Just the good stuff

Made a stunning Steak and Kidney pudding for dinner yesterday. It was the best one I've made. Packed with chopped braising steak, ox kidney, onion, grated carrot, beef stock, Worcestershire sauce, a dollop of HP sauce and well seasoned.
After steaming it for two hours I turned it out and cut into the featherlight suet pastry. The hot meat and veg slipped out covered in thick brown gravy. To go with it a simple veg combi of plain boiled potatoes and sprouts. Mustard on the side for the grown-ups and for me a squirt of tomato ketchup.

The sweet course was just that. Sweet. A family size Bread and Butter pudding which, for a change, wasn't chokka with dried fruits, I sometimes overdo it. Instead I used far fewer fruits. Much better and no burnt raisins stuck to the baked bread like fried flies.
A drizzle of cream was all that was needed to complete the perfect afters.

Today's offering is corned beef, roast potatoes and peas followed by Queen of Puddings. A nursery pudding made with breadcrumbs, egg custard, jam and meringue...
Certainly been using a lot of bread in my cooking lately. Also being baked this afternoon is Mrs Gordon's Boil and Bake Fruitcake. And as I type a saucepan of... raisins, dried cranberries, sultanas, cherries, dark brown sugar, margarine and water is simmering away... When done (20 minutes) it'll be left to cool then flour, eggs and mixed spices will be added.
Lasts forever and is good toasted too.

On my weekly trek to Hockley charity shops I bought another baking book, this one with a continental feel. Lots of queer things I haven't seen before with a few American recipes thrown in aswell. Couldn't keep my hands of it as I munched through a McDonalds and fries.

Also bought for a pittance a bright cherry red saucepan.

Walking around Rochford market was preferable to a day out in London. Or so I thought. Yesterday was not nice. After an early morning talk with mum she decided that it would be better if we postponed our planned trek to the smoke leaving it to another day in the near future.
She ended the conversation by adding "I bet you're glad"
Another dagger to my heart.

But I got on with the day.
Taking her to the market and local shops with my friend Mr Hairy Suit. And as mum and I talked the same talk about the same tosh I felt like taking to the woods to live in a tree stump.
Such is the sludge of my everyday.

We moved on.

Hairy Suit was as helpful and cheerful as always. A real sunshine.

Later that day...I developed a headache of epic pain, but mum persisted in her verbal batterings. So I went into the kitchen, ate some paracetamol with sweet tea and day dreamed about living life as a singleton.
It's good to day dream, it's the minds way own sweet way of surviving. Books suck at the moment. Can't lose myself in any of them.

Later, in the evening, Mr Hairy left to go home, and a few minutes later I received a call from him saying he'd have a prang in his Micra and could he pop back for tea.
He arrived a few minutes later, pale and shaky, no enormous physical damage, slight whiplash and a scratched and warped car.

After tea and reassurance he went home feeling better, ready no doubt to sort out the insurance palaver.
He's cool in a crisis, I like that.

I was left with mum and her bitterness.

This morning went out again, this time to the Church charity shop. Mum was ashen and weak so she sat on the shop's cream leather sofa and looked out of their large sparkling window. Meanwhile I shopped. Finding a tartan handbag and brown ceramic pie dish. Perfect I thought for a meat and veg pie come the weekend.

Then into the chemist where the friendly lady assistant said I looked very serious and was there anything wrong. I goofed about being 57 and running out of Savlon. She believed it. I mean, how could I have a chat with her about me feeling like I'm being wrung out like a dishcloth.
She was pleasant enough though.

As I type mum's crusty roll is defrosting, she doesn't like ham sandwiches, she likes ham rolls.

I'm looking forward to Friday.
A bit of grocery shopping without mother in tow AND later on I'll be making a coffee and walnut sponge cake AND England v. Chile at Wembley.

Now I must fly...
I'm peckish and feeling creative so an egg sandwich and a major tidy up of the front room is required.

This morning..
Having an early morning cup of tea in the bedroom listening to the Today programme on Radio 4 was much needed. Yesterday had been one of those days where mum kind of took over. And by 9pm I'd had enough. We parted though on good terms, me leaving the front room door ajar then walking along the hall waiting for the 'call back'. Mum often doing her Columbo impersonation of 'just one more thing'.
I love going to bed.

I also love and adore my little me moments early a.m. where I sip tea sitting on the bed deciding what frock to wear, I revel in those moments because once I leave the security of my small bedroom the pressure begins.

