Tuesday, September 19, 2006

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel;
to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
By Keats
I am so excited, watching the seasons change is like watched Nature in her boudoir as she shimmies from one outfit to the other.
The early mornings are getting decidedly nippy now - when I take Sparrowmaticus for a run in the park before I leave for work - the air has got that strange crisp smell and feel about it that makes you want to go home and bake bread and invite friends around to eat the fresh bread and home made soup. I found myself thinking about making some preserves - I did try once but fluffled it completely - a gorgeous pot got tossed into the rubbish because of the flop. Much to Mark's hilarity and my own blushes. Did it occur to me to SOAK the dried apricots before trying to make jam? No. Yes, I am a townie. And sometimes, even for all my level headedness in the kitchen, I can do the stupidist things.
Also thinking of taking up knitting. Again. I was incredibly good at it when I was little. I had this gorgeous fluffy bright orange teddy whom I loved loved loved and I used to knit little outfits for it - he owned a pair of dungarees, trousers, a white woolen shirt and for those cold winter days, he had a blue coat that looked like mine. Of course, I stopped knitting when I went to high school out of sheer rebellion - the home economics teacher was an insane highly strung mare with bright red hair and a hook nose with the most insanely trilling voice - maybe two girls out of our class chose to continue the subject. If only I had the inclination to stick it out I am pretty sure I would have become a pattern maker or maybe a chef...isn't it strange how teachers can mess you up?
Anyway, I digress - yes, so this feeling of autumn has hit me and all I want to do is make preserves, bake bread, make fresh homemade soups, knit and have friends around. So many things to do, so little time!
And in honour of the wanting to do it all, here is my favourite recipe from St Delia's website for making some gorgeous foccacia breads:

Mini Focaccia Bread with Red Onion, Olive and Rosemary Topping

Focaccia is an Italian flat bread made with olive oil. The flavour of the oil is important, so it's advisable to use a good, strong, fruity virgin olive oil for this.

Makes enough for 4 mini focaccia
Ingredients
12 oz (350 g) plain white flour, plus a little extra for dusting
1 tablespoon olive oil

Begin by sifting the flour and salt into a large mixing bowl, then sprinkle in the yeast and mix that in. Next pour in 7½ fl oz (210 ml) warm water along with 1½ tablespoons of olive oil and mix everything to a dough that leaves the sides of the bowl clean (if necessary you can add a few more drops of water). Now turn the dough out on to a lightly floured surface and knead it for about 10 minutes (alternatively you can use an electric mixer with a dough hook and process for 5 minutes).
When the dough feels very bouncy and elastic, return it to the bowl, cover with clingfilm and leave in a warm place until it has doubled in size (about 1½ hours or more depending on the heat in the kitchen: if there's no suitable warm place you can sit the bowl over a saucepan of warm water – but not over direct heat). After that, turn the dough out on to the work surface and punch the air out by kneading it again for 2-3 minutes. Now it's ready for topping.
Take two thirds of the olives and push them evenly into the dough, then divide the dough into four and place the sections on an oiled baking sheet, then use your hands to pat out each piece into a sort of oblong, rounded at the ends and measuring 4 x 3 inches (10 x 7.5 cm). Next, sprinkle a quarter of the remaining olives and a quarter of the rosemary and onions on to each piece. Finally, sprinkle the surface with sea salt and drizzle the olive oil all over each focaccia.
Cover with a damp tea cloth and leave the dough to puff up again for 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, pre-heat the oven to gas mark 5, 375°F (190°C). When the 30 minutes are up, bake the breads in the oven for about 15 minutes or until they are golden round the edges and look well cooked in the centre. Cool on a wire rack and serve warm.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Treasures for me!

As a special treat to myself - as I have not bought esoteric books or tarot cards for almost six months - I get to splurge this month and buy a set of tarot cards.

I see you shaking your head. Yes, I know I have got around eighteen sets already but they are all so incredibly pretty. I think my most recent set is the Etruscan cards which I bought more than a year ago. I initially bought the set as I quite liked the idea of the stylised drawings of each card and was wondering about doing some pyrography - i.e. get a nice round of wood, or square even, like an unvarnished chopping or carving block, tracing an enlarged figure from one of the cards onto it and then burning it into the wood with my pyrography machine. I never got that far, but I might! The cards below are some of the pictures from the Etruscan deck.


I tend to check my favourite sellers website first and see if anything on there strikes my fancy. They not only stock tarot cards but playing cards too along with cards for magic. I have bought say maybe half of my decks off them and they are fantastic to transact with - you place your order, they send it to you and voila! within three days, at the most, you are the proud owner of a lovely new set of cards.

I can hear people wondering: why do you need so many different decks? Well, why do you need so many shoes and handbags or clothes? They each suit a different mood, don't they? The same with tarot cards. I know loads of people think they are bumph but at the same time, I bet you they are hugely superstitious about them too. They would rather eat cold soup than have their cards read. Why is that? Is it because it is forbidden to know your future according to the bible? Did you know that King James was so scared of people with supernatural powers, and so superstitious, he had the bible altered to suit his fears, thereby outlawing witchcraft- and soothsaying and fortunetelling? Yep, its a fact - and not even a Dan Brown made up fact. Look it up. I double dare you.

