A Birthday rhyme to an old friend

The day dawned early and bright, December third,
this year's passed so quickly it seems quite absurd,
But beautiful winter sunshine through my window streamed bright,
so I threw open the curtains and saw with delight,
that the entire garden was completely embossed,
with a delicious icy coating of frost.
Bundling up, warm clothes v. biting cold,
I grabbed a camera in the hopes of photo gold.
I wanted to capture this magical, glittering morning.
but my photography should come with a small prewarning...
as, whilst my dear birthday friend has many a skill,
at capturing those photolicious moments that thrill,
my ability to close the shutter on the perfect shot,
is, I won't lie to you, not quite as hot.
Nevertheless, without further ado, and in my own little way,
I'll show you the magic moments of this beautiful day.

The icy sheen of directions. Beautiful markings to inspire me on my mini mission.

Frosted Treetrunks

The trees scraped their shadowy fingers across the fields, as I crossed a bridge into the magical forest.

This picture, and this place, causes me to take a nosedive straight back to my childhood in the states, and reading the terribly sad story Bridge to Terabithia. I got slightly lost in my imagination and had to pinch myself to resurface.

Marvellous mossy mystery.

Nature fallen.

Nature, dangling.


Wellie shot - just discovering my camera.

Pathway reminding me of Peter Rabbit - acrid smell of creosote from nearby garden allotments mixed with tinny waft of fir trees.

A virtual present - a cup of tea and some homemade cookies - chunky choc chip cookies, with their unseemly generous chunks of half melted chocolate. All that is missing is my birthday friend giggling with me as we lick the melted chocolate and buttery crumbs off our fingers, before reaching for another refill of tea and settling in for a good long girly chat.

Happy Birthday! xxx

Oldies are Goodies

One of the very happy side effects of living in a gurt big house in the country, and away from the hustle and bustle of London and constant social shenanigans that I would normally be furiously embroiled in, is that I'm really learning the value of spending real quality time with loved ones: friends and family.

So yesterday I was very excited when one of my bestest girlfriends came down to visit, the first time we've seen each other in the eight months or so since I went abroad. I had said we had so much to catch up on we should invest in one of those chess game timers - ok, 10 minutes to you, 10 minutes to me, 10 you, 10 me...thankfully we didn't have to resort to anything quite so regimented and I think we still pretty much covered all the bases, whilst at the same time cooking and eating a really very delicious, comforting winter supper to fill our tums as we talked.

Unsurprisingly, I'm the sort who finds it hard to concentrate on even two things at once - so listening, talking AND cooking meant that proceedings went veeeery leisurely, but that was fine, we had all the time in the world!

To curb our appetites, I quickly whipped us up some of the Carrot and Ginger soup, a rerun my last entry. It was just too good not to share!

A while later, we followed this up with Roast Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage, then a Blackberry tarlet for puds.

The Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine was really a bit of an experiment using some of my favourite ingredient combinations - I often use Butternut Squash in risotto, but I'd never actually cooked it with pasta. I figured really, what can go wrong with all of those goodies included?! My hunch was right and we both agreed it got top marks:

Butternut Squash & Bacon Linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage
Serves 2

Ingredients
a quarter of a butternut squash, peeled, deseeded and diced relatively small; 3-4 rashers bacon or pancetta, diced; 1 clove garlic, chopped; 8-9 sage leaves; 1/4 pint single cream; olive oil; linguine for 2

Method
Lay foil over a roasting tray and spread the butternut squash over, drizzle with olive oil and season generously, then roast at 240C for 30 minutes until soft with a little bite.
Start cooking the Linguine.
Lay the bacon in a frying pan and fry fast until slightly crispy. Remove the bacon from the pan and lay on kitchen paper to drain the fat, then quickly fry up the sage in the remaining bacon fat, removing to drain next to the bacon once done. My bacon produced enough fat for the whole dish but if yours doesn't, at this stage add a little olive oil and add the garlic until it sizzles and starts to go golden, then the bacon, and finally the butternut squash. Season, stir and cook through for a few minutes, and then add the cream, heat through for a minute or two.
Drain the linguine, retaining a tiny amount of water so the pasta doesn't dry, and toss together with the butternut squash mixture. Serve onto plates and crumble over the deep fried sage.
Thinking about it, by the time we served up, I was so eager to eat that I clean forgot parmesan, which of course would top off a truly delicious dish perfectly.

