Pancakes, pie and hero worship

Ever since I first watched the breathtaking 'Pulp Fiction', I have wanted to try heroin  driving a taxi barefoot  being somebody's gimp  blueberry pancakes and at last I have.

 

They were well worth the wait.

I took Nigella's pancake recipe and as they sat cooking in the pan, as pancakes should, I dumped a handful of frozen blueberries onto each one. This kept the blueberries moist and possibly retained some of their nutritional goodness...not that that was a factor - it's all about the flavour.

 

These were sprinkled with sugar: obviously, if we'd had any, maple syrup would have been better, perhaps some bacon too, or just a splash of single cream, just to highlight its' treat worthiness, but the sugar did the job. We really should make more of breakfast: if only there was enough time to do so, as it really does set the tone for the day, all be it, in this instance, the culinary yearnings of a murderers' wide-eyed innocent love.

It was National Pie Week here in the UK recently, not that I need an excuse for pie. Pie's are deceptively simple: you can go crazy on intricate pastry and delicate fillings, but the best pies are robust, simple and thrown together with hungry aplomb, as are the best people.

Again, I used frozen fruit. So often do I buy a stack of delicious-looking fresh fruit, only to watch it slowly rot: frozen fruit negates that sad inevitability. This pie was made from the scrag ends-of-bags of a selection of frozen fruit, including cherries, blueberries and summer fruit. It is embarrassingly simple, but feel free to complicate matters with the finest unsalted butter known to very few people, the addition of fine spices of thine choosing to the fruit and / or the pastry, lacing the fruit with a splash or 5 of booze, a sprinkling of nuts and seeds, adding fine oats to the pastry or adding a handful of dried fruit for a cascade of flavours and textures. Or, just do this:

The 'Why the hell don't I make pie more often when it's so feckin easy?!' Pie

Pastry:
180g plain flour (this, being Nigel Slater's pastry, doesn't need sieving: Hurrah! He is wise.)
100g unsalted butter, straight from the fridge
ice-cold water (or at least damn cold water that you've added a few ice cubes to)

Filling (bask in the glow of its' preciseness):
roughly 5 or 6 handfuls of fruit (sorry: I just used what I had rather than followed a recipe)
approx 2 tablespoons soft brown sugar and possibly a sprinkling of cinnamon
a bit of milk, for glazing and sh*t
approx 1 tablespoon demerera sugar for pre-baking pastry sprinklage

• Cube the butter and rub into the flour in a large bowl until it resembles breadcrumbs. 
• Add enough water to the crumble to bring it together into a firm, soft dough. 
• Pat it into a flattened round, wrap in clingfilm and thwack in the fridge for about half an hour.

• Preheat the oven to 200oC / Gas mark 6 
• With reckless abandon, plop your frozen fruit into a wanton pie dish (according to Mr Slater, it needs to be big enough to hold a litre of water, so, for God's sake! Just do as the man says!) 
• Sprinkle with the sugar (and spices, nuts, seeds, bacon -it might work-) 
• Remove your pastry from its chilly abode and, on a floured surface, using a floured rolling receptacle, roll your pastry out until it is big enough to hat the dish.
• Moisten the edge of the dish with a little of the milk and place the pastry on top of the fruit. Don't bother faffing around trying to make fluted edges or poncy cut outs: for this pie to work, it must look as if it has landed straight out of the sky, possibly chucked out of the window of a floating castle by a bored but passionate (and now hungry) woman.
• Brush with milk, sprinkle with demerera and then stab two air-holes in the top of the pie in an unprovoked fashion.
• Bake for about 40-45 mins until the top is golden and enticing.
• Slather in the jus of your choosing: double cream, ice cream, custard, Bailey's etc

 I've started going to the gym: this won't hurt...

