love those cupcakes

Lately in verbs

Galloping through book number three of the year.  Exquisitely detailed descriptions of place (the marshlands of North Carolina), of nature, of clothes worn, of food prepared, meals eaten.  Set in the 50s and 60s, it's a story of abandonment and survival, difference and intolerance, rejection and loneliness.  And maybe a murder.    Not quite perfect but very readable and **** .

Finishing the littlest's stripey jumper, which should fit. Well, it will if his arms hang past his knees. 

Watching Season 1 of Anne with an E on Netflix.  Based on the book, Anne of Green Gables, the familiar storylines are there but this version is darker, presenting a much more miserable picture, mostly via flasbacks, of an orphan's life.  So, Anne's vivid imagination seems to be more a way of dealing with the abuse she has suffered prior to being taken in by the Cuthberts.  Although it's a period piece, it's modern, if that makes sense.  The Prince Edward Island setting (and the Cuthberts' house) is stunning and, so, whilst it's not what I was expecting (I love the book),  I'm sticking with it.  For now.

Wondering what on earth has happened to the hyacinths I planted.  They seemed to be doing well, but the flower spikes (blue, huzzah!) are stunted, poor wee things.  They still have that glorious hyacinth fragrance, though you have to stick your neb right in to get a whiff. 

Making marmalade. It was a messy business, not helped by one of the glass jars in the motley collection shattering whilst being filled.  But it tastes so good. Too good, maybe.

Consuming far too much sugar.  See above.

Missing the coffee machine which has been spending time in coffee machine hospital.  I tried coffee bags and a cafetiere in the meantime but it just wasn't the same.  Cue lots (the bank account confirms) of visits to cafes where sweet vegan treats have also been consumed (resistance, I find, is futile).  Costa's rocky road, Nero's raspberry croissant and a cherry and almond scone at a newish vegan eatery up the road were memorable.

Sweeping up white feathers which were scattered along the length of the drive and in piles by the dustbin and on our neighbours' front garden.  From the amount I had to dispose of, they'd once kept an albatross warm and dry.

Sending Buzz cat to Coventry.  See above.

Filling the vase with tulips, my absolute favourites.

Learning the basics of modern calligraphy.   This was a hugely enjoyable workshop, held one evening in an upstairs room in a bistro, and had nine of us getting to grips with securing the nib in its holder, loading it with just the right amount of ink to avoid blobs and positioning the hand properly to ensure a scratch-free flow across the paper.  Honestly, we were all so focused on forming the letters (thin upward, thick downward strokes), time sped by (I only remembered to eat my slice of vegan chocolate cake just before everything was cleared away).   Now for some home practice.  Without spilling the ink.

Meeting up with my girl in London, to celebrate her birthday.

Demolishing a very delicious  afternoon tea.

Lurking long after the table had been cleared after discovering the presence of a TV film crew.  I've always felt I'd make an excellent extra.  After all, I do have stage experience and yes, yes, I know I was only three at the time but it all counts.  However, I suspect this might be as close as I get to a BAFTA.

Returning home after a fab day out.  With the wrong box of afternoon tea leftovers.

 

Posh nosh and other stuff

People who know me are very well aware that one of my favourite activities is to indulge in a proper afternoon tea.  So, a few weeks ago, I met up with my Girlie in London and off we went to Claridges to sample their vegan and vegetarian versions.  'Are you celebrating a special occasion?', asked our waiter. 'No', says I, 'Just, erm, life.'  Did we enjoy it?  You bet.  Every last morsel.

Last week saw a return to the capital for a stay of couple of days, in the company of the Boy this time.  Our base was a hotel on Russell Square (highly recommended) but the main purpose of the visit was to have lunch (again, one vegan, one vegetarian) at The Ritz, a first foray into the world of Michelin starred food for us both. 

Honestly? I had no idea a plant based meal could be so beautifully presented and, at the risk of sounding a tad MasterChef-y,  packed with layers of flavour (I think I now understand what Marcus Wareing bangs on about).  It really was outstanding, from the teeny tiny crisp amuse bouche to the final plates of melt in the mouth 'frivolities'.

