On a Saturday afternoon.

Papa was up in his loft and dug out the old Hornby train set.  It certainly made a little boy very happy.

And both boys were soon lost in the game.

A fresh warm batch of pancakes for the train drivers' tea break.

and then dinner cooked by K, home for the weekend

helped by his lovely girlfriend L.

Joined by John and daughter Kristine - a  fuzzy but warm family meal. 

Let it snow

 I am so thankful that we have no places to go right now, and can just be home enjoying the snow and finishing off our preparations for Christmas Day.  Mostly playing out in the garden and clearing up the paths this morning and lots of baking this afternoon.  Tomorrow  will hopefully be spent getting ready for the feast - doing as much in advance as possible, so we can all relax and enjoy the meal.  This is likely to be the last one where my Mother will be home -  Alzheimer's Disease is stealing more of her away all the time, and it looks likely that a care home could be a reality during the coming year. That's in the future though - right now we are all looking forward to spending the day together and ten of us will sit down to a traditional Christmas dinner.

There may even be some of this stollen cake left to have later on.

Sending warmest wishes to you all for a wonderful happy Christmas.

Advocaat and memories

I inherited my Grandmother's recipe books - they are falling apart as you see, but i love them and refer to them often.  There are 2 of these notebooks full of recipes written out in her neat hand, using her Parker fountain pen - credit is always given to whoever provided the recipe: - Dundee cake,  Mrs Fleming; Lantern Tray Bake, Betty Clark; Gingerbread, Mrs Fernie, Christmas Cake, Radio Times   Each page contains memories of visits to her house.  She was the most fantastic baker and the table just groaned with delights - big cakes, small cakes, fruit cakes, tray bakes,tarts, biscuits (cookies), shortbread.  She baked every week, to fill up her tins, so there was never any chance of being caught out with nothing to offer a visitor.
Anyway, browsing through a few weeks ago, I came upon this recipe for Advocate (sic).  Now as a child at New Year, I was always allowed a small glass of advocaat mixed with a lot of lemonade.  I so remember that fluffly light sweet eggy taste, so I was keen to give this a go - especially as our hens - The Pizza Girls are such prolific layers. You make it over 3 days, but then have to leave it for 3 - 4 weeks before drinking it - worth it though.

Recipe

3 whole eggs - including shells

juice of 3 large lemons.

1 lb caster sugar

large tin evaporated milk (I used 3 170g tins Tesco own brand)

1 Gill brandy ( 1/4 of a pint)

Wash eggs and break into a bowl including the eggshells

Add the lemon juice and turn every day for 3 days.

(interesting science experiment here too)

On day 4 - whisk them up ( I zuzzed mine in a blender) and strain.  Add sugar, milk and brandy.  Beat well until the sugar has dissolved.

Pour into bottles and keep for 3 - 4 weeks before using.  I made just over 1 litre using this recipe - 1 bottle to keep and 2 smaller ones to give away.  Perfect!

Ur ye haudin Hallow e'en?

Hallow e'en has always been a big event in our family. Not least because it was my Grandfather's birthday, and my Gran always made a Clootie Dumpling for the occasion. A clootie dumpling is a sweet fruit, spice and suet pudding, mixed up and tied in a floured and sugared cloth then steamed for several hours. The smell of the boiling cotton mixed with spices is one of my abiding childhood olfactory memories, along with the aroma of charred turnip wafting from the carved lanterns. Both can transport me instantly back to frosty dark nights going round the neighbours' houses 'guising'.

Guising (or going in disguise) goes back at least to medieval times, and probably longer. Originally it was a Hogmanay custom for adults who disguised themselves and there are reports of groups of 'Guisards' going around from house to house offering some entertainment in return for some hospitality. Of course Hallow e'en was originally the Celtic New Year's Eve, so there may be some connection there. In any case, as children we would go to houses where we knew there would be a welcome, and performed our poems, songs or joke telling in return for a tangerine and some nuts. As we called at each house in our homemade costumes, we would ask "Ur ye haudin Hallowe'en?" none of this "Trick or Treat" that we get now. And - we were expected to sing for our hallow e'en. On the rare occasion we are visited by guisers, I always invite them in to do their turn. Usually now it is some mumbled joke that we have heard several years in a row, but now and again there is the odd gem.

