Witches Broth (or Pea and Mint Soup)

I first met this soup at a Mother’s day lunch and never imagined that I’d be calling it Witches’ Broth and serving it up myself a few years later at a Hallowe’en party. I should assure you that this renaming says more about the thick green colour of the soup than it does about my views on motherhood …

It is hardly a well-kept secret that Hallowe’en ranks high on my list of all-time favourite festivities. It comes at a magical time of year when the days are shortening, the air is cooling and the trees are resplendent in their cloaks of fiery colours. The children’s excitement is on a par with that of Christmas in our house as they delve deep down into their dressing-up box to pull out black gowns, orange and green-striped stockings, pointed hats and vampire fangs. We decorate the house with silvery cobwebs, read stories of errant witches and shiver at the bone-rattling skeletons in Berlioz’ dream of a Witches’ Sabbath.

I think that what makes this festival particularly special for me is that there are no pre-conceived ideas about what form the traditions should take and no expectations of receiving presents among our children. They enjoy themselves enormously through the simple pleasure that comes from sparking their imaginations and partying with friends.

Unlike in the depressing scene depicted by William Langley, we have amiable neighbours who are happy to collude in a little organised trick-or-treating, while our costumes and party trimmings are largely homemade and provide an opportunity for creative fun.

Far from being an imported custom, the roots of Hallowe’en extend further back in Britain than those of the seemingly more traditionally-celebrated Guy Fawkes night. In fact, the origins of Hallowe’en practices in America can themselves be traced to the arrival of Scottish and Irish immigrants during the nineteenth century.

So pull up your cauldrons, grab your wooden spoons and join us for a warming bowl of witches’ broth 🙂 .

Witches Broth: Pea and Mint Soup (adapted from a recipe by Charlotte Kilvington)

2 oz unsalted butter
1 large onion, peeled and chopped
600 mls chicken stock
2 lb frozen peas
1 head of firm lettuce, eg. Iceberg
a handful of fresh mint, chopped
300 mls milk

Melt the butter in a large saucepan. Add the onion and fry gently to soften.

Add the stock and frozen peas. Bring to the boil and simmer until the peas are tender.

Add the lettuce and mint. Continue cooking until the lettuce has wilted.

Stir in the milk.

Blend in a food processor and season to taste.

Serve with a swirl of single cream on top – pull through from the centre outwards with a toothpick to create a spider’s web.

Apples Galore

Many years ago when anything was possible, I pushed an apple pip into the ground and it grew into an apple tree. My apple tree moved with me to two new childhood homes and eventually grew sweet apples that I ate in memory of that first original fruit.

When my parents moved to Devon earlier this year, they tried to bring some part of this apple tree with them. My Dad attempted to graft some winterbound twigs onto new stock, whilst a friend planted fresh cuttings in a transportable mini cold frame. It was the wrong time of year, it was the nature of things – all of these much-appreciated attempts failed (although I still have a pressed leaf from the cuttings of my apple tree).

At the same time as when my parents were preparing to pack up their moving crates however, O and our children planted a new apple tree in our front garden with its own story to tell.

Last November, O brought home a young apple tree from St Bridget Nurseries. He told us how a staff member at the nurseries had helped him to carry the tree to his car. It had been a struggle to wedge the tree into the boot of the car without snapping or trapping any of the precious branches, and they were both tired from the effort. Having recently been in the States where he had learned to reach automatically for his wallet at times like this, O offered to tip the man. The man replied that he wanted no tip, but would instead welcome an apple from the tree the following year.

We planted the tree and worked hard to lay turf over the ground before the first frosts came, only to wake up to an unprecedented covering of snow that lasted for the first two months of our newly-designed garden’s life.

As the ground began to thaw and the dark days started to lengthen, we worried that the young tree had not survived the ill-timed freeze and watched anxiously for signs of growth. Crocuses and daffodils planted at the foot of the tree peeked tentatively through the grass as if unsure about the rewards of pushing upwards through the frozen earth. Buds on the tips of the bare apple tree branches swelled minutely and we held our breath as we waited for Spring to explode.

Among the apples we have collected from our tree this year, one is reserved for the man from the garden centre. We will be taking it to him later today. Fingers crossed he enjoys his slow-to-mature tip!

I’m not alone in turning my thoughts to apples at this time of year. Yesterday saw the 21st anniversary of the autumnal celebration of Apple Day with events around the world to inspire and inform an orchard revival. Close to home, Otterton Mill is hosting food tasting, apple bobbing and other family activities tomorrow, whilst we have the opportunity to press our own apples into juice at Matthews Hall in Topsham on Sunday (perhaps we may grow sufficient apples for a drop or two of juice next year!). There’s still time to discover an Apple Day event near you …

Apparently, the association of apples with Hallowe’en is all down to the Celts. They believed that fruits grew magically in the Island of Apples, an enchanted place that was only accessible by passing through water. So next time you find yourself snorting water as bobbing apples bonk your nose at a Hallowe’en party, it may help to remember this mystical isle.

