love those cupcakes

Boo!

I managed to carve the pumpkin.

My first attempt.

Well, I had a bit of help.  

Actually, I was only responsible for the face which wasn't the design I'd planned but hey ho.

In case you're wondering, it's supposed to be a cat.

And I didn't lose any digits in the process.

This is also the first year I've used the pumpkin's innards, making puree which went into a batch of pumpkin spice cupcakes (four down, plenty more to go) and roasting the seeds with a mix of ground fennel seeds, chilli flakes and sea salt à la Jamie. Predictably, neither have been well received by the other two here. Ah well, more for me.

This is usually a busy night in our street and we've already doled out plenty of treats from the big bowlful by the front door.  Fingers are crossed that supplies don't run out.

I've lit a pumpkin spiced candle, there's a scary film to watch once the visits from the Trick or Treaters stop and a new book for bedtime.

I love Hallowe'en, me.

 

Is it just me?

• I much prefer cooler weather.  Actually, the colder the better (hence the Antarctic adventure earlier in the year).  Ideally with a layer of snow.  Or a crisp frost.  Or an early morning mist.   

 

• I could eat a whole freshly baked blackberry and apple pie.  Maybe not in one go though I haven't put it to the test. Yet. 

 

• I used to be completely useless at identifying national flags.  Apparently I still am.

 

• I can't stop adding to the notebook pile.  The latest is from Orla Kiely and will be used for writing, well, I'm not sure what.  Maybe the novel that's been in my head for the last 10 years or so.  Or maybe I'll just produce prettier shopping lists.

 

• I can't abide people who don't know how to eat properly (or, if they do, choose not to).  You know, the ones who grasp cutlery like shovels or hold their knives and forks limply instead of using straight forefingers and with the fork tines and knife blade edge facing down.  Or those who chomp with their mouths open.  Or slurp their drinks.  And don't get me started on the 'I've finished eating, thank you' cutlery positioning.  Sheesh. 

 

• I love long soaks in the bath.  At least once a day but always just before bed.   Just plain water and soap, no bubbly additives.  The other night I was happily splashing about when I noticed I was still wearing a bra.

 

• I like to order DVDs every now and again but when they arrive I can't remember why I bought them and they usually turn out to be absolute tripe.  The blurb on the cover of the latest purchase sounds alright-ish but I have no idea why I chose it or how I found out about it.

 

• I salute lone magpies.  Always.  It's unlucky not to, so they say.  But there are so many around here, people must think I'm barmy, saluting all over the place. And then what about the ones I inappropriately salute, the ones which turn out not to be on their own but are part of a duo for joy or a trio for a girl?  Is that still lucky?

 

• I used to spend my birthday money on short skirts, tailored coats and long leather boots (which kind of makes me sound like a lady of the night but be assured I'm not).  Now it's wellies and padded jackets. 

 

• I love baking, much more than producing meals, always have since my dad, the family cook, showed a 7 year old me and my friend, Marian, how to make currant buns.  I find the whole process of measuring, mixing, rubbing in, rolling, folding, beating and timing so calming, however frazzled the morning or the day or the week has been.   There are sometimes failures, of course there are, like this week's lemon drizzle loaf which sank spectacularly (there was more sinkhole than cake) and ended up in the bin.  But mostly the biscuit and cake tins get stocked with something edible at the end of a session and we get to munch on a few freshly baked treats (there have been banana choc chip pecan muffins and chocolate peanut butter cookies since the lemon cake fiasco) because a mug of coffee is just too wet without one.

 

But it can't be just me, can it?

 

 

 

Life lately in verbs

Watching  Frances Ha.  This was on my 'to watch' list so I took advantage when the Boy told me it was available on Netflix.  Filmed entirely in black and white, this is, well, it's a genuinely lovely (I can't think of a more appropriate adjective) film about 27 year old dancer Frances. She has a less than perfect life: no money, no proper job, no boyfriend, shares a Brooklyn apartment with her best friend, Sophie, who moves out. Throw in a decent soundtrack (Frances leaping through the New York streets to David Bowie had me wanting to join in) and you have one of those films that has you caring about the main character, wishing she was your friend and wanting to watch the whole thing over again.  If you like lots of action and a gripping storyline, this probably isn't for you.  I loved it.  

Reading Carol (the story of an affair between Therese,  a nineteen year old seasonal sales assistant and thirty year old about to be divorced Carol, which then turns into the kind of thriller we usually associate with Patricia Highsmith) and The Unknown Bridesmaid  (about Julia, her present as a child psychologist and some of the young people she works with, and her own troubled, guilt inducing, shameful past).  Two very different reads but both recommended. 

Buying a new and rather expensive lipstick (my absolute favourite makeup item and one of my desert island essentials) which looked perfect when I tested it on my hand in the shop but turns out to be an entirely different colour with a peculiar texture. 

Enjoying a free bottle of prosecco with our Friday night pizzas.  

