A final fling - for now

We are the only ones here. It feels only right, a final treat, to have it all to ourselves.

If I could bottle and sell this walk, the sense of calm that I feel as I emerge from the wooded valley onto the beach, the sound of the birdsong, clearer and richer than I've ever heard before giving way to the hush and rush of the waves, I'd be a wealthy woman.

The tide is quite high on this, the day of our final fling on our favourite beach until the Autumn. Alone, but not lonely.

We walk as far as we can, the dog chasing ahead to make sure there are no seagulls in need of a good talking to, before returning to remind me that it's high time I started throwing stones into the sea.

We turn and head back, and I marvel at the fact that we are the only ones who have seen the beach exactly as it is, in this moment. The pattern the waves leave on the shore, the configuration of the shells, pebbles, seaweed and other debris that marks the tideline.

Already the sea is washing away our footprints, imperceptibly shifting stones, reshaping sand. By the time the next visitors arrive, certainly by Autumn, it will be a different beach - although hopefully the same.

Going...

 

Going...

Gone.

 Roll on October.

Why slow cookers are like the Mersey Tunnel. And the joy of Dumplings

From the age of 4, until I was 14, we lived on the Merseyside coast, north of Liverpool. Not quite as far as Southport, and certainly not as posh as Formby, where all the footballers live nowadays (so I hear). I remember the first time I was invited to go to the other side of the Mersey with some friends who had a cottage on Anglesey. Notwithstanding a trip away to a little cottage on my own without my parents, the real excitement was the prospect of going under the River Mersey. I was soooo excited, but a little apprehensive. Excited because I’d see all the fish swimming around – but nervous because the friends had a jeep type vehicle and I was sure that one of the features was a flap in the dashboard which opened up. What happened if the water came in?

Of course, no one had taken it upon themselves to explain that I would be going under the Mersey IN A TUNNEL. 

There I was, considering a drive that was almost beyond imagination: I could see us in their mustard yellow Diahatsu, a vehicle that must have been purchased solely for the purpose of driving across the sea bed, fearlessly traversing the sandy bottom of the Mersey over to the Wirral. Much influenced no doubt by watching ‘Bedknobs and Broomsticks’, I did not allow the reality of what I knew of the Mersey from frequent dog walks along the Waterloo/Crosby shoreline (where severed feet still in boots – I kid you not – , foul-smelling rotting cuttlefish, and used condoms and hypodermic needles were more likely to be washed up from the grey and murky waters) to sully the mental picture that became more and more vivid each day as the trip approached. I anticipated ‘bobbing along’ while many brightly coloured and interesting fish swam passed me; perhaps a shipwreck or two would be there to divert attention and may be even (I am fairly sure I was not quite in double figures) a mermaid…

Imagine my disappointment.

We descended into the mouth of the tunnel. I held my breath in anticipation, hardly daring to look. But where was the water? The fish? The mermaids?

Hidden behind a wall of concrete. Damn those tunnel builders who didn’t have the imagination even to make their tunnel out of reinforced glass. Still, I got over it pretty quickly - I had the 'holding your breath over the Menai Bridge' competition, and chips at Conwy castle, to look forward to...

This happens to me a lot. My imagination runs wild, and then I have to not be disappointed by reality. Take slow cookers.

We were given a slow cooker when we got married. It was one of those weird presents that we weren’t really sure about, and it looked as if it might in fact have been a ‘regifting’. Not that I mind about re-gifting, in fact, I do quite a lot of it myself these days, but we were younger then, and it was our wedding...

I didn’t use it for ages, the Husband went off on an operational tour straight after we got hitched and I stayed in London, but 6 months later, moved out into Army land with a ridiculous commute back to work, I read something about how it was the miracle kitchen gadget, reducing time and effort spent in the kitchen, meaning you could come home to a casserole or curry after a hard day at work. 

“Oh how good is that?" I thought. "I must give it a go”. 

At the time, we were eating a lot of Egg Surprise, cooked mainly by the Husband who had a much less arduous commute (when he wasn’t in a war zone), so the possibility of being a good little wife and producing a delicious dinner as well as doing a hard day’s lawyering up in ‘town’ – well, it was irresistible. 

