After The Blood Test We We Had A McDonalds

Cooking is a life saver, literally and metaphorically.

Having spent the last few hours trying to keep my spirits up (mum yellow, me drained etc) I've finally calmed down but only after flicking through a secondhand Gary Rhodes recipe book (today £1). In it I found a couple of dreamy dishes, hot pickled red onions and lemon spotted dick. Both most definitely my cup of tea.


Talking of tea...Mine will be late tonight on account of Mr H doing some overtime, but the cidered chicken casserole braising in the oven is good natured so won't mind hanging around.

This supremely easy Mary Berry concoction  is one I make time and again, quick to prepare and doesn't cost the earth,,,

After a few chicken portion have browned nicely put them into a casserole dish, then add to the pan a can of tomatoes, some chopped garlic ( I used 5 cloves)  2 tablespoons of thyme lemon and parsley stuffing mix, 5fl oz cider or wine (I'm using Bulmers cider) lots of black pepper and finally a good large dollop of non diabetic apricot jam.OK.....Mix it all together making sure you scrape in every bit of chicken sediment....  then pour it over the chicken. So easy. Cook in oven for about an hour but can be left for much longer without much risk of damage to pot or body.
A flash of microwaved shredded  greens will be the base for the chicken, love the colour of barely cooked greens, so vibrant and real. Mashed potatoes too. Really addicted to them now. The truest comfort food of all.
No pudding tonight on account of the lateness of the hour.
And on account of sitting on mum's bed eating McDonalds. Stunning fries. Hot crisp and gone. McDonalds are, to me, salve to my mental abrasions.


It's been a day of spectacular differences.
And days like this leave me wanting to hibernate for ever. Love. Anxiety. The usual villains. But after a small plate of chicken I expect I'll buck up.

.

.........Awoke very early so took advantage of it and, while Monty sat on the kitchen table waiting for his laser show, I sipped sweet tea enjoying his company. 'Very soon' I thought, 'my meditations will end and another high speed day will begin'. So for a few moments I felt calm.


Yesterday saw me dashing into town for an eye sight test then dashing back to braise some bacon then slicking on lipstick and tidying up my hair so as not to scare my guest the ever so punctual Mr Hairy Suit, whose recent pics of sunset over Southend made me gasp.

Dinner was late but excellent.
The bacon fell to bits, the carrots and parsnips tender and large, the mounds of well mashed buttery potato going down so well with heaps of Branston pickle. The boys of course wanted pud so after a quick clear away I served wedges of Carrot Cake made with muscovado sugar, full fat cream cheese and delectable hair pulling out gorgeous Organic Vanilla Bean Paste, complete with black bits. This amazing cooking ingredient was a gift from Hairy and since using it I've become a fan.. Plastic bottles of Vanilla flavourings, however pure and innocent the makers dress then up to be just don't compare to the real thing.

So yes dinner was late but cool.

And so after removing Hairy from the premises I sat with cat to watch The X Factor ( Mr H surfing) but Mother had other ideas. Namely. Listening to the semi-final of the Barclays Tennis tournament live from the O2. broadcast rather well by Radio 5 Live.
Loving The X Factor tosh as I do I thought it wiser and more beneficial to my health to give in and sit with Mother.
So there we sat, the three of us, Monty wrapped in my pink scarf, mum falling asleep surrounded by border of magazines and books and me, jotting down recipe ideas whilst listening as Federer smashed Murray. And although this wasn't the evening I'd have liked I managed to pull some good from it, namely  the numbing/relaxing effects of listening to the radio rather than the shrill heart thumping excitement of watching Nicole Shirtlifter hamming it up.

Today, this morning, hasn't been much good either. Mum doesn't feel up to going to the post office/charity shops/ chemists so in we stay, until, in a short while, I'll pop out on errands. Mostly drug related...

There's a tv prog tonight about Hitler. I'll record it and not watch it with Mother.

Cheerio!

Last night and Today. Food Information Only.

........Loved the Guiness HP sauce. Burgers fell apart. Baps not as large as I would have liked. Chips good. Company excellent. Abba CD. Dance moves questionable. Onions fine. 

Today I'm making Hungarian Goulash served NOT with soured cream swirled on top but with Greek yoghurt. The remaining half pint will associate itself with canned fruit probably tomorrow. I'm ditching brown rice in favour of white, much less stress. No pudding because I'll have my paws in the sweet jar a little later on.

Also being lovingly made a Carrot Cake. I'll do a big one so it lasts a few days, the only prob I have with Carrot Cakes is that they need to be fridgified on account of the cream cheese frosting, whereas my other baked goods are housed in tins on the dresser. 

Which reminds me I need to sort through the fridge's contents, I found mould growing in an old jar of Lemon Curd.

Friday Fryday

.......Briskly pushing mum around the Factory Shop's car park I thought about chips. Not bagged oven chips or American style fries but traditional chipped potatoes fried in hot spitting oil. At home.
Then in we went to the shop which reminds me of a good old pal now deceased, Woolworths. Shelves full of home stuff from sieves to ceramic butterflies from glue guns to ladies shampoo, the factory Shop has it all.

I'd persuaded mum that a trip to the local store was essential on account of my dire need for two baking sheets. So in we trundled.......

We left a good time afterwards bagged up with the aforementioned baking sheets (which are guaranteed for years) and, for mum, three reduced in price novels and as an extra goodie pour moi....one large tea cosy.

I like the shop because it's plain, uncluttered and and sells stuff I need.