Remarking how much better something tastes when you don't have to pay for it.

Noticing the colours beginning to change in the park and in the garden. I always associate the autumnal palette with my mother, maybe because she had gloriously auburn hair, maybe because she always had vasefuls of those huge copper coloured chrysanthemums for her birthday in October. 

Wondering where the fish went.  We have a pond in the garden which, at the last count, was home to twelve fish.  This week just two have been spotted.

Thinking maybe H is for heron.

Picking brambles from the plentiful bushes just round the corner from here early one morning.

Baking a pie with fruity pickings and almond pastry. 

Day tripping at Brimham Rocks.  Rock formations that resemble sitting dogs, gorillas, ET, stunning views, heather and bilberries, constantly changing light and weather that, at times, was nothing short of wuthering, a picnic (the first in ages) enjoyed in the car to escape all of that wutheringness (if that isn't a real word, it should be).  Wonderful.

Eating birthday cake.  My own.  Yep, another year older and very happy and grateful to be so.

  

Something for the weekend

Plans to plough on with the list of jobs outdoors went completely out of the rain spattered window today.  Even the cats have done nothing more energetic than seeking shelter under the garden table on what I like to think of as 'the terrace' but which in reality is nothing more than a little paved area the other side of the living room french doors.  At least from that spot they get an uninterrupted view of the pigeons filling their boots on the bird feeder.

So instead there's been a spot of baking - a carrot and orange cake (made up as I went along) and a batch of the mister's favourite, cheese scones (Mary Berry's 'Very Best' minus the sugar and with the addition of a teaspoon of mustard powder and a small mountain of grated cheddar).

 Despite a flurry of online ordering, I'm still lacking a more appropriate summer wardrobe so the change in the weather is providing something of a reprieve.  And it turns out I'm a size 10, slimmer than I thought.  No wonder it looked like I'd been raiding the dressing up box.

Later today there's the weekly visit to 83 year old Aunty M.  After a phone call from her (very understanding, I'd have to say) housing provider yesterday, I need to broach a rather delicate subject with her. Let's just say that her, ahem, avant-garde approach to household expenses management has included failure to pay rent.  Over a long period.  Tricky.

Afterwards, there'll be a long walk with Boo followed by a home cooked curry and a film.  Unfortunately, I ordered this one before reading the reviews.  I never learn.

A quiet weekend

* Starting with coffee (two spoons identifying the one made with soya milk) and cake (him) in the nearby market town whilst the Boy, home for the weekend, had an appointment with the dentist.  Just for a check up.  Fortunately, neither of my children, both now in their twenties, have experienced dental problems or treatment and have perfectly healthy tussies.  *  Grocery shopping at Sainsburys. No list but at least we remembered the wine. * The weekly visit to my elderly aunt. She has a habit of getting rid of ('filing') unpaid bills (she refuses to have direct debits set up, suspicious of any automatic withdrawals from her account) and, on a couple of occasions, her complaints of the phone being out of order have turned out to be as a result of being cut off.  * Watching an Arena programme about photographer Norman ('Oh, I just take snaps') Parkinson. His pictures of Wenda, his wife, are especially stunning. Maybe you spotted the Google Doodle as you searched online yesterday, the day which would have been his 100th birthday.  * Another batch of oatie peanut butter and chocolate chip biscuits, after tinkering with the original recipe from here to produce much less sweet and much more chocolatey results.  Recipe below, if you fancy making them. * Vegetable, lentil and coconut curry with homemade chapatis for supper. * Evening walks with the dog, interspersed with bouts of jogging.  Boo wonders what that's all about.  So do I.  * Ending with a very scary, watch from behind a blanket film.  It didn't give me nightmares.  Only because I didn't dare sleep.

Oatie peanut butter and choc chip biscuits

Makes 12 biscuits

 

4 ozs plain flour

3 ozs porridge oats

1 level tsp baking powder

Pinch salt

3 fl ozs sunflower oil

3 ozs (approx 6 tbsps) peanut butter (crunchy or smooth)

2.5 ozs caster sugar

2.5 ozs soft brown sugar

2 fl ozs milk/soy milk

1 tsp vanilla extract

2 ozs dark chocolate chips

 

Preheat oven to 180C/160C fan assisted/gas mark 4.

Line 2 baking trays with baking parchment.

Mix together the flour, oats, baking powder and salt in a bowl.

Add the remaining ingredients and mix well.  You should end up with a fairly stiff mixture.

Uisng your hands/spoon/ice cream scoop, form 12 evenly sized balls of dough and place 6 on each baking tray, spacing well apart.

Bake  for 12-15 mins until lightly browned.  Halfway through cooking, lightly flatten each cookie, which will have puffed up, using a metal slice or a palette knife.

Remove from the oven and leave the biscuits to firm for a couple of mins before placing on a rack to cool.

Eat and enjoy.