And, naturally, from baking, we move onto hero worship: Spaced, to be precise. People who love this wonderful series don't just love it, they absorb it. Phrases meld into their language and unleash themselves onto the unsuspecting uninitiated. Being the bad parents that we are, we introduced our kiddlings to the joy of Spaced at far too young an age. I am happy to report that my little (and not so little) nerds are familiar with pretty much all the cultural references therein, (and therefore my son thinks of David Walliams as a Vulva. ) It is quite simply one of the most imaginative comedies ever to be seen, with director Edgar Wright using techniques, previously only used on film, to produced a stylish visual smorgasboard of tasty televisual meat...or something. They (writers Jessica Stevenson -now Hynes- and Simon Pegg) only made two series, but they are utter perfection. Such is the respect that fans realise that a new series, so late in the day, would not work. far better to discuss what might have happened to our beloved characters than to be put through another Phantom Menace. Naturally, this adoration unleashed itself onto Facebook, culminating in an homage to the series that is itself doused in homage, and further proof of the unspoken telepathy between Spaced geeks. Oh yes, my friends: Spaced Flashmob! Naturally, I took the day off work (my assistant manager telling me that that was the finest reason anyone had ever given for a day off.) and dragged (that's a lie: they couldn't wait and had been practicing for weeks.) the family up to London for 2 minutes of sheer stupidity and joy. I mean, what else is there to do on a wet Saturday in Trafalgar Square?

Ok, I know we were supposed to have dispersed at the end as if nothing had happened, but we wanted to celebrate the madness of it all, and then disperse.



If you look carefully, you may be able to spot my blue-hatted self, using Mr Yump as a gun turret in the bottom lefthand corner, around 0.11...

May your week be just as tasty and foolish.

A plea from my ears

Recently, the BBC announced proposals for a series of cost-cutting and streamlining manouevres sending me into a panic not seen since Roger and Andy Taylor first left Duran Duran, the major change being the culling of the utterly marvellous 6 Music.
Why is 6 Music so important? Firstly, it doesn't patronise it's audience but brings us in to the proceedings: 'We're passionate about music and we know you lot are cos that's why you're here, so help yourself to a biccie and tell me what you think of this'. It is ageless, catering for the music-powered teen, insulted by the banality of banter on Radio 1 (until after 7pm when all the interesting DJ's come out to play, including Zane Lowe, who's particular brand of intense enthusiam some find a little unpalatable, though I personally love it) and the over-30 muso, warmed by Radio 2 but not enthused by anymore, although the fabulous Mark Radcliffe and 6 Music's Stuart Maconie are definitely worth a listen. Yes, I may be wider and more wrinklier than in the prime of my youth, but my ears are still hungry for those songs that make my heart go 'Oh...yes!' that music that make us feel truly alive. 6 Music appreciates that this is different for everyone and its DJ's, being people rather than personalities, will say if they don't like something, although they will say it respectfully and not for bitchy needs. This station has introduced me to so many new acts of utter fabulousness, as my Facebook chums will know, as I am constantly blocking their news feeds with something I have just heard and have to share. (Plus it acts as a useful bookmark me for later.) 6 Music, however, isn't just about new music: it's just about good music. It is one of the only stations, be it radio or tv for that matter, that frequently plunders the priceless BBC archives of session material, left to gather dust by blinkered dj's on the hunt for the new sound. It therefore manages to educate and enlighten whole generations of listeners who would otherwise have to receive their knowledge from restrictive sources that believe sticking Tom Jones on the main stage at Glastonbury is 'edgy' etc. It provides a platform for new and established bands by allowing them to play live sessions.
6 Music also provides some of the most entertaining listening, from the glorious Adam & Joe (sadly, currently on a break: let's hope there is still a station for them to come back to...), to the sublime Huey Morgan (who broadcasts live rather than pre-records (by the way: have you heard the FLC's latest song? Delicious!) via the literary-doused Jarvis Cocker, just north of the original Blue Peter bad boy, Richard 'Love the show!' Bacon, side-stepping to the beautiful, intelligent and wry Lauren Laverne (who has, herself, partaken of some rather fabulous musical melanges herself: Kenickie and me and Mr yump's wedding song) and and and: oh it's all so damn good! Seriously, why aren't you listening to it now?!