So, Hallow e'en for us this year meant introducing James to the customs. It is such good fun seeing these things through a child's eyes again. After breakfast he asked me if we could go now.
"Go where?" I asked
"To Halleen!" he replied impatiently.
As I put out peanuts( or monkey nuts as we call them) in a bowl I showed him how to crack them open, revealing the dark red nuts inside. He loved them, and soon the place was littered with shells.

Then I made some toffee apples

and James decided to make his own Hallow e'en concoction - chopped pork, 2 eggs (and the shells) some goats milk, a handful of suet, two apples and half a lemon. Yummmmm! He wanted to bake it and do you know? It smelt quite nice when it came out of the oven! I didn't try it though, and he had lost interest by then and moved on to something else :)


Later he put on his Bumble Bee outfit and we went to visit Gran, who is having a week of respite care in a Nursing Home. She enjoyed seeing him, and he enjoyed bouncing on her bed!



Back at home it is now my role to make the Hallow e'en dumpling. An onerous responsibility, especially when there are lots of expectant and hungry faces watching the great unwrapping. The hallmark of a really great dumpling, however, is the skin which is formed first of all by the flouring and sugaring of the cloot, and then careful drying in front of the fire. What's the verdict?



It's strange to think that my Grandfather was born 111 years ago tonight, in a coal miner's cottage just a few hundred yards from where I am sitting now. He died when I was 14, but we had such good times as I was growing up. I loved to help him in his garden and had my own plot outside his greenhouse. I learned so much even as a small child, that I still remember today, as I tend my own garden. He also had a love of Scottish history and legends, and told me stories and taught me songs that fired my imagination. he was such a great influence on my life, so Here's to you on your birthday Papa.

Here is my Gran's recipe for Clootie Dumpling - although I have adapted it a bit.

1lb plain flour
8oz currants
8 oz sultanas
8 oz raisins
8 oz suet
1 cup sugar (as this is an old recipe I assume the cup to be a teacup and not a cup measure)
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp mixed spice
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cream of tartar
1 tsp baking soda
1 tbsp treacle (molasses) - warm it to make it easier to mix in
milk to mix to a soft but not runny mixture (about 7 fl oz,)

Mix all ingredients together (get your hands in about it)

Prepare your cloth - I use a muslin square, but any cotton will do - an old pillow case was my Gran's pudding cloth.
Scald the cloth in boiling water and wring out when you can handle it. I lift it out with a pair of tongs and let it drip until it is cool enough to touch.
Lay out flat and dredge with an even layer of flour and then sugar. (Very important step this!)

Tip your dumpling mixture on to the cloth and then tie up into a bundle with string.

Put a plate into the bottom of your big pan and put the pudding on top.
Almost cover the dumpling with boiling water and boil hard for 30 minutes
Continue simmering for 3 - 3.5 hours.

Lift out and put on a plate or I use a colander to let the excess water drain out. Open up and invert the dumpling on to a heatproof plate.
Carefully remove the cloth and you should see a nice white sheen on the surface of your beautiful dumpling That is the skin - the best bit!
Dry in front of the fire, turning occasionally for half and hour or so - or put in a low oven.

Serve with custard, or cream, or whatever you fancy.
Leftovers are great eaten cold the next day - or fried in butter even.

I was very pleased with this one. A bit wet at the top as I cut the string, but it dried out nicely and the skin was almost perfect. I may add a bit more spice next time, as I did feel it could have done with a bit more pep, but otherwise it was just delicious.

In praise of Papa Soup

My Dad is the ultimate soup maker in our family - possibly even the world. He takes carrots, leeks, onion, turnip* and pearl barley, combines them with a stock and produces the most amazing soup you have ever tasted. I have tried so many times to replicate his recipe, but I just can't achieve that unique taste. I don't know what it is - a kind of lightness, yet it is so full of flavour.
It is a basic Scotch Broth, but is known in our clan as Papa soup. It's fame has even spread to Canada, where he spends his visits to my sister making Papa soup for my nephews and all their friends. The last time he went to watch one of the boys at baseball training, several of the Moms came up asking if he was the famous Papa, and how much their sons loved his soup. He was more pleased than he let on.
Anyway, James and I were delighted today when he arrived with a large tub of freshly made Papa soup - just right for lunch with a few slices of toasted Scottish plain bread.

