Hebridean Cookbook

 In the late '60's my father was posted to RAF Stornoway in the Western Isles/Outer Hebrides of Scotland.  .  We had previously spent three years in Hong Kong, followed by postings to Rutland and then the Wirral so we were quite used to packing up and moving to somewhere new.  The whole family moved - well, all except my older brother who remained at university in England.

I was 14 years old and happily settled at my all girls' school but the idea of moving to an island in the wilds of Scotland held a certain appeal.  The wilder the better, I thought.

Of course our new life was not quite as I had imagined.  

It was infinitely better, especially once we left the comfortable, but very ordinary,  rental in Stornoway and moved into a pretty basic croft house out in the country.  It would be fair to say that it was probably rather less wonderful for my parents, but I loved it. 

My younger brother attended the tiny school in the neighbouring village, up the hill.  Morning and afternoon I had a ten mile journey into Stornoway on a school service mini-bus.  It would be true to say I dislike almost everything about that school.  Several male teachers were more than happy to wield a thick and heavy tawse for even minor misdemeanours.  The French, French teacher was a demon for that.

Luckily, I loved living out in our tiny village of half a dozen crofts, helping (or more likely hindering) the old couple next door.   John and Marion very kindly allowed me to tag along as they tended their 'beasts'.  They kept a few head of cattle and a flock of sheep and they let me help with all the chores - milking, driving the cattle to the pasture, injecting or dipping the sheep.  Thrilling stuff.

The stove in our kitchen was fuelled by peat.  This had to be cut, dried, gathered in and then stacked in similar fashion to an old fashioned haystack.  The villagers introduced us to these chores and showed us which peat banks we could cut.  Jolly hard work but fun.

All these years later, whenever I consult the Hebridean Cookbook I am immediately transported back to the islands.  I bought the book years ago, mainly because I knew my mother would have loved it.  She was a big fan of Lillian Beckwith's books and had been since before we moved up to the islands.

Compared to the cookbooks of today, this is a very simple production, no big glossy food-porn photographs, just amusing illustrations of some island characters.  Each chapter begins with a little anecdote about Lillian Beckwith's experiences in her Hebridean home followed by recipes.

The Meat, Poultry and Game Section starts with the tale of 'Donald Bhan's Bad Cow, Recipes for'.  Apparently Donald's cow (dubbed 'bad' because of persistent fence-breaking) strayed too near the edge of a cliff and fell to its death.  The meat could not be wasted, so Donald and his friends decided to butcher the carcass and sell the meat to the islanders.  

Lillian Beckwith paid five shillings and ended up with over 30lbs of meat which she had to cook or preserve before it spoiled, electricity and refrigeration having not yet reached the islands.

Should you happen to have a brace of cormorants either hanging around, or buried in the traditional way, you could follow her instructions for Cormorant Casserole.  

As you would expect, there are lots of fish recipes - many mackerel recipes, or you could try Cod Liver Pie.  The very name makes me feel ill with past memories of that spoonful of that golden glistening horror which haunted my childhood.  Definitely not a recipe that I will be trying out.

There are cakes with amusing titles like 'Undressed Bride's Cake? Or you could try Zebra Pudding which, unlike the refined modern versions, calls for only four ingredients and is a substantial steamed pudding.  Meringues and souffles also feature, so something for everyone.

Part story book, part recipes, amusingly illustrated, the whole comes together and makes an entertaining read with some very useful recipes to boot.

Lincolnshire Lanes

 The sun was shining brightly this morning, that was all the excuse I needed to pull on my walking boots and get outside to enjoy it.  Persistent rain has made for muddy tracks.  I stuck to the lanes.  Not quite as much fun as walking through the fields but still beautiful.

As you can see from the watermill, the water level is high.  Duck island has been swamped again and the water is muddy because the increased flow is churning it up.

From here I followed the road up past the manor house and on past the engine shed of the old railway station.

The snowdrops are wonderful right now.

This track cuts through a farmyard and is very muddy but the old buildings never fail to charm me.  I stopped here for a chat with the man who monitors the health of the chalk stream which originates here.   He checks for pollution, the number of invertebrates in the water and generally keeps the river clear.

Sir Henry Vane lived here for a while.  All that remains of his residence is the Great Hall which is behind the building with the red roof which is half submerged by ivy.  It is used as a storage barn these days but you can see some of the history of the place on the outside walls.  I'll try to photograph it another time. 

To give a potted history, he was born in 1613 and converted to Puritanism in 1627.  He sailed to Boston in 1635, was elected to the position of Governor of Massachussets Bay Colony in 1636 and returned to England in 1637.  

Much happened, including three English Civil Wars!  Charles II was proclaimed king in 1660 and Henry was beheaded at Tower Hill in London, the charge was treason.

Who would have thought this quiet little backwater could tell so many tales.

Back home for a chunk of homemade crusty bread and a bowl of homemade vegetable soup.  Perfect!