But just as no one told me about the tunnel, no one told me that I’d still have to do all the prep. I couldn’t just chuck in onions, mushrooms, meat, a stock cube into the crock pot, flick a switch and disappear, to come back at the end of the day and find a casserole. Oh no. I still had to peel the onions; brown the meat; make up the stock...

So the slow cooker went back in the cupboard – I was already getting up at 6 to catch the train. I was damned if I was getting up even earlier to get the dinner on.

Time passes, however, and while it took me quite a long time to throw off that particular disappointment (longer than getting over not driving across the actual bottom of the Mersey) and realise the benefits of the slow cooker I am now a total fan (even if you do have to peel the onions and brown the meat first).

Less time in the kitchen means more time on the beach for him...

Even more so now that we’ve moved. There is so much lovely countryside and coast out here; so many markets and farm shops to visit. Spending 20 minutes in the morning getting the slow cooker on repays itself many times over. Yes, you have to put the effort in early on, but then you are free, free as a bird (well, sort of), for the rest of the day. Of course, having children puts paid to lazy mornings in bed, I’m no longer engaged in some dreadful commute to work, and really, to some extent, it’s all a ‘smoke and mirrors’ psychological trick, that makes you THINK it’s much less effort. But the fact that you can leave the food and it won’t burn the house down does work in it’s favour. You know what I mean.

The versatility of the slow cooker has become more apparent to me too since we moved. Not just main courses, but I made a delicious gammon ‘chowder’ the other day for lunch, and in something more akin to the witchcraft I was originally anticipating, the Husband has, in recent weeks, produced a steamed pudding of much gloriousness – sticky glazed banana gingerbread no less – from the humble depths of the of the crock pot. I cannot tell you how good it was.

Versatility aside, my main thing to cook recently in the slow cooker has been beef casserole. Do the prep, chuck it all in early, spend the day walking the coast path, throwing stones in the sea for the dog or mooch round a market, before returning home, dinner done. And in the quest for easy carbohydrate, I have discovered that 45 minutes before you want to eat, you can knock up some dumpling dough, pop the dumplings in the top of the crock pot, and leave them to cook and bingo. 

Easy Slow Cooker Beef Casserole & Dumplings

Serves 4

Plain flour

Salt & freshly ground pepper

A bunch of fresh thyme, leaves only

400g stewing steak

Rapeseed oil

1 onion, peeled and finely chopped

1 clove of garlic, peeled and finely chopped

2 rashers of bacon (not essential, but a tasty addition), de-rinded and chopped

2 medium-large carrots, peeled if necessary and diced

½ a swede (use your judgment – you’re looking for about the same quantity as of carrots) peeled and diced

150g chestnut mushrooms, quartered

100ml of Guiness or a glass of red wine if you have

350-500 ml beef stock

½ tbsp cornflour

150g self raising flour

75g vegetable suet

2 tsp Dijon mustard

Some fresh thyme leaves, roughly chopped if necessary

Salt & freshly ground pepper

5-7 tbsp water

Heat your slow cooker on the low setting.

Put about 4 tbsp plain flour into a bowl and add some salt & pepper and the thyme leaves. Stir together, then add the cubed meat, coating in the flour.

Gently sweat the onion and garlic in a  frying pan, in a tablespoon of oil for 10 mins or so, then scrape into the slow cooker. 

Add a little more oil if necessary to the frying pan and gently fry the bacon for a couple of minutes till starting to colour, then add in the carrots and swede and cook for 5 minutes before adding to the crockpot, then cooking the mushrooms in the same way.

Brown the meat in batches in the frying pan, using a little more oil if necessary and adding to the crockpot as you go.

If using Guiness or red wine, tip this into the frying pan and scrape up any crusty bits, add in the stock and bring everything up to the boil before tipping in to the crock pot till the meat and veg is just covered.

Put the lid on and go off to enjoy your day…

45 minutes before you want to eat, flick the slow cooker setting to high.

Mix the cornflour with the same amount of cold water till smooth, then stir into the casserole. Replace the lid while you make the dumplings.

Mix together the flour, suet, mustard, thyme and salt & pepper, then add the water slowly to combine to a soft (but not sticky) dough.

Divide the dough into 8 and shape into balls.

Take the lid off again and pop the dumplings on top of the casserole, before replacing the lid and leaving to cook for 45 minutes. 

The real genius of this of course is that there’s so much veg in the casserole that with the dumplings to provide carbohydrate you need to no more (although I won't complain if you add in some steamed PSB as a flourish at the end). So the only disappointment is that if the slow cooker has already got the casserole in it, where’s the steamed pudding going to come from?

Recipe Junkie in tinned potato shocker!!!

If someone had told me beforehand all the things that I'd do as I moved from my 20s into my 30s and on into my 40s (where I now find myself - but only just) you know, well some of them, I'd have had no problem anticipating. Some I'd have raised an eyebrow and got on with it, and some, well, the mind boggles.

A husband, two kids, a dog and some chickens? No problem. Being part of a team of adults taking 32 scouts (plus assorted small children) to Derbyshire for a week of abseiling, climbing, watersports, eggy bread, corned beef hash - hmm. Probably would have merited an eye brow raise. 

Using tinned potatoes? TINNED POTATOES??? Reader, the mind would have boggled hard. However, combine scout camp, and the challenge of producing a curry feast, and tinned potatoes it was. You'll be pleased to know, though, that we did make the sauce from scratch, and we had fresh coriander...

I always like to be of service, so in case you too ever find yourself in a field, tasked with producing a curry feast for 44, may I suggest the following menu which accomodates vegetarians, nut allergy suffers, a non-pork eater and, it turns out, most of the fussy eaters we took with us...

How is anyone expected to cook on these conditions???

Chicken Curry, Cauliflower and Pea Curry, Bombay Potatoes and Dahl

Serves 44 pretty much bang on. Amounts in brackets are for 4 if you're not mass catering - just don't even think about using tinned potatoes...

Ingredients

vegetable oil
18 (3) onions
16 (2) cloves of garlic (or as many as you can be bothered to peel & crush)
2 jars (2 grated tbsp) lazy ginger
1.5kg (250g) red lentils
3.6kg (drained weight) tinned potatoes (500g potatoes, peeled and cubed - you're not going to get away with tinned if you're only feeding 4)
4.2 kg (400g) chopped tomatoes
3 (1 small) cauliflowers
2 refill sachets (2 tsp) turmeric
1 refill sachet (1 tsp) each of paprika, cumin, garam masala and mild chilli powder
fine sea salt
42 (8) chicken thigh fillets

1 kg (200g) frozen peas
7 (1) tsp cumin seeds
fresh coriander 

To serve: Rice if you have enough pans left - about 1.5 kg, 50 poppadums, 3 jars of mango chutney,1 jar of lime pickle (for leaders only), Tabasco (it is scout camp, and the chilli powder is only mild)

You will also have to manage this on a 3 burner petrol camping stove and a large gas fired paella pan, unless your Husband and scout leader manages to get the 2 burner petrol stove you also have available working again. I'll leave you to weigh up the benefits of the extra stove as a against the silent cursing that will accompany the attempts to fix the stove...

Method

Chop 16 of the onions as finely as you can, bearing in mind you have no liquidizer handy. Crush the garlic - ditto

Heat the paella pan up and add enough oil to generously coat the pan, then tip in the onions and garlic and the lazy ginger, and start to cook as gently as the heat settings will allow.

Put the red lentils into as large a pan as you can find, and add 2 litres of water. Bring to the boil. This may take ages. Try not to panic.

Open the tins of potatoes and tomatoes. Try not to cut yourself on the visciously sharp edge the rubbish tin opener will have left. If you don't cut yourself, make sure you don't strain your thumbs on said rubbish tin opener. Get someone to halve or may be quarter the potatoes, then put them into a pan big enough to take them.

Stir the onions every now and again, and trim the cauliflowers and break into florets. Cover the florets with water in a smaller pan, bring to the boil and cook till tender. This could also take ages. 

