Do we really only miss things when they are gone?

'The blossom opens slowly, slowly on the apple tree. One day the boughs are grey, though with the swellings of the leaves to come visible if you look closely. The next day and the next, here and there, a speck of white, and then a sprinkling, as though someone has thrown a handful of confetti up into the air and let it fall , anyhow, over the branches.'  from 'The Magic Apple Tree' by Susan Hill.

At the bottom of my garden an apple tree has stood for many years, it was, I think, part of an orchard that ran across the land between my house and Melancholy Cottage, but over the time plots have been sold and new dwellings built so the orchard was sadly depleted, leaving my tree and two more in a neighbouring garden. 

When we moved in I was pleased find the tree, I had left a very large garden and two apple trees behind.  This one was to be the post to one end of my washing line, a shady spot to sit in for a largely pregnant lady (me) then a lovely spot for a sleeping new baby the following summer.... bountiful apples to make cakes, pies and sauce with, and mistletoe for my Christmas decorations.  The blossom was beautiful in early spring and many times I  sat with a child on my lap silently watching the blackbirds, that nested yearly, feeding their babies.  Years passed, pies and sauces made , apple and mint jelly stirred, cakes baked and shared. Occasional cursing at the mess the windfalls made and  sighing at the mounds of leaves to be swept. When the trampoline arrived we  took the washing line down, terrified that a bouncing child might be garrotted on it, instead a whirly line installed, but that has never dried the washing as quickly or as well.  There it stood, part of the garden, part of my life, taken for granted? Yes. But do we ever give much thought to our trees? I occasionally pulled the ivy off its trunk as I remembered someone once telling me that if ivy grows to the top of a tree the tree will die! And gave it the  occasional caress and thanks for another year of fruit, but that is all, never a moment when I thought it might no longer be there. Then yesterday a phone call from my neighbour asking where I was (getting Euros and toiletries with my son for his holiday) she said not to be alarmed but that a branch had fallen off the tree and into her mother's garden......well what we found was a little more than a branch...more like half a tree.....a call to a friend and early this morning the tree men arrived, a quick stop for cookies and coffee and that was it. All that is left a pile of logs for winter fires and a pile of apples for freezing.  It has totally changed the feel of my garden, I am open and exposed to the world now, neighbours will be able to see me coming out of the bathroom or nipping in at night, if I forget and turn the light on..... But more than that, more than anything, is my sadness at no longer being able to pop into the garden and pull off a few apples for a pie, or sauce for the roast pork.... now all I shall have is sweetly scented fires for the next couple of years, on cold evenings I shall watch the flames and think of the years gone by and miss my apple tree now that is has gone......



Apple Pie
I was given this lovely book for my birthday one year by my sister-in-law, it is full of wonderful recipes and after many trials with various recipes this is now my favoured one for apple pie, it works, is brimming full of fruit, as a good pie should be, and is delicious, a perfect family pie!

4 pounds Granny Smith apples, peeled, quartered, and cored Zest of 1 lemon Zest of 1 orange 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice 1 tablespoon freshly squeezed orange juice 1/2 cup sugar, plus 1 teaspoon to sprinkle on top 1/4 cup all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon kosher salt 3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg 1/8 teaspoon ground allspice 1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon water for egg wash (I often use good quality frozen or chilled sweet pastry) Perfect Pie Crust 12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) very cold unsalted butter 3 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon kosher salt 1 tablespoon sugar 1/3 cup very cold vegetable shortening 6 to 8 tablespoons (about 1/2 cup) ice water

Look Inside

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Cut each apple quarter in thirds crosswise and combine in a bowl with the zests, juices, sugar, flour, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice.

Roll out half the pie dough and drape it over the pie pan to extend about 1/2 inch over the rim. Don’t stretch the dough; if it’s too small, just put it back on the board and re-roll it.

Fill the pie with the apple mixture. Brush the edge of the bottom pie crust with the egg wash so the top crust will adhere. Top with the second crust and trim the edges to about 1 inch over the rim. Tuck the edge of the top crust under the edge of the bottom crust and crimp the two together with your fingers or a fork. Brush the entire top crust with the egg wash, sprinkle with 1 teaspoon sugar, and cut four or five slits.

Place the pie on a sheet pan and baPerfect Pie Crust


Cut the dough in half. Roll each piece on a well-floured board into a circle, rolling from the center to the edge, turning and flouring the dough to make sure it doesn’t stick to the board. Fold the dough in half, place in a pie pan, and unfold to fit the pan. Repeat with the top crust. ke for 1 to 1 1/4 hours, or until the crust is browned and the juices begin to bubble out. Serve warm. 