Amuse bouche

Salt baked beetroot with pickled blackberries and walnuts

Cauliflower risotto with wild herbs and tonka

A shiny shiny chocolate and banana delice 

The Boy's rum baba

Frivolities

The remainder of the time was spent pounding the pavements, visiting the Charles Dickens museum, browsing the stalls at Borough market, perusing book displays (and buying this), enjoying a performance at the Prince Edward theatre, devouring a sticky rum and pineapple doughnut (me) and a pastel de nata (him), and reliving That Lunch.

 

 

 

 

I love London, me.

 

Life lately in verbs

He chopped back another tree in the back garden. 

I collected the elderberries and made jam. 

He ended up with a stiff neck.

I ended up with purple hands.

The tasteless, and so thick you could cut it with a knife, jam ended up in the bin.

I mooched the charity shops in a nearby market town.  

He sat on a bench and watched the traffic.

I added to the book pile.

The Boy switched on his oven and a Gateau Basque was born.

Boo visited the vet.

I scoffed a vegan afternoon tea.

My cousin paid the bill.

The cat sicked up a mouse. 

Littlest prepared to celebrate a birthday.

I'm flying off in the early hours for a week's yoga retreat.

Namaste.

 

Staying local in verbs

Spending an evening in the newly renovated town hall in the company of my favourite local band and the Northern Orchestra.  Typically, I left my camera at home so the picture is courtesy of someone else's.

Source

Listening to author and local lass Sarah Dunnakey talk about her book and the writing process.  She's also a question setter for programmes including Mastermind, Pointless, University Challenge and Eggheads so, of course, a literary quiz followed.  I didn't win.  I wasn't even close (in my defence, the winners worked as a team).  Shame, really, as the prize was a collection of books and a stack of chocolate, both of which I can always find room for.  

Making a first visit (no excuse as they've been living there since the late 1970s) to the town's dinosaurs at Teesaurus Park.  This was once a heavily industrialised area and the park, established in an industrial estate and on what had been a slag heap, is a surprising oasis of nature and calm.  Like so much of the green space here, the council made moves to sell the land a couple of years ago but, following an unexpected change of heart, these dinosaurs were saved from extinction.  

Eating the worst vegan afternoon tea.  Imagine dry as a bone sandwiches (no butter substitute, just lettuce leaves and slices of tomato atop tastes of sawdust gluten free bread), a dish of dairy-free ice cream, a bunch of grapes, slices of banana draped in melted chocolate, a jar of raspberry puree,  two  strawberries and a slice of way past its best frangipane tart.  Can't think why the chef needed several days notice to put such a sorry offering together.  At least my cousin and the alpacas the other side of the window appeared to be much happier with theirs.

Introducing the littlest to the Transporter (we used to be rather good at building bridges here).  Not sure what he was expecting to see but he asked repeatedly, 'Where's the bridge?' and then was sidetracked by the strawberries calling his name from an old stone planter outside the operator's cabin.  Ah, well.  Still a working bridge, ferrying cars, bikes and pedestrians from one side of the river to the other, the Transporter was out of action to the pubic the day we visited but there was a practice run and we watched as the empty gondola, suspended over the water, made its way across.  Not that the littlest was impressed.  He was too busy throwing sticks and gravel through the railings and enjoying the plops and splashes as they landed.

Remembering, with a slight feeling of nausea, the day the Boy jumped off the top.  

Bemoaning my still restricted mobility but using the time reluctantly spent indoors to work on a blanket for Boo (he's been a good boy), read from the book mountain (Lullaby and If We Were Villains are both recommended), bake and devour spicy buns and watch the latest episode of season 2 of The Handmaid's Tale.  Intense, compelling, chilling, wrenching.  It's excellent, it really is, but I'd say definitely not one for binge watching.  Blessed be the fruit loops.

Admiring the roses in the garden and reckoning they've never put on such a good show.  (Can't be as a result of anything I've done.) Some have been picked and brought into the house.  One, an Abraham Darby, I think, has continued to grow in the vase and is now the size of my head.  Well, maybe the size of a saucer.

Wondering (both sofas face windows and there's been an excess of sofa sitting lately) why I never manage to achieve streak free windows (the insides; Nathan, our window cleaner throughout the 26 years we've lived in this house,  never leaves streaky outsides).  I use water with a dash of washing up liquid and a splash of vinegar, a fake chamois/shammy and kitchen roll paper to polish.  Where am I going wrong?

 

Someone......

......and her mister paid a return visit to the walled gardens at nearby Wynyard Hall. The borders have flourished since we were last there a couple of years ago, bursting with colour and buzzing with bees.

