The Marmalade Blues

So it's 7.00 on a Sunday morning and this is what the stovetop looks like:

What I really wanted to make this year was lemon & lime marmalade, which of course I could make at any time, but somehow, January is marmalade time, isn't it? And of course, rather than remembering my desire for lemon & lime, I was seduced by the sight of some Seville oranges, conveniently forgot the kilo or so I had in the freezer left over from last year (and some donated by a friend), and bought a 1.5 kilo bag. "I love making marmalade!"

Er, no you don't, Sally. It's all the setting point stress of jam that you put yourself through every summer, plus numerous opportunities for injury during the making process. And it takes a bloody age. You do not have enough time to make marmalade. You want to be doing OTHER THINGS.

Too late.

We had a lovely day with the kids yesterday. The rain meant the Husband's current exterior project is on hold, so we all went into town in the morning and then after a dog walking/homework pause in the happy family scene, we played board games for nearly 3 hours. I must have come over all maternal, because I normally am no good at playing board games (I am a natural cheat for a start), and I will never never play monopoly again, but we had a good laugh. Amazing (and in case you're wondering, my kids are 9 and 6.5 and up till very recently, playing any kind of game for that long would have been utter hell). Great for family relations, but not so good if you've got over 2 kilos of marmalade oranges to prep.

By the time the kids were upstairs it was nearly 8.30. After the annual "Which recipe do we follow?" "No, Nigel's had too much liquid in it." "What about Delia?" "Didn't we combine Dan and Nigel last year?" debate, I settled on a very helpful method from the Guardian online - How to make Perfect Orange Marmalade . Sounded good to me. I didn't have the same type of sugar, but I wasn't about to add to my woes by heading up to the Co-Op (and actually, I'm not sure they stretch to light muscovado anyway) so bog standard preserving sugar (which I had in the cupboard) it is.

I couldn't work out how to get the food processor juicing attachment to work so started off doing it by hand. Squeezing into the pan, scraping the pips and pith into a muslin lined bowl, putting the empty halves in an other bowl... Just as the RSI was setting in nicely, the Husband came in, clicked the necessary attachments in the right place and got the juicer working. Let me tell you that having your knuckles skinned by a food processor juicer attachment when you're already wondering what madness possessed you to start on this, is just about the pits. Less Seville orange, more blood orange marmalade - I wish I'd stuck with the RSI to be honest (I jest, I didn't actually break the skin, but it hurt a lot - you have to hold the fruit halves down onto the attachment and it spins round very fast making it easy to slip and catch yourself. I say don't try this at home, kids.) 

So, oranges (and lemons - I needed 2 - bang goes my lemon & lime marmalade that I was going to knock up from the various ends of lemon and lime knocking around in the fridge...) juiced, time to shred the peel. Oh hoo - f-ing - ray. By now, the Husband in firmly implanted on the sofa, watching TV & eating the crisps.

Reader, I started, with my sharp little knife, I found something I wanted to listen to on the radio and I set to work. Shred, shred, shred. Shred, shred, shred. AAAARRRGGGGHHHHHHH.

I put it all in the food processor. This time with the knife attachment. Fortunately, the lid has to be on for this to work, so no opportunity for further injury there. How is it possible to feel guilty about shredding orange peel in a food processor instead of with a knife. I really need to get a grip.

By now, you can appreciate that there's quite a lot in terms of volume. I have the juice and shredded (ha!) zest of 2.4 kilos of oranges and lemons (I'd got the frozen oranges out of the freezer to add to the mix). I have 2 kilos of sugar. All in my preserving pan (that's the one on the right in the photo - the other one is the Husband's beer making pan). I need to add 4-5 litres of water.

My pan is not big enough. But I have already put most of it into one pan, so I need to work out how to divide it between 2 pans.

I tried decanting some into the Husband's beer pan, but realised that because the sugar hadn't dissolved, there was a definitely uneven distribution. And I had to divide the contents of my muslin bag up. At that point I went to bed.