German Plum Cake

Plum time......

I have a tree in my garden, it has been there since I moved to this house 14 years ago. In early spring it has delicate blossom, I usually cut a branch or two for my Easter eggs to hang from. In July, if I am lucky, fruit, round jewels in abundance and in the autumn leaves that turn scarlet to brighten up the gloomiest day.  The fruit bounty does not happen every year or even every other but it seems my tree likes to give up its gift after a cold winter. Now this winter was colder than ever known, in fact a white Christmas was had, a rare and magical occurrence. To that end my tree has fruited like never before, sweet juicy cherry plums bursting with flavour after just the right proportion of rain and sun.  So, the last few weeks have found me collecting and bagging fruit for friends, colleagues and neighbours. Baking German plum cakes for eating and freezing, making plum jam and chutney. My window cleaner knocked on the door and asked if he and his family could have some, and I have spied many a dog walker pick and pop one into their mouths. But as the supply far exceeded my own requirements I was more than happy to share.  The last time this happened my youngest daughter set up a plum stall selling them by the pound but this no longer seems fun as now a teenager, friends and horses are much more interesting.  

Last Saturday my friend and I spent a wonderful afternoon in the sun picking all we could reach, with breaks for tea and cake, so she could take them to work on Monday, she runs the garden at Holton Lee, http://www.holtonlee.co.uk/, where one of the lady volunteers makes jams and chutneys to sell for fundraising.  Seeing as much of the fruit used as possible makes me happy, I also love to see the blackbirds clearing the path daily of windfalls. Sadly my apple tree has fallen foul of its own abundance this year, so heavy are its boughs that the trunk has split in two and is un-savable.....

Here is the recipe for the cake, it is easy and good, a friend who had a German Granny took a bite and said it transported her back to childhood and her Grannies kitchen where everything seemed to be made of plums!

German Plum Cake

Ingredients
Feeds 6 Takes 50 mins

Plum cake is the sort of everyday cake you see throughout Germany and Austria, usually baked in a humble pie dish or tray tin, or even a small roasting tin I use a 25cm square tin. Serve warm as a pudding with cream, or cooled as a cake.

180g butter
160g sugar
4 eggs
½tsp vanilla essence
100g plain flour
125g self-raising flour
Pinch of salt
10 small plums or apricots
2tbsp icing sugar

Heat the oven to 180C/Gas 3. Butter and paper a baking tray or pie dish measuring 28cm x 20cm.

Cream the butter and sugar together until pale. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.

Stir in the vanilla essence. Sift both flours and salt together, then beat the flour into the batter until well mixed. Spoon the batter into the baking tray or pie dish.

Cut the plums or apricots around their circumference, twist apart and remove the stone.

Arrange the fruit, cut side up, in neat rows on top of the batter. The fruit will sink a little and the cake will rise and puff up around it.

Bake for 30 minutes or until a thin skewer inserted in the cake comes out clean. Cool, dust with icing sugar, slice and serve.

A very English affair.......

Does any other nations love  tea in quite the way we do? My mother is not a tea drinker, my father was, and I have reared three BIG tea drinkers, they were all weaned on Grandad's milky tea with three (yes three!!)sugars, but to that end not a filling to be seen.... They are all now down to one sugar but are tea addicts....I buy Dorset Tea in sacks of 1500 and pack a quarter off to Cornwall for my eldest daughter. My youngest came home with pride saying she was now the official tea maker at the stables because of her photographic memory enabling her to make perfect cups for each person there.  And then there is my son, who is off to Uni in the Autumn, 'mum' he said, 'do you know what I will miss most when I am away?'  'Me?' said I 'No! The cup of tea you bring me every morning!'........


 But with tea must most certainly go cake or at least a biscuit, a pause in the day to sit and enjoy a little quiet sustenance.  In my village for many years Saturday and Sunday afternoons sees  'Dorset Cream Teas'. From Easter to September a large banner hangs from my fence proclaiming we are open for business and directing passers by to our church hall. Here various local people host the afternoons proceedings, having made (or called in favours from friends) cakes, scones and tea breads.  You never know who will come in the three hours or how many.  The first ten minutes are always nerve wracking but then in they roll. The partially sighted gentleman with his daughter (both days) big groups of Lycra clad cyclists (tea and toast for them) passing motorists, friends and often the great and good of the village will pop in for a slice, or two to take home.  There are twins who come weekly tanned, in freshly pressed slacks and polo shirts arriving in their vintage motor from the big town far away. They have made friends with other regulars and can now be seen at village events throughout the year. It is an exhausting but wonderful two days, a glow surrounds us when the last customer has gone and we can sit and have a pot of tea and a scone, knowing that money will go to the church and a good cause of our choice.Shall we do it next year, we ask, it is so exhausting....but we will, we know because making and sharing tea with friends, neighbours and complete strangers is a very English affair and a delightful one indeed.

