A Bit of a Pickle

Let the magic begin

The weather has us on a go slow in the Holly Cottage camp. Two weeks ago we were breaking our backs getting the good earth ready for planting, clearing the shed of two year's cumulative rubbish and basically clearing the decks to prepare for the sowing season. There was even talk of let's build a patio the sun was shining so well. We'll park that one until we see it again - the sun that is. Since then, we've had at least two days blanketed in pure white snow; another three being blown out of it by northeasterly gales and at least five days being pounded with hailstones the size of frozen peas. Hailstones big  enough to hurt when they ricochet off the corner of your forehead as you endeavour overdue walkovers of your summer field experiments ;)

Holly Cottage hot stuff ;)

Better we get it now says them in the know. Better now than mid June, when you might be glad to sand the rust of the BBQ grill and have an extended evening in the midsummer sun. Despite the inhospitable weather though we've been keeping it hot indoors ;) 

Last weekend was for making more pickledy stuff. Chillies were gathered from the plants in Cappaduff and further investigations to continue the evolution of the Holly Cottage pepper sauce species (there's been a few trial  runs - all good, all extremely hot) were conducted;  a Lime pickle started in January  was retrieved from the darkness to test and taste; and some vanilla pods were put to the test in a creme anglaise. We seem to have experimented a lot in the last year and a quick look in the crowded fridge tells a few tales indeed. The beetroot relish was polished off last week. That was a sad day. The sweet tomato chilli jam  from the start of October never really had enough time to call this place home - it was better than any sweet chilli sauce and streets ahead of anything I've tasted since. The green tomato chutney is still with us - only because we had so many unripened tomatoes in the autumn - the casualty of that cold and wet summer. A few other trials the last few months involved reduced balsamic vinegar flavoured with orange, more tomato relish - this time approaching the Ballymaloe style, and of course the sweet mint sauce that seems to have gotten tastier since its birth last November. 

Let's jam!

And then there's just the plain old jam. Such a small word, that belies sweet comforting and tastebud sensational sticky goodness that brightens up any corner of dry bread on an otherwise ordinary morning in March. I know I've raved about the strawberry bounty last year, and I will until I die! We have just one pot of strawberry-raspberry-rhubarb jam left and that will have to get us to June. Eek ;) Jam has to be the simplest thing in the whole world to make and yet we seem to rely on those dreadful, ultra processed versions that parade around on supermarket shelves as very poor imitiations of the real thing. They don't even have bits of fruit in most of them so it could actually be just flavoured jelly coloured to deceive us of an impostor! OK, I'm being somewhat over-dramatic. But ever since I made my first batch of blackcurrant jam back in the 90s - and somehow won a medal for it at the local harvest fair - I've been a homemade jam champion. A pound of fruit, a pound of sugar - take it to the magical setting point over bubbling heat and you're done. We tend to mix it up around here - whatever's going at the time. The rhubarb and strawberry mix was the biggest hit though. Do it ;)

Now that's a lime pickle...

And so, a bit of pickling and plenty of lounging indoors is keeping us busy these weekends. Some work to be done today though and a nephew's birthday cake to be shared this evening in Cappaduff. We're missing a Mornington extraordinaire birthday lunch for work today, so that's not good. But I know that they'll be having a feast sensation if Anne O'Hara has anything to do with it! 

I hope wherever you are that you are relishing in the drama of the March winds and looking forward to the sunshine of April to come. Happy birthday celebrations to all in Mornington and Cappaduff - let those birthdays just keep on coming!

Christmas at Mornington (and a Holly Cottage Christmas Rose)

Quick - the Holly Cottage greenhouse is falling down!

The drama of the longest night is over, and it is the turn of Christmas to take the spotlight. Chicken Licken and Henny Penny might have been waiting for the sky to fall down, but nothing of the sort happened. Did anyone think it would? 

Here in the Holly Cottage a few things went bump alright - mostly in the night ;) The winds of Saturday night managed to take the greenhouse half down - a pitiful sight for a sunny Sunday morning. It was fixed with a few plastic ties and a bit of strategic propping - should get us through this week when there ought to be little or no cares and worries. And then the rains of the last few nights have seeped through the broken roof tile and the underlay to create a beautiful brown, foreboding damp spot on the hall ceiling - visible only this morning but hinted at for the last few weeks. Ho Hum. Dear Santa - please  send a builder and a roof fixing technician to make our Christmas dry and warm and make sure the roof doesn't fall in. Too big a job for the busy toy-giving man methinks. Let's just think positively and hope for the best...

