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“Don’t be evil” used to be Google’s mantra, but clearly they don’t mean it, if indeed they ever did. Which I doubt.

Those of you with Google accounts will no doubt have got an e-mail by now (or you soon will have) entitled “Changes to Google’s Privacy Policy and Terms of Service. It’s all couched in nice friendly language, but what it means is that basically, as far as Google are concerned, you have no privacy.

“Our new Privacy Policy makes clear that, if you’re signed in, we may combine information you’ve provided from one service with information from other services. In short, we’ll treat you as a single user across all our products, which will mean a simpler, more intuitive Google experience.”

As an example of how this pans out, you could read an e-mail in Gmail, then see a relevant ad pop up on, say, YouTube. The Reg explains it better than I can, but I find the whole thing really quite unpleasant, and a huge potential cause of difficulty on shared computers. I can remember when Google first launched, and how wonderful we all thought it. I don’t subscribe to the school of thought that everything on the net should be free – a service like Google’s search engine costs a fortune to run – but I was happy to display the ads in my browser. But now they’re like the Tesco of the internet – they want it all, and they’re not having it, not from me.

A couple of weeks ago, I changed my default search engine to Bing. It’s pretty good, and on the rare occasions it lets me down, I go over to Google. The nice thing about Bing is it shows me what I ask for, rather than what it thinks I would like to see to reinforce previous searches (unlike Google), which is why I switched to it. I discovered yesterday that their map service is at least the equal of Google’s. I have signed my accounts out of Google search, YouTube and Google+ (which I never used anyway, as I didn’t like what they were doing with it). I don’t use Picasa. I read my Gmail in Mailplane, a standalone OSX client which runs a standalone version of Webkit. Today I shall be seeing if I can find an alternative for Google Docs, which we use quite a lot here for collaboration. So, as far as possible, I’m opting out of their “unified service”.

I hope lots and lots more folk do something like this, to see if they can persuade the chaps at Mountain View that what they are trying to do is wrong. Google don’t own us, even if they’d like to.

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

We decided last night that, come what may, we should make an inroad into the remaining Christmas pud, so a light supper was called for. I made it to the greengrocer yesterday, so we were stocked with veg.

So, trimmed a leek and cut it lengthways, then cut into thin slices. Set to cook off in some olive oil, and added three finely chopped cloves of garlic. Put some pasta on to cook.

Towards the end of the pasta cooking time, added to the leek mix some black pepper, the end of a tub of cream that was just going over, and the juice of half a lemon that was lying about. Dumped in lots of parmesan and stirred everything together with the pasta. Nice, light, tasty.

The pudding was good too! (Luxury one from Aldi, with candied orange slices on the sides. I love Aldi).

Mirrored from Reactive Cooking.

Another month (almost) without a post! What an exciting life I lead …

Christmas was quiet, just as we like it. Although we don’t go overboard at all, we were left with a mountain of food, which we are slowly working through (details on Reactive Cooking). We went for a walk at Easington on Boxing Day, somewhere – astonishingly – we hadn’t been before. Nice beach, but the wind howled as it usually does on the East coast! We had a lovely New Year’s Eve, cooking dinner for friends, and then going round to another friends to see in 2012.

Then we went down to Norfolk to spend 24 hours with my daughter and her son, which was entirely splendid, and we built a Lego crane. I knitted him a Ron Weasley sweater – my first knitting in about 30 years! – and it only just fit; he is a Long boy. So I’m remaking it, but I ran out of wool, and Boyes didn’t have any more. Another (huge) ball arrived yesterday, so I can proceed.

We don’t buy Christmas presents for each other, instead we buy things for the house. This year it got a “Keep Calm and Drink Wine” sign, which is on the wall in the dining room; we feel it an excellent mantra. Also, an electric blanket (warmz! fab!), and a Truecall call screening device. We are plagued with spamming telephone calls here, and this has stopped them dead in their tracks. Highly recommended.

