love those cupcakes

Snippets from the week

• Playing hide and seek in the park with The Boo.  He's good at this, really really good, and isn't always easy to find.   (Handy hint:  look for the yellow tennis ball.  See below if you can't spot him.)

• Browsing the charity shops and adding to the book pile.  What the blurbs say:

Sweet Tooth, Ian McEwan.  'The year is 1972. The Cold War is far from over. Britain is being torn apart by industrial unrest and terrorism. Serena Frome, in her final year at Cambridge, is being groomed for MI5.'

Postcards, Annie Proulx.  First novel from the author of The Shipping News which tells of the life and travels of Loyal Blood across the American West after he commits a crime.  He sends a series of postcards about his life and experiences to his family but never gives a return address so is not aware of what has befallen them in his absence. '

Coastliners, Joanne Harris.  'Set on a small, blustery fishing island off the coast of France, it tells the story of Mado, a young woman who returns to her childhood home to find the local community torn apart by family feuds, bad tides and murky political machinations.'

Westwood, Stella Gibbons.  'Set in wartime London, Westwood tells the story of Margaret Steggles, a plain bookish girl whose mother has told her that she is not the type that attracts men. Her schoolfriend Hilda has a sunny temperament and keeps her service boys 'ever so cheery'. When Margaret finds a ration book on Hampstead Heath the pompous writer Gerard Challis enters both their lives.'

A Complicated Kindness, Miriam Toews. 'Nomi Nickel lives with her father, Ray, in East Village, a small Mennonite town in Manitoba. She dreams of escaping to the big city, but since her mother and sister left home, it's hard to imagine leaving her father behind. As she begins to piece together the story behind her mother's disappearance, she finds herself on a direct collision course with the town's minister.'

The Unbearable Lightness of Scones, Alexander McCall Smith. 'To the casual observer, the great enlightened city of Edinburgh, home of no-nonsense philosophers and cream teas, might appear immune to the rollercoaster of strong emotions. But at 44 Scotland Street, as Matthew and Elspeth embark on the risky enterprise of married love, the raffish portrait painter Angus Lordie has a premonition of disaster. And soon enough Irene Pollock is shocked to learn that her small son Bertie harbours a highly unsuitable ambition; the gloriously vain Bruce discovers a wrinkle and confronts rejection; and Angus finds himself facing the grave consequences of unbridled bliss, not to mention a large Glaswegian gangster bearing gifts . . .'

• Filling a  vase with roses (Abraham Darby?) from the garden.

• Fancying something sweet and whipping up a batch of chocolate chip pancakes drenched in maple syrup for lunch one day.  They certainly hit the spot but I have a feeling I might not be eating pancakes for a good while.

• Eavesdropping in Lidl........

Customer with long shopping list:  Do you sell capers?

Member of staff:  We have kippers.

Customer with long shopping list:  No, capers.  C.A.P.E.R.S.

Member of staff:  We've got kippers.  K.I.P.P.E.R.S.

 

I love earwigging, me.

********

 

Where's Boo?

  

Shakespeare in the park

Seasonally appropriate, A Midsummer Night's Dream, performed in the big park down the road late afternoon on Sunday.  

'I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows;
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.'

You know the storyline - a love quadrangle, meddlesome fairies, thespian craftsmen, boo-boos and boohoos, after which we assume they all lived happily ever after (though I'm not overly hopeful for Helena.  I mean, would you want a boyfriend who was with you just because of some magic potion?)

The script may not have included a treeful of squawking magpies,  two squad cars and a circling police helicopter but it all added to the atmosphere.

Speaking of boyfriends, I'm in the process of choosing one.

The book was a gift from the Girlie and I seem to be drawn to the artistic type.

I think it might be the beard.  And the ponytail.

 

The week's roundup

We've experienced a range of weather in the north east this week, including a hammering of unseasonal hailstones.   That was the day it seemed highly appropriate to bake a crumble (which I'd been craving for a while), made with a couple of Bramleys, a generous sprinkling of ground cloves and topped with a crunchy flour, oats and demerara mix.  I kept it dairy-free by serving it with some soya cream which even the 'I'm not eating that vegan muck' mister lapped up.

When conditions outside were drier, it seemed opportune to set to with the brushes (again, get me) and tins of paint (not the Annie Sloan chalk stuff, can't say I'm too keen on that) to smarten up the little summer house at the bottom of the garden. Inside and out. Two colours.  Clearly on a roll, a small table was also given a makeover......and then was promptly sat upon.  