Chinese New Year Meal in Shanghai

 Way back in 2018, when Jonny and Mingming were living back in Lincolnshire, we were treated to a truly splendid celebratory meal.  It was a feast for both the eyes and the stomach.  

A hotpot, Chinese style.

This year they are back in Shanghai so they have very kindly sent me some photographs of the meal they went out to enjoy - a fabulous hotpot.

The main bowl is filled with hot and spicy stock, the idea being that you select what you want to eat, place it into the stock to cook.  It is a wonderfully sociable way to eat, a slow and enjoyable meal.

It can also be a little messy, hence the aprons!

Wonderful as this meal looks, I think Mingming's meal was even better!  

It must have taken a huge amount of preparation and her knife skills were definitely put to good use, as you can see in the following photographs.

Mingming's home cooked hotpot feast.  Meat for the meat eaters, prawns, salmon, masses of vegetables.  Something for everyone.

(The meat/fish are cooked in a separate compartment from the vegetables.)

Sweet red, orange, and gold treats to finish off with, should anyone have room after a feast like that.

Happy New Year, my darlings.  The Year of the Dragon.

A Wild Night of Passion and Games

 Upon checking my online banking this morning, I discovered that although I thought I had been tucked up in my bed all night, according to my bank statement I had spent the night in a Hilton Hotel, viewed 'Sexy Steph' twice, played countless online games and paid for some 'beauty' treatments, amongst other things.  I spent a small fortune while I was at it.

Who would have thought it?  

Some little thief had managed to get my details.  I don't know how, for I am extremely careful, mistrust almost everyone, never give out my details, loan my card, or hand out my pin.  I can only think that one of my trusted sites has been hacked.

James at the fraud department was very helpful indeed.  

My card has been cancelled, transactions stopped.

Now, while I wait for my replacement card, I just have the task of changing passwords, and all the nonsense that goes with these events.  Grrrr.

Life and Death in Owl Wood

Owl Wood is carpeted with a mixture of crunchy old leaves and many thousand of snowdrops glow in the slight dimness of the woodland.  Surely one of the loveliest signs of that which is to come, Spring.

I didn't have my camera with me so I have taken an old photograph from one of my other blogs.  There are a great many more snowdrops in the woodland now.

No chance of taking a quiet walk, it is crunch, crunch, crunch all the way.  The soil in the woodland is wonderfully humus rich

I cast my eye over the old owl box, it needs a little repair work if we are to have even a hope of attracting new tenants.  The base is starting to come away from the body.  Another job to add to the list.

Almost two decades ago we were delighted when a deer gave birth in the woodland.  A couple of months ago I was a little less thrilled when I found a freshly dead one near the fence line.  We debated what to do with it, decided to leave it to nature's own to deal with and in less than a week it was nothing more than a skeleton.  The circle of life.  

While I was scouting around for old snowdrop photographs I came upon a snapshot of Sparky in her younger and more active days.

How she loved to climb.  I reckon her mother must have drummed the message 'When danger threatens, climb a tree' into her.  Not that she was ever in any danger in Owl Wood, this was just for fun and because she could.

Visual Influence

 A quick nonsense post, for I am deeply into reading a couple of books about life during WW1.   These books have resided on my bookshelves unappreciated for far too long.  

Speed is of the essence because Hazel, our lovely library lady, will be here on Monday with 13 books from my very long list of reservations.

There are murder mysteries and detective stories (thank you Sue, for I often get the titles from you), plus a serious book about Chinese Food and traditions, which will no doubt be both fascinating and repellent (from a vegetarian point of view), another is about the understated, unfashionable and undervalued Lincolnshire that I love so much, along with one by Francis Pryor (former Time Team archaeologist) on creating a fenland garden - in Lincolnshire, of course, then a much more serious one by Douglas Murray, The War on the West.

I have four weeks to work through them.  What a challenge!  This would be an impossible task if I were told I HAD to read them but because it is my choice it won't be a problem.  

I have wandered away from my title.  Visual Influence.  

While I was flitting around doing just enough housework to appease my conscience so that I won't feel guilty when I spend the rest of the day doing more or less what I want - apart from cooking meals for the grandchildren and my husband, I wafted my duster over a long, skinny wooden cat, one of the last gifts my father gave me, and a short and very rotund pottery one given to me by Bro Minor, my younger brother.

I placed them side by side on my desk.

If only I could get the two cats to pose in the same place, for the similarities are remarkable.  Sparky is long, lanky and definitely superior.  Millie is short and has a figure which could almost rival that of the fat pottery cat - Colonel Blimp is his name.

Poor Millie.  She eats considerably less than Sparky, still runs around and climbs trees occasionally, and yet she is most definitely pear-shaped...and no, she does not have a second home which feeds her!

Perhaps I should put Colonel Blimp in one of the rooms the cats can't access, see whether that powerful tool which advertisers are so fond of, Visual Influence, can work a little magic on her.