So onwards in the chilly wind to the nearest charity shop wherein we off loaded some cash buying:

For mum: 3 Books. 90p
For me: A small delicate yellow china Pre-1950's milk jug. £1. A soft as butter tan four sectioned leather purse.50p. 8 blue and white genuine chopsticks. 50p.

Did the usual English chit chat with old woman on till Mary.

Weather? Oooooh nippy wind.
Christmas? Aaargh not a thing in yet.
Aaaah is she having a nice day out. Grrrrr

I'm hardened to it all now


Then Co-Op for more and more magazines..And as mum waited in the motor wrapped up like a parcel with her blue badge pressed against the window I bought a bottle of Stone's Ginger Wine not because I drink a lot but because I'm happy.
Yes it's possible to be happy even when life is unsure, even when the next few weeks are unsure.

Tonight I'm making Hamburgers with red onion, cheese and Guiness HP sauce..... these mounds of gorgeousness will sit in home made Devon Flat Baps, which as I write are rising very nicely. Only one thing to go with burgers and that's a plate of home fried chips.
Now THAT'S happiness:)

Tin Heaven

...........Mum couldn't get a look at Potter's baking tins on account of the several steps down to the recently made-over cooking section of the old ironmongers in Hockley, but I did and it was smashing.
Shelves of of bakeware set my heart on fire but all I needed was a 1lb loaf tin for a malt loaf I'm making after sighing and caressing the exquisite stuff  I cradled the £5 poppet in the palms of my hands and walked up the few stairs to find mum flicking through paint swatches. I paid till girl Jo then after exchanging pleasantries about winter Jo opened the door and mum and my good self left the little store heading to the charity shops...

Books for mum.
Books and black lounging suit for me.

Spending little money yet coming home with bags of goodies has always and will always please me more than anything. The lounging jim jams cost £1:50, the book, 80p Only items which cost a lot were the aforementioned loaf tin and the newest Rimmel mascara which promises me the fittest fattest lashes EVER! And so I figured £8 for sexy eyes is really ok;)

We couldn't of course go home without popping in the bloody Co-Op so, after mum's blood test, which was in Hockley by the way, I bagged some courgettes.
Then home in sunlight to Mr H in a pinny.

He'd been left holding the fort, generally tidying, because his sister,  was paying a visit.

So in came mother and I and awaited our visitor, my sister-in-law. The divine Ms Worth.

Her visit was very short but we yakked away over beans and cake until it was time for her to leave. It was good seeing her again and hearing about the adventure she's about to begin in Dorset. I admire her for that. Starting out anew, afresh, way away from relatives and everything she knows both here in Essex and London. Takes a lot of bottle to sell your furniture and sit on another seat...


Back to where I came in. Baking.

I'm making a beef cobbler for tea and for pud a lemon puddle pudding.

Tonight's entertainment is on BBC3. Debate with Jake Humphry on Presidents and over on BBC4, 2 food programmes. One with Lucy Horsley and one about bread. Bliss.

Obama, Oh Mama

Last night.....Watched a cracking little doc on BBC 2 about Barack Obama then switched over to BBC4 after de X factor for another fly-on-the-wall doc (from 1960) which followed JFK around as he aimed for the Big Job. His pain in neck opponent was avuncular Hubert Humphrey, who, bless him, reminded me of my primary school headmaster, the one legged Mr Storey. An acid/fruit squash mash-up.

The X Factor drove me bonkers.
Yuk to District 3. Three loveable boys who should by rights be at home in their bedrooms singing into their razors.

Wiltingly excellent Jahmene whose money- notes chill me. How he gets his chords up there beats me. Eerily talented for an Asda worker.

Union J. Will be another X factor success story. Not only do they look terrific they warble well as well.Particularly admire their dress code. Waistcoat/white shirt.

There's something about Ella that grates on me. Of course she sings incredibly well but the 16 year old has no stage presence and, from snippets I've seen of her backstage, could be prone to strops if things fail to go her way. My God girl, accept you're an imperfect child, learn great things and get on with it.

Rylan or however one spells his name is such a luvvie I can't fail to admire him. And underneath the Essex creosote I feel there's a serious star begging to be let out. Not fit for Les Miserables or anything more like pained up nephew suddenly turning up in Albert Square on Christmas Eve.

James Arthur. Oh boy. Whatever he sings I see his innards. And I love that. Has to be in the final final.

Christopher Maloney. Shaky shaky? Baloney. Get rid.

Talking of shaky shaky. Mother was that this morning. Sick in car but hanging on in there for one of my chocolate muffins. The two are unrelated.
She is breaking both my back and heart but after I've penned this I'll settle her down with more tea and televised tennis from Queens. And as she catches occasional glimpses of balls with her one good eye, I'll clean and cook. Mostly cook:)

Post Over.

60 second news...............

>>>>>>Mum fancies Roberto Mancini. ( A woman's lustings never die unlike her organs do)

>>>>>>>>I've made Moroccan Pasties in bare feet. (Paul Hollywood  recipe) Bake tonight. Mother having haddock.

>>>>>>>>>>>Mum's in the kitchen...is there no hiding place:(

>>>>>>>>Fab lipstick Autumn Berries makes my smile even broader. Letter need posting anyone?

>>>>>>Dry clean skirt £4. Should have plunged it in bowl and taken chance on shrinkage.

>>>>>>>>>>>Weight now down to 8st 2lb

>>>>>>>>>>>All lies about Pies and what harm they do:)

>>>>>>>Now I must fly, I'm grubby