One of my own favourite apple traditions as a child was to throw the peelings over my shoulder to discover the initials of the person I would marry. Well, would you just look at that … spooooky!

I thought that now would be a good time to share a recipe I was inspired to create recently. It’s a dish for those seasons of mellow fruitfulness when the morning mists cling to the path of the river towards the estuary and the crisp evening skies fill with the aroma of wood smoke from bonfires and hearths.

Pork and Apple Sausage Parcels in Apple Stew

2 small onions, halved and cut into long slices
2 sticks celery, diced
6 mushrooms, diced into large chunks
1 green chilli, chopped finely
3 dessert apples, peeled, cored and diced
1 tsp dried sage
1 tsp dried thyme
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
150 ml chicken stock
8 oz pork fillet
6 pork and apple sausages
6 rashers unsmoked back bacon
500 ml dry cider

Using an ovenproof 10″ saucepan with lid:

Fry the onions, celery, mushrooms and chilli in 2 to 3 tbsp olive oil to soften.

Add diced apples, herbs and chicken stock.

Cut the pork into 4 slices, then bash each with a mallet into rectangles. Split 3 of the sausages from their casings and divide the sausagemeat between the pork rectangles. Roll each rectangle and wrap with bacon (1 1/2 slices per pork parcel). Secure with string.

Split the casings of the remaining sausages and make balls out of the sausagemeat. Add to the pan and fry to brown.

Place the pork parcels on top of the apple stew and add the cider (it should come halfway up the sides of the pork parcels).

Cover and place in the oven at 160 degrees C for 1 1/2 hours.

Untie the parcels to serve. Serve with mashed potatoes or rice.

The Curry Corner

Back in 2007 when I first unleashed my slightly obsessive baking traits on an unsuspecting worldwide web, I knew that I would never be able to manage posting daily or even weekly to my newly-founded blog. My three young children and their activities leave little time for sitting in front of a computer, whilst my perfectionist streak ensures that I lose any infrequent occasions for creative thinking to procrastination and unnecessary googling.

Since the beginning however, I have followed an unwritten and entirely arbitrary rule of making sure that I never let a month go by without at least posting once, no matter how short that post may be.

Hopefully, you’ll be able to understand why I’m a tiny bit worried right now. September arrived nearly a month ago and I still have nothing more to offer than a few half-baked ideas and blurry images. Am I about to break my own self-imposed posting principles?

But wait – here comes my little sister with a fully-written guest post crafted especially and in the nick of time for A Merrier World. Call it telepathic communication or hypersensitivity to sibling stress if you will – as Lucy says, it’s what sisters are for!

And so, it’s over to my sister saviour Lucy (of Italian-style Chicken Casserole and Raspberry Fluff fame) …

The Curry Corner

I was feeling guilty because my sister asked me to write a blog entry for a meal we ate when we were on holiday in the Cotswolds back in August but I hadn’t got round to doing it yet. Then I realized that I hadn’t heard from A Merrier World in a while, so perhaps she can’t criticize me too much for my tardiness! I have been asked to write a blog entry by my sister before and I never got round to it. This time, it was my (rather small and ineffectual) camera which took the shots of the evening so Kate blackmailed me into agreeing to write an entry for her. I hope I can do the evening justice (this is my first blog entry of any kind).

On a family holiday we had the rare opportunity to go out as sisters with our respective husbands, sans children as our own parents kindly offered to take care of the brood for the evening. When the children were content with the thoughts of a trip with Granny and Grandpa to those ‘golden arches’ the four of us set out for a wander into Cheltenham. Earlier in the evening we’d researched likely places in a restaurant guide and we settled upon The Curry Corner which was described as “the best curry from pole to pole” by Michael Palin! It was a Tuesday evening so we were sure of getting a table without having to book, weren’t we?

The Curry Corner is on the corner (no surprises) of two quiet residential streets on the edge of Cheltenham. It has to be the most stylish curry restaurant I have ever visited: and it was packed, even on a Tuesday!

Luckily, the friendly waiters were happy for us to sit at their outside tables and have some beers whilst we waited for a table to be vacated inside. We were very pleased to spot some local real ales on the drinks menu and enjoyed the Cats Whiskers!

We read the menu thoroughly and planned our feast. The dishes were imaginative and unusual and the restaurant uses only the highest quality local ingredients from the lush countryside … including Newent chicken, free range Cotswold farm eggs, rare breed meat, bread made from the finest quality locally milled organic flour and ice cream churned at the restaurant using the creamiest local milk and cream. In fact, I have since discovered that the restaurant has had the same chicken supplier and egg producer for the past 32 years. They buy their eggs from a local lady who is now 93 years old! The dishes focus mainly on Bangledeshi home-cooking style with elements of Hindoostan woven in.