Wit, wisdom, warmth and wicked tunes (and no adverts): please, tell me where else I can find this mix?!


Here are a few of my favourite tracks that I doubt I would have heard had it not been for my beloved 6 Music (please note, it's not all new, just good!):


Her Return

DON’T MOVE! | MySpace Music Videos



Peggy Sue - Watchman from Brittney Bean on Vimeo.





Please BBC: leave 6 Music alone. It is the best thing you have ever created, and that is truly saying something.
(Don't forget to have your say.)

Stopping to smell the coffee

After a hearty breakfast (porridge cooked with semi-skimmed + a dash of vanilla extract, throwing in some dried sweetened cranberries for the last minute, then adding sesame + pumpkin seeds, walnuts or pecans, a sprinkle of demerera and cinammon) I donned my beloved wellies and went for a much needed long walk around one of my favourite parks. I didn't take any photos as I just wanted to walk and take in what was going on around me rather than documenting it: selfish, I know. I've been to that park numerous times over the last, wowsers!, 20 years but had never strayed from the beaten path. This time I did, allowing my sturdy legs to go where they wanted. To find something new in the familiar is always a treat, perhaps a timely (for me at least) that it's not what you look at, it's how you look at it that counts. To be bored by life is, well, frankly, boring, and we should constantly be looking to see new beauty and quirkiness everywhere. (methinks the Lemsip has kicked in a little too powerfully...)

In town, I turned off from my usual automaton path, curious by a sandwich board promising 'Good Food, Good Coffee, Great Welcome', and discovered it wasn't just a hollow tagline...

 

Delicious granary toast with butter and honey: why is it that toast made by someone else always tastes better than toast you've made yourself? Please also note that here, a large latte is indeed a large latte.

 

This may well be my new favourite place. A happy, laid back atmosphere, with delicious coffee, locals popping in to pick up lunch orders - it's amazing how much gossip can be exchanged in the time it takes to buy a coffee.

I finally, after much knitting, unknitting, frustration and stubborn ignoring off, finished one fingerless glove (from this beautiful book that, however, fails to mention that stitch holders will be needed....)  

For the second glove, I snaffled a couple of stitch counters which, although they haven't exactly changed my life, have improved my knitting notation and the sanctity of my books. Such a simple idea makes a difference.

I know it's wrong, though not illegal, but I have fallen in love with yet another book on baking. Now I know I have waxed lyrically and overly flowery over many a book determined to make my upper torso akin to that of the Michelin Man (though without the searing sexual potency) but this one is just fabulous. I've already spread the gospel over on the UK Handmade blog and feel duty bound to recommend it to you, good people. All hail, 'Easy Baking' by Linda Collister!!! And just to convince you of the utter fabulosity of this epistle, here is a recipe from therein: 

 

 

Delicious and Essential Pecan Spice Bars

90g unsalted butter (at room temperature, unless the room is either a sauna or walk-in fridge)

3 tablespoons Golden Syrup

1 large egg

180g self raising flour

pinch of salt

1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon mixed ground spice

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

100g coarsely ground pecan nuts

11/2 tablespoons milk

Spicy pecan topping

2 tablespoons plain flour

1 tablespoon demerera sugar

1 tablespoon soft brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

30g unsalted butter, diced and at room temperature (see above)

40g pecan halves

• preheat the oven to 180oC / 350oF / Gas Mark 4
• line and grease a 20cm-ish square tin (or equivalent)
• in a large bowl, cream the butter, on its own, with nothing but an eager spoon to keep it company
• beat in the golden syrup then add the egg, beating it until 3 becomes one (ingredients that is)
• sift together the flour, salt and spices into the buttery melange and stir together
• add the pecans and milk and stir well
• pour this delicious cacophony of potential loveliness into the prepared tin
• now make the topping: in a clean large bowl, rub the diced butter into the flour, sugar and spices until you get clumps of dough. (I didn't achieve this: mine just turned to breadcrums, which still tasted good, but I'd like to give you something to aim for)
• stir in the pecan then scatter in a smaller scale version of a cliched farmer sowing seed in a hearty manner (this is not a crude euphemism by the way...)
• bake for 25-30 minutes until firm under your hungry touch
• allow to cool before transferring to a wire rack for further cooling opportunities
• cut into 15-ish pieces and devour at whim.

