Some of Various Things

Janey, over at Whittering On, invited me to play along with the Various Things Meme which has been doing the rounds in the blogosphere. It didn't take much to persuade me . . . as it is easy enough to relate what I did today (not much), and who doesn't enjoy the opportunity to improve the world with a billion dollars of hypothetical money?


However, since I can't prepare any recipe without making alterations, I am allowing myself the liberty of editing this meme to suit myself. (If you want to see the original format, plus read some good stuff, you will have to visit Janey.)


First, the prosaic part-- also known as "my life:"
(and since the day is almost over, I've included some commentary on if and how I accomplished these mighty tasks.)

What are six things on your to-do list for today (not in any particular order):

1. Walk. I did walk 6 miles today -- a rather minor walk for me now that I'm "training." I walked with someone new, and that was fun because I could quiz her on her life story -- which was part "Hideous Kinky" (without the illustrious father), and part "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore," only set in an economically depressed part of Wales.


2. Order roses. I spent about an hour on the David Austin website, only to discover upon email receipt that my roses aren't going to be delivered until NOVEMBER! Being the impatient sort, I was pretty much expecting them on Thursday -- so this is quite a blow. I am now in a quandary -- and wondering if I should run around finding bits and pieces of what I want, drive to the David Austin nursery in Wolverhampton (also the ancestral home of the great Nigel Slater, and not exactly close to us), or just settle in and wait until the next growing season.


3. Have lunch with a friend. I enjoyed a delightful lunch (goat cheese, tomato and rocket baguette) at this pub. Topics included 40th birthday parties, ex-husbands and new husbands, educational dilemmas, the trials of living with adolescent girls, and our daughters' upcoming trip to Spain -- the ostensible purpose for the lunch.


4. Tutor JC. The mother left JC's spelling homework for "us" to complete -- the accomplishment of which led me to conclude that my assistance is well-worth every pound she pays me. We finished up with two stories and a little bit of digging in the garden -- activities much better suited to JC's interests and talents.


5. Design invitation for upcoming charity fundraiser. This has been put off -- again -- for tomorrow.


6. Make quiche lorraine and a pavlova. As our shelves are beginning to runneth over with the bounty from our chickens, my youngest daughter proposed an egg-rich dinner menu. Both recipes came from Tamasin Day-Lewis's Kitchen Bible -- a cookbook I heartily recommend to anyone who wants dependable recipes for the English classics.

And now for the unlikely scenario called: What would you do if you were a billionaire?

Janey mentioned that this particular fantasy is something of a mental preoccupation with her, but I've given little to no thought to it. If I'm honest, I think that I don't fantasize about having more money because I've already reached my level of comfort with tolerable ratio of guilt -- which means not having to worry about paying my bills. My husband would groan if he read this, as he is the person who worries about the bills . . . but without being totally obnoxious, what I mean is that I really don't aspire to anything (bigger house, fancier car, designer handbags) that would require a bigger infusion of money. I feel very lucky and blessed to have a nice house AND a savings account. I'm good.

I actually think that having too much money tends to ruin people, so I suppose that I would tend to aim for "security," rather than luxury, when it came to bequests for family and friends. I would like to give my children enough money to pay for college, buy a first (modest) car, and put a down-payment on a home . . . but not enough to live an idle, dissipated lifestyle!

Have you noticed how a billion dollars can go awfully far when you think of spending it on your family, particularly if you have no taste for private planes or yachts, but doesn't seem like much when applied to huge international needs?

Not long ago, I read an article about the culture of giving in the UK. Apparently, charities which help animals or raise funds for cancer research/support do really well, but other sorts of charities really struggle for a piece of the public's interest. I remember, in particular, that shelters for domestic abuse have a difficult time raising funds. It just stuck in my mind, as sometimes things do, that retired donkeys are a more popular cause than battered women.

Therefore, if I fall into a billion dollar honeypot I would like to set up some shelters for women . . . and include a scholarship component to train and/or educate women to be able to take care of themselves. I know that there are many reasons why women don't/can't break away from abusive relationships, but those financial fetters (not to mention illiteracy) are still such a major barrier to independence.