So anyway, I am really looking forward to agonising about and over my next purchase. Of course, I will have to find the perfect box or silk scarf to go with it. Oh, and these are the people who I buy from.

Good quality and fantastic turn-around time.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Farewell, older sister!

Wow, how quickly has this week flown? My sister has been, attended her clinical training week, and gone. All that is left behind now is the memory of too much shopping and the foul taste of smoke and cigarettes in my mouth.

I will miss her dreadfully, it was fantastic having her around, to show her London, listening to her stories of her grand kids...yes, how shocking is that, I am a great aunt. What I won't miss is the fact that being around her for mmmh, maybe three days, has so completely messed up my chest it feels like I cannot breathe properly. I am gasping like a fish. It is godawful. I think I went through two inhalers last week - I forget completely how invase cigarette smoke is.

For that reason, I am glad to see her go. And I am dreading the reprise - around January or February. She is due to be back for her company's annual global meeting. She is planning a week with the company and a week with us - and she might bring her hubby, also a smoker with. Mark and I are petrified. We are wondering how to escape this. Maybe we fly back to SA when they are here?

I know, horrible. I am a terrible sister, but I cannot see past the filthy habit. It is what put both my parents in the grave, surely someone who has seen the effects of smoking will wake up and realise that it is killing them. I know it has already done irreparaible damage to me - my lungs are scarred, hence the sucking (unsexy) on an inhaler. I would love to be able to jog or run - I can't. I go down in a messy heap. Serious exercise flattens me. I do long walks, armed with an inhaler.

Oh well, I suppose that it is sort of spitting in the eye of death, isn't it? Anyway - the sister trial is over - we now don't have to get up at 4am in the morning for at least another erm...four months, at least.

Whoo hoo, a week of healthy food, smoke free air and loads of "runs" in the park with the LWD. Who even started sneezing when my sister lit up. How hilarious. I could hug him for it. She looked a bit peeved when he sat looking at her and just kept on sneezing. Grin.

Time for bed.

Monday, September 04, 2006

What a "charming" day...

Sunday we fell out of bed at stupid o'clock (half four am) to go through to Heathrow to collect beloved Elize....we got there at quarter past six, ran into Terminal 1 building (what a huge dump!!) and found that her flight had been delayed by twenty minutes. No probs, we thought, we would have some coffee at Costa's.

Eventually the boards indicated that the plane has landed - 35 mins late. A further 20 mins later, it showed that they were busy going through customs and in baggage...ten minutes later I get a text message from my sister - she had managed to slip past me whilst I had gone back to the table, having been shoved aside my every single dodgy taxi driver, clasping placards with names scrawled across them.

The reunion was tearful. She declined the coffee but demanded to be taken outside so that she can have a cigarette. I stared at her in shock. Erm, smoking...cigarette...crap, I forgot she didn't realise the extent of my asthma which I had been afflicted with because both my parents smoked and for 23 years I had been a passive smoker. Reason number 1 why we tend to keep out of smoky pubs...plus it smells terrible.

So we hover outside for a few minutes whilst she drags on her ciggie. In the end we pile into the car, out of revenge for smoking, I make her sit in the back of the jeep. She doesn't complain. Grin. It took around an hour to get home - seriously good going because there was very little traffic. Once we got home she immediately lit up again, in the diningroom. Mark and I were flabbergasted - she didn't ask. Mark's face went a bit pale in annoyance, I opted out of the room to make breakfast scones.

We chatted stiltedly - how much conversation can you pack in after not seeing a person for five years...and before that, I hardly knew her - she is 53 this year. I am 33. I was a babe in arms when she left the house to marry her lovely hubby - I grew up with her kids, my nephew and niece and we were more like brother and sisters than I was with my OWN sister. It was odd. She was amazed that I was "domesticated" - it made me grin, imagining myself living wild in the forest, eating berries and trapping rabbits. What did she expect? I got the size I am by living off love and fresh air?

We chatted a bit more - discovering that we had little enough in common - her life was her daughter, and her grandkids...yep, my niece is older than 21...not quite sure how much older, and she has 2 kids. So the conversation turned to how cute my niece's kids were. And she told us how hard she worked and what a fantastically lucky person she is, having won a few thousand rand on gambling machines...we are MAKING her buy a euromillions ticket this Friday.

After breakfast her eyes started sagging and we packed her off to bed, whilst sitting downstairs in the dying fumes of cigarette smell and wondered how she could not have asked us if she could smoke...we have a perfectly fine garden to do this in - now the entire house just reeks. And I am gasping like a fish.