Happy Valentine's Day, by the way. x

A few of my favourite things

Here's a recipe for a happy yump:

Clockwise from bottom right:

• I'm drawn to this shade of yellow like a magnet to the fridge. I just find it comforting, not joyous: it's warm and gentle, wise perhaps. It does, however, make me talk bollocks - ho hum. The yarn I'm using is specifically designed for felting (I'll let you know if it works) and the beautiful pattern book is from the bargain bucket at C&H Fabrics. It's a beautiful book, even if I don't use any of the other patterns. Eye candy is underestimated and should be devoured as often as possible.
• After losing my first ever knitted hat, and feeling despondent from knitting never-ending fingerless gloves with 4-ply, I resolved to knit a new hat with chunky-as-you-like Big Softie yarn. I started whilst beginning the week cheerfully with a new english 'Wallander' with the wonderful Kenneth Branagh (but do try and catch the original Swedish version, often on BBC4, which I think is marginally better, though both reduce the current crop of televisular dirge to mere cataracts) and finished the following afternoon: this instant yarn gratification was just what I needed. However, I over-estimated the girth of my head, or at least the length of it, but luckily my finishing was neat enough to allow for a turned brim. And it was just in time for all the snow. I am still ploughing on with the mittens and may have them finished by Xmas, when I will probably burn them in a ritual sacrifice to the Goddess of Craft, asking Her for patience and fatter yarns in future. The pattern is from 'Stitch and Bitch' by the way, should you wish to while away the hours whilst watching Swedish drama of the greyist, weightiest yet atmospherically sumptuous variety.
• The land of my dreams is Paris at the mo, and if anyone would like to buy me this apartment, I would be most grateful and would even send you cake. I am feeding this daydream with a daily munch from the delicious visual buffet of 'Paris: Made by Hand' by Pia Jane Bijkerk (who has a rather beautiful blog too.), a delicious collection of 'the city's artisans, createurs, and craft boutiques'. If you are going to Paris, physically or in your mind, I whole heartedly recommend it: it's small enough not to be cumbersome and should lead you into dark spaces of illuminated joy that you wouldn't have bothered with before. If you are going, could you bring me back anything from this amazing shop please? Merci!
• I am currently addicted to the BBC digital station, 6music. Facebook chums will already be aware of my regular spamming of their status update pages with yet another gem they must listen to that I've just heard via 6music. The DJ's are irreverant, intelligent and clearly love the music they play. Here they are allowed to be as geeky as they want, encouraging their listeners to do the same, creative a music nerd safe-haven. They also tap into the stunning BBC archives to play long forgotten Peel sessions and a variety of music royalty live sets. Particular favourite DJ's are Adam & Joe (of coursee, Tom Robinson's eclectic ear, new boy Jarvis Cocker (a perfect mix of music and literature, tied together with a ribbon of Cocker wit), Huey Morgan (who, along with JC, turns Sunday into a joyous day full of interest rather than the grey day before the week starts again) and Lauren Laverne, keeping me company during the morning. To me, it's bliss.
  
