausage roll and crisps; she had a milkshake; she fed donkeys and goats, watched damselflies and ran through the woods to a den. All in all it was a lovely time with the fabulous Miss B.

I noticed the elderflowers all over a massive hedge near the farm's playground. Hurray! We had a lovely time, B and I, picking elderberries in September. Now she could take part in my first foraged harvest of the year, the delicate froth of elderflowers.

We drove out to the lane we'd visited in early autumn. It's easier to pick the flower heads than the berries so we didn't need scissors this time. Mark stayed in the car with the radio while Miss B and I browsed the hedgerows for the cream-coloured, open clusters. We avoided any with a hint of faded blooms as past it, and those with many tight buds as not yet ready.

Partly to let the flowers fulfil their botanic purpose and partly because I love watching the PUFF of tiny pollen specks, we batted each flowerhead before picking it.  Thank heavens neither of us have hay fever.

As we picked and chatted, we were overtaken by a group of walkers.  Clearly not gardeners, they asked us if we were picking blackberries. "No, it's too soon," Miss B confidently told them. "It's elderflowers now." They asked what we'd do with them and how to choose them. Very charmingly, they asked Miss B to help them choose some good flower heads to contribute.  She was delighted to advise.

A fair few flowers ended up in Miss B's hair

In the face of such enthusiasm, we ended up with far more flower heads that I had anticipated. Ah well, I guess we'd better make a LOT of cordial...

Elderflower Cordial

25-30 elderflower heads
1-2 lemons
1/2 to 1 lime
1.5 litres boiling water
900g sugar

Pick over the flower heads to remove any creepy-crawlies. Ideally do this by hand, not washing the flowers before use. However, we'd got 90-odd flower heads so I just filled the sink with cold water and gently swished the flowers about in that, removing any bugs I noticed.
Put the flowers is a large stock pot of maslin pan. Add the zest of the citrus fruit and keep the fruit on one side for juicing tomorrow.  Add 1.5l of boiling water and cover. Leave to infuse overnight.

A whole heap of elderflowers, zest and water

Strain the liquid through a scalded (i.e. covered in boiling water before use to sterilise it) jelly bag or piece of muslin. Add the sugar and the lemon and lime juices. Bring to the boil. Simmer for 5-10 minutes and pour into sterilised bottles.

NB - I was doing a triple batch and lacked sufficient sterilised bottles. I washed some tonic water bottles out in very hot water and filled them with cordial, leaving a 5 inch gap at the top for expansion. When they cooled I popped them in the freezer. They'll keep there until I need them.

Elderflower cordial with soda water and ice is a lovely soft drink. However, it also makes exceedingly lovely cocktails:

Elderflower Martini

1 measure gin
1/2 measure vermouth
1 measure elderflower cordial
Juice of 1/2 a lime

Pour everything into a cocktail shaker with plenty of ice. Shake until frosty and serve.
Chi chin!

Paddington can have his sandwiches; I have other plans

Hello webby cronies!

January has a lot working against it. It's cold, dark and very rainy. Everyone is on a budget, or on a diet, or in a foul mood thanks to giving up fags, booze, wheat, joy - or all of the above. In our family it's also Miss B's birthday party on top of 2 nieces, my mum, my brother and Z's birthdays so it tends to be a busy and expensive month too.

But there are two bright shining January things that make me happy. The first one is my annual ballet jaunt to London with my Very Excellent Friend Bon, but I've already told you about that in detail.

The other nice thing is something I can share with you - Seville orange season! They are bright, aromatic and wonderful when everything else in season is an all too virtuous-looking dark green: sprouts, kale and so on.

Don't let that marvellous smell fool you, though. Sevilles are dreadfully sour and inedible when raw. They need to be cooked or otherwise processed. The obvious is marmalade, of course, and I had a pleasant afternoon making 8 jars of the stuff.

 Incidentally, I usually have to add a dash of pectin to my marmalade. I do all the recommended stuff like soaking the pips overnight and so on, so in theory I shouldn't need to. I've decided it must be that I use quite a lot less sugar than my recipes call for because Mark and my Dad - the real marmalade lovers in the family - prefer theirs quite sharp. If you are better informed than I on such matters, please to tell me in the comments section.

  Marmalade is all well and good for pleasing partners, fathers and bears visiting from Darkest Peru. What I really want to try this year is orange gin.

There are 20 or 30 recipes easily available through search engines. I went for 70ml of cheap gin, the peel but not pith of 3 to 4 seville oranges, 1 or 2 cloves and 125g caster sugar.
NB  - loads of recipes suggested anything up to 250g of sugar. I prefer my drinks less sweet but if you like sweet liquors, add more.

I have a small serrated knife - a mini bread knife with the rather ludicrous label "breakfast knife" - that I used for getting the peel from the orange whilst leaving all the white pith still on it.  A very sharp knife would do, too, but my veg knives all need sharpening. The oil that makes oranges smell so wonderful is all in that coloured peel. The pith just makes things bitter.

Tip some of the gin into a jug. Pour the sugar in the gin bottle and poke the orange peel and clove in too. Top up the bottle with the gin you put in the jug. Close the lid tightly and shake. Shake it every day or so for a couple of weeks then put it somewhere dark  like the back of a cupboard and forget about it.

By Christmas you will have a lovely orange gin.  I expect it is nice by summer, to be honest, but tradition dictates it steep for the year. Even after a week it looks beautiful, having taken a golden glow from the peel already.

Having made the gin, I had a bunch of pith-covered oranges sitting on my counter. What could I do with then? I can't juice then nor eat them.... Curd! I could make Seville orange curd! It would use up the juice, and as the hens are back in lay I had heaps of fresh eggs to use.