Speaking of female empowerment issues, I just read a horrifying account of life in Yemen titled Is this the worst place on earth to be a woman? (Observer Woman, May 2008). Apparently, female illiteracy rates are around 71 per cent in Yemen -- and women are denied almost all citizenship rights. Crippling poverty and a lack of access to healthcare complete the ugly picture. In one of those interesting coincidences, Lionel Shriver also cited Yemen in her recent article on the population explosion in the third world. Despite the fact that it is "one of the least developed countries in the world," (Cooke, OW, p. 48) Yemen's population is booming. Hmmmm . . . see the connection? So despite the fact that there are very high maternal mortality rates, complicated by the fact that very young girls are made to wed, the babies just keep coming.

Not to be a goody-goody or anything, but it would make me feel guilty to be wishing for more, more, more. Everything about my day provides ironic contrast to all of the women who have so little, and I realize that. I know that it doesn't do much good to wear a hair shirt, but we needn't be so greedy, either.

Toad in the Hole and Rhubarb Crumble for tea

English spring is a cruel flirt.

Yesterday's blue sky and scudding clouds somehow gave way to a thick damp fog which clung cold and clammily to my gray fleece this morning. (No, I am not a sheep -- that would be my "walking gear.") Despite my piteous moans, (Bee, you always say it's too cold!), my walking partner declared that we would indeed walk the eight miles that we had resolved to walk.

WP and I signed up to walk the Edinburgh Moonwalk sometime back in early fall, when I was feeling fit and June seemed far, far away. Unfortunately, the Christmas food and drink debaucheries, plus the endless Birthday Extravaganza that is January, have rendered me chubby and decidedly dubious about my ability to walk 26 miles in under 6 hours. Even if it is in aid of a very good cause. Also, I am not a morning person and 8 am is never a good time for me. However, this is exactly why we have friends and walking partners. Without WP -- a stalwart British sort who went to boarding school -- I would have probably gone home and gone back to bed; with WP's gentle bullying, I did indeed manage to walk eight miles through the foggy forest.

Unfortunately, my delight in this accomplishment was rather dimmed by my dismay that my broadband service was on the blink! Only three days into blogging and already I've hit a technical snag! My afternoon was spent in that particular Purgatory where technical support persons from India dwell. First, you go through the first circle of hell: the automated telephone system. After much choosing of various options and listening to bizarre elevator-ish music (but not that soothing), you are finally transferred to a living person who, unfortunately, you can't understand very well. In my case, this is due to the inevitable clash between the Texan and Indian dialects -- but also to my lamentable knowledge of the workings of my own computer system. There was a lot of "What? Can you say that again?" from me, and a lot of "Madam, will you please listen to me" from my Indian interlocutor. Sometimes we would get cut off . . . was that really an accident? . . . and I would have to start over. At one point, we discovered that my particular kind of no-name modem (which caused much dismay, as I kept swearing there was no "make" to be seen) had to be handled by a different department. Anyway . . . despite the good time being had by all, I did have to eventually abandon the fight in order to pick up my kids from school. (Later, Sigmund turned on the computer and said, with his customary post-workday impatience, "There's nothing wrong with it! SEE!" Well, yeah . . . now.

This brings me to the subject of English comfort food. Somewhere between the weather and my computer frustrations, grew a need for comfort that can only be assuaged by a certain kind of food. Tex-Mex and a frozen margarita would have done the trick, but since that is not available I had to resort to my second favorite: English "stodge." Stodgy is one of those English words that I love. Although "stodgy" is not an admirable quality in a person, it can be a delightful quality in food. Bread pudding is perhaps the most stodgy food; but for a close savory second you can try "Toad in a Hole." Some people might be turned off by this description; I suppose it is understandable that a person might not care for a slimy amphibian in batter. I am the sort of person, though, who admires the style of English quirkiness that gave the world stodgy recipes with names like "Spotted Dick," "Gooseberry Fool" and "Eton Mess."

