Spilled Notes

Frangipane

L had her last exam on Wednesday, so in celebration I decided to cook a three-course meal for us.  We started with pear and Serrano ham salad (courtesy of Lidl!), followed by spaghetti bolognese (made from scratch).  Dessert was something I've been wanting to try for ages.  I wish I could say it was my creation but unfortunately it isn't - it came from 'Chocolate' by Maxine Clark (this is a wonderful book, the same one my fudge recipe is from, and I want to try almost every recipe in it!).  I made a pear and chocolate frangipane tart - perfect as I love both chocolate and almonds.

I started by making a rich shortcrust pastry.  I always used to hate rubbing in, but I must admit I rather enjoyed making this, even though I was removing bits of pastry from my nails for hours!

Next was the frangipane.  Here it was a sort of sponge rather than a paste - basically an ordinary sponge recipe but with ground almonds instead of flour.  Add slices of pear on top and bake, and it looks like this.  As it cooks, the pears sink and the frangipane rises.

Finally, once cooled, add a glaze of melted raspberry jam:

Mine was a little on the soft side and could have done with a few more minutes in the oven, but it still tastes good!

Flutterby Cakes

Earlier this week, I decided to bake.  We didn't have much in the cupboards, and I couldn't be bothered to go shopping, so most (actually, all!) of the recipes I considered were impossible.  My eye was caught by ginger and chocolate cupcakes - we didn't have the ingredients (predictably) so I made up my own recipe.  After a minor setback when I thought my scales were broken beyond repair (luckily they aren't, but they still don't work all that well), this is what I came up with:

It's just a regular sponge cake, like you would make for a Victoria sandwich, with some spices added to taste instead of vanilla.  I used Nuremberg spice mix (bought at the Christmas market in Edinburgh but still unopened), which contains cardamom, cinnamon, anise, star anise, nutmeg, cloves and ?, and added some ground ginger.

As we somehow don't have a bun tray, I made them into muffins instead - I only had enough to make half a dozen but they are on the large side.  Once cooked and cooled, I cut the tops off and filled the holes with rich chocolate buttercream (butter, icing sugar, cocoa powder and a few squares of melted plain chocolate for extra chocolatiness), cut the tops in half and placed them on top like wings.

Not bad for a spur-of-the moment invention, although perhaps a little too reminiscent of Christmas for May!

Pink Snow

Lots of blossom out in Edinburgh at the moment.  This is on the edge of The Meadows, near the university library.  I spent a couple of minutes in the sun (had to make the most of it - it might not be back for ages!) after picking up a pile of books on ritual theory for my next essay.  Last week there was white blossom in all the cracks in pavement just along the road - it looked just like snow as it first starts to settle.  Unfortunately that was the one day I didn't have my camera with me.

Chinese Pears

I love getting Chinese pears from the greengrocer.  It's a bit like Christmas, all those layers to unwrap.  First, the polystyrene 'net':

Then the tissue paper:

Until finally...

 ... you reach the pear inside.

 Wonderfully crisp, refreshing and juicy, almost more like an apple than a pear.  Delicious!

Decadence, thy name is...

...porridge!  (Weren't expecting that, were you?)

My new favourite breakfast - porridge with chunks of dried apple, cinnamon, a drizzle of golden syrup and, on especially decadent days, a square of 72% plain chocolate broken into pieces and swirled in gorgeous, melting streaks.  A delicious way to start the day.

Passion

'Nothing great in the world has ever been accomplished without passion'

(Hegel)

 Passion, n.

I Senses related to physical suffering and pain.  Including: a narrative of Jesus' Passion; the sufferings of a martyr; a suffering or affliction of any kind.

II Senses relating to emotional or mental states.  Including: any strong, controlling or overpowering emotions; a fit of temper or rage; strong affection; sexual desire or impulses; the zealous pursuit of an aim.

Passion flower, n.

Any plant of the genus Passiflora.  Native to South America, the parts  of the flower were imagined by Europeans to correspond to the instruments and circumstances of Jesus' Passion - nails (stigmas), wounds (stamens), crown of thorns (corona) and apostles (perianth segments - although there are only ten, not twelve, so I'm not sure who got left out).