So you see, nearly 3 hours on and a night's sleep, I am really no closer to having marmalade. This morning, I have brought the stuff up to temperature to dissolve the sugar and then rather precariously remixed it and then redistributed it back between the 2 pans. It now needs to simmer for some time - the recipe says 2 hours, but working on past experience, this could be any time - to get the peel soft - before you get down to the business of bubbling it up to the dreaded setting point. Once I've done the simmering to soften the peel bit, I will be leaving it again till this evening for the final push. That's 2 nights of sofa surfing foregone in the pursuit of domestic smugness. That will teach me.

So is there a point to all this? Well, homemade marmalade is delicious, no doubt about it, but it's a right old faff, and it takes an age, and I'd like you all to remember that. I'm not saying don't do it, but just weigh up the costs and benefits - is it worth RSI, skinned knuckles and late nights? Do you have better things to do? Just think about that.

My only consolation is that with 2.4 kilos worth bubbling away, I will have enough to last us for a long time, and may be I can get on with my lemon & lime version. Can someone remind me of this next year, please?

Clearing out the cupboards - or how pain and chaos lead to order and mince pies

The last time I cleared out the kitchen cupboards - really cleared them out, was the morning of the day Pink arrived - 6 1/2 yrs ago. I recall quite clearly the look of alarm on the Husband's face to see me sitting, beached whale-like on the floor, surrounded by the contents of the cupboard, furiously labelling jars. 

This, then, is the contents of the same shelves in the kitchen dresser this morning. 

The shelves which have the flour, the sugar, the pasta, the rice, the baking sundries (sundries? well, the baking powder, the vanilla, the cooking chocolate (if I haven't eaten it), the half used, dried up tubes of writing icing...), the dried fruit and the nuts. Ah yes. The nuts. It all started in my quest for ground almonds.

You see, I was going to make the mince pies today, as a distraction activity (more about that later) and having perused both Delia and Nigella for inspiration on the pastry front, I decided that I needed to add some ground almonds. Trouble was, I could only find an unopened packet, and I just KNEW there was a half used packet in there somewhere.

So back to that distraction activity. Yes, while I am most definitely not pregnant, I am trying to cope with some horrible pain in my jaw muscles which has been getting steadily worse since Sunday evening - that's a whole 6 days now. Not that I've experienced much labour, being a veteran of the general anaesthetic and emergency c-section approach to giving birth, but really, honestly, this is worse than I remember that being. I am rattling like a proverbial pill bottle - codeine, paracetamol. neurofen and a low dose of an anti-depressant which is supposed to help with the spasms - and while I've used it to take the opportunity for some lovely reflexology, spending half my time with my face in a hot water bottle is getting a little boring.

After the anti-depressant was added into the mix yesterday (one to be taken at bedtime) I did have an amazing night's sleep last night, with the consequence that I went for longer than I have been without other pain relief. This morning was pretty grim as a result, and the Husband disappeared off with the kids to do some jobs leaving me to my hot water bottle. As the pain eased, I set to, determined to take advantage of the peace and quiet and get on with the mince pies, but first I had to find the almonds.

I emptied everything out on to the floor, so the shelves looked like this. So empty and inviting.

I found 3 open packets of raisins. 2 of pine nuts. 3 of flaked almonds.Several bags of plain flour at various stages of emptiness. 2 bottles of vanilla extract.  I also found the open pack of ground almonds I knew was in there. And a second unopened bag. The shame.

Then it was all out so I had to get it back. reader, I rationalised. I ordered. Where once there were 3 opened bags of raisins, now there is one. Jars have been filled, and don't tell anyone, but I actually threw out a tub of glace cherries which contained 5 little fruit and was so passed the use by date that even I had to admit defeat.

And then I put it all back in the cupboard. Amazing.