And so yesterday, after a bit of emergency DIY on the greenhouse I headed over for the annual (and not be missed) excursion to see Katy O'Hara and the folk of Mornington House for a bit of a Christmas do. I was left to my own devices as the love of my life was stuck to the Mac keyboard mixing and adding bits to the next song to be posted on Reverberation/catherinewilkie. But not to worry, I would only have to eat and drink enough for the both of us in his absence ;)

Mornington House - home from home

I first met up with the fabulous Miss Katy O'Hara whilst working for a summer in Cape May, New Jersey over 15 years ago. There was eleven of us Irish living in a very small three bedroomed bungalow on Union St in Cape May. I slept on the floor most of the time, and even though there were many moments when friendships were tested, one or two of the girls I met that summer will be friends forever. And so, almost every Christmas for the past near 20 years, I have been heading to Katy's house in Mornington for a bit of a Christmas do - ranging from a few leftovers sandwiches on a sedate Stephen's Day to full blown New Year's Eve Black Tie Ball. It's definitely one of the best places that I know of for a party and the welcome from Warwick and Anne makes it feel like I am one of the prodigal children coming home licking my wounds after a long year on the battlefield of life. To be greeted with love and kindness and usually a full plate and glass to celebrate my return. Oh so nice.

Once inside the door of Mornington you are literally transported back in time, back about a hundred years at least - the wood panelled entrance hall, the fire-lit warmth of the 1896 drawing room and the magnificent dining room that rings with the laughter of the many candlelit dinners and glasses of wine shared there. Warwick and Anne managed to feed 40+ guests aged from 3 to 93, and keep everyone  cheerful on that sunny Sunday afternoon. Warwick was hardly without a bottle or a pot of tea in his hand to pour for man, woman or child, (plus one dog and small kitten) while Anne was overseeing the smooth running of the show. Katy and Pat - the next generation - managed to row in from the shadows making sure the 40 or so of us that rambled in from the four corners of Ireland were kept cosy for the afternoon.

Anne is Number 1 cook (follow her lovely blog http://morningtonhouse.wordpress.com) although Warwick's experience is to be also sought after. Three types of curry - ranging from creamy, fruity and spicy - nothing too hot, and all the trimmings - raita, chutney, yogurt, fruit, naan, and popadoms freshly cooked. Followed by lashings of trifle, chocolate log, meringues, apple pie and my indulgence - the annual mince pie. Now, I am not a fan of those dreadful thrown together mince pies - especially the mass produced variety - but after my own mother's, Anne O'Hara's comes in as a close second. Feeding frenzy over, and seconds had - we bathed in the warmth of the Mornington embrace.

The children chased the kitten around the drawing room, Ned the dog sniffed every trouser leg and shoe going, the donkeys - Holly and Molly - basked in the rare winter sunshine outside and the rest of us in Mornington shared the stories of the year passed and the hopes for year future. Days like that in Mornington remind me that often times friends become family, and family is of course what Christmas is all about.

Not to be trifled with ;)

And so for everyone who shares this blog - friends, family and friends not yet made - enjoy Christmas for what it is. A chance to stop and share a mince pie, or a drink with an old friend. Enjoy making new ones. And be thankful and grateful that we made it round this way again. It didn't quite work out like that for Chicken Licken and Henny Penny, but they did forget to live in the present and were too freaked out worrying about future. For the future will come despite all hesitancy and trepidation, and it will pass. No doubt. 

One last thing - I wanted to share our garden surprise with you - a rogue rose that appeared in the garden this week in the midst of an overgrown mess down the back corner. A thing of great beauty in otherwise darkened surroundings - our Christmas rose. A Happy and Peaceful Christmas to all from the Holly Cottage gang. Enjoy it wherever you are.

Our Christmas Rose

Weekend leftovers

The past two days have been a mini festival for us really - celebrating the Irish cousins returning home to Barbados and taking time to catch up on the months and years since the last visit. The food was piled high in the kitchen between Saturday and Sunday, but has dwindled away to foil wrapped leftovers that found their way to our lunch plates today. The main event on Saturday however was the fish that  Hyacinth cooked for us. 

Hyacinth landed-early Saturday morning armed with 53 years of expert cooking for her own family and all the Bajan families she has worked for down the years. The main event was breaded flying fish - fresh from the village, and coated in a frothy batter of flour, baking powder, egg, sweet peppers and rum. The flying fish and another called dorado were lightly fried and served with the tastiest fish broth...what was in it I don't have a clue other than today it tasted even better on the left over rice and peas from yesterday. Now, that stuff is money ;) She also made a polenta like dish called coo-coo from corn flour thickened with the water from boiling okra. A definite comfort food! Breaded flying fish and coo-coo is the national dish of Barbados - just found that out on Google - all was served up with boiled sweet potato. Hyacinth spent about four hours in the kitchen and then went her own sweet way. Next morning there were six loafs of coconut bread delivered by her daughter, fresh from the oven (I think she gets up at 4 every morning). Food is definitely a joy but when given with such heart, tastes even better.

On Sunday it was Gran's curry with plantain chopped and cooked in the oven with cinnamon and brown sugar...WOW! Add to that Sylvia's chicken pilau, Larry's five day marinated pork, mango chutney, Charmaine's delicious black fruit cake (soaked in Guinness and other goodness)  and Gigi's banana bread.  

And hence the plate of weekend leftovers to remind us ;)  yum. Time now however to start cooking for ourselves!

By the way, apologies for no photos, technological glitch but they will follow...