Don't panic.

At this point, the onions may have softened enough to stir in 1 sachet of the turmeric, plus the sachets of paprika, cumin, garam masala and mild chilli powder, plus 6-7 tsps of salt. Stir and cook for a minute - OK a couple of minutes while you relocate the opened tins of tomatoes, and frantically try and repressurise the petrol stove that should be cooking your lentils and the cauliflower.

Add the tomatoes to the onions, then fill the empty tins with water and add to the pan aswell, then simmer gently for as long as you can get away with, stirring occasionally.

Check the lentils - if they are now boiling, skim off any scum that has accumulated, add the other sachet of turmeric and about 5 tsp salt, and continue to cook for 20 minutes or so, giving it a vigorous stir every now and again. This breaks down the lentils and allows you to vent any mounting irritation you might feel if any scouts appear asking when dinner is going to be.Once it's looking thick, put a lid on and remove from the heat.

Panic that the cauliflower still isn't cooking, then realise it is nearly on the way to being mush. Drain and return to the pan. Pour in the frozen peas and set aside.

Get someone to slice up the chicken into halves or quarters depending on what you think is a reasonable size. Do a quick (ha!) wash up because you have now run out of knives, chopping boards and pans (did I tell you not to panic ???)

Stir enough of the sauce through the potatoes to coat them and set aside with a lid on.

Stir about 1/3 of what's left into the cauliflower & peas before you add the chicken to the pan - remember you are catering for vegetarians... Put the lid on and set aside.

Bring what's left of the sauce up to a simmer and add the chicken. Yes, I know it would be nice to brown it off first, but you will have run out of pans, if not burners.

Remember the finish for the dahl - find a pan - any pan - and heat some oil in it. Beg the senior scout wife to finely slice the remaining 2 onions. Add the cumin seed to the hot oil first, and then chuck in the onions once they are sliced, and cook till they look tasty - just don't worry about it - the scouts are starting to queue... Stir the onion and cumin seed through the dahl.

Now, as the chicken is cooking, rotate your pans of Bombay potatoes, cauliflower and pea curry and dahl over the remaining burners so they are good and hot. The frozen peas should have cooked when the hot sauce was added, but do make sure.

CHOP THE CORIANDER!!!

Double check that the chicken is cooked, then you're ready to go. Chuck the coriander about as you see fit.

Acquire a ladle and serve.

No scouts were harmed in the production of this curry

Curry for 48? No worries...

Do you like shopping?

You do?

Then I must tell you about the epic shop I went on yesterday. 3 of us - good friends - went.

A much planned trip, in anticipation of one of our annual highlights.

We were gone for 5 hours, while the children languished with various friends, and as the afternoon drifted into evening, with our respective husbands.

We spent over £1,000. I know. £1,000.

It took us 2 cars - well, actually a 7 seater people carrier type car and the camper van to get our spoils home.

Because, yes, this was no girly clothes shop (we wish), and the event is no swanky done up to the nines new outfit occasion. Oh no. This is Scout Camp.

We leave tomorrow. For the Derbyshire Dales. Via Leicester Forest East services (for us) to hand the dog over to my mother).

Shopping for scout camp is one of those things that I don't think I will ever get over. Normally, the thought of food shopping in any kind of supermarket fills me with fear and dread, but there is something so spectacular and so utterly hilarious about shopping on this scale, that somehow, the fear and dread leaves me and I start to enjoy it.

To be fair, I didn't draw up the list. The senior scout wife does that, although I am in charge of catering the curry feast on the last night. Oh yes. My list for that particular meal starts off with 16 onions, 16 cloves of garlic and 2 jars of lazy ginger...

While our menfolk, all Scout leaders, prepare climbing and abseiling expeditions, worry about how many minibus places there need to be, whether we need one or 2 trailers or whether a horsebox will do instead, and organise surprise drop hikes for our charges, we scout wives squirrel ourselves away with a bottle of gin and come up with the food and the craft. Every now and again, the men drop  in helpful comments like  - "Oh yes, so and so doesn't eat pork" or "Don't forget there are 2 scouts with nut allergies". Fortunately, on this occasion, we had at least 12 hrs notice before the shop. 