• I have a new guru and her name is Lynne Truss. If you haven't read any of her funny and informative books, may I urge you too. They won't take you long as the typeface is huge. Make sure you are sitting properly as you may develop a neck twinge with all the nodding in agreement as you read. She just speaks common sense and if more people read 'Talk to the Hand', perhaps we can all remember to be a tad more civil to each other, as a little consideration towards others really oils the wheels of our day to day world. However, do not do as I did and read 'Eats Shoots and Leaves' at the same time as John Updike: it took all my strength not to start adding commas, apostrophes and colons of every flavour to his book.
• Finally, baking. These biccies remind me of the ones my old school cooks' would occasionally treat us to, instead of the uninspiring jelly whip or tedious selection of starchy yogurts for most days Dpuddings. These biccies are both crunchy and chewy, with a delicious gingery, toffee flavour (courtesy of the Golden Syrup) Here, size matters: you won't achieve the same amount of comfort nostalgia with a small packet-sized biscuit. The recipe comes courtesy of Jeanette Orrey, the woman who inspired Jamie Oliver to help overhaul school lunch nutrition. I've omitted the chocolate from her recipe, but feel free to add 60g of chopped choc if you wish. The measurements are slightly different as I received a rather gorgeous set of scales for my birthday that measure in increments of 20g, making weighing 55g an impossibility. From my limited experience, I've found that baking is down to ratios: alter all weights in the same way and you should be ok.
  

School biccies.
(makes 8)

180g plain flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
60g oats
120g butter (or marg)
120g demerera sugar (or caster, light brown or a mix)
1 heaped tablespoon golden syrup
drop or two of milk

• preheat the oven to 180oC / 350oF / Gas Mark 4
• line two large baking trays with baking paper or the non-stick parchment-equivalent of your choice
  
• mix together the flour, baking powder and oats in a big bowl
• rub in the butter to create a breadcrumby melange
• add the sugar (and choc if using) and golden syrup and stir to create a stiff dough. You may need to add a drop or two (or three) of milk to bind it all together.
• divide the dough into eight equal portions. Roll each portion into a ball, place on baking sheet and flatten sensitively with your hand, allowing room for the biccie to grow.
• bake for 20-25 mins until pale brown and cracked of surface (they should look like mahoosive gingernuts)
• allow to cool on the sheets before transferring to cooling racks
• enjoy with tea and the knowledge that your school days are long behind you.

What are your favourite things at the mo?

PS: I'm having a clearance sale!!! Please come by and pick up a bargain before I hire a flame thrower and destroy the lot in a hormonal frenzy.

Just a reminder...

...that I have a poor, neglected Etsy shop, which, if memory serves, is the reason this blog came into being in the first place. If you've been here before, you'll know that my skills of marketing and self-promotion are possibly the antithesis of a certain Miss Price. However, economic necessity and burgeoning creative impetus require me to remind you that I have a delicious range of life-affirming gifts that will not only balance your chakras but put you in alignment with the whole damn universe*.
My stock needs to go because:

• they are desperate for pastures new, feeling stifled in their sumptuous box. A box full of gorgeous stuff is useless if it's contents are not used, loved or even seen: I may as well fill it with packing peanuts and shove it under the bed. (ooh, I wonder if I could do that and sell it on Etsy? strokes beard ponderously)
• we have to repair (or more accurately, replace) our leaking roof. This is another reason why I need to sell my stock: not only is a new roof stupid-expensive, we may need the box to catch rain water and it would be better if it was empty, although I'm sure in some dark, questionably-stenched cave of the t'interweb, there is a market for rain-soiled sock monkeys and the like. shudders but doesn't totally dismiss the possibilities
• I actually have some New Ideas (well, they're new to me - no doubt that once I have introduced them to the world, I will discover that I have extemporaneously plagiarised a favoured crafter, thereby consigning myself to Crafter's Hell - a cold, colourless place, bereft of forums, photos, tea and cake. Even Stephen Fry would hate me, and would encourage his Twitter army to 'go Jan Moir on her ass'.) and if I manage to keep the paranoid demons, and Stephen Fry**, at bay, it would be lovely to put them into a rejeuvenated shop - out with the old and in with the (hopefully not subconsciously ripped off) new.

Quite frankly, there's nothing like a financial emergency to really help one focus on  one's abandoned shop. Go and have a look and buy something, dammit!