Harvest Feast

On Saturday we went to a Harvest Feast organised by Linlithgrow - a local climate challenge project which aims to get people buying and eating local food as well as encouraging growing your own. It was a very well attended event and the food was delicious. The event was held at Bonnytoun Farm, a fantastic estalishment producing local organic and free range meat, fruit vegetables and flowers. Here are some shots from the day.

Preparations for the feast.

James and John having a go in the Welly Throwing competition!

The band played all afternoon. Great stuff!

And the food? Well 3 clean plates and bowls says it all really. John is holding tightly to that glass of farm brewed beer :)

Lots of local apples - James said this was his favourite - he even ate the core!

Time to go home.

When does learning happen?

One of my favourite books in Learning all the time, by John Holt. Here he relates accounts of how children learn from everyday life, and how that delight in learning is conditioned out of them at school. I have been privileged to observe this learning process in my son, James, who will be 3 in November.
James is now of the age where we are being asked" When does he start preschool?" every time we are out. It gets wearisome, butI don't really want to get into the intricacies of our family life with the woman from the corner shop, or the bus driver, so, for now I just answer - "He's only 2!".
But he will not be going to pre-school or nursery. He will be continuing this marvellous expansion of his learning at home, directed by his own needs, interests and desires.
Today, learning happened at 5.30 am, when he just had to get up and play some game with his diggers and trucks. Fortunately, my husband volunteered to get up with him, and when he brought me a cup of tea, he commented on how he could almost see the neurons firing in James's brain - he was full of it. Talking his game out loud in long, complex, sentences, he was obviously working something out that had been on his mind.

I took over at 7.30, and the learning continued. We read a couple of comics - Roary the Racing Car. We made a cut-out tool box from the magazine, and then played a complicated game of fixing cars and buses - the sofa cushions being the cars. All this was entirely instigated and directed by James - I was there purely as a facilitator and gofer - it was such fun too!

The whole day has been like this. One learning event after another. Going to the DIY store with Dad, coming home and making a seesaw with bits of wood, making his own sandwich for lunch, playing the piano and singing along to his own tune, helping make dinner, picking plums, dividing pastry for the pie, using the leftover paste to make yet another birthday cake, singing all the words of Happy Birthday - all these activities were a small part of his own agenda for the day.
He is still going now, I hear him pretending to be a snake "I'm gonna eat oo Dad"

Now, thankfully, a 5 am - 10 pm full on day is relatively unusual here, but sometimes it happens. If we were shackled to other timetables, this day would have been so different, so I am truly fortunate that we have that freedom. I imagine how stressed I would be by such an early start. I might have lost my temper and shouted; harassed and nagged everyone into getting ready for work and school, cutting short any play or fun. "No time, no time!", in the rush to be out the door, far too soon. James would not have had the opportunity to do all the things he did today, unless he was at home. No-one would have played with him for hours on the living room floor, in just the way he wanted to, or let him help cut mushrooms for the risotto that he asked me to make for dinner. He might have come home, tired, clutching a piece of paper with blue paint slapped on it as evidence of his creativity, but would he have been told to be quiet when he began to play the piano and sing joyously as he did after tea today? Would he have been laughed at or ridiculed for playing with his Barbie campervan - organising a trip to the beach for some of his toys?Would he have been able to do these things anyway, or might he have been told to do some other box ticking activity instead? I do not want to endanger his gentle unfolding in any way by subjecting him to the shoulds and should nots of this society and certainly not by it's clock.

Instead, we were able to forget time and just go with the flow. It was only place to be. Seventeen hours of present moments - learning all the time.

Please visit Debs at Muddy Bare Feet, who is hosting Home Education Blog Carnival today for International Freedom in Education Day. There are so many inspirational posts there, much more coherent than this sleep deprived one. Night Night!