Yes folks, those 3 trolleys - they are all ours...

In the end, it took 3 cash and carry trolleys, stacked to the gunnels, followed by 2 trolleys in Morrisons for the 'sweep up' (including the all important chocolate custard and Angel Delight). We try and get as far as possible all the non-perishable goods for the week, and fresh to get us through the first couple of days so we can get our breath before playing sat nav roulette to find the nearest peddlar of groceries to where we are camping. This involves things like 325 packets of crisps, ditto cereal bars, 56 x 400g tins of chopped tomatoes and 1 catering pack of approx 3 kg. 100 tortillas (for the turkey fajitas we're having on Sunday of course) and 4 kg of turkey, of course. 18 tins of pear halves and 92 pieces of fresh fruit. Your mind would boggle at the amount of cereal we anticipate 48 scouts, leaders and hangers on will eat.

The same applies in the actual cooking. Eggy bread for 48? Nothing to it. But you do need rather a lot of eggs...

So there we have it. For the next week, it's good bye Recipe Junkie and hello Scout Wife. But I'll be back, knackered, covered in mosquito bites, and wearing my mass catering badges on my sleeve (or at least a couple of decent burns). Oh, and if you're that way inclined, please pray that it doesn't rain too much...

Camping Cake

Camping cake comes in many forms. The main thing of course is that there is cake when you are camping and beyond that it's really up to you, but in case you were needing a bit more guidance, here are my thoughts on what constitutes good camping cake.

Let's get one thing straight. Delicate doesn't cut it. If you're going camping, the last thing you need is delicate cake. You need something fairly substantial. 

Anything that includes filling or buttercream is out on grounds of practicality and the fact that in the unlikely event that the weather is good, it's likely to melt.

If it's got oats in it, you're onto a good thing - you use up a lot of energy with all that fresh air and out of doors stuff. 

Ditto fruit/veg because if you can get it in cake form, well that's got to be a bonus.

It must be 'cup of tea' cake. Cake your tea would be too wet without. I'm not suggesting you're going to dunk it or anything, just that if you've got a cake that tastes perfect with a cup of straight up builders tea, you can't go far wrong.

This cake is based on one from the Camper Van Cookbook. I like the Camper Van Cookbook, although the recipes aren't necessarily ones I'd choose to cook while we're camping. Only a very few of the recipes are actually by Martin Dorey, and I'm not sure the author of the bulk of them has done much camping - her recipes are quite ingredient and utensil heavy, and time consuming. That's not to say they aren't good recipes - what I have cooked from the book while camping has always turned out well. Lamb Burgers with spring onions and feta and Lemon Cup Cheesecakes are particular favourites, but I remember the burgers took quite a long time to put together, and with limited utensils, out in the fresh air, I think I'd be just as happy with some good sausages...


There is, however, a section of pre-camp bakes: stuff you'd make to take with you, and I cannot recommend these highly enough. They are great cakes (and biscuits) that absolutely hit the spot in the fresh air. This one is one of Blue's absolute favourite cakes, and went down very well in Suffolk the other weekend .

Sticky Ginger Treacle Cake

200ml milk
3 tbsp treacle
100g butter
75g plain flour
200g soft brown sugar
125g porridge oats
2 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp ground cinammon
1tsp bicarbonate of soda

Line a 20 cm square tin with greaseproof paper and pre-heat the oven to 150C/130C fan.


Place the treacle and butter into a small pan with the milk and gently bring to the boil till the butter is melted. Set aside to cool a little.

Seive the flour, ginger, cinammon and bicarb into a large bowl, then stir through the sugar and porridge oats.

Stir the melted ingredients quickly into the dry ingredients, pour into the tin and bake for 45 minutes.

Leave to cool in the tin, then cut into 16 squares and store in an airtight container. This is sticky cake (the name gives it away) so if you need to stack, separate layers with greaseproof paper. 

Of course, you don't have to go camping to make this cake, but I really think you should give it a go