Keeping your cup/bucket full...maybe even let it runneth over.....

Many years ago when my children were all very small and there were still sleep interrupted nights and days full of play dates, school runs, laundry, cooking, baths, and bedtime stories I went on a  workshop entitled, 'How to be a good enough mother'.

A flier was sent out from school the title, as you might imagine, intrigued me so I signed up, along with a group of  friends. The morning came and we deposited various children in various places and arrived at the school hall. There was a lady, sitting by a metal bucket surrounded by chairs... she was, about my age, smiley faced, very short hair, swinging necklace, woolly jumper, a psychologist, her name was Jayne Mansfield... she made the joke about not being THE Jayne Mansfield...somewhat lost on most in the room, but I liked her.. I can't say that I remember a great deal of what she said that day, but the bucket stayed with me.  
                                                                               She described how, as mothers, wives, lovers,

daughters, sisters and friends we start our adult life with a bucket that is full to the brim and each time we help, or give advice, comfort, talk to the small hours, or listen, that bucket is dipped into, sometimes a small sip is needed, sometimes great gulps, but gradually, over time, the bucket is emptied and unless we replenish it then we will no longer have the means to quench ourselves or those we love.  Her method for refilling the bucket was, in theory, quite simple 'time for ourselves' we all laughed and shook our heads....impossible we said, but Janyne with her smiley earnest face looked us straight in the eye and said to be a even a 'good enough' mother this part of her advice was non negotiable or our buckets would be dry and we could help no one.  We all came away and said 'well what does she know? What does she understand?'   But what she said stayed with me, a niggle in the back of my mind, because I knew she was right.  Now 'me time' sounds dreadfully self indulgent and we all fight against it but it is lifeblood.  

I started by organising a Book Club for my friends (before they were fashionable in England) we met monthly, talked, laughed, cried and often got drunk but always refilled our buckets.  Firm friendships made, a network formed.  I also started to rekindle my artistic side, at first as a co-student for learning disabled adults, pottery and art therapy courses, (all free) then jewellery making and various other crafts. Each hour spent, each moment of concentration, of creativity, has kept my bucket replenished.  Most recently I have tried my hand at collagraphy.  A local artist, Sarah Ross-Thompson, runs small classes.  It is thoroughly absorbing, totally different to anything I have ever done before.  Pictured here are my efforts from last Saturday, I had not been for a year and I must say by lunchtime I was convinced I had lost my mojo. But Sarah is a master and gently guides you, so you think it is all your own doing, but she sees 
what you are wanting to achieve and by the end of the day have a print to be proud of.  
Here you can see my efforts, proof prints of my mornings block and coloured prints that really didn't work, then my afternoons work, first print (not shown) with ink squelching out, second too lilac, but finally beautiful Prussian blue, and me happily sloshing home with a bucket brimming, even running over slightly.....
http://rossthompsonprints.com/home
Check out Sarah's website, for a look at her beautiful work and an explanation of collagraphy.
 

My Desert Island Discs

I have been a stalwart fan Desert Island Discs for many years and have experienced great excitement as the BBC has just opened up much of the archive, which has been a joy to go through. On the 11th June there is to be a special programme featuring, amongst other things, lists submitted by the public!!! All fans will no doubt have spent hours dreaming of their eight records, book and luxury.  Now we all have a chance to submit our music choices at least.  I have always known my luxury, paints and paper, surprisingly, only Vera Lynn, Alma Coogan and recently Debbie Harry have chosen this particular combination.....I found that hard to believe so changed my wording in the search box to 'paints' many more came up including Barry Humphries and Trevor MacDonald but paints without paper??? Hopefully Kirsty would be kind and include a tablet or two even though not specifically requested. I would accept the Bible and Shakespeare my other book would be a 'Teach yourself Polish' it is a great regret of mine that all I can manage is 'hello', 'goodnight', etc and some nursery rhymes...so trapped alone with hours of nothing to do I should hopefully be able to get some of my father's language into my head!

But then the music.....a lifetime of song condensed into eight! At first thought almost an impossibility...eighty I could do but EIGHT!! Anyway, I set to with pad and pen and started to think, of people, events, times of my life, locations....much writing, much crossing out. I thought of a Strauss waltz for my granny, but I HATE Strauss waltzes and the thought of listening that would send me off the cliff..so decided against. The Lord of the Dance..again took me back to school as a small child and thinking of my brother singing Franchet Lee (he mispronounced Francis Lee, footballer) instead of 'dance said he'...but again would I want to listen to that over and over? For my mum:-Mairzy Doates (and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy) but I only have to think of the title and the song is in my head ALL DAY LONG...so that was out.. For my dad I thought of Ave Maria in Polish, but that would make me too too sad...