And now it’s January again. This time of year is a bit depressing, but we are off to the Peak District at the end of the month for a Morris dancing thing – there’s about ten of us going, so it should be fun.

Happy (belated) New Year, all!

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

We’ve had a weekend of “using up bits”. Saturday brunch was bacon, black pudding and the last of the flat mushrooms, and supper was Indian mushrooms with spinach (except we forgot to add the spinach so that’s still in the fridge – spinach frittata during the week, I think). That was to use up half the pack of button mushrooms that was left.

Sunday morning was potato scones, made with some cold mashed spuds that was in the fridge, and a pack of baby sossidges, to which we are addicted.

Today we ate the last of the M&S party food individual pies, which really are surprisingly nice. Just parmesan and basil twists to go there! I have cracked today and been to the greengrocer, as one leek, half a pepper and a wizened swede is not an inspiring collection of veg.

For Sunday supper, I made a goose pudding, thus:

Diced carrot, onion, garlic and celery, and sauted off. Did about three times as much as needed, and dumped the balance into the soup pot, which was a tad lacklustre. Discovered that Pete had, in fact, used all the mushrooms on Saturday night, so despatched him up to Jacksons for some more. Sliced them (not him) and added to the pot. Dumped in a 1/2 glass of red wine, and some vegetable stock, and the very, very last of Johnny Goose. Added some thyme. and a little cornflour mixed in cold water to thicken the mix, and left it for about 20 minutes, while I made a suet pastry.

Combined filling and pastry in a bowl, covered with foil secured with an elastic band, and dumped in the slow cooker on “high” for about seven hours. It was lovely, and we ate it with green beans and mashed potato. The rest will do for supper tonight, with a few roasties (more cold spud in the fridge), and some cabbage.

Mirrored from Reactive Cooking.

We did the usual stuff for Christmas food that we usually do … a goose with red cabbage and sprouts on the day, a slow cooked gammon for snacks, a cake. But somehow, this year, we have heaps of stuff left, so we’ll be eating leftovers for a while!

After 13 years with small, rubbish gas cookers, I am now the proud possessor of a Neff built-in full size oven. So, inevitably, the goose was too long to fit in, and Pete had to take a hacksaw to its legs. I roasted them off separately, and they’ve gone in the freezer for later use. There is still a bowlful of cold goose meat left, which will be stirfried or possibly en-pied, the remains of the cabbage went in the freezer and was part of our New Year’s Eve dinner party. More on that story later.

So, left in the fridge is:

one bowl of goose bits
about 1/3 pack of smoked salmon (will probably go for a quick pasta lunch)
about half a dozen small sausages, which are only there because I didn’t see them until this afternoon – we are addicted to small sausages
one box of Marks and Spencer mini pies, from their party food range, and some mozzarella and basil twists, ditto. These will do for weekday lunches; in fact, we had some M&S vol-au-vents for lunch today
1/4 of the gammon (half is already in the freezer)
2 boxes of cranberries

The 1.5 litres of goose stock was dumped into the slow cooker this morning with a pack of green split peas, and a venison bone, to make soup. Sadly, I did this too late for today’s lunch, but it will be lovely for tomorrow.

In the freezer is also a small lump of venison (reasons to follow), and a huge piece of pork shoulder, which Pete bought in error instead of gammon, never mind about all the other stuff. I doubt we need to buy anything but milk and veg for a month!

Mirrored from Reactive Cooking.

Pteppic: seal point Siamese. August 1997-December 2011

It is with much sadness that we have learned that Pteppic, the world’s first – and only – Siamese walrus has been put to sleep. He, together with his lifelong companion Esk, went to live with my daughter in Norfolk about four years ago,and it’s a miracle he was still going, because He Nearly Died back in 2003 (although he didn’t like to talk about it). The vets never did work out what was wrong with him, and they didn’t expect him to pull through, never mind make the full recovery that he did.

He has been becoming more and more ill with IBS in recent years and in the end, the only proper thing to do was to let him go.