 

Snippets from this week

- A trip to the cinema to watch Trance (art theft, a bump on the head, romance, hypnotherapy, double crossing, James McAvoy's dodgy accent) and munch on Revels (why don't they get rid of the raisins and bring back the coconut ones?) 

- Baking Paul Hollywood's bread and Jane Brocket's rock buns.  There was also a raspberry buttermilk cake but it vanished

- Filling vases with Spring flowers bought very cheaply from Aldi

- Finishing a blanket and managing a scalloped edge

- Buying a couple of new reads and ordering another.  My third magazine this month and all have failed to engross.  I need to find new titles or just stop buying

- Mad Men, series 6.  Wednesday night sorted

 

Easter Sunday

Nothing too strenuous on the timetable here but lots of good stuff about the place.

Happy Easter!

 

So far this week, in bullets

• Visited the cinema to see Flight.  Denzel is a favourite.  This film most definitely isn't.  Yes, the crash sequence at the beginning is riveting but what follows leaves too many questions unanswered, too many characters and relationships unexplored, too many blind alleys to be taken down.  The film conveys some very confused messages about substance misuse and addiction and it's just too long.

• Transported two unwilling cats and one terrified Boo to the vets for their annual check-ups.  All pronounced fit and healthy. Boosters were administered to the accompaniment of some wimpering.  Bank account was depleted accordingly.  Cue more wimpering.
  

• Joined a new(ish) WI group.  The theme was Health and Wellbeing with presentations about the sexual exploitation of young people in the town and  pharmacy services at Boots.  Next month:  making chickens from Cadbury's creme eggs.

• Baked a malt loaf using a Mary Berry recipe (I halved the quantities to make one 1lb loaf).  Wonderfully sticky and aromatic after being wrapped and stored for just a day.  Cuts more easily than Soreen and tastes, well, just like Soreen, or, dare I say it, even better. 

Mary Berry's Malt Loaf (very slightly amended)

Makes 2x1lb loaves

8ozs plain flour

Half level tsp bicarbonate of soda

1 level tsp baking powder

8ozs sultanas

2ozs demerara sugar

6ozs malt extract*

1 tbsp black treacle

2 large eggs, beaten

5 fl ozs black tea, cooled

 

Preheat oven to 150C/fan 130C/gas 2.

Grease 2 x 1 lb loaf tins and line base and short sides (with some overhang for ease of removing) with greaseproof paper or baking parchment.

Mix together the flour, bicarb and baking powder in a bowl and stir in the sultanas.

Gently heat together the sugar, malt extract and treacle and pour onto the flour mix.

Add the eggs and tea to the mixture and beat well until smooth.

Pour into the prepared tins and bake for about an hour or until the loaves are well risen and firm to the touch.

Leave to cool in the tins for 10 mins then turn out carefully, peel away the paper and leave to finish cooling on a wire rack.

Best kept for 2 days (1 day was long enough for me) wrapped in clingfilm or foil before slicing, buttering and enjoying.  Can also be frozen.

 

*I bought mine from Holland and Barrett.  I now need to find a way of getting it from the jar to the scales to a pan without clarting the entire kitchen.

 

Lately I've been.......

• Visiting the cinema in the afternoon, eating a bag of Revels and watching this.  Not for everyone, it is Tarantino (have to say I am a fan) after all, but, even with mixed reviews about his treatment of the subject matter, there's no denying the brilliant soundtrack and some excellent performances.

• Baking banana/choc chip/walnut topped muffins (my choice)

 

and apple and sultana pie (his choice).

 

• Filling a new stripey jug (from Sainsbury's) with daffs from the market.

 

• Looking for house refreshing ideas in a couple of new reads.

 

•  Enjoying the early evening view from our living room.

 

• Planning the trip of a lifetime.  The cost will be astronomical but if it comes off it will be one massive dream come true.

 

Film on Friday

After a trip to the shops for essential supplies and a last walk of the day with Boo, we settled down last night with supper (pizza for him, a tofu something for me) and watched The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.  Well, I watched; he, predictably, fell asleep after the pizza.

Not the most exciting or elaborate of plots (group of largely unconnected over-60 Brits travel to India to stay at a less than luxurious hotel 'for the elderly and beautiful'), this film's main attraction is the superb cast (Judi Dench, Bill Nighy, Penelope Wilton, Maggie Smith, Tom Wilkinson, Celia Imrie, Dev 'Slumdog Millionaire' Patel), supported by a colourful, teeming Jaipur. 

 As the stories of the main characters unfold, there are some very funny one-liners.  In one scene, habitually dissatisfied Penelope Wilton barks at Bill Nighy, her continually disappointing husband of almost 40 years, "When I want your opinion I'll give it to you".    

It's a gentle, easy to watch comedy but probably not for you if you prefer edge of the seat stuff that has you choking on your popcorn and awake half the night.

The picture is of the Palace of the Winds in Jaipur, taken when we visited India in 2005.