Have you read the latest Xmas-tabulous edition of UK Handmade magazine yet? It's fresh off the...um...desktoppublisher thang and is just perfect, and not just because my book reviews are in there (p31-35). It has a fabulous cover featuring a beautiful wreath made by the uber talented Anna Hull of Half an Acre. and is packed with useful, inspiring and entertaining gorgeousness. And, criminally, its free. Enjoy!

Don't forget to check out the UK Handmade blog too: I've been writing the 'Lifestyle' page on Sundays, although it's more food (let's be honest here: cake.) than anything else. I like the idea of being a 'Lifestyle' writer, though I feel I should have a huge pashmina that I hide a tiny dog in and call everyone 'Dahhhhling!' and describe things as being 'De-viiine!'  and never be seen out without bright red lips, a coiffured do, a dark mist of Mandragore and an air of superiority peppered with boredom. I won't ruin the illusion by telling you that I usually write it whilst snuggled in pyjamas, unaided by tiny, or any sized, dog.

What are you up to tomorrow (Saturday)? Well, if you're not trying to feign enthusiasm about another z-list celebrity's autobankbalance autobiography whilst subtley trying to guide them to Rich Fulcher's offering, you should be at Chelsea Town Hall for the fabulous festive WeMake .

I am jealous as hell, but it is a warm, vanilla-scented jealousy as I love them to bits. Go along and pick up some beautiful treasures from a very talented bunch and give them all a kiss from me.
If you're nearer Cambridge, get thee to Handm@de. Read all about it here. If you really love craft and wanted to support these fabulous people, you could attempt to go to both in a Phil Collins-does-Live-Aid kinda way. (well, you could have done had they not scrapped Concorde..)

Have a wonderful, expensive weekend!



*not scientifically proven. Model wears lash inserts.
** I love Stephen Fry, by the way, particularly for this:

Soupy Twist!

Dahl-ling bread

I am trying very hard at the moment to temper my cookery book purchasing, in particular books on baking. I have discovered that a lot of the more celebrity-type chefs have a tendency towards repeating their recipes, justifying their inclusion in yet another perfectly produced more-style-than-food, 'buy this and you can live like me, and my life is FABULOUS!' book simply by altering the amount of vanilla, or swapping the flour or changing the icing to a frosting. With that in mind, and considering the hefty price tag on a lot of titles, it's worth remembering your trusty local library. I find it's a great way to try out a book for free: this works for crafting books as well. It is often easy to be seduced into thinking that you absolutely, positively have to have that book, but it is better to spend your hard earned cash on something that you'll have use for for years to come. Also, you need to save your cash in order to buy the ingredients / yarn / gluegun / studio as suggested in your newly-acquired piece of inspiration.

One of the books I'd seen at work, but wasn't sure I agreed with, was Sophie Dahl's book, 'Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights: The Art of Eating a Little of What You Fancy'. The reason I didn't 'agree' with it was down to cookery / lifestyle book saturation: there is a growing trend for cookbooks to be just as much about the author as the food. I'm sure she wasn't the first, but Tessa Kiros, with her glorious 'Falling Cloudberries', with its mix of biography, family history, culture, tradition and food, possibly inspired others to follow,  (and of course dear ol' Nigella can't resist a lustful pout over a robust dish of freshly-concocted edible sex between her recipes, despite her first and utterly fabulous book, 'How to Eat'  being completely devoid of any author posturing, aside from the 'I'm actually a serious writer but I can cook too' one on the inner cover.) As with any good idea, a raft of similar titles have followed, to the point of olive oil-based marination, hence me giving Miss Dahl's perfectly beautiful, perfectly stylish book a wide berth. That was until I came across a surprise copy at my local library...