Pteppic was a sleek creature, a cat who always knew when you were feeling down, and would come to comfort you. He purred like a walrus, and if another cat was poorly, they got the Ptep treatment too; I well remember when Iggy had an appalling respiratory infection, and was on space blankets to try to keep him warm – the walrus came and curled his long body around Iggy and stayed with him all night. His nuturing nature also extended to kittens, and he was never happier than when there was a baby cat in the house for him to look after.

Ptep was the campest cat in the universe – the Noel Coward of the feline world. We felt he wore a virtual bottle green velvet smoking jacket, and drank very dry sherry. You could pour him from your arms to the floor, and when he was fully grown I had to stand on a stair to do it, because he grew into a huge, and hugely elegant, creature, with many limbs.

We missed him a lot when he left us, but he had a wonderful home with Clare, and she will miss him so much too. I hope she can take comfort from the fact that she did the last, best thing for him that she could, and we salute her strength.

I wanted to wish Pteppic “good hunting”, as I do every cat who leaves us behind, and she reminded me, quite rightly, that:

… there certainly won’t be any hunting. He’ll be on a soft, soft blanket that he so adores, with some tuna and someone to snuggle and shove with his snout. Ptep at his absolute happiest :)

Mirrored from the Tribe.

On 18th November, I Twittered that I hadn’t seen Mustrum that morning. And we didn’t see him again for ten days, by which time we were both sure he was gone for good. He is microchipped, but a lot of places don’t automatically scan for them, I know.

He was a real roamer in his day, but Mussum is 13 years old now, and likes to be at home in the warmz, with his blobs to make a fuss of him, and it’s really not like him to be away for any length of time any more. We put notices up on local web sites, and went calling him – not helped by the fact I was ill and had lost my voice. We resigned ourselves to never seeing him again, and I felt positively cheated that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.

On the 28th, at about 10.30 in the evening, Pete was talking to me; out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw Mussum in the living room by the sofa. I looked away, and looked back and HE WAS. He was home! I just croaked at Pete, right across what he was trying to tell me – we were overjoyed.

Muss was thin – about 20% of his body weight, I would guess. We live in a grid of Victorian terraced streets, and he’s never been far; our feeling is that he got spooked by a car or a dog, and just ran for it, and then got completely lost. We opened two tins of fatted calf meat (well, tuna Hilife) – one for him, and one for the rest of the Tribe. He got his bowl up on the worktop, and shouted while he ate it. I think he was as pleased as we were to be home. The others, remarkably, stood back and let him finish their bowl too, so perhaps they missed the old chap as well.

Two weeks on, he’s putting some weight back on, and settling back down. He was very clingy for a few days, which is why we believe he was lost and confused. Mind you, he’s often confused; I maintain he is not very bright *at all*, although Pete says I’m being unkind :)

Anyway, he’s home. Don’t do it again please, Mustrum – my nerves couldn’t take it.

Mirrored from the Tribe.

Not terribly Reactive, I know, but still …

I had a ham shank in the freezer – they are ridiculously cheap, really; this one was £1.69, I think. And yesterday, our Morris side, Rackaback, was due to dance out in Bridlington, a seaside town on the East Yorkshire coast, where the wind blows straight from the Russian steppes, with nothing in the way to divert it.

So, I sautéd a finely chopped onion in olive oil, dumped the ham shank in the slow cooker with 500g of dried split peas, added the onions, a couple of teaspoons of Marigold bouillon stock, and enough water to cover the lot, switched it on, and went out.

And came home seven hours later, after a cold and rainy afternoon, to a glorious smell. Fished out the hock, and let it cool, then stripped the meat off it, We ate the meat separately (not all of it in one sitting!), accompanied by the soup and some ciabatta. Just wonderful. We shall be doing that again.

Mirrored from Reactive Cooking.