200ml lemon or Seville orange juice
zest of 2 lemons or normal oranges
125g butter
450g sugar
4 large or 5 medium eggs

Making lemon (or orange) curd is a doddle. First you juice your fruit. You need 200ml, so I topped up with the juice of 1 of the normal oranges I was using for the zest as well.
Break all your eggs into a jug and beat them well. Have a sieve to hand.

Put the juice, zest, butter and sugar in a large heatproof bowl. Sit the bowl on a pan of simmering water and stir until the butter has melted and the whole thing looks glossy and smooth. Keep the heat quite low, because if it's too hot the next stage will result in sweet citrus-y scrambled egg. Gently, Bentley, and it's easy as pie.
Pour the beaten egg into the bowl through the sieve - there are little stringy buts that hold the yolk in place and they can go a bit weird in things like curds. Beat the mixture well to combine. Keep stirring over that gentle heat until it is a think and creamy curd. It takes anything from 7 to 15 minutes in my experience. Basically stop once it looks like lemon curd!

Pour it into sterilised jars, seal, and fight with your children about who gets to lick the bowl. (Hint - you do. If they want to lick it, they can do the washing up.)

Supposedly you need to eat it within a month, and store opened jars in the fridge.  Ours never lasts that long.

Ta da! One bag of lovely aromatic oranges turned into 8 jars of marmalade, 2 1/2 bottles of gin and 3 jars of orange curd. Maybe January isn't so bad after all.

J x

Entente Cordial

Hello webby world!

Sometimes a bit of seasonal goodness can fix pretty much anything. Like this:
Are you well?
 No? Oh, poor thing, you sound full of a cold. Have a spoon of elderberry cordial to help your cough.
Yes? Marvellous! Join me in a cocktail. I've made Hedgerow Kir Royale: elderberry cordial and prosecco.

Droopy, juicy elderberries

If you need neither soothing nor plying with exciting purple cocktails (is that possible?), how about having some on greek yogurt or stirred through your porridge. It's full of vitamin C and is supposed to be good for colds and flu.
I don't actually care about that if I'm truthful. I only care that it is utterly delicious.
And seasonal, which is oh so virtuous and fashionable these days.
And mostly free, making it ideal for these frugal and glum times. (Except when you add prosecco to it.)
And I get to make it myself, continuing my transformation from lazy bookworm to the Ambridge matriarch.*

*A side note: My mum and I have been emailing back and forth with competing baking and preserve making triumphs over the last week. I sign mine Jill Archer Wannabe, Mum signs hers Suzy Homemaker. Suzy overtook Jill when she made 90 billion jars of damson jam (well, 34. but that's pretty much a billion ) over the past two days. However, I'm not writing Jill off yet - I have more types of jam, jelly, crumble and cordials. Plus I'm hoping the 220 shortbread biscuits I made today will help pull Jill into the lead.

In case you too would like to make the miracle of scrumptiousness that is elderberry cordial, here's how I did it.

First, pick your elderberries. Assuming you aren't in a totally concrete environment, you'll find heaps of them around just now. We drove to the hedgerows a few miles from our house, near Harewood, because there are absolutely MASSES there. I prefer to use a little pair of scissors to pick the berries to just pulling them because fewer berries fall to the ground. Only pick the droopy, heavy berry clusters - they are the most ripe and juicy.

When you've filled your carrier bag, head home for the exciting task of removing the berries from the stalks. This is important because the plant and unripe berries contain a form of cyanide. (Don't get too worried, so do loads of fruit we eat. It's mild) The ripe ones are good for you once they've been cooked, which breaks down the alkaloids that cause the problems. Well, the BBC Food website says that and if you can't trust the BBC who can you trust?

Anyway, removing the berries by hand is a long and finger-staining job. I use a fork to whip them off the stalks much more quickly. It still took me an hour but I had the radio to keep me company.

I pick out any green, unripe berries by hand. I also have to keep an eye out for unwitting passengers. This week's score was:

          Earwigs:   1

         Ladybirds: 4

         Spiders: 17

Despite using a fork mostly, I still ended up with fairly stained hands, but it washed off far more easily than the stains from the plum jam.

Note the very short nails. Between baking, gardening and jam making I think the shorter my nails are the better. 

Anyway, I ended up with two and a half kilos of elderberries. Most I simmered with apples to make elderberry jelly but some were for the cordial.

I add about 400 or 500ml of water per kilo of elderberries and simmer them for around 25 minutes. I bash them about with a potato masher towards the end of the cooking period to release as much juice as possible. It goes an astonishingly rich dark purple colour.  Then it is ready to be strained.

Straining it needs a jelly bag, a fine tea towel or some muslin suspended above a bowl. I use a jelly bag tied to the legs of an upturned kitchen chair that I sit on a counter out of the way, with a LARGE bowl underneath the bag to catch the liquid. You need to let gravity do its work, slowly trickling and dripping all the juice out. If you squeeze the bag or press the berry pulp to speed things along your cordial (or jelly) will be cloudy.My advice it to go see a movie at this point. Or take a nap. Naps are lovely.

When I was ready to crack on (i.e. woke up) I popped some clean bottles in a low oven to sterilise. Lakeland and other places do nice bottles with swing tops that are really good for this sort of thing if you want to give the cordial as a present. 

I added 400g of sugar per litre of elderberry liquid and heated it in a saucepan. Once the sugar had dissolved I tasted it for sweetness and added any more I felt necessary (not much on this occasion.)  I poured the cordial into the warm sterilised bottles and sealed them. All done.

Recipe - Hedgerow Kir Royale

Add one tablespoon of elderberry cordial to each wine glass and top up carefully with Cava, Prosecco or whatever sparkling wine you like. It froths hugely, so go easy.

Share with your very best pals.

Cheers!

Iechyd Da!