Blackberry Tarlets
Serves 2

I cheated and used preprepared, ready-to-cook tartlet cases (sorry, was BUSY during the day, can't cook everything from scratch!), but they were spectacular, so I would highly recommend cheating any day!

For the custard, beat 1 egg and add in a quarter pint of single cream, then beat in caster sugar. I've not quite figured out the right amount of caster sugar to add...I guesstimate maybe 5-6 tablespoons? Arrange the tartlet cases on a baking tray, and pour the custard in. Arrange the blackberries in the cases, and cook on about 180C for 15-20 minutes, until the pastry is cooked and the custard golden. Sift some icing sugar over the top if you want it really fancy. Me n mi amiga just gobbled ours down...hot! hot! hot!

Then the two greedy little piggies sat down with a cuppa chai and some of my special banana bread which I cooked that morning, the secret of which I will reveal when the time is right...

What else are best friends for than to help demolish the banana bread that you would otherwise be forced to eat entirely by yourself?!

Bliss.

A Cup of Tea Solves Everything

One of those days...

I've proved that the old adage 'A cup of tea solves everything' really is true. I've walked to the post office and posted a card I've drawn for a friend, and I've come back on a post-walk mini-buzz to make myself a steaming cuppa. Just plain ol' PG Tips thank you very much, with enough milk to render it a dark tan colour. Served in a cup which is oh so ironic at the moment labelled 'Princess' with a little drawing on the front. Think I might have just struck on an idea for another mug design 'Pauper's Tea'. I'll get scribbling!

One of the many useless skills I've been taking on board is the one below:



One of the undoubtedly more useless skills I've learnt, but nonetheless probably the most amusing....! Timothy Ferriss, one of the most inspirational men I've read about, teaching me yet another skill that makes life that little bit more interesting!

Onwards and upwards.

Guest Guest Writer: Sam the Tea Man's DAD drinks tea

Well, as you can tell ladies and gentlemen, we are really getting into our tea blogs. The truth is that Sam the Tea Man has been writing for a little while now, but I've been lax about uploading. But it now seems like ALL of his family want to get in on the tea-blogging action, and are adding their points of view into the mix. Today, we have Guest Guest Writer, Sam the Tea Man's DAD, Joe the Tea Man.

The tea in front of me is PG tips ,weak and milky, pale khaki in colour. There is about half a pint in a white mug which has a thick blue line around the top and thin lines within the blue. It is of a perfect drinkable temperature.
Around me are several girls , my pumpkin team, some of them drinking tea of varied colours and in different mugs. There are five pumpkins all being lovingly sculptured into bonfire night horrors. It is November 8th , the nearest Saturday to November 5th. Outside another team is putting finishing touches to a HUGE bonfire. They are placing benches,tables chairs and stools at a "safe" distance from it and preparing the "boncaloo." A group of Her Majesty's Security Staff still check underneath the Houses of Parliament before the Queen opens a new session. Our guy this year is very tall, green and handsome.
Autumn is just finishing ; still a few apples on the trees and leaves of all colours from dark red through yellows to green. They are scattered everywhere and some are even sill on their branches - just. Clouds - grey. white ,puffy , solid - are allowing some blue sky to show through. Everyone prays for the rain to stay away.
Bruce (the Shetland pony - ed) is bewildered. He is having to share the field with people and their excitement is catching . Even the chickens have not been let out, Bruce ois VERY bewildered.
The pumpkin seeds are being washed ready for toasting. I have never done this before and am really excited about tasting them. Dusk draws on and another cup of tea is finished.

Guest Writer: Sam the Tea Man drinks Tea

Blog Number: 3 No title this time

Hello, this is a rather impromptu blog, as I was intending on doing it tomorrow on my long train journey home, but I’ve just sat down in my flat with a fresh brew so I thought I’d tell you about it.