So, my method to choosing was as follows, happy dancing songs for days when I feel sad, soul soothing music for days when I need comforting and some that are particular to those that I love...

Here we go....
in no particular order...
How Sweet It Is To Be Loved by You James Taylor 
Let There Be Love Nat King Cole
The Lark Ascending Vaughan Williams
Dance the Night Away The Mavericks
The First Time Ever I Saw your Face Christy Moore
Blame it on the Boogie The Jacksons
Polish Accordion Music by Uncle Henry
Miserere Allegri

For today at least this is my list, I could add many more, but the memories created by these are wonderful and would hopefully see me through bad days.. Dance the Night Away....pushing back the table with my children and now my nieces, as they are the only ones who can dance with abandon. Accordion music takes me to family gatherings and standing on my dad's toes dance.... Christy Moore....travels around Ireland with Paul...

Over the last century music has given us a soundtrack to our lives, a song/piece will take us to a day, a person, an emotion. As I get older I can no longer listen to music radio as my soundtrack I wish to choose, not be forced upon. 

https://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/features/desert-island-discs/your-desert-island-discs 


Here is the link.....go on choose yours!

Babca...a family recipe.....

I have been reading Molly Weizenberg's book 'A Homemade Life, stories and recipes from my kitchen table'...a good companion to Two Greedy Italians, and it has got me thinking of my own family recipes.....
Molly's recipe for pound cake reminded me of Babka, my families version of pound cake. My dad was not a great cake eater, he loved meat, and apple pie, his mums cinnamon buns but he did love this cake. I have not made it for many years, probably since he died, it is a plain cake and my children like chocolate cakes, cookies and brownies, so there has been no need, until now. It is made in a bundt tin and has a lot of eggs, sugar, butter, flour and milk, but what of quantities? Then I remembered an old diary of mine and that I had written down Cioca Ania's recipe. Amazingly I found the diary (amongst my recipe books) had a giggle at some of the entries (boys, discos) felt saddened at the weight loss grid that showed the 7 and a half stone girl was trying to get down to 6.5! Finally the recipe, well recipe of sorts....
I had written all the ingredients down, plus a method, but no oven temperature or timings......first I needed a tin, I

I remember it needing a large pan, Cioca had an American bundt tin, last time I cooked it I had used a regular spring form tin but ended up with a lot of batter left over, so, last weekend I made a little trip to TKMax and lo and behold there it was, sitting on the reduced shelf....fate indeed! I have had such a busy week I didn't have time to bake, finally after much running around today I had a few hours at home and off I went!
Everything was going ok until the ingredients said 'a glass of milk'

How big is a glass?? I decided on using a cup measure and in fact added slightly less than the full cup.
I ended up with a nice soft batter that almost filled my pan, I had no oven temperature written down so checked out Bundt recipes on the Internet, it took about an hour, or just a smidgen over....Babca!


Ready for the oven...............











Cooling...............











Eating....... can you tell I LOVE all things spotty......
It is a moist cake, plain and buttery, would be great with a little glace icing on top, or with fruit and creme fraiche for dessert, but best of all with coffee and conversation with family or friends.....
I took a big chunk up to Winchester to sustain my boyfriend, Pau,l for his busy meeting filled rushing around days and half was sent to Cornwall in a box of goodies for my daughter who is homesick and stressed at end of term exams....it travels well and housemates loved it!!



Recipe.....
Babka
8oz caster sugar
8oz butter (at room temperature)
6 eggs
1 llb Self raising flour
1 glass of milk
half teaspoon of baking powder

Bundt tin (buttered and floured)
oven temp 350 deg F 180 deg C (fan 160)

Cream butter and sugar, until light and fluffy, add eggs one at a time, add milk and flour in thirds.
Place in tin and bake for about an hour.

As I said I used just under a cup of milk and it was fine. I also added some vanilla essence, my aunt often used Polish vanilla sugar sachets.
Additions to the recipe:- chocolate powder, a jar of jam and raisins????? I have not made this combination yet! Will re post if I do!!!

Note: in my 1980's recipe no mention was made of egg sizes, in fact I don't recall anyone ever mentioning the size of eggs, most Polish people kept chickens, so I guess they came in the size laid!! Also the original recipe said 'marg' something I would never use now but everyone did back in the day!