Not so little things

Lancashire hotpot

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil

800 g lamb neck fillet, cut into 5-cm pieces

1 onion, diced

2 carrots, diced

4 celery sticks

2 leeks, thinly sliced

2 tablespoons plain flour

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

800 g potatoes, unpeeled

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

serves 4-6

Heat the olive oil in a large, flameproof casserole dish, add the lamb and brown all over. Transfer to a plate. Reduce the heat under the casserole, add all the vegetables, then sauté for 10 minutes, stirring frequently.

Remove the casserole from the heat, add the meat, then sprinkle in the flour and mix well. Pour in just enough hot water to cover the meat and vegetables, stir well and return to the heat.

Preheat oven t 180° C (350° F) Gas 4.

Bring the casserole to the boil, stirring frequently as the gravy thickens. Season and add the Worcestershire sauce. Remove from the heat.

Slice the potatoes thinly by hand or with a mandolin. Layer them carefully over the meat and vegetables, covering them completely. Place in the oven and cook for 2 hours. The potatoes should be golden on top and the gravy bubbling up around the sides.

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Cooking success is so good for the soul. I made this recipe last night, and it was fantastic! The end result looked JUST like the picture in my Easy British Cooking cookbook. For me, that is real achievement!

(Note: I replaced the Lancashire lamb with Warwickshire Hogget, fresh from Charlecote Park. Hogget is is an age of sheep. It falls between lamb and mutton. I thought had something to do with pigs/hogs, initially. I also added parsnips and more leeks.)

My Warwickshire Hotpot was a delicious victory. A small victory, but a victory all the same.

As much as I love Autumn, it is a time that prompts reflection and introspection - the last things I need any encouragement to do! And, perhaps as residue from my years of teaching and lecturing, my sense of Autumn as the start of a new academic year still plays upon my mind. As I find myself no longer on the academic treadmill, I feel a little at sea without the purpose and drive of the academy. But, I‘m trying to find the purpose and drive in myself.

Having an editorial deadline for my column in Warwickshire Life each month certainly helps. Had a funny experience with that recently. Not so much funny “ha, ha”; but, rather, “you’ve got to be kidding me, oh my god, what am I going to!” funny…

Following Lucy’s demise, I languished (still am, though getting much better...) and struggled to find motivation for most things. My editor graciously offered me an extra week for my November deadline. I took every bit of it.

When I finally pulled myself together enough to write something, I submitted it, only to find that I had inadvertently traversed the same terrain as the magazine’s other columnist.

I mean, what are the chances that he and I would hit upon the very same topic – from very different vantage points, of course – at the same time? Since he got his in first, could I be a darling, write something else, and save this piece for later?

I was floored. It had taken everything I had within me to muster up the original piece, and now I was being sent back to the drawing board. Oy vey!

Oh, and it was needed ASAP...

I’m struggling now to recall the person who once said that we are each capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for, or imagine possible. I certainly felt that to be true.

I had a not-so-quiet word with myself, grabbed my laptop, put away the tissues, and typed as if my life depended on it. Sure, this wasn’t life or death, but a commitment is a commitment.

In the end, the piece that I came up under duress was much better than the original one. Perhaps, the pressure even helped the creative process?

I believe that every opportunity no matter how seemingly small to others, is a gift, and not to be squandered or taken lightly. I approach my column with sincerity and seriousness, and try to put my heart and soul into it every month.

A few days ago, two sweet rewards arrived. First, an unexpected parcel from a dear friend in New England. The contents were a treasure trove of goodies from one of my favourite shops in Northampton, Massachusetts. The present reminded me of golden autumns, beautiful fall foliage, and days spent indulging in a wonderful Earl Grey and lavender flavoured ice cream called “Hearts and Flowers”…

And, a kind message from a reader, sent to me via my editor. The reader expressed her sympathy at news of Lucy, and commented that she looks forward to reading my column each month. My page is the first one that she turns to every time. Nice. That really meant a lot.

Lancashire Hotpot. A special parcel from a faraway friend. And, a fan letter. Sometimes, it is the little things that mean the most.

Victories of the week

This week I finally mastered “the forward crawl”. 

Not bad for a chronic hydro-phobe, like me. (After seeing the film Titanic, it was weeks before I could cross a bridge, or take a bath.)

I have been going to the gym everyday for the past 4 months, and the daily practice has paid off.

And, I conquered the elusive, British classic that is the ‘Yorkshire Pudding.’ I had solid guidance from Delia Smith. On her website, she softly admonishes: “A classic Yorkshire pudding is not difficult to make provided you have the right recipe, the right size tin and the right oven temperature.”