PG Tips with a dash of milk, nice & dark with a single sugar lump. (I like sugar lumps, (especially since Turkey since they’re everywhere), it means you don’t have to worry about the size of the tea sponn or how much sugar is on there.) Anyway, it’s maybe slightly darker than normal but still good. In a good mug (mugs are very important to some tea drinkers, we’ll probably discuss this in a later blog), which is round at the bottom, I’d guess about 30mm across (1 ¼” in old money), and almost square at the top, with nice thickened corners.

The tea is good, I need a bit of a boost after a long day, but refraining from a snack as it’d just spoil my appetite and tea/supper/dinner (depending on which part of the country you’re in) will be soon, well, when I get round to cooking it.

I’m fairly posiive & the tea is definitely helping. I’ve just been to an interesting lecture on Crossrail (the new Cross-London rail link for you non-Londoners) & now I’m about to make a pair of recycling bins for my flat. Partially because I watch “An Inconvenient Truth” (Al Gore’s film which is good) last night, but it was something that needed doing anyway as it’s a new flat (for me) and it’s not the best at the moment for recycling. I looked on the Interweb today & what I wanted was £50, which I thought was a little steep, so I’m going to make my own out of old boxes & plastic carriers. So not only am I not buying new stuff, I’m reuse old boxes before I recycle them, so REUSE & RECYCLE, all I need to do now is REDUCE, maybe I’ll just eat half as much, or drink less tea, or just use each tea-bag twice; then I’d be cooking on gas, or maybe Biofuel?

Guest Writer: Sam the Tea Man in Zummerzet

Blog Number: 2 The Cider House Brews

Tea Type: Miles Tea: The West Country Blend.

In a cup & saucer with two shortbread fingers.

Fantastic tea, good flavour, but most importantly it’s warm and wet, which when you’ve just walked about 12 miles in Somerset on a grey day on the 1st November any tea and biscuit would be welcome, but this tea is actually particularly good.

I think the setting of your tea is also particularly important, and I would say that sitting on a four poster bed in the main bedroom of a Doomsday Book Farmhouse is pretty much as good as it gets, especially when the company is particularity great………the farm cat called Tiger has just curled up at my feet.

We’re staying at Blackmore Farm which is an amazing B&B in Somerset, and has open fires, antlers on the wall and a four-poster bed, so pretty special. We drove down from Gatwick last night and it’s cool, & it has great tea bags.

So…location, great. Tea, great. How do I feel? Great. Is this down to the tea? Not entirely, but it definitely helps? My hands have thawed out now and the fire is blazing downstairs so I’m off to thaw my feet.

After the tea, this (blog writing) was the first thing I did, actually started thinking about it with a mile to go (which was pretty much straight after I started thinking about the tea funnily enough) so I think I’m getting into it (although this is still only the 2nd day.)

Off to the fire now, until next time…………Keep on Brewin’.

(261, nearly spot on this time)

Guest Writer: Sam the Tea Man really gets going

Blog Number: 1a Extra Words Brainstorming Topics

Buoyed with the ease of which this rubbish is rolling off my tongue, I thought I’d go for another “one” & since I haven’t had/didn’t get another cup from BA, I can’t really call this Blog #2, so here’s #1a.

I’ve not really thought about how this would work, not just the number, the whole blog really.

I’m good at bullet points (one of my good Top Trump Suits along with Admin, Languages & Singing are my worst I would say, although the jury’s still out on Blog \Writing!).

Each Blog will:

• Be based around a tea drinking experience, with a cup of tea conaumed whilst I’m at the seat.

• The tea will be judged, both in terms of…..well whatever I see ft really.

• Try to give the reader some idea of the venue, so they can decide if they want to do the same

• Probably have some sort of ramblings about something, the topic of which will almost certainly depend on what mood I’m in etc etc.

To help myself out (and to use up the remaining words), I though I’d list the Tea Relatated Places/Topics that could form the basis of my additional ramblings if I’m struggling for inspiration. These were as follows in the order I thought of them.

Tea with Mum @ home/in the garden.