Celeriac and Pear Soup

This recipe took my fancy while browsing through Country Homes and Interiors magazine the other day. I am always looking for celeriac ideas, and local pears are plentiful right now, so I made it for lunch today. It was so delicious that I thought I would pass it on. It is actually very similar to a Celeriac and Apple soup that i have made, but i think I preferred this. We had it along with a homemade cheese and herb scone. Sorry the picture is blurry - I just can't find good food stylist when I need one :)

25g Unsalted butter
1 onion, roughly chopped
1 medium celeriac (celery root) peeled and cut into small chunks
1 litre vegetable stock (I used marigold bouillon)
4 ripe juicy pears (mine were a bit hard)
a few leaves lovage, flat-leaved parsley, celery or celeriac leaves shredded, as a garnish (oops forgot to shred)
Salt and pepper


Melt butter and fry onion until soft
Add celeriac and stock - bring to a gentle simmer
Cover and cook gently until celeriac is soft (20 - 30 minutes)
Blend until smooth
Reheat gently and scatter with shredded (or not) herbs.

Very easy, very tasty.

The Mother of all Camps

Last week we went to The Mother Magazine family camp, held on a beautiful piece of land in North Yorkshire. OK - the weather was rainy and windy, but it was the start of Autumn and the sun did come out in between. We had a fantastic time. I met so many great people, some I knew either personally or as online friends, but many new friends too. It was so good to be with people on the same plane and just to relax. Lots of cooking and community stuff to be done though - so any relaxation was not your sit back on a sun lounger with a best-seller and a Malibu type of thing - it was all go. What I mean, I suppose is just looking around and seeing - a group of boys running around the field with sticks - off on some daylong adventure, mothers breastfeeding their babes wherever they happened to be, barefoot toddlers running up to their Mums for a quick nurse then running off again, people actually being nice to children, eating together and just chatting. Here are a few snaps from the holiday. I didn't take many though - too busy doing things or connecting with wonderful people.

Dawn light.

The hub of the camp - Organisers' yurt - Kitchen yurt and Recreation yurt. The small shelter in the foreground was to protect our musicians from the fairly persistent rain on the previous night.




The fabulous roundhouse - scene of the magical ceremonies that we were privileged to attend. Little Rhiannon's naming ceremony - a very joyous occasion, and a Blessingway for Amelia and Vedina - a truly moving experience. Both these were led beautifully by Veronika - editor and publisher of The Mother. Gorgeous Samantha - mother and doula, led a birth stories session in this space, and the Men's Circle was held here (very mysterious and secret, but I will find out!)


Very authentic looking sculpture outside the roundhouse.



The view from out tent. Our neighbours were Anna, Joss and baby Leon. A really lovely family -it was a true pleasure to meet them.


Sitting in the sun was possible, while some of the older children helped to build the campfire ready for the evening.


Food was very important. With 150 people to feed for 4 days it was always going to be a priority. All organic, wholefood, vegan dishes. I have never had such delicious meals. I .miss them


My husband on kitchen duty - actually he only ran over to stir he pot when I came to take the photograph. He was on the salads that day - he did learn to make a pretty yummy vinaigrette though :)



Alex and Siobhan came over from Ireland and enriched the camp with their presence. Alex is a powerhouse of activity and ideas. He led sessions on baking sourdough bread in the clay oven, and built a hot tub with the help of some of the men and boys. You can read more on their lovely blog here

Siobhan was the kind of person who just seemed to make the place brighter by just being there. We were really glad to have met them and their gorgeous children. John learned a lot from Alex about sustainability, and just talking to him helped us to later clarify some of our ideas for the imminent 'retirement'.


I just loved the compost toilets. They were magnificent edifices and there is something so right about not using gallons of water to flush.


The washing up area - always hung with brightly coloured, flapping tea towels, like Buddhist prayer flags!



And John, taking a short break in the sun. I am so glad we went to this camp - it was definitely and enriching experience for us both.

Edit - Now the magazine is in danger of closing, due to falling subscriptions. Please click here to find out more about this precious resource.

Raw

I have been experimenting a bit with raw food lately, after finally coming across a raw no-cook book that contains recipes that are actually accessible - do not require several pieces of horrendously expensive equipment or bizarre ingredients sourced from mountain lakes in the middle of the high Andes. Jennifer Cornbleet's Raw Food Made Easy has some of the most delicious recipes I have tasted. You do need a some kind of blender or food processor - even a stick one works.
Just before we went off on our break, I made Not Meat Balls in a raw Marinara sauce with courgette pasta.