And did you want to know about the mince pies? Well, may be tomorrow. Here's a sneak preview:

Meatballs - revisited

Meatballs and I have history. Meatballs even lead to me actually getting paid to write something – how exciting was that? £25 for a ‘We Like to Eat’ column in the Guardian’s Family section last year. The handy link there (on 'history', if you didn't spot it!) takes you to a post I wrote in August last year, which is a longer version of that article. There was a time in my life when I had to make a particular lamb meatball recipe every day. Funnily enough, they have appeared less frequently on my menu subsequently. They are still a failsafe crowd pleaser, but the last couple of times I have made them, they haven’t been quite as good as I remembered.  However, a couple of weekends ago we were up at my mum’s and she served up meatballs made by mixing lamb mince and sausage meat. I don’t think I have ever come across a lamb/pork combination before, but it was really good. I think I prefer the lamb taste, but the addition of the sausage meat made them less dense.

Thus inspired, and using a Delia recipe (out of the Complete Cookery Course - meatballs braised with peppers and tomatoes - page 203 in my version!) as a rough guide for ingredient quantities, I have made meatballs this evening to feed the ravenous hoards (my turn to host the post- football/choir- pre-cubs play date).  In the interests of my own sanity, I chopped up all the veg, skinned the sausages and put veg, sausage meat and lamb mince in the fridge first thing this morning. I mixed, browned and cooked at lunchtime, and so I just need to cook spaghetti or other pasta and heat up the meatballs when it comes to tea time and the pack are baying at my heels demanding to be fed.

Sorry. Did I just liken my kids and their friends to a pack of animals there? Whoops.

Mediterranean style meatballs with hidden veg

Meatballs: 400g lamb mince, 6 pork sausages, 1 red onion, 1 red pepper, Handful of coriander leaves and stalks, 1 clove of garlic, 2 slices of bread, Salt and pepper, grated zest of a lemon

Sauce:  1 red onion & 1 clove of garlic, finely chopped, 2 cans of chopped tomatoes, 2 tsps Marigold stock powder.

Method: For the meatballs, finely chop the onion, pepper, coriander and garlic – I used a food processor to be honest. In a bowl, using a fork, (or again, using a food processor) mash up the bread into crumbs, then squeeze the meat out of the sausage skins, add the lamb mince and the chopped veg, add the egg, salt and pepper and lemon zest and mix together thoroughly. Form the mixture into meatballs.

Basically you can make them whatever size you want – depending on the size of the mouths you are feeding. I made just over 30 out of this amount which i am hoping confidently predict will feed 2 adults and 4 children.

Once you have formed the meatballs, you need to brown them in batches - heat a tablespoon or so of oil in a pan and put the meatballs in so the pan isn't overcrowded. Cook for a good couple of minutes on one side before turning to brown the rest (if you try to turn them too early, they will stick. i do it all the time) and then remove from the pan once brown and set aside.

It would be a good idea to drain them on kitchen paper if you have it to hand (I didn’t today), while you make the sauce.

For the Sauce: heat a tablespoon of oil in a large casserole and add the onion and garlic. Fry for a few minutes, then add in the cans of tomatoes. Put the stock powder into one of the cans, and fill with boiling/hot water. Tip the water into the second can (to get all the leftover tomato stuff out) and then tip into the casserole. Add some salt and pepper and bring to the boil. Bubble for 10 mins or so, then add in the browned meatballs. Turn the heat down to a simmer, put the lid on and cook gently for 25-30 mins.

Serve with pasta - I usually cook about 50 g per child and 100g per adult - anything left over goes into Pink's lunch box the following day - and today we're having green beans.

on NOT grumbling because the sun is shining...

I was going to have a ‘woe is me’ type post about how on Friday evening, once the supper was cleared away, I was frankly too tired to prepare the pearl barley broth and the swede and potato pasties that the meal planner said was on Saturday’s menu (lunch and supper respectively), so extracted a tub of part made mushroom soup (the Sarah Raven recipe out of her Garden Cookbook) and the basis of a spag bol out of the freezer instead. However, as it turned out, I had a pack of mushrooms destined for the risoniotto for Monday night (another Veg Everyday recipe) that really did need eating up, so chucking them in to finish off the soup worked rather well. What’s more, having cooked up the bol earlier in the day, we decided to take the kids to see the Muppets at the cinema late afternoon, so just having to quickly boil up some pasta when we got in from that worked rather well. (Actually, we didn’t go to the cinema BECAUSE I’d made the bolognaise, but the fact that it was made meant that the outing was all the more successful because I could feed the kids within 20 minutes of getting back home).