The town's annual literary festival launched recently and a couple of hours were very happily spent in the reference library for An Evening with Joanne Harris, who just happens to be one of my favourite contemporary writers.  It was fitting that a local teashop provided plenty of sweet treats (a couple of cupcakes came home with me for the other two here) to nibble as we listened to the author of Chocolat talk about her early experiences as a library user, her latest novel and writing in her shed. She signed lots of books (I bought a copy of her chocolate recipe book) and answered lots of questions, none being asked by yours truly.  I did think of one, belatedly, on the way home: Of all the novels you've read, which one do you wish you'd written?*  

My local area now has it's own Rough Guide.  A mini version, but still.  

It's been a bit of a spendy week.  In addition to treating myself to the recipe book, more plants for the garden have been ordered (I know I keep saying it but, with their insatiable appetites, those slugs and snails are costing a fortune), pretty bedding and yarn (for another blanket) have been purchased and a Parisian landmark has found its way into the bedroom.

*Actually, thinking about it, this is a rather difficult question and I'm not at all sure what my answer would be if I was asked.  One of the classics that has stood the test of time?  A book that's become an old friend and which I've enjoyed reading and re-reading?  One with the most thrilling of storylines?  One that made me cry?  Or laugh?   A book written for children?  I've no idea.  So, how would you answer? 

 

Inside and out

Inside:  

- Baking a tray of jam tarts and a no knead Roman-style spelt loaf (slightly adapting the recipe on the back of the bag of flour - see below).   Both easy makes using just a few store cupboard ingredients.  

 - Reading a new book into the early hours.  (The blurb:  'Five friends.  An abandoned house. A secret they can't bury.')

- Watching the D-Day commemorations on the telly, thinking about my dad and my 98 year old father in law and the parts they played in the war and getting through an entire box of man-size tissues. 

- Pottering, cleaning, sorting, planning.

 Outside:  

- Trying to reclaim an overgrown border at the bottom of the garden and wondering how to deal with a waterlogged patch of soil.

- Faffing with the camera one evening amongst the rain soaked roses.

 - Watching a demo at the last WI meeting and waiting for the blossom on the tree in the garden to open fully so that I can have a first stab at making elderflower cordial.   

- Making several visits to the hospital with the still mending mister.

- Walking in rain one minute, sunshine the next, noticing changes in the hedgerows.

Roman-style spelt loaf

1lb spelt flour

1 tsp quick yeast

1 tbsp sugar 

400ml warm water

1/2 tsp salt

1 tbsp olive oil

Sunflower/pumpkin/sesame seeds to sprinkle (optional)

 

Grease a 2 lb loaf tin (or 2 x 1lb tins) with vegetable oil.

Mix together the flour and salt.

Dissolve the sugar in the warm water.

Add the yeast to the flour and pour in the water and sugar mix.  Stir with a metal spoon until the flour is just incorporated.  Mix in the oil. (The mixture should be very loose.)

Pour into the tin(s), sprinkle with seeds if using, cover with oiled clingfilm and leave in a warm place until doubled in size (about 25 mins).

Preheat oven to 180C fan/200C/gas 6.

Bake the loaf/loaves for 40-45 mins or until the crust is golden brown and the dough cooked through (the loaf/loaves should sound hollow when the bottom is tapped).

Turn out and cool on a rack.

  

A small mixed bag

• I served a caprese salad as part of a very easy dinner (okay, it was veggie burgers and chips out of the freezer) last night.   The Boy was heard to mutter 'Ooh, it's like being at Pizza Express'.  I like to think of it as my take on fusion cuisine.

 

• I acknowledge I'm not naturally green fingered, that just about everything I plant is regarded as home delivery by the resident snail population, but why is it always Autumn in our garden? I'm sweeping piles of leaves three times a day.

• Baking this cake (without the frosting and sorry, no pictures, I am such a glutton) and realising that blueberries with almonds is a perfect flavour combination.

 

• Ordering this from a new to me range and kind of hoping the clock turns back a little.   Yes, I know the anti ageing promises on the label are in all likelihood a load of scientific sounding gobbledegook and yes, my mother used nothing but cheap as chips Astral and had the most exquisite complexion.  But, I admit it, I'm a sucker, who'll probably keep on trying the latest 'miracle' in a jar because, well,  it's what I do and hey, you never know.

 

• Joining in with Rachel to share something which made me laugh.  I love Gemma Correll's cartoons.  Find more here.