Take tomorrow for example...mum wants to go to London. To her flat. To look at old coats. which have been hanging in one of her wardrobes for many years.
Train? Car? Taxi?
The daymare begins.

At any rate I have today to look forward to..Hockley post office and charity shops... With Mr Hairy Suit.




Here I am after watching a thrilling Big Band Night on The X Factor. I got dolled up.

A cake stand loaded with overly large Baklava. Despite being carefully filled with walnuts, hazelnuts and pistachios and then drenched in honey and lemon juice AND taking a whole morning to make...they were HORRIBLE. I loathe culinary disasters and this was one of the worst I've ever made. The thing is on Saturday morning I was in two minds as to whether to make them or not, I should have stuck with my original idea...A coffee and walnut sponge. A never fail always yummy cake. But I suppose one learns by one's mistakes. Baklava ? Whatta Palaver.

Gorgeous!

My New Handbag by Faith.
Bought today in Debenhams.
The picture of course not doing it justice, it's more cream than white and the lining..oh my Lord the lining...it is gorgeous. Pastel pink satinesque.

I haven't ditched charity shops, no way that'll happen, but today I hungered for something special and I found it.

We popped into the British Heart Foundation shop down by the sea front where mum bought a teeny leopard print chain bag which is now holding MY make-up (mum tires very quickly of stuff). And for 99p I bought a brilliant red mock croc multi pocketed purse. Loads of space for all my pennies.
Then, as the sun shone, sort of, we went to Boots wherein mum bought me a bottle of L'aimant cream scent in the black bottle. Very swish.
She bought one for herself too and enjoyed it very much.

After a short walk we ended up in Poundland where we strolled along filling our basket with:
A pink icing set
A red 2014 diary
The Good, The Bad and the Multiplex a book about what's wrong with modern movies written by the insanely passionate Mark Kermode
A small mug with a picture of a rabbit on it. Not mine.

As we dawdled to the car park I was pleased with how our morning had gone. Mum had been a spirited lovely love and I had maintained an upbeat positive attitude.
The alternative being the way to the madhouse.

Then Home.



And so as we ate our McDonalds watching the heads of MI5, MI6 and GCHQ  I tapped my new handbag and smiled.
I love Good Days...

I was relieved to see the dawn of this day.
Last night, after a battle with sleeplessness, I dreamed I was fancied by a tall black delivery driver. I woke abruptly as he handed me a red box of purple socks.

Mum and myself are out today on another shopping trip. I'm wearing a 'new' pair of beige hiking type boots (£2). Hope they don't rub. To be on the safe side I've slightly loosened the bright red laces.

I'm dazed by the brightness of the morning but pleased it's here.
 

The thunder of a heart smashing
leaves one deaf
and nearer to its namesake

Never Explain or Complain

As I write a steak and kidney pudding is steaming. We're eager to eat it alongside plain boiled potatoes and steamed greens. Going back to basics, returning to simpler food has lately been my love.
Only yesterday did I make a huge pot of chilli serving it with pearly barley and crushed tortilla chips. To add pizazz Mr Hairy uncorked some giggle wasser, a strange combi but it worked.

Recently, on Thursday actually, I had company in the kitchen, Mr Hairy and his son, little Hairy, little Hairy being called as such on account of his tender age and the fact that he's started shaving... His first sproutings being dealt with only last week. Bless Him.
I thought it'd be cool to cook with the young man so I invited him and dad for an afternoon of mixing and managing. Mixing in the form of banana and peanut butter muffins and managing in the guise of trying to keep the mix in the bowl.
What a hoot we had. I have pics to prove it and will soon post a couple.

                                                            "Yes! IT'S AN ELECTRIC WHISK"

                                                                   "give it to me"


Mother has been braver than brave. No news there then. She continues to astonish with her fortitude and vocabulary.
What a love.

Mr Horsehound continues to work unsocial hours but rises smiling and settles in the dark still smiling. A man beyond all comprehension.

I watched the X Factor last night and loved it far more than last weeks limp offering. Music from the films? I was expecting Doris Day not Celine Dion. Mother hated it.
But Disco week had me grooving in me cushion. Oh such memories. Big hair. Slimmer. Staying up till midnight satisfying myself with Donna Summer.
Yeah last night's show was the best so far.

Will tune it tonight to see who gets booted, should be young lad Sam Callahan, got the face but nothing else.

I have to sign orf now, Mother wants to watch my Jack The Ripper DVD.
And as she dozes, as she so often does, I'll creep out to check my saucepan hasn't run dry. Can't think of anything more horrific than a dried up old pudding....