Have I really not written anything since 17th November? I have been proper poorly, with a viral wossname that lasted about four weeks, and still has me coughing a bit even now. A dose of penicillin didn’t touch it, and in its wake it left two cancelled dentist appointments, one blood test (and the second cancelled by the surgery because the bloodsucker was ill), one Bill Bailey gig in Sheffield (sob), and half of Celtarabia up the road at Pave – had to come home. Still, on the mend now, finally. The latter are absolutely wonderful – if they come anywhere near you, go see them!

Not much else to relate, really. Went Morrising at Bridlington yesterday, but the weather was vile, and my bad knee is playing up in the cold, so I only did one dance. Then we were rained off. Bought the black boots in the same range as the red boots of fabulosity, as I seem to wear nothing else, and they are great for Morris dancing.

Mustrum went missing for ten days, and we thought he was gone for good, but he came home, praise $deityofchoice, thinner and clingy.

And that’s it, really. Very busy with work, Rackaback taking over social life :), looking forward to a good break over Christmas, then a works Morris outing to Derbyshire for a mass dance weekend in January.

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

Had a haircut this morning while Pete tinkered with my melodeon’s sticky buttons (she’s now named Aliss), then wandered down into Hull with Pete – wanted to return some stuff, see if Marks had any nice pasta bowls, etc.

Marks didn’t, Peacocks wouldn’t exchange as it was over 30 days (where did October go, please) and gave me a gift card, but I had a look in Schuh … They had some amazingly nice red boots, and Pete decided I should have them. So I did. Then we went and had coffee and a baguette in the Ferens Gallery cafe, mooched about some more vaguely looking for pasta bowls (our wonderful thick, deep ones are starting to crack round the edges, sob), bought some hair dye (for me), some lighters, some long matches, some compost bin liners, some mince pies and a tub of cream.

Now a cup of tea, a quick and easy supper, and Strictly. Tomorrow promises chores in exchange for a roast chickie!.

Oh yes – here they are.

doc martens red boots!

Edited to add link to Boots of Fabulosity.

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

Rackaback continues to take over my life :) This week, Pippa persuaded some of us to attend the FirstMondayOfTheMonth folk night at the Black Boy, an ancient pub in the old city in Hull. We had a good attendance from the side: Lynn and Lars (the latter seen above with his accordion), Debbie and her husband Eric (not a dancer, but general supporter) who kindly drove us there, Jamie, Pippa and Pete – who while not (yet) a dancer (but don’t think I’m not trying to persuade him), does most of the social stuff, and plays guitar on music nights.

It was huge fun, although I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to play the melodeon like that. Or possibly at all. Still, I vamped along where possible on my D whistle, wishing once again I had a low D. Pete complained bitterly that he didn’t have anything to bang; Pippa lent him an egg (green plastic with bits in for percussiveness), and he had a bash at Debbie’s bodhran, but he’ll need to take something next time – you need to join in to enjoy it properly., It really was a cracking night, and will be part of our diary every month now, I’m sure.

On the way home, two rather inebriated ladies appeared by the car just as we were about to pull off, and one actually opened the back door. It appeared she didn’t know how to roll her own spliff (!), and required assistance. We declined, and drove off into the night.

Weekend just gone was quiet, as we were both not very well. Indeed, Pete had retired hurt during my birthday music night last Thursday, and I picked it up the lurgy the next day. We cooked a lot for the freezer, I potted up some plants and bulbs, made bread, watched Toy Story (how come we never saw it before? – lovely) and generally slumped.

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

I made brownies last week, for a gathering of friends. I always use this Nigella Lawson recipe, which makes a huge heap – I find a huge heap of brownies generally to be the right amount, as people rarely refuse, and they keep well.

I cooked them in the oven, and baked a couple of banana and coconut cakes as well, so as not to waste the electricity. However, like a fool, I forgot to set the timer for the brownies, and so took them out of the oven just a little bit too early. Once I’d scored them into squares, I discovered that the ones round the edges were fine, but the very middle was still far too raw. Nothing ventured, nothing gained – I dumped them in the big Remoska, still on their baking parchment, and gave them about 12 minutes. And they were absolutely fine, which is something I shall remember for the future.