It is indeed a beautiful book, with 101 recipes handily divided by the seasons and then again into breakfasts, lunches and suppers. Each season is heralded with autobiography, illustrating the author's emotional link, love and respect of food. She talks candidly about the weight gain that led to her initial fame (as a model with, shock horror! Squidgy-bits-like-what-real-women-have! She was all of a size 14 at her largest...) and then how she lost weight, (by the way, this isn't a diet book, as I clearly wouldn't have bothered with it) and also morsels about her life growing up, travelling and working. She has an lovely relaxed style, the type of prose you fall into, and of course having an interesting life so far helps too. As for the recipes, accompanied by calm, almost rustic photos, they are simple, practical and look positively eatable, a trait you would assume was a given in a cookery book but sadly isn't necessarily. A particular favourite that I've made a few times now (with the book a good distance away so as not to become soiled by my exuberant baking activities) is what we call in this house 'Jamie Cullum Bread', but Miss Dahl calls 'Musician's breakfast (home-made bread with Parma Ham). For the uninitiated amongst you, Sophie Dahl's 'beloved' is Jamie Cullum and, according to the recipe, 

'This, a strong cup of tea and Miles Davis on the stereo makes him a very happy fellow of a morning.'

I had a flash of Domestic Goddessy Madness the other morning and went all 'lifestyle' myself by making my own Jamie Cullum bread whilst the rest of the family got up properly, that is, shuffling through the morning ritual of wee, tea then food (and not in joined up writing: mornings are strictly printed in this house: we are not a morning family) 
Sadly, it wasn't ready before they all left the house, but I somehow managed not to snaffle down the whole loaf, leaving them some for their return. Yes, that is how much I love them.*dabs at tear with corner of pinny*

'This, a pint cup of coffee and 6Music on the stereo makes me a very happy fellow of a morning.'

As much as I love this bread, I fancied something with a bit more texture, so when I made a loaf today (out of hunger and the need to create: when all the tastiest things are born), I added a variety of seeds. Not only had I managed to gild the lily, I also made it healthier too, though its health benefits are possibly undone by my 'voluptuous' portions. So here is my recipe, based on Miss Dahl's. Give it a go, with or without the seeds, and do check out her book too - I have it on my wishlist as I suppose I should stop renewing this copy...

Who(l)em(eal)y seedy beeyatch, yo.*

450g wholemeal flour (either normal or bread flour: both work)

100g oats

packet of fast-action dried yeast

1 tsp salt (I used Maldon)

25g hemp seeds

50g sunflower seeds

50g pumpkin seeds
600ml warm (not hot) water
1 tbsp sunflower oil

1 tbsp clear honey

• Mix all of the dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl, nay flexi trug should the whim take you (damn they're such a versatile beast!)

• In a large jug, mix together the water, oil and honey.

• Add wet to the dry and stir thoroughly.

• Look at the porridgey gloop and think to yourself, 'How the hell am I going to knead that gelatinous blob?!'

• Exclaim 'Ahhhh!' when you read: 'This bread does not need kneading.'

• Cover the bowl with a clean cloth and place somewhere warm and out of the way (i.e. next to a sleeping relative answers only half of the problem, so don't put it there.) for about 20, 30, heck, perhaps as much as 40 minutes, until the dough has doubled in size (hence the need for the large bowl. You see?! It's all in the planning!)

• Preheat the oven to 190oC / 170oF.
  

• Once risen, do not mark the occassion by bastardising a Pagan tradition and eating your bodyweight in chocolate, but merely beat it back down to size with a wooden spoon.

• Oil a loaf tin and pour the subjugated dough within its oily confines.

• Pop in the oven and bake for 50-60 mins.

• Allow to cool in the tin before turning it out and anointing each slice with a hearty slather of what you fancy.
  

My slather of choice is butter.

*there is a loaf we often buy called a 'seeded batch' that we call a 'seedy beeyatch'. 

I guess you had to be there... 