 Someone also spotted her first real live medlar tree bearing its distinctive fruits (named dogs' arses in French, so I'm told).

......has been digging into the TBR pile and borrowing from the library.  Every one of these titles was enjoyed and is recommended.  (***Pop back soon for a chance to win your choice of one of these books and others.)

......is still obsessed with all things patisserie (we really do need an appointment system for accessing the kitchen these days).  Recently out of the oven, courtesy of the Boy Who's Always Baking (and after deliveries of copper moulds from France and a lump of beeswax), were Caneles (they were days in the making) and...

a batch of (mistaken by a passing someone else for sausage rolls) brioche based Creme de Parisiennes, topped with sugar pearls.

......celebrated a birthday.  The Baking Boy continued to strut his alchemic stuff and made a wonderfully rich and fudgy vegan chocolate, rose and pistachio cake whilst muttering, 'Vinegar just shouldn't be a cake ingredient'.  Being the birthday girl, I was given a choice of candles.  No brainer.  All of them.

......was treated to a birthday afternoon tea at the coast.  As we stopped en route to the venue to take a snap of Huntcliff, my cousin uttered the words, 'If I was going to commit suicide, I'd definitely do it jumping from there'.

......is convalescing (again). Having had to defend himself once more against the neighbourhood's feline aggressor, poor Buzz ended up needing a partial front paw amputation. But he's recovering well and, hallelujah, the bully cat has moved house. 

......is about to turn 2.  What?

 

Goings on

I went to a friend's retirement presentation (she's relatively young for a retiree, one of the high salaried, well pensioned lucky ones). The venue was in a nearby town.  It seemed a good idea to go by taxi.  The taxi driver called me 'babe'.   A lot.  I declined his offer to wait outside for me.  The presentation went well as my friend took us on a hilarious journey through her career.  There were mountains of chocolate brownies and many faces from the past.  As an ex colleague sitting next to me said, as we played the game of Name The Latest Arrival, it's funny seeing people you'd assumed were dead.

I hopped on a train to London (and hopped on one back, obviously).  I met up with the Gorgeous Girlie and off we trotted to Ottolenghi's for a late breakfast.  The food was good.  The service was abysmal. Someone was making it very obvious he wasn't happy in his work.  We mooched about Spitalfields and crept quietly around Dennis Severs' house, trying not to trip over in the candle-lit gloom. We had afternoon tea at Fortnum and Mason.  The pianist did a passable impersonation of the very smiley Russ Conway. 

I made curry.  The Boy made Ferrero Rocher lookie-likies.

The buddleias bloomed briefly in the garden.  The butterflies weren't attracted.  Not one.

We went to Butterfly World.  No buddleias but butterflies aplenty.

I read Barbara Kingsolver's Flight Behaviour.  More butterflies.  Lots more.  And climate change.

We celebrated the Boy's birthday with triple chocolate cake (I baked it but couldn't eat it) and dinner at our favourite local restaurant.

We headed to the coast for a food festival.  Along with thousands of others.   We ate chana chaat naans and macarons.   We bumped into old friends.  We quaffed cocktails. The weather was alternately sunny and stormy.  As was the littlest.

 

No such thing as a free lunch

But there is such a thing as a free tea.  Four of us (the mister, the now rent arrears free Aunty M, a family friend and yours truly) had ours yesterday, courtesy of the Boy's Christmas present to us all. 

If you've been visiting here a while, you'll know that I'm rather partial to a proper afternoon tea, preferably one I haven't had any part in preparing or serving.   This one at Crathorne Hall was as delicious as when we last visited, from the welcoming glass of champagne to the warm fruit scones with buttery clotted cream via plates of assorted finger sandwiches, perfectly teeny tangy lemon meringue tartlets and other sweet treats.  All savoured under the watchful eye of the delightful Lady Somebodyorother.

'Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea'. 

(Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady)

 

More cake and a belated blog birthday giveaway

Homemade cake with a piping hot cup of tea or coffee.  Is there anything better?

Since I first tried them, I haven't been able to stop baking (and eating) these cherry bakewell cupcakes.  