 Passion fruit, n.

The edible fruit of some species of passion flower.  An egg-shaped berry with purple, slightly wrinkled skin and sweet yellow pulp surrounding small black seeds.  Often used as a source of juice.

 

 (Definitions from OED online; passionflower photo courtesy of Livvey K over at The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon.)

The Plum Escapade

A little while ago, I needed to get a glass of water and a plum from the kitchen to the bedroom. 

Now, you might think that was simple, but no. Our flat has heavy fire doors that close by themselves, so you always have to have one hand free to open them. 

The logical thing to do was probably to either have the plum in my hand and balance the glass, or to do two trips, but why be logical?

Surely plums must float, I thought. Wonderful.

So what did I do? I put the plum into the glass of water, because clearly that was the obvious thing to do.

It turns out that plums don't float.

I was left with a bit of a dilemma - how to get the plum out without having to go back into the kitchen to empty the glass?

Luckily, on my desk was a discarded fork from the previous day - perfect! 

I stabbed the plum and lifted it out (thankfully it didn't then slide off and splash water all over me).

In my defence, I was ill, and my brain wasn't quite working properly. Hmmm, I'm not sure that's much of a defence...

I almost did the same thing again today, then remembered what happened last time. So I took photos instead, then emptied the glass, retrieved the plum, and employed a more sensible method of transport for the two items - namely my dressing gown pocket (for the plum, that is - not the glass of water, obviously. I'm not that silly.).

Quick! Sugar Snap Shortage!

Apparently the cloud of ash caused by the eruption of Icelandic volcano Eyjafjallajökull is having serious consequences.  Yes, the supply of exotic goods such as mangetout, sugar snap peas and some fruit has been affected, but supermarkets are trying to 'downplay the risk of serious shortages'.  However will we cope?  Because sugar snaps are, of course, a staple food in our diet, and without them we're doomed to starvation.

Or we could just try the novel solution of eating seasonal foods that we can actually grow here and don't need to import.  But I suppose that would be sensible, wouldn't it?

(See http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/travel/news/article7100938.ece for full article.)

The Amazing Hare Krishna Guitar Maestro

If you've ever visited Edinburgh and walked through Hunter Square or up Nicolson Street, you've probably heard the busking Hare Krishna monk.  Now, before Christmas he used to have an acoustic guitar and only seemed to know two chords.

A few months ago, however, his playing was a lot louder.  And more complex.  Sort of...cool.  When we finally spotted him, he had an electric guitar and a little amp.  Not just any guitar, though - an actual Fender Stratocaster!  And today, when we passed him playing under Potterrow Port (sheltering from the rain) he was playing another, different Fender - and these things don't come cheap.  

 

What I want to know is how he went from two chords to guitar maestro.  I think perhaps someone bought him 'Complete Electric Guitar' (by my teacher, Mel Reeves) for Christmas.  That and what he moonlights as to be able to afford two Fenders.

Now I'm just waiting for him to release an album...

Potato Planting

Ever since I can remember, I've always helped my Dad plant our potatoes on Good Friday.  I thought it was just a family tradition, so imagine my surprise when I found this in an article I was scanning through for a tutorial:

'Until quite recently Good Friday was the almost universal day for workmen in Somerset to plant potatoes.'  (Vivian and Mathews (1920), The Folk-Lore of Somerset, Folklore, 31, 3 (Sept.), p. 244.)

We're actually actively continuing a practice that was a tradition at least as far back as the early twentieth century, probably longer, using a tool that was bought by my grandad.  As an ethnologist, that's quite exciting!  Unfortunately this year most of the planting was delayed until yesterday due to rain, but we did manage to make a start on Friday.

Here is a record of our version of the tradition:

 

The seed potatoes chitting in the conservatory (this gives the shoots time to grow).

   

Our weapon of choice - the potato planter.

           

In action...

 

All ready to rake over the holes.  All that remains now is to wait...