Spilled Notes

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.)

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...

Pineapple

A little while ago, we bought a pineapple in Lidl.  On the back of the label was this diagram:

Now, I know that pineapples aren't a fruit most people eat every day, and they perhaps look a little intimidating, but is it really so difficult to work out how to deal with them that we need a step-by-step diagram?

I do, however, like the stars.  It reminds me of a pineapple cushion I once made in Textiles - I used little gold star-shaped sequins (most of which fell off - I warn you, they're not nice o stand on!).  Oh, and the serving suggestion with the cocktail umbrella.  I may have to get some in ready for the next time we have a pineapple.

Noodles

Just thought I'd introduce the newest member of the family - Noodles:

 

L bought him for me, and left me with the task of finding a name for him before she got home that evening.  I'm not good at thinking of names for anything - I even struggle with essay titles - so this was a bit of a challenge.  Eventually, though, I dropped some of my stir-fry on him while sat eating at my desk.  And, somehow, I think he looks like a Noodles.  Maybe it's the stripes...

Indulgences

I don't indulge myself much.  I don't spend lots of money on myself, don't go on expensive holidays, or go out much.  No, my indulgences tend to be little things that make the moment brighter and make me smile when I've had a bad day.  Like a bath with something from Lush (partly to disguise the 'interesting' colour of our water, but mostly for the wonderful smell), a bunch of flowers, curling up with a good book, listening to my favourite music without doing anything else at the same time, or some quality time with L.  Oh yes, and then there's the food.  It doesn't take much to make me happy: a fresh baguette with cheese; a juicy, ripe pomegranate; a mug of tea and a slice of home-made cake...

Or this.  A late-night indulgence of home-made chocolate chip muffin (made by L, a la Nigella), whipped cream and strawberries - a perfect combination.

 

(I apologise for the not-so-good, photo, but it was the last muffin and I just couldn't wait to eat it!)

 

Mango Juice and Rose Petals

Unfortunately I'm still ill.  No diagnosis as yet, hopefully will find out tomorrow.  I must admit, I'm getting really rather bored of being stuck in bed.  I never thought I'd be so bored as to want to work, so it must be bad!

 

One of my few trips out of the flat with L was to our favourite haunt, In Delhi, just up the road.  I love going there, it's so colourful with Indian drapes all over the ceiling and hanging down between the tables.

 

And, of course, we had our usual pakora, but this time with mango juice so mango-y it's like sucking the juice straight from the fruit.  I love the rose petal floating on the surface - and the fact that it's the same colour as the straw.  (I know, I'm easily pleased!)

 

Magic Chicken Soup

 

 

I've been stuck in bed since Tuesday feeling pretty rotten with a stomach bug, but L is nursing me back to health with beautiful red tulips, pineapple juice the colour of liquid sunshine, ruby-red strawberry jelly and magic chicken soup (made with lots of love) and a copious amount of kisses.  I should be back on my feet in no time.

 

 

Carnival and Lent

 

I love this painting by Breugel, depicting "The Battle Between Carnival and Lent".  Carnival is shown as a fat man riding a wine barrel, with a spit of meat instead of a lance, while Lent is a thin old woman with a board of fish.  In the background the distinction between the feasting, festive period of Carnival (on the left) and the fasting, austere period of Lent (on the right) can be clearly seen.  

In early modern Europe, Carnival was in opposition to Lent, but was also the opposite of everyday life - 'the world turned upside down'.  It was a time of feasting and revelry, with an emphasis on food, sex and violence, stretching from midwinter to its climax on Shrove Tuesday, before the abstinence of Lent began on Ash Wednesday.