Tea with Lex’ Parents, or not quite (the first time I met them)

Turkey Tea – Cay

Ginger Tea

European Tea

53 Carlyle Rd Tea

Desk at Work

Somerset B&B

Tea Rooms

Alone in my flat.

With friends in my flat

With my sister

Why am I doing this?

Does tea & Haribo work?

Does Lapsangsu-Shong actually taste of ash trays?

Phew, another 285 done, just as we land. Lets see how my enthusiasm & momentum go with regard to when I next have 250 words in mt, but until then………Brew Well My Friends.

(Do I need a cheesy line at the end of each thing, or is that a waste of words? Does anyone care? Does anyone read this except my Mum?)

Guest Writer: Sam the Tea Man's first real post

Blog Number: 1 First Entry Here We Go

sat here with a blunt pencil and my ears start to pop as we descend into Gatwick, I’m longing for another cup of BA tea (although I think it’s too late, the seatbelt sign is on).

After 8 days of drinking Turkish Cay (pronounced Chai we very quickly learnt) I was longing for that first cup of English tea, as I’m longing for another now.

It was probably a sub-conscious thing. Right, holiday over, back to England, what do we do in England, play cricket, well yes, but not in November, but we always drink tea, even in the heart of summer. Peter Kaye’s mum was right, it does quench your thirst. It also apparently keeps you alive. Apparently, a wise man once told me once that during the Korean War, the US Army suffered a significantly higher number of casualties due to pneumonia and other cold weather conditions when compared to the British.. This was apparently due to the fact that when they stopped trekking thought the jungle for a rest, instead of lighting cigarettes they lit their stoves and boiled water for tea, so not only were they warm, they didn’t get cancer, and that can only be a good thing. N.b. for future reference, whenever I start, “A wise man once told me” or something similar, please take it with a pinch of salt; it’s either something I believe to be truthful (or something that is so obviously gibberish that I’m trying to be ironical.) Oh, no words left give or take, so:

Type: BA Tea.

Where: On my way home from Turkey.

Description: Paper cup, one sugar, beltin’.

Blog #1 done, woo hoo.

Guest Writer: Sam the Tea Man

In what is probably a welcome break from my obsession with economics and frugality, I'd like to introduce my new, and much loved, guest writer. Sam the Tea Man. To set the background - Sam and I are bestest buds, and one of our main shared obsessions/enjoyments/little pleasures, is a cup of tea. We drink tea in, we drink tea out, it's often all we'll talk about. So we decided it was high time we made a joint project of it. I asked Sam if he'd like to start writing blog entries of about 250 words detailing his tea exploits. I'm sure you'll agree that the results are rather hilarious. So here, unadulterated and true to form, is Sam's first blog entry following our teablog discussion.

Blog Number: 0 Introduction Let’s Get Going

There are few things in life as glorious as a perfect cup of tea, except perhaps a perfect cup of tea together with a perfect biscuit ready to be either dunked in the tea or nibbled between mouthfuls.

I, along with many many other people love a good cup of tea, indeed “Lets put the kettle on” or “Get a brew on” are often the first thing I’ll say when entering a room, (depending on the company of course). So, in this series of completely irregular blogs, I’m going to be talking about my experiences of tea drinking.

In the famous words of Mr Scruff

So, where am I writing this first historic entry in the Great Food Lovers Annals? My mum’s kitchen table? A Tea Room in the Devonshire country side? My friends room at university? Nope…….32,000ft above Europe on my return from holiday, in seat 11B of a …………Boeing 737-436 according to the safety card.

I’m next to a man who is sleeping off the 3 bottles of wine, 2 shots of rum and can of Carlsberg he consumed after dinner and my girlfriend who has “borrowed” my book to read, so faced with a blamk sheet of paper I thought I’d rise to the challenge set by the site’s owner & write about something we both love, tea. I don’t think I’ve written this much since my GCSE English exam so apologies if it’s rubbish, but give me a few entries to get going, 250 words is the target each time (a good number according to a journalist friend, and as I’m about……38+60+52+109 I’d best curtail my introduction & start thinking about my first entry.