Honestly, they are easy to make, wonderfully moist and so ver ver tasty. Don't let the fact that they are vegan, and therefore butter and egg free, put you off.  Don't think that you need to get out the piping equipment because you can do what I do and just slap the icing on with a round ended knife.   (The only changes I've made to the recipe are cutting a circle from the tops of the cooked cakes, à la butterfly cake method, to make space for the cherry jam and I toast the flaked almonds first.)

Way back in August of last year, this blog reached the ripe old age of five and, as a thank you for all of your visits and comments over the years, I put together a few bits and bobs as a little giveaway.  But then a family wedding, a holiday, Christmas and welcoming the New Year distracted me, the items were packed safely away in a box and I forgot. about. them.

So, in the spirit of better late than never and with a theme of (what else?) tea and cake, here's the prize.

This lovely book has lots of beautifully presented afternoon tea recipes, both savoury and sweet, to tempt the tastebuds.

Also included:  paper doilies, spotty cake cases, food flags, house, teapot and teacup biscuit cutters and 'taste of an English summer' tea.

Just leave a comment below if you'd like to enter.  The giveaway will end on 11th March and the winner will be picked randomly on 12th March.   I am happy to post worldwide.

Thanks again, lovely people x.

 

A day out

On Wednesday I met up with the Gorgeous Girlie in London.  We wanted to see the exhibition of Scott's final expedition to the South Pole at the Natural History Museum and luckily managed to buy cheap-ish rail tickets.   

Sadly no photography was allowed inside the exhibition (which I found incredibly moving - such determination and effort and human endurance).  The purpose of Scott's expedition was primarily scientific research and the various scientists in the team set out to study antarctic weather, zoology and glaciology.  But Scott also aimed for a small group to reach the South Pole and be the first people to do so.  On 17 January 1912, five members of the team reached the Pole, only to find that Amundsen's Norwegian group had beaten them to it. All five perished during the return journey. 

There are lots of original items and personal artifacts on display and if you do visit the exhibition, which I highly recommend, make sure you take plenty of tissues.

Whilst I waited for my girl to arrive I had a mooch around the V&A which I don't think I've visited previously.  Too early for this, I would have visited the British Design exhibition there (they have one of my Trimphones) if I'd had more time but I didn't fancy paying and then rushing round the exhibits.

We also treated ourselves to afternoon tea at the Lanesborough on Hyde Park Corner.  It started with a reviving glass of champagne, followed by strawberries and cream.  Then came the highlight for me, a shot glass filled with a tangy orange jelly, buttermilk cake and the lightest chocolate mousse all topped with a square of chocolate, raspberry and gold dusted honeycomb.  After that was a variety of little sandwiches (baby brioches filled with egg, roast vegetable wraps, beetroot in beetroot bread, buffalo mozzarella, tomato and pesto in a mixed grain bread  and cream cheese and cucumber fingers), mushroom tartlets, cakes and little pastries.  Finally we were presented with scones, served with pots of lemon curd, raspberry preserve and clotted cream, and little toasted teacakes. Copious amounts of refreshing pomegranate (me) and apple and mango (Girlie) tea were drunk throughout.  The service was impeccable and we were even given the cakes we hadn't managed to eat in a box to take home.  (The husband polished those off in seconds.)

Kings Cross station has undergone considerable improvement and the new departures concourse is rather impressive.

I always forget that London means lots of walking and by the time I alighted the train at Darlington station I was aware I was moving very strangely. (Little did I know that putting one foot in front of the other was about to become rather more challenging but more of that in the next post.)

Oh, look what came home with me.

Ding dong indeed.

 

A lot of cake and a bit of culture

• Afternoon tea (yes, another one) at nearby Crathorne Hall with Aunty M and my Girlie and the Boy. The scones and little pistachio cakes were delicious and I'm told the carrot cake was very moist. The fruitcake?  I've had better. "I'll pay, I want to pay", insisted deaf as a post Aunty at full volume. Turned out she had nothing to pay with.  Still, it's the thought that counts.
  

• An outdoor performance of Much Ado About Nothing (Benedick thinks he hates Beatrice but really loves her. Beatrice thinks she hates Benedick but really loves him. Claudio loves Hero. Hero loves Claudio. Mix ups and misconceptions. Double wedding.  The end.) in a historic setting, accompanied by a picnic of homemade focaccia, a wedge of Brie and a tub of fat green olives, with a couple of chocolate and walnut treats each for half time. 

•   A belated birthday gift from a friend.  

Exactly.