My family is revving up for Christmas. I know this because Heather is in the kitchen making Christmas biscuits in the shapes of angels, snowmen, holly leaves, bells, Daleks etc, and I have just returned from a yomp into town (in yet MORE rain) at the behest of Andy who requires ingredients for making Christmas sausages and Christmas beer. (Cinnamon sticks, raisins, glucose -1kg, pork shoulder -1kg, eye cream, oops, no, that's for me because I've noticed a couple of creases that won't go away in the morning and although I'm going to be a granny in 3 months' time, I'm not intending to look like one.)
Ah, Christmas beer. Now, in the eight years Andy and I have been together I have only once seen him drink a pint of beer and that was at a wedding reception after he'd been on the wine for most of the evening and if you gave him a pint of puddle water, he probably would have drunk that too. It was odd seeing him drink a pint of beer. He's not a pint-of-beer-in-yer-hand man at all, not in my eyes. But he's decided, on the advice of 'The Home Farmer Magazine for Dreamers and Realists', that Christmas beer is going to be an essential part of Much Malarkey Manor Christmas '09.
The kit that arrived in the post yesterday will make 40 pints of beer. 40 pints?!!?? Please bear in mind that I am teetotal and cannot help Andy out in the consumption of this 40 pints. Besides, my plan for this Christmas involves much fruit cake, a trifle made with jaffa cakes and maltesers, and a variety of novelty cheeses (with biscuits). So Andy's going to be on his own vis a vis the consumption of the 40 pints. Unless Chris helps him. But then Chris is starting a fitness kick because he has decided he is going to apply to join the police force and as yet is unable to run the required distance in the required time in order, presumably, to be able to catch crooks or dash from police car to dough-nut shop whilst waiting at a red traffic light. He isn't far off the mark, but has decided to take up running to improve his bleep test. Apparently.
More sausage kit arrived yesterday, too. After the debacle of the ninety feet of beef intestine from the previous sausage making escapade that proved incompatible with the sausage machine nozzle so languished in the fridge until I crept it into the bin, we have reverted to dried collagen skins, which do fit the nozzle and fold up into nice dry parcels that nestle neatly into a drawer. So we are all ready to make Christmas sausage. I don't know how a Christmas sausage differs from a day-to-day sausage (Holly? Cranberries? Frosty the Snowman?), but I'm sure it'll be interesting finding out.
And it's always fun to write a blog about sausages!
Showing posts with label biscuits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label biscuits. Show all posts
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Rough waters and yummy cake
It was stormy weather in the swimming pool this morning. There was much splashing and tidal wave making and people flinging themselves around in inconsiderate ways whilst doing extravagant strokes like butterfly. Not me, I hasten to add; I am a calm swimmer of the breast-stroke 'I must, I must, improve my bust' variety and try to make as little splash as possible out of consideration for my fellow pool users. But I ploughed on and only got out when a family of four appeared and the father jumped in and displaced at least 30% of the water.
Back home I had a cup of tea and a bit of a think about how much I like cake. Not only eating cake (although that is a big part of the equation) but actually making cake. On Sunday I spent a very happy morning in the kitchen listening to the radio and making marmalade, cakes and biscuits. In fact, I believe my kitchen achieved an almost zen-like quality as the mixing and mushing developed and evolved and the scents of home baking wafted and filled the house. And I got to thinking, 'I could start a business selling cakes,' or at least run a market stall at the WI or one of the many farmer markets that are springing up hither and thither. I could expand into other areas - for example, I am determined to grow a mass of basil this year and make my own pesto. I could make pies and tarts and flans. Biscuits. And more cake.
The possibility of starting a business is an idea Andy and I have been toying with recently. We've started exploring the notion of bed and breakfast. And catteries. And mobile veterinary services. Having completed my second book for children, I am filling time with odds and sods of writing (I've discovered that it's not quite the season for short stories - I know, would you believe that magazines have a season for submitting short stories??) whilst I decide on my NEXT BIG PROJECT. I have four ideas for the next novel. In fact, a couple of them have already reached the 15,000+ word count. But I'm suffering with indecision at the moment about which to pursue seriously and so my mind has drifted to other thoughts of a creative nature. Namely cake.
So I'm going to research my cake-selling idea.
On another note, you'll be pleased to know that following yesterday's receipt of a bailiff's notice addressed to the wrong people at the wrong address, I received a very apologetic phone call from the bailiff himself, who grovelled a lot and then did some more apologising and said he would be around this evening to collect the offending epistle, if that was all right with me. My goods, chattels and chickens remain intact.
And finally, I must apologise to Andy for eating the last smidgeon of his Valentine chocolate heart yesterday because I thought he didn't want it (I know, I know, a stupid thought indeed!). I feel very contrite. So I'm making him a jam sponge pudding for tea tonight. I hope this is acceptable, darling!?
Back home I had a cup of tea and a bit of a think about how much I like cake. Not only eating cake (although that is a big part of the equation) but actually making cake. On Sunday I spent a very happy morning in the kitchen listening to the radio and making marmalade, cakes and biscuits. In fact, I believe my kitchen achieved an almost zen-like quality as the mixing and mushing developed and evolved and the scents of home baking wafted and filled the house. And I got to thinking, 'I could start a business selling cakes,' or at least run a market stall at the WI or one of the many farmer markets that are springing up hither and thither. I could expand into other areas - for example, I am determined to grow a mass of basil this year and make my own pesto. I could make pies and tarts and flans. Biscuits. And more cake.
The possibility of starting a business is an idea Andy and I have been toying with recently. We've started exploring the notion of bed and breakfast. And catteries. And mobile veterinary services. Having completed my second book for children, I am filling time with odds and sods of writing (I've discovered that it's not quite the season for short stories - I know, would you believe that magazines have a season for submitting short stories??) whilst I decide on my NEXT BIG PROJECT. I have four ideas for the next novel. In fact, a couple of them have already reached the 15,000+ word count. But I'm suffering with indecision at the moment about which to pursue seriously and so my mind has drifted to other thoughts of a creative nature. Namely cake.
So I'm going to research my cake-selling idea.
On another note, you'll be pleased to know that following yesterday's receipt of a bailiff's notice addressed to the wrong people at the wrong address, I received a very apologetic phone call from the bailiff himself, who grovelled a lot and then did some more apologising and said he would be around this evening to collect the offending epistle, if that was all right with me. My goods, chattels and chickens remain intact.
And finally, I must apologise to Andy for eating the last smidgeon of his Valentine chocolate heart yesterday because I thought he didn't want it (I know, I know, a stupid thought indeed!). I feel very contrite. So I'm making him a jam sponge pudding for tea tonight. I hope this is acceptable, darling!?
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