Gingerbread recipes

Talking to my Very Excellent Mate Kirsty today, I waxed lyrical about gingerbread houses.  I love making them. In fact,  I have to fight my control-freak urge to let the kids decorate them with sweets. I like piping tiny icicles on eaves, I like making daft gingerbread people in different themes. When I baked for a living, I churned out at least 100 gingerbread people a week, and yet I still find the smell oddly soothing.

I have two favourite gingerbread recipes - a normal one and one suitable for vegans.  As two of our closest friends in the toddler years were highly allergic to dairy and egg, that was an absolute necessity for all our early parties.

First the usual one - 

400g plain flour

1tsp bicarb

2 tsp ground ginger

2 tsp cinnamon

180g soft butter

125g soft brown sugar

125g treacle

1 egg

Mix everything, roll out quite thinly, cut into shapes and bake at 180 for 10-15 minutes depending on the side of the biscuits.

Then the vegan one - 

250g plain flour

100g stork or other veg fat

100g soft brown sugar

1tbs treacle

1tbs golden syrup

1 tsp ground ginger

1-2 tbs of orange juice, just enough to get the dough to come together.

Mix everything, roll out more thickly, cut into shapes and bake at 190 for 8-12 minutes.

Despite being on a hideously low calorie, no-carb diet while I sort my blood pressure out, I thought it would be nice to bake some gingerbread the kids for Hallowe'en. However, having spent 90 minutes processing Bramley apples for applesauce, I'm tempted to ditch kitchen work and sit in the gift of autumnal sunshine. 

Also, I have a sneaking suspicion it might all be too much for me, and I'd sneak a gingerbread witch or two.

Hmm, maybe one to leave for next year...

Thou Shalt Have a Fishy

Gone fishin'

It's a cliche for doing nothing, sloping off, taking it easy.  And it's been an aspiration of mine for a-g-e-s

Number 1 on my list of Things To Do Before I'm 50, fishing for my dinner, was a highlight of my summer.

Thanks to miscalculating how long it takes to get from Teeside to Whitby, and then the total lack of availability of parking spaces Whitby in the summer, my reservation of 4 places on a fishing boat came a cropper.  Luke had obviously opted out as he doesn't eat fish, hates strong smells, and refuses to be involved in the death of animals but I'd booked the rest of us.  As we got more and more frenzied, stuck in traffic with no parking, Mark told me to ditch them and head straight for the boat. Despite the lack of travel sickness pills, Zach agreed to join me.

The day couldn't have been lovelier. It was hot, still and beautiful.  The swell of the tide was pronounced as we were half an hour outside the harbour, but I was fine. This was not the case for everyone.

We fished with just hooks and feathers. Zach was first to reel in two enormous mackerel on his rod, although he was horrified at the prospect of wrenching the fish from the hooks. Sadly, that was it for Zach; seasickness overwhelmed him and he spent the rest of the 3 hours curled up in a ball trying to hold it all together. His good humour whilst feeling wretched was astonishing. He is the most gracious human being I've ever known. "I wouldn't have missed it, Mummy. You were having such a wonderful time that I was happy to be there, no matter how sick I felt. I know how long you've waited to do this."
I wish I could take credit for Zach's aceness but he does it all himself. He's honestly that lovely.

Possibly the nicest human alive, and his mum

I was as happy as it is possible to be when surrounded by slimy fish guts and having not eaten for many hours. That is far happier than I would have expected. The skipper moved us to 4 different sites over the afternoon and we brought up unbelievable quantities of fish.

Mostly I caught mackerel. However, there were whiting, a member of the cod family, and one very small but exciting gurnard.
The skipper yelled, "Don't touch it!" while the rest of the fishing friends leapt backwards.  Gurnard isn't venomous but the spines can deliver a very nasty injury. We removed the gurnard from the hook, threw it back in the sea and it swam off to freedom.

Little gurnard to lived to swim another day

While we paying punters fished and fished, the skipper kindly gutted our catch.  We motored back into Whitby harbour and transferred our fish into great big bin bags.  Zach emerged from his cocoon  of queasy and we joined Mark, Luke and Bonnie on the path.  Being the type to plan ahead, I'd put a styrofoam cooler in the boot. I picked up three bags of ice from the supermarket and tipped it into the cooler with the ice so we could drive the fish home in good condition.

We got home late that night, having detoured to my Very Excellent Mate SJ's house to collect The Great Gonzo, our new kitten.  He's exceptionally naughty and quite spectacularly cute. Sorry, Mark! I can't resist a tabby cat, in whatever colour.

Then Mark cooked a couple of fillets so we could enjoy the very fresh fish.

The next day Mark filleted the many, many fish and I invited friends for a meal. We had potato salad, horseradish dressing, chilli and lime dressing and grilled toasts. It was fantastic sharing food I'd caught. I loved it and so did our friends. I'm delighted than my chance to catch this sustainable and delicious fish resulted in meals for my family and friends.  I couldn't be happier.