This weekend I plan to make a batches of shepherd’s pie filling, meatballs, and coriander chicken. That’s the plan, anyway.

Mirrored from Reactive Cooking.

Didn’t go anywhere. Didn’t set foot outside the door (although Pete did bicycle over to Aldl to get one of the spiffy Christmas puds with the orange slices on, but they didn’t have any. Boo).

Did some knitting, some melodeon practice, sold the dining chairs on eBay, made a crackingly good lentil and aubergine bake, watched Strictly, didn’t watch X-Factor (trying really hard to wean myself off it, it’s particularly rubbish this year), watched Catch Me If You Can, which was remarkably enjoyable, did some ironing (!). Bit lazy really.

This week includes another trip to the wilds of W Yorks, to see Bill Bailey in Sheffield on Friday, with a side order of Ikea for new dining chairs, and possibly dropping Betsy* back in Cleckheaton if we cannot fix her ourselves.

Health wise, not feeling very well – cycled over to the dentist yesterday and felt a bit wobbly after about a mile (4m round trip). As the day progressed started feeling worse, and then coughing and tight chest – not another bloody cold, I hope. No further decay at dentist, but have to have full periodontal clean and scale, which I hate. Ho hum.

*Her nice new rucksack bag arrived this week – it bears the legend “Stagg”, which to me looked just like Slagg. So she might just turn out to be Glenda …

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

On Saturday, we set off bright and early, at the crack of about 11 a.m. (after a cooked breakfast), to the wilds of West Yorkshire. We started at Cleckheaton, the home of the Music Room, who could look at Betsy’s sticky keys. And indeed they did, and didn’t charge me a penny!* I was well chuffed, and promised them a packet of chocolate hobnobs when I next returned. I also got a chance to look at some [cough] rather more expensive melodea, and Pete had a strum on a 12 string guitar priced at a bargain £1700 or so. We left it there.

From there we progressed to Hebden Bridge, somewhere we’d never visited. It’s a bit like the Bradford-upon-Avon of Yorkshire, I think – lots of very expensive and quite twee shops, but a pretty little place. I bought a grey cardigan and a purple skirt in a charity shop, some organic firelighters from an organic shop, Pete bought me a pretty necklace for a tenner, and I got a beautiful skein of recycled sari silk – I have no idea what I’m going to do with it, but it was just so pretty, so it has become the start of my yarn stash.

Next up – Ikea. We consumed our usual meatballs, and Pete had a sulkette as they are now serving mashed spud rather than boiled. Then we looked at dining chairs (ours are just too big and bulky, so are going on eBay), managed to miss the curtain area altogether so didn’t get a curtain rail for the bathroom, bought 12 cheap wineglasses, a couple of xmassy things to send to Clare for Harry, and two new baby rats for the rats’ nest (some bamboo twigs containing a variety of Ikea pluth rats). Then back to Hull, to see Karine Polwart at Fruit.

About half way home, I started feeling really quite poorly, with nasty stomach cramps, and spent a fair bit of the gig in the loos. Still worth it – lovely set, beautiful vocals from her, her brother and Inge Thomson, who plays the accordion like nobody else I’ve ever heard. Didn’t sleep well either, so was a bit droopy on Sunday. I think it might be down to a change in medication – was on Glucophage, then a couple of months ago the pharmacist gave me something else, and now back on Glucophage, so could just be an adjustment.

So I cooked Sunday lunch (roast pork), potted up the baskets, window boxes and tubs with the cyclamen and pansies I bought last weekend, photographed the dining chairs for eBay (and see this morning that I’ll have to do that again, cos they’re rubbish pictures), and watched Duplicity, which really wasn’t very good at all.

And now it’s Monday again. Keeps coming round, and the clocks go back next weekend. Pah.