**Mum: I'm working on my punctuation: look what book I got last weekend!(though clearly I haven't read it yet...)

From Pixies to (knit and) Purl

(no eyeballs, or badges, were harmed in the making of this blog)

A couple of weeks ago, my wish for a more Carpe Diem attitude landed in my lap (well, Mr yumps) in the shape of two much-wanted-but-unable-to-attend tickets for an anniversary gig the next night, celebrating one of the finest albums known to my ears and the enlightened few. Pixies took up a four day residency at the glorious Brixton Academy (the perfect size in which to witness the miracle of Good Live Music) to play, in sequential order as God (Black Francis) intended, 'Doolittle',  their second studio album (apparently, 'Come on Pilgrim' was an EP, now tagged onto the kick ay-yass 'Surfer Rosa') They sandwiched this delight in between b-sides that I had never heard before, thereby rendering it a musical education of wonderment rather than witless nostalgia, and tracks from both 'CoP' and 'SR', though, sadly for our night at least, not 'Gigantic'. It was a fabulous gig: pre-band banter centered on tales of Pixies gigs past, shared around like toffee bonbons, and I wondered if this wasn't the first time so many of us had shared a gig together, that perhaps they too had seen them play back in 1990 one hot Saturday night in a sweaty field in Reading. I had practiced the line, just in case I met anyone that had been there, 'Oh I thought you looked familiar!' I got to use it 5 times: result!
It's always tricky when you go to see a band that previously performed your all-time favourite gig, because you know that they cannot live up to that impossible expectation. Surely it isn't possible to feel that same sense of excitement and belonging and sheer thrill from a band at 37 as you did when you saw them at 18: poppycock - it is! There was one moment, I can't remember which song they were playing, where I closed my eyes to completely lose myself in the sound, and I suddenly remembered standing at the Reading festival,  my hair longer and naturally dark, my girth 2 stone lighter, listening to the exact same song, with the same feeling of perfect joy and the same loopy smile on my face: two perfect moments of identical bliss, separated by 19 years. I opened my eyes and realised that this definitely wasn't about nostalgia: Pixies were, and still are, a phenomenal live band. Plus, their bass player is a Goddess, not a token bimbo eye candy, strategically placed to please the company execs. She is gorgeous, mind.
Hearing them live made me notice things I can't believe I'd never noticed before, in particular what a marvellously tight, crisp drummer David Lovering is!  It made me go back and listen to all their albums, which is never time wasted.
To be honest, I don't really know much about the Pixies themselves: it's all about the music, not the image, not the gossip. However, they did put on a visual feast too, playing 'Un Chien Andalou' before they came on stage, then using the small, multiple screens differently for different songs, my favourite being them all smiling and singing along to 'Here Comes your Man' (you'll have to imagine them playing underneath in the glow)



Which leads me neatly (:-/) onto the UK Handmade blog...
I've been writing the 'Lifestyle' section, although at present, its purely about food. If you hanker for some simple yet delicious morsels, chow down, but make sure you play the Godfathers (and Godmother) of Grunge damn loudly as you bake as this will help your cakes rise more evenly.

Now this blatant food / craft pornography (from  my last UK Handmade blog post) not only illustrates spiced apple and walnut muffins but the beginnings of my current obsession. Now no-one warned me that knitting is actually a drug: nowt to do with chemicals in the yarns or the sensual feel of the bamboo needles (or not...) but there's something about each row - "I'll just finish this row and then I'll make dinner / call my Mum / wake the gimp", but, haha! You can't just finish that row! "Oh, while I'm here, I might as well do the next row..." But you can't stop: "Oh...I don't like to finish with a knit row: I'll finish the next purl and then crack on." "Or perhaps I prefer to end on a knit row..." etc etc. It's not as if I'm a fast knitter, particularly as this is my first foray into the Land of Not Massive Needles. I feel like a giant drumming with toothpicks. Anyhoot, I'm having a go at knitting some fingerless gloves from this  pornography.

Ok, I gaffataped knitting onto a blog about music: surely there is no neat way of ending this post in a cohesive manner that effortlessly ties all the loose ends together? Haha! Oh yea of little faith! Behold:

Kim Deal's twin sister (and lead guitarist in their band, The Breeders) Kelley likes to knit. She's even written a rather fabulous book.

And thus, the circle is complete.