The Curry Corner was opened in 1977 by the Krori family. Thirty years later, they are still the chefs and the whole family is involved with the restaurant. The restaurant has won several “Best Taste” awards and has gained critical acclaim from famous names such as Rick Stein, Michael Palin and Richard Branson. The restaurant has also participated in Gordon Ramsay’s The F Word. From over 10,000 nominations, the Curry Corner made it to the finals for Britain’s best local restaurant. They were pipped to the post by the restaurant Lasan, from Birmingham. In an interview with Channel 4, the Curry Corner’s second chef explains just how family orientated they are:

We’re a family run restaurant and it’s a genuinely family run place so although Dad’s now 60 he still cooks every single night and my mum, I think I can confidently say, was probably the only Indian woman cooking in a professional kitchen back in 1977. (Monrusha Krori, http://www.channel4.com)

We placed our food order, enjoyed another local ale and waited with a heightened sense of anticipation at our table inside. Our poppadums arrived and we dug into the imaginative selection of chutneys and pickles. The mango chutney was delicious: the addition of whole fennel seeds made it very special and we quickly ate the lot.

Following this we had ordered a selection of starters, making sure we each had something we liked (I don’t like lamb, Kate doesn’t like prawns…the husbands eat anything…very quickly). The food was beautifully presented and began to fill me up somewhat!

I didn’t need to worry though because when the main courses arrived they looked so delicious I miraculously had plenty of room: particularly for the honey and pistacchio naan. It was melt-in-the-mouth.

We did a good job of eating most of the feast we had ordered when our eyes were larger than our bellies (after finishing, our bellies were certainly the larger) and Kate asked for the rest of our naan to be packaged up to take home for the children. As we were loosening our belts and sitting back, our waiter arrived with a small plate with four white tablets placed upon it.

We were slightly confused, I have to admit. I did consider that they might be taking precautions and be giving us some large ant-acid tablets, given how much we had consumed. The waiter performed a little ceremony with a teapot of water which he trickled over the four tablets. They miraculously grew…and turned into face towels!

You are honoured indeed as Kate said she might allow me to post a picture of her, as long as her face was covered with her now expanded white tablet!

I’m sure I speak for us all when I say what a fantastic evening we had. It was going to be great anyway, to be out with Kate and O on our own for the first time in eight years, but The Curry Corner made it really special. If ever you’re in Cheltenham and feel peckish, it’s certainly the place to go: but do book ahead unless, like us, you have plenty of time to while away drinking beers on their patio!

Mrs Mayall’s Banana Chocolate Cake

I was lucky to have some excellent teachers when I was at school. Among the most inspirational, I remember those who taught music to me for more than their ability to get me through A-level aural and harmony examinations. After all, who could possibly forget being served a slice of perfect banana chocolate cake at the end of a particularly demanding class by Mrs Mayall?

It was no small wonder that we begged her for the recipe. I still have my original handwritten copy, the final lines scrawled hurriedly onto the paper as the bell for the start of the next class was sounding.

Beat in vanilla essence and leave frosting in cool place 3-10 mins til thick nuf for sprding.

You have to remember that I wrote those lines in the days before text messaging!

The recipe for the cake itself is so good that I have never (and neither did Mrs Mayall, at least on the day she brought her cake to our music lesson) felt it necessary to follow the instructions I so eagerly scribbled for the frosting.

I never imagined when I copied Mrs Mayall’s recipe twenty years ago that it would become one of my children’s favourite ways of using up those inevitable left-over bananas. Unlike many banana cakes, these slices are moist without being claggy and heavy. They are also deliciously chocolaty.

Which is also why I particularly wanted to share this recipe with you on the third anniversary of A Merrier World.

Happy Birthday, dear blog!

Banana Chocolate Cake (adapted from a recipe by Mrs Mayall)

6 1/2 oz/190 g plain flour
2 tbsp cocoa powder
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp baking powder
5 oz/150 g caster sugar
2 tbsp Golden syrup
2 eggs, size 3, beaten
1/4 pint/150 ml vegetable oil
14 pint/150 ml milk
2 bananas, mashed (5 oz)

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F/170 degrees C.

Grease and base-line a shallow 8″ x 13″/20 x 33 cm baking tray.

Sift together the dry ingredients into a large mixing bowl. Add the remaining ingredients and beat for c. 2 minutes until well combined.

Pour into the prepared tray and bake in the centre of the oven for 30 to 35 minutes until springy to touch.

Photo Award!

I’m thrilled and honoured to announce that my photo of creamy goat’s milk ricotta has won the originality award for its “Unique styling” in the July 2010 edition of the popular food photography contest, Does My Blog Look Good In This (DMBLGIT)!

According to the judging criteria, the originality category is awarded to:

… the photograph that catches our attention and makes us want to say “wow!”, displaying something we might not have seen before.

Well … gosh! Thank you to Asha for hosting the event and to the judges for making my day!

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