271, is that ok Miss Editor? As this is hand written, what counts as a word? i.e., does N.b. count, or indeed i.e.? Why doesn’t everyone who reads this count how many words they think there are and then compare with MS Word total and maybe we’ll learn about words as well as tea (eventually) and all be better people because of it. Now I’m at 342, is that too many?

I do.......................enjoy a good piece of wedding cake.

I hit a terrifying landmark in my life this weekend. My friends have now started to get married. I am ‘of the age’. Good grief, how it creeps up on you. I swear it was only a few years ago that I was on my very first dinner date when, aged one, my first boyfriend Theodore and I shared a toilet freshener between us. That hospital trip with our mothers was so romantic. So how is it that my cronies have started to get hitched?! Spot the girl in denial.

A big bunch of us headed back up to Cambridge on an astonishingly glorious Saturday, to tread once again on Queens' College's neat lawns. We may have been reliving our days as sleep-deprived, responsibility-free students but the harsh reality was that we were about to become grown ups! Still, I may sound like the cynical old bag but, and don’t tell too many people this, even hard-hearted old me welled up when the vows were said, and the rings exchanged. I really enjoyed my very first wedding! I sang my heart out during all the hymns (my neighbours may not have enjoyed this quite as much), and listened carefully to every word the vicar had to say. It wasn't just me getting emotional either - a few of the boys were spotted getting a little, shall we say, ‘soggy’ round the eyes as James and Katy, who have been together since freshers’ week seven years ago, became Mr and Mrs Adams.

Of course there’s nothing like a marriage ceremony to make you ponder life, love, and…food. Having not eaten since I left London very early that morning, by the mid-afternoon sermon my tum was whinging like a toddler on the verge of a rather nasty tantrum. The roars, gurgles and growls sang almost as loudly as I did during the hymns, but then it was time for the serious stuff. I begged and pleaded with it to keep itself under control - these were the wedding vows for goodness’ sake! My stomach rumbles echoing around the church would be almost as taboo as a phone going off. I held my breath. And we made it. Just.

Post church service, I hit the tea and biscuits stands, hard. I gulped down the caffeine gratefully, and filled my poor - and by now sobbing - belly with a couple of crumbly biccies. Then the alcohol was brought in stage left. My hunch is that the large stash of bubbly, not to mention wedding cakes and reception dinners, are a deliberate and dastardly ploy to keep your mind off the truth. Of course it worked for a bit. Nothing like the joy of champagne bubbles flitting across one’s tongue and flirting with one’s tonsils, and the accompanying inebriation thrilling through one’s veins, to ensure that one’s hungry tummy, and one’s fast-approaching age and responsibility, is at least temporarily forgotten.

Dinner was not too far round the corner, and we were treated to Queens’ College’s finest dining pleasures, in the very beautiful, and very old, Old Hall. When Queens’ caters, it really goes for it. Delicious whisps of smoked salmon with capers, blinis and sour cream followed by a succulent and tasty tiny Roast poussin with steamed veg. Dessert, a splendid sticky toffee pudding, gave my own version a run for its money - though, Queens’, I’ll take you on any time, you just say the word. Wine by this time was a-flowin’, and the very striking, three-tiered, multi-flavoured wedding cake was cut with a flourish. By an officer’s sword no less (Doug, the officer in the crowd, will no doubt be receiving more wedding invitations than his sword will be able to cope with). The wedding cake was a triumph – baked by Clarice, one of our own domestic goddesses! I opted for the vanilla flavoured piece, smothered, like the other flavours, with a vanilla meringue icing which was fluffy and terribly more-ish. So I tested out the chocolate layer, just for good measure…

It was only the next morning, post party and with the old gang polishing off an alarming mountain of sausages, bacon, eggs, beans, toast and tea, that I realised we’d momentarily had the wool pulled over our eyes. But you can’t fool me – no amount of feasting and merry-making could disguise what was really going on. I will blame the Adamses for what will no doubt be a knock-on effect. Bets are already on as to the next lot to get hitched. For wedding no.2, however, I’ll be better prepared, and have a snack to hand for the ceremony.