In the end, it was all about trusting the heat (that seemed remarkably high to me), and distracting myself long enough for them to actually bake, undisturbed, for what felt like a very, very long time to me.

So, after a long winter of culinary mishaps, and countless soggy and misshapen hockey pucks, victory was at last mine! The D.E.B. and I did a little jig of joy about the kitchen, and I was ever so proud.

Practice and patience seem to be the keys to mastering most things.

Success and failure (in the "Jam Factory")

Ambition has always been my tragic flaw. I am, and have very often been, a victim of my own success. This past weekend, amid a myriad of merry-making activities, I attempted (and actually) succeeded in making a batch of “Chunky Grapefruit, Lemon & Lime Marmalade”. (Thank you, Easy British Cooking!)

It turned out sooooo beautifully, and was in fact quite dee-lish! But, could I rest on my laurels and merely enjoy my sweet success? Oh no. In the afterglow and sugar high, I decided and announced that my preserve-making efforts would become the epicenter of my holiday efforts, and that my resulting output would be packaged beautifully and given as gifts to our family and friends. Famous last words.

My fourth day in, and I’m ready to struggle myself with the strings of my cook’s apron!

Last night, as the D.E.B. was in the living room setting up our stout Nordmann Fir tree (from Thelsford Farm, Charlecote), I fretted in the kitchen over “Chunky Marmalade - Round 2”. I was spurred on by the glowing success of finally, finally (yes, finally!) championing the testy and quintessential “Lemon Curd”. Yes, I did it!! Blood, sweat, tears and two lemons yielded two tiny, jam jars of sunshine. Such great effort for such small output. “I need to maximize my output.” I coached myself in a business-like manner.

So, INSTEAD of tackling the next round of the grapefruit, lime and lemon concoction as directed in the cookbook, I decided to attempt some elaborate math(s), and tackle enough for three batches in one go. Of course, as the evening and my energy waned, I got distracted.

After festive glass of wine or two, looking at our lovely, luscious tree in the living room, I decided that I HAD to make a hand-made, keepsake ornament to be the first ornament on our English Christmas tree. I whizzed round, grabbed my scissors, needles and a bit of calico fabric, and made a sweet, little, red heart with a navy blue satin ribbon hang tie. “You always have my heart.” I said to the D.E.B. as I handed him the ornament. A kiss and a cuddle later, and…Grapefruit? What Grapefruit?

By the time I got back to “the Marmalade project,” I had forgotten just how many bits of grapefruit, lime and lemon I’d used. (Zoinks!) This is important because of the “Fruit to Sugar” ratio. Basically, I didn’t know how much sugar I needed to add. So, I overcompensated… Now, I find myself sitting with sticky fingers, sticky hair, a sticky kitchen, and a giant pot of marmalade the color of Marmite, but with the cloying taste of treacle/syrup. Why, why, why didn’t I just relish my lemon curd success, and take my time and work slowly and patiently, working on one batch of marmalade at a time?

I have tried everything to rescue this project, and to spare our family and friends the need for excessive dental work in 2009! We shall see. If ambition is my downfall, tenacity and creativity are my saving graces.

I have learned much from this great preserve-making adventure. I have learned that I have support and resources that I didn’t even imagine. I’ve learned to take good advice, and to trust my own instincts, at least in the case of the notorious and elusive Lemon Curd. Perhaps the lesson from “The Great Grapefruit Marmalade Saga” is that age-old lesson I refuse to learn: patience is a virtue; and it helps to slow down, and take things one step at a time. 

In the Kitchen

There is something about having a man cook for you.

I don't mean when a man does the "Come-over-next-Thursday-I'll-make-dinner" sort of cooking. I mean, the spur of the moment, extemporaneous, "I'll-do-a-little-something-for-us-shall-I?"  sort of cooking. 

Believe me, I have far better people to quote than Paris Hilton, but, as she is wont to say, "That's hot!" 

The D.E.B. took over the kitchen today, and I found myself feeling territorial and turned on, all at the same time. Unfortunately, territorial had the edge, and I had to resist the urge to correct or advise ("That flame's up awful high, don't cha think?" or "Are you really going to out those two ingredients together...in the same dish?") But, all I had to do was remind myself that this was meant to be a TREAT and that I am meant to enjoy it, and not use this occasion as a Gordon Ramsay "teachable moment." 

Watching the D.E.B. cook is incredibly sexy, and makes me want to have his child. Right now.