"Toad in the Hole" is a very simple recipe. Basically, you make up a Yorkshire Pudding batter and throw it in a hot roasting tin. Then, you arrange some browned sausages (or "bangers" in the local parlance) on top and cook in a very hot oven. This gives you a sort of sausage sandwich, I guess, but the the Yorkshire pudding is light and crusty on top and almost custardy in the middle -- and the whole is "infused" (my daughter's actual description) with a lovely sausagy flavor. I have skinny kids who come home from school ravenous and can be fed this kind of thing. For Sigmund, I provided a healthy lentil soup with just a small portion of Toad in the Hole on the side.

I got the recipe from Tamasin Day-Lewis's Kitchen Bible. This is a charming, useful book -- particularly helpful for the beginning cook as it starts with "Easy Things" and "Simple Skills" and moves on to chapters like "Classic Recipes" and "Serious Skills." I particularly like it because it contains so many of the English classics -- for things like Victoria sponge or Yorkshire pudding -- that you just can't find in most contemporary cookery books. Tamasin is a serious foodie; another good read, if you enjoy reading about the quest for the best and like a few starry anecdotes casually strewn between recipes, is her latest -- Where Shall We Go for Dinner?

Has anyone but me noticed the many similarities between Tamasin Day-Lewis and Nigella Lawson? Daughters of famous fathers; Oxbridge educated, posh, well-connected; 40ish but still overtly sexy; flowing dark hair; sensual writers who favor lots of adjective and adverbial embellishment. One major difference, though, is that Nigella has gone very commercial (and some would say almost cartoonishly over-the-top). Still, I love Nigella . . . and ignore Sigmund's mockery of her latest venture, Nigella Express. (For months, every time her name came up he would simper, "It's expresssssssssss," with a lascivious leer.)

I honor Nigella because she does write beautifully about food and she has shared many delicious recipes with me. For instance: for many years I've hated and dreaded the brussels sprout. You can ignore the sprout all year 'round if you want, but you leave it off your Christmas menu at your peril! In her wonderful book Feast, Nigella gives a recipe for brussels sprouts which are tarted up with chestnuts, pancetta and Marsala. You can actually still taste the sprout -- but it has been magically transformed into something delicious! Also, it mushes up so nicely flavor-wise with the turkey and roast potatoes. Probably the Nigella recipe that I love best, though, is for Rhubarb Crumble.

Rhubarb Crumble is ideal comfort food: it is just stodgy enough, but you can be "comforted" by the fact that you have actually eaten a portion of fruit with your pudding. It is the perfect late winter dessert because the beautiful pink rhubarb is actually in season and just the antidote to one too many apple pies. It is sweet and tart all at the same time. It is also stupendously easy and quick to make -- and therefore, just the thing when you have had a stressful day. (If, that is, you agree that rubbing butter into flour is a comforting thing to do.) What follows is Nigella's recipe . . . I have made it many, many times and it has never failed me.

(I have slightly amended the instructions for brevity's sake.)

1 1/2 lbs. rhubarb (chopped into 1/2 inch pieces)
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 oz butter
1 T vanilla
1 T cornstarch

Toss the following together, and then cook for about 5 minutes in a pan over medium-low heat. You can do this bit ahead of time; stash it in a pie dish and stick it in the frig until you are ready.

Proceed with the crumble:

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 t baking powder
4 oz butter
3 T vanilla sugar
3 T brown sugar

Mix flour and baking powder together; (or use self-rising flour and save 10 seconds!) then rub in your butter until it resembles oatmeally crumbs. Stir in the sugars, and then settle the crumble over your rhubarb filling.

Bake for 35-45 minutes in a 375 degree oven. My oven only needs about 35 minutes. It should be golden on top -- not too brown, and definitely not charred.

Most English people like custard on crumbles; Americans would prefer a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it. I think it is perfect on its own, hot, cold or lukewarm.

It is ideal for breakfast . . . and if you've fed your family something like Toad in the Hole, you can be assured of having generous left-overs for morning noshing. I myself enjoyed a bit of rhubarb crumble with a cup of tea for elevenses. Despite the fact that the British Gas boiler-man is here -- due to our lack of heat in part of the house -- and despite the weather being just as February-ish as yesterday's, I am having a much better day today.