A Day at the Races - wot wot

Readers of my relatively recently concluded travel blog will have noticed that, aside from the heavy slant towards food, there were two other passions which slowly but surely nudged their way to the front of the crowd of global antics. These were: automobile-induced speed opportunities (moped, cyclo, speedboat, bike) and any given activity in water (diving, swimming, snorkelling, rivers, oceans). All three interests ensured that the four months were jam-packed with adventures.

Apt then that the fun shouldn’t end the moment I stepped off the plane into the UK. I’ve been desperately racking my brains for a way to make this particular day out nibble-scribble-worthy, and I think I’ve got it. I’m running the risk of accusations of tenuous connections….but hear me out…

From revelling in the glories of bountiful food…to the 2nd World War where food was rationed….to…Goodwood Revival! (Hmm…)

For those of you already shaking your head in wonderment, dismay and more than a smidgen of incomprehension, let me explain. Goodwood Revival is a fantastic, and terribly British day out, where those attending delight in flouncing around in their very best fifties fancy dress, cooing over beautifully designed and polished antique cars, bikes and planes and participating in various old jolly jaunts and amusements.

I was lucky enough to get an invite from my auto-obsessed father who, accompanied (less for the cars than for the excuse to dress up) by my mother, has now been to the event four years in a row, each time returning with hilarious anecdotes and extraordinary photos of which I was extremely jealous. (For those tutting and wondering where the food element of this posting has gone, stay with me)

Lucky thing that I am, I even had the privilege of driving my own car for the day – a 1959 MGA convertible in beautiful racing green – courtesy of my father’s aforementioned auto obsession. So I drove solo amongst a fleet of antique motors which included my parents in front and some family friends behind, headscarf flapping in the wind, sunglasses perched on my nose and bright red lippy flashing like a film star. My outfit: tiny black hat, hair in a bun, red lippy, white silk blouse, black pencil skirt, seamed stockings and high heels and a tweedy brown fitted jacket (authentic and previously owned by my grandmother). Father P sported a beautiful green tweed suit, with racing green silk waistcoat, deliberately themed towards Toad of Toad Hall of Wind in the Willows fame, and Ma P a fur coat over a casual tea dress with floppy brown hat. The MGA is a dream to drive, alternating between a satisfying purr and a slow, easy growl, the gears clunky and accurate, and the steering closely hugging the road. I’m no petrolhead, but this is the sort of motoring which gets me a teensy bit excited.

I thought this was a food blog, I hear you cry! But of course, and I haven’t forgotten (let’s face it, food is never too far from my mind). So let me now paint you a picture. I tottered through the entrance gate on my high heels, fresh from my windswept, but invigorating, ride. The very first waft of air I caught carried the sweet scent of candy floss being gently coaxed into shape by an apron-clad storesman. This combined with the heavier, more satisfying smells of greasy homemade, organic beef burgers being handed out by what equally well-grilled chefs. Old-fashioned sweet stores lined the promenade alongside the racecourse, large jars filled with glistening hard-boiled sweets, the enemy of all fillings. But any illusion of plenty was of course historically inaccurate – these were times of war-induced rationing, and the Tea Rooms dotted about paid testament to this, with tiny egg sandwiches, dusty little cakes and watery cups of tea.

The day was glorious, with blazing late-September sunshine causing throngs of auto-enthusiasts to wipe their brows and throw off their blazers. Men were dashing in braces and flat caps or trilbies, women gracious, with red lipstick, carefully coiffed hair, and complicated underwear causing all to walk tall and proud. Fancy dress made the air flirtatious, as everyone slipped easily into character – whether the dodgy ‘spiv’ sidling slyly up to the girls to whisper ‘anyone for nylons’, or the newspaper photographer begging a ‘style photograph’ and the excuse of a kiss from a rosy-cheeked girl.

Following the dusk races and still more tea and cakes, I put-putted out of the grounds and back onto the road, my hair protected by yet another little hat. I tooted my horn - a barely audible little ‘poop poop!’ - gleefully at everyone I passed. The sun was settting beautifully as I drove home over the orange, pink and red-kissed hills.