*And now they’re bloody sticking again. Unamused, as I shall have to do the 140 mile round trip again, and probably again after that.

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

Well, we’re dead pleased with it. Here’s what we’ve done so far:

soup – veg started off, bones roasted
banana muffins made
cooked breakfast – bacon, mushrooms, black pudding
roast pork and roast potatoes
plum crumble (plums cooked first in the shallow pan, then complete crumble in the big one, in a dish on the rack)
fruit scones
potato scones
soda bread
baked potatoes

The only thing that didn’t work was the casserole we tried, and I think that was my fault. The roast pork could have done with a bit longer, but that was my fault too. It can definitely stay!

In case you think I’ve abandoned every other cooking gadget, I did make a vat of red cabbage in the slow cooker yesterday, though :)

Further cake and biscuit testing are high on my Remoska agenda now.

Mirrored from Reactive Cooking.

This isn’t quite the first soup of the season, it’s the second. But never mind.

Regular readers will know I’m not a fan of supermarkets, but if I have to use one, the local Morrisons is my favourite. We popped in there yesterday on the way back from picking up my new melodeon (yay!) for some wine, and popped some lamb bones into the trolley for soup. At £0.57, it would be mad not to, and I don’t have anything like that in the freezer right now.

As always, I popped them in the slow cooker with some water when we got back, much to Iggy’s delight; he loves warmz, and likes to sit beside that when it’s on. This morning, I finely chopped leek, swede, carrot and courgette and started them in the Remoska (what a surprise – love it love it) and realised that I should have roasted the bones in that first. So, undeterred, I fished them out of the stock, and bunged them on top of the veg, sprinkled with a bit of olive oil and left it for about 20 minutes, just to kick start everything. Lovely lambish smell ensued, and I shall combined everything with some barley to get the soup ready for tonight’s supper (eating quick and earlyish, as it it is music night).

Also, in Morrisons, I bought a shoulder of pork. Was discussing roasts in the gourmet conference on CIX, and realised that we haven’t had roast pork in absolutely ages. I have a red cabbage to cook up in the slow cooker, and I shall give the Remoska a try for roasting meat.

Mirrored from Reactive Cooking.

Here is my melodeon, which has come to me on such a slim chain of events that clearly we are meant to be together. She is a D/G instrument of indeterminate age and history, and one sticky button, but I shall be researching her (and finding out how to unstick her).

I want to be able to play with the Morris band, and I’ve started on the whistle, but I wanted something with a bit more oomph. I was going to have a bash at learning the concertina – a friend kindly lent me an English one, but it simply didn’t suit my hands, and I must return it to her. I’ve been keeping an eye out for an Anglo, but nothing decent at an affordable price has appeared on eBay, and really I wanted a melodeon, but similar applied.

I mentioned this at Morris practice on Tuesday, and Joe said that there was a melodeon in Cash Converters in Selby; he’d had a look at it, it played well, and it was £135. *Ting*. We arranged that I would speak to Pete to see if I could have it (of course I could :), and Joe went back to have a look on Wednesday morning. Still there, and so he bought it, and I did a bank transfer immediately. Pete and I went to fetch her yesterday, and now I just have to learn to play her. Aargh – it is like nothing else I have ever played. My brain may explode. Still, I managed to get a scale out her last night, and she’ll come round, I’m sure.

Currently she is known as Betsy, but this may not stick – we’ll see. But she is definitely a gurl. I have ordered her a gig bag this morning, and have also ordered up the one melodeon tutor located in the entire Hull Library system. Watch this space. And buy earplugs.

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

The weather has become quite seasonal here, after a late flurry of warm weather, and we’re noticing a distinct increase of Cat in the house. Here is an unseemly heap on the chair in the bedroom, with Mustrum protesting slightly underneath Iggy and Ron. The heap inhabitants remained unchanged most of the day, although the positioning did alter from time to time.