Forgive the blurred photograph, but if you are ever to try a raw food recipe it should be this one - especially the sauce
I have a veg peeler which does very thin pasta shapes, so I used that to slice my courgettes, but I have done a tagliatelle type with a potato peeler.

Marinara Sauce

1 ripe tomato
1/2 cup sundried tomatoes in oil (or soaked for 30 mins if dried)
1/2 red pepper
2 tbls olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil
1 tsp dried oregano
1 crushed garlic clove
1/4 tsp plus 1/8 tsp salt
dash black pepper and dash cayenne.

Blitz in blender or food processor and keep in a sealed container (up to 3 days in a fridge)

Not Meat Balls

1 cup walnuts (soaked for 6 - 8 hrs)
1 tblsp lemon juice
1 tsp olive oil
1 tsp tamari
1/4 tsp garlic powder
dash salt
1 tbsp minced parsley
1 tblsp minced onion

Place everything except the parsley and onion into a food processor and blend into a paste. Transfer to a small mixing bowl and still in the parley and onion. Will keep for 5 days. Make up into ball shapes and serve on top of courgettes with sauce drizzled over.

Shadow Shot Sunday - In the night kitchen

There has been a dearth of shadow opportunities this week, due to very rainy weather here I took these shots in the kitchen the other night. I had been in bed asleep, awoke in the early hours and decided to get up for a glass of water. The neighbours' outside lights were still on, shining through my kitchen window, and I was greeted with the shadows of my kitchen utensils hanging from their rack.
See what wonderful shadows are being cooked up at Hey Harriet's Shadow Shot Sunday menu.

Jam today ... and tomorrow ... and yesterday!

The first of this year's jam - Rhubarb and Ginger is now all potted up and arranged on the cool cupboard shelf. I am so pleased with this, because we are just finishing the last of the plum jam from 2008. We have been self-sufficient in home-grown, homemade jam for a whole year!!!. We give pots away as presents and being Scots, we eat lots of pieces on jam (jam sandwiches), so to have made it through the year without buying any is quite an acheivement, even if I say so myself. Rhubarb is the first of the year - I will make 2 or 3 batches before the end of June (yes, we have a big rhubarb patch :) . Blackurrant and strawberry will be next, followed by raspberry and plum.
Molly Weir, in her wonderful biography of growing up in Glasgow between the wars, describes her delight at finding anold forgotten fruit garden in an empty property next to the office where she worked. She and her mother and brother returned later and filled bags and every container they could carry with rasps and blackcurrants to make their jam. Molly's mother scorned manufactured jam "She's the kind o' wummin that would have shop bought jam oan her table!"was how she dismisively described a woman who had a different view of homemaking from herself :)
James enjoys the skimmings on a crumpet - appropriately still wearing his jammies

Ladies (and lads) who lunch.

Thursday morning is when Gran come to play with James, and my elder daughter and grandson come for lunch. It is a hectic day, but very pleasant, and we look forward to it. Gran has Alzheimer's disease - a living death by degrees. It is advancing slowly but surely and every now and then we notice with a jolt that another piece of her has gone missing. Today as we enjoyed a leek and potato tortilla, green salad with a honey dressing, she said "That was lovely - I really must start learning how to cook." This woman has inspired me to do many things in life, but one of the most important things I learned from her was how to cook. From baking jam tarts to helping with her "Greek nights" she allowed me into her kitchen and pretty much gave me free reign from an early age. When I was 14, she bought me the Reader's Digest Cookery Year, which is in constant use to this day. Her meals were delicious and quite imaginative for central Scotland in the 60s and 70s. "Oh Mum - you are the best cook!"
We still have her, though, and for that we are thankful. James has only ever known his Gran with AD - not the strong, creative, organised and capable woman my older children, niece and nephews knew. But somehow, from a tiny tot, he has had a special bond with her, and they play, draw and read books for long spells of time. My Dad remarked the other day how gentle and patient James was with her. I read on Sunnydaytodaymama's blog the other day, the famous passage from The Prophet by Khalil Gibran - Your children are not your children:

You may strive to be like them, bur seek not to make them like you
For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

I will strive...