I could have moaned that I went off menu yet again today – roast chicken as planned, but instead of sticky date and ginger pudding , 2 bags of very overripe pears that the Husband had found lurking on top of the fridge meant that instead I could create a very delicious pear and ginger crumble. I thought it might be good, and a quick google turned up a couple of ideas. Based on this recipe from a blog that I found ‘Inside a British Mum’s Kitchen’, I sliced up all the salvageable bits of pear (probably the equivalent of about 6) and thinly sliced 2 balls of stem ginger into a dish, I couldn’t tell you how big it is – it’s the one I use to make crumble or cottage pie or fish pie (you get the picture) and whatever’s cooked in it will comfortably feed 2 adults and 2 kids with leftovers. Added the juice of half a lemon and a sprinkling of soft brown sugar. My crumble topping is never the same twice, but although I am often irritated by Delia, I always go back to the proportions she gives in her Complete Cookery Course. I have a copy of an omnibus edition printed in 1982. My copy falls open at the crumble page ... Anyway, today (I kept a note because I thought someone might be interested) it was 111g of wholewheat plain flour and 114 g of oats, 75 g ground almonds and 75 g soft brown sugar and 75 g of unsalted butter, all rubbed together then chucked over the top of the fruit and baked in the oven with the chicken for about 45 minutes. I always bake crumble ‘early’ so that it’s only warm by the time it’s pudding time, otherwise at least one of the kids gives themselves third degree burns. I had intended to add a teaspoon of ground ginger to the crumble mix but I forgot. It was really, really good and there were just enough leftovers for the kids to take some in their packed lunches tomorrow.

I nearly had a good old grumble about how my planned hour floating round the garden in a pretty dress this afternoon, doing a bit of light weeding here and there while listening to the birds singing, turned into 30 minutes of sweaty chopping down rampant ivy and digging up of the invidious creeping buttercup. Instead of peace, I had the dog to 'help' - alternately barking at me for not throwing his squeaky turkey for him to chase endlessly, or redistributing the pile of weeds around the garden, all the while accompanied by the sweet sound of my darling children running round half naked, playing ‘muddy slide attack’ with a pair of inflatable boxing gloves (just don’t ask, OK), and the Husband doing his best redneck impression, fixing axes for the scouts. Oh yes, and one of the chickens escaped. Twice. I bet Sarah Raven doesn’t have to work in these conditions. But then I don’t have a velvet Boden coat to do my gardening in nor a close personal friendship with Emma Bridgewater, so  I don’t know what I was thinking, and anyway, in half an hour I did actually manage to pretty much clear one of the beds.

Finally, I could have had a right old grump about (1) the fact that I babysat for a friend last night and didn’t get home till nearly 2.00 a.m. by which time I was too wired to sleep, the Husband was snoring and the smokers frorm the pub over the road decided to shun the smoking shelter on the side of the pub furthest from the house and smoke out the front thus making it noisier, and (2) the fact that I am blogging for as long as possible tonight because otherwise I have to face the towering edifice of THE IRONING.

So there we have it – and the reason for not woeing is me, moaning, grumbling and grumping? The SUNSHINE of course.  But without all the grumbling, the post would only have been short. Here it is – the alternative blog: What a glorious day. I got a lay in till 8, a fabulous walk with the dog and then some time at home pottering about in the kitchen ON MY OWN, sorting out lunch and making a beautiful pear and ginger crumble. After lunch, the children did their homework without complaint (I am lying about that, but it was sunny outside and the backdoor was open so I just mentally stuck my fingers in my ears and lahlahlahed for a bit against the sound of their souls being tortured while we did tables, spellings, reading etc) and then I had a productive afternoon in the garden, and managed to get all the washing dry. Finally, the pearl barley broth did eventually make an appearance for supper this evening, and as I type, the Husband is doing the ironing (actually, he really is). All’s right with the world.

But would that have been half as much fun to write?

p.s. did you notice that I have worked out how to include hyperlinks?