There were two cats – Henry and Mustrum – on the bed when we woke this morning, and more cats are predicted in this position. They haven’t actually noticed that the stove is being lit yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

It’s so nice to see Iggy in again – we’ve barely set eyes on him this summer, poor old man. I do fear he’s not going to see another winter after this one …

Mirrored from the Tribe.

October? How the hell did it get to be October?!

The weather forecast for Saturday was lovely, so we decided to believe it, and headed up to Bridlington. I love Brid – it’s a nice little town with a lovely beach, both north and south. There’s a new park and ride, so we pulled in there, to find they charge £3.50 per vehicle – quite refreshing after Bristol, who charge per person, which is just the maddest thing if you’re trying to discourage traffic. During the summer, this entitles you to a ride on the Road Train, which I’ve never been on, but as it ends in September that’ll have to wait till next year. But we caught the bus, which deposited us by the harbour.

We had a mooch round the town – I popped (or nipped) into the local SpecSavers and got my new photochromic glasses adjusted for fit, Pete bought a pair of shoes [faint]. We can’t actually remember, either of us, when this last happened, as he simply doesn’t understand shoes. I resisted several nice pairs, because I am wanting a concertina. Yes, I know. We had lunch in a little cafe, I bought some knitting wool on the market, and some enamel cookware in the wondrous Boyes, then we walked back the mile and a half to the car park along South Beach, which was entirely lovely in the sun.

We stopped off at the fish shop in Skirlaugh, and bought two coral frags – our ration for the month. Pete was out with mates in the evening, so I had a reality TV fest with Strictly and X-Factor.

On Sunday I woke up at 9.30 – unheard of for me – not feeling very well at all, with a sore throat and a real muzzy head. I made breakfast (in the Remoska – worked beautifully!), then laboured over a beef casserole, and that really finished me for the day. Poor Pete was working – urgent job for a client – but having had to wake me a few times, he eventually sent me to bed at 8, and I slept right through till about 7.30 the next morning. Still feeling a bit groo, but on the mend now.

Mirrored from kestrel.org.

Started with Sunday breakfast – put a stack of chopped mushrooms, black pudding and bacon in the shallow Remoska pan and turned it on; to be frank, I had little expectation of it working well, but I beat some eggs and cream for scrambly egg and hoped for the best.

And in fifteen minutes, we had … perfectly cooked bacon, black pudding and mushrooms! No grease all over the kitchen, no smell through the house. I quickly scrambled the eggs, and we thought “we’ll do that again!’. And we will.

Flushed with success, I prepared a casserole. I peeled lots and lots of tiny onions (if you’re doing this, soak them in boiling water for a bit – makes the peeling much easier, and gives you oniony water, which I have saved for the soup pot!), chopped some carrots into batons, and hurled them into the breakfast Remoska pan – no need to waste that nice bacon flavour, I thought! They sat in there to start cooking while I cut up the shin of beef, and browned it off in a big wok. Into the big Remoska pan it went, along with some white beans which I soaked and boiled the day before, and I added ginger wine, all spice, juniper berries, seasoning, and two tangerines which were boiled for about 10 minutes then whizzed up in the food processor, skin and all.

Everything was put in the big Remoska pan and set to cook. Oh dear. I don’t quite know what I did wrong, but it started to burn on the top rather too quickly. I put a layer of foil between lid and contents, and I think I should have done that a lot sooner. After about another half hour, I got cold feet, and transferred everything to a big cast iron casserole, and set it on a diffuser over a low gas setting for a couple more hours.

Must do some more reading up on Remoska cooking!

Mirrored from Reactive Cooking.

Don’t be evil?

leeks and pasta

2012 already? How did that happen?

goose pudding etc

festive fare, and the remnants …

farewell to the walrus

a missing Mustrum

pea and ham soup

absent without leave

oops

Folk night

Remoska to the rescue!

weekend 29/30 October 2010

to the west!

a week with the Remoska

soup (an ongoing series)

Betsy (or possibly not)

winter draws on

weekend 15/16 october 2011

Remoska Sunday

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