We watched a movie whilst she slept...then we slept a bit too. The howling 7 year old next door woke me up though after a half an hour nap by shrieking for AN HOUR - having been locked in her bedroom by her mother. Jeezus, on a smurfing Sunday afternoon!! I was tempted to ring the cops or burn their house down. In the end I made sure I closed all the windows - nice one - too try and drown out some of the noise. I kid you not, this little girl is can take part in an Olympic screaming contest and win, hands down.

I was suicidal.

Dinner, once everyone was awake, took place at Zizzi's in Beckenham. She was amazed at how nice the food was, I grinned smugly. We went for drinks afterwards at The George pub and we purposefully sat outside. Mark got slobbered on quite badly by a large black dog the size of a Grizly bear - its name: Barney. Barney proceeded to sniff out hidden treats in Mark's pockets which he tends to keep for Sparrow.

We walked home, chatting a bit more freely now, feeling more relaxed in one another's company.

This morning we saw Mark off to work, got ready and dragged her HUGEly vast suitcase to the station - how much clothes do you need for a week? Mark and I use a cabin sized suitcase for BOTH of us. Anyway, this we left at the Luggage place at Charing X for the day, whilst we went walking around town.

The one thing I have to say about my sister is: she appreciates beauty. As we were at Charing X I took her to Trafalgar Square and her jaw dropped - she confessed to not realising how pretty London could be. I showed her the secret view; standing behind Nelson's Column, you have a view of Big Ben, Houses of Parliament and Westminster...it was a gorgeous morning.

We hit Covent Garden and suddenly found ourselves arm in arm, strolling around, pointing out people. antiques, shops and what we would love to be able to afford. The odd stiffness from yesterday was gone and together we reminisced about my mom, my sisters, my spoilt bratt brother who at 44 should know how to not behave like a 4 year old, but he doesn't. The antiques market was in full swing in the CG and we oohed and aahed. We went to the traditional toymakers Snooks and she bought tonnes of toys for my great-niece and nephew. I got a smurf for Mark. Those in the know would know how much I love the little blue guys! We found a fantastic jewellery shop, spent about half an hour in there and bought a beatifull fresh pearl bracelet with garnets for my niece - even I was amazed at how cheap it was.





I was planning to show her so much more, but we ambled from one stall to another, she charmed a lovely Scottish chap and we chatted to him for ages, finding out all about his own antique trading days. I fell in love with a tiny Jewish man with fierce eyes and the most beautiful smile. He must have been around a hundred, I think. White bearded and dressed in a suit as old as Noah's Ark he ruled three tables and looked like a true Patriach. We ambled some more, I got bought a lovely charm bracelet, to which I added an articulated silver charm teddy AND - the best thing - a tiny viking complete with articulated legs and arms; when you moved his legs, his arms moved too and he has a shield on one arm and an axe in the other hand = so perfect.

I paid for a lovely lunch and we chatted tonnes. Eventually we made our way back to Charing X, we picked up her left luggage and travelled to London Bridge. I stuck her on the train to Luton for her conference, in the care of a very sweet South African boy, of around nineteen who insisted on helping her with this giant bag - he promised me faithfully to look after her. I happily waved them off and came home where I opened every door, window and crevice I could find in the house, lit two incense sticks and took Sparrow for a walk.

I am happy to report the house once again is ours. She is with us on Friday afternoon and flies off to SA on Saturday evening. She is smitten enough with London, thus far, to promise to come back in February for their annual conference...Mark and I are planning to to book her and her lovely hubby into a hotel as we do not think our lungs are up to two weeks' worth of ciggie smoke....

So, it really does go to show how odd it is meeting up with family after a long while. I am glad she came, I have showed her my stomping ground. London is an amazing city and for a newly made Britisher, I am very proud of my city and my adopted country.

I so swear, guv!

Friday, September 01, 2006

Two more sleeps!


...and my sister Elize arrives from SA.

I am so excited I can hardly sit still. The house is almost immaculate. We only have to sort out the bedroom, tidy away clean washing and hang up some suits and voila! we have a home that is habitable.

I haven't seen her or anyone from my family in almost five years - a long, long old time, isn't it? If only South African Airways could fly more flights for cheaper there, it would be fab. But at anything from £500 upwards for a single ticket it has become a bit of a joke.

But hey, E will be here for a full week - admittedly I will only see her for part of that, as she will be going to a boring medical conference of some sort up in the wilds of Bedfordshire and all I can think of is: what will I feed her? The last time I had to cook for her I made tuna toasties, which at that time, had been the FULL extent of my repertoire. Thank heavens it has increased dramatically since then.

A girl can only live on tuna toasties that long!

So - two more sleeps. Up incredibly early on Sunday morning for the drive through to Heathrow - perfect day for travelling through town = not only is it the last leg of the cycling but it is also the Regent Street Festival which means: traffic jams everywhere. So, we are praying to zip there and zip back.

Off I go to check www.deliaonline.co.uk for a nice sumat to make.

Will report back on the deliciousness after the fact.

Well, either that or tell you of the exciting restaurant we opted for!