Friday Night Cocktail

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Rhubarb, rhubarb.

My love of cocktails is matched only by my laziness and hatred of washing up. So things I can make in a one glass are a thing of beauty, especially on Friday nights! This drink isn’t my idea, it was godchild number 3 (Luc). There is rhubarb in his garden and he made a rhubarb syrup from Small Adventures in Cooking to drink with fizzy water. He had us try this and mentioned that it’s actually for adding to a G&T. Which got his grandfather thinking and there was no tonic (which is quite shocking) so we did without and added a tiny bit of Aperol. Luc didn’t get to taste but we all thought it was rather good.

What

1.5 oz Rhubarb syrup*

.5 oz aperol

1.5  oz gin

How

Fill a glass with ice.

Pour in syrup, gin and aperol.

 

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*Rhubarb syrup

300g chopped rhubarb

4 tablespoons sugar

juice of 1 lemon

300ml water

Put everything in a pan, bring to the boil, simmer for 10 minutes, strain.

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Friday Links

Happy Friday, how was your week? Whether good or bad it is nearly over!  Time for the weekend, bring on the gin and reading material…

1) I can’t decide if this is awesome or just really, really tacky.  I think I’m gonna go with really  tacky but in a good way..

2) Never trust anyone who is rude to a waiter.

I remember my grandmother telling me that if I were ever to marry, I should make sure he was kind. But she might just as well have said: “Find yourself a man who’s nice to waiters.” The way people treat restaurant staff is, I think, a kind of poker tell, revealing a person’s character in as long as it takes to say: “I’ll have the sea bass.” A man (or woman) who is actively unpleasant to waiters is best avoided. Ditto those who patronise them. Just as bad, though, are people who treat waiters as though they’re invisible. This is not, as these cretins seem to think, a sign of metropolitan sophistication. Do this, and you might as well be wearing a T-shirt that says: “I’m an over-privileged baboon: cold, ruthless, rude and rather stupid.”

3) I’m not sure that I agree with all of this, but I am really of the opinion that adults need to behave like adults, even or maybe especially when we feel like we’re 12 on the inside. What really comes across is how much the writer loved his dad..

These days it seems the only people who are growing old with dignity – like real adults – are the Queen and Prince Philip. They don’t wear trainers, they don’t try to relive their youth or catch up on all they missed out on the first time around. They don’t follow trends or burden their children with their emotional lives. The Queen hasn’t even changed her hairstyle since she became an adult. Into that admirable category, I would like to put my father. He died 18 months ago but, as time passes, he grows in my estimation not because of the love I feel for him but because he gave me something invaluable when I was growing up. He was an adult.

4) Christina is running a 10k, the day after she sings with the Rolling Stones. She’s being awesome and you should sponsor her and if for whatever reason you can’t, you should still read the post because it’s funny and clever….

I bin RUNNIN. Yeah! Running! If you don’t know me personally, you’ve probably lost interest, instantly. I don’t blame you. If you do know me – and especially if you haven’t seen me for a while – you’re probably doing a big WHUUUUUUUT right now. Either way, let me explain.

5) Suzanne Moore on children and porn and the Internet. Earlier this year, I was part of a very uncomfortable set of conversations with L and H about this stuff, they have smart phones and will at some point have their own computers instead of using the family one. To be honest, it’s a conversation that I would like never to have. To me the twins are babies and I would like to keep them that way, however, the world isn’t like that and the only way to protect children from stuff like this is to talk about it and trust them. So there was a conversation about what’s out there and consent (for boys and girls) and experimentation and being ready and what you share online against what you shouldn’t and how once it’s out there, it’s out there. We talked about this blog and Facebook and Twitter. That conversation continues. For the adults the rules are simple, be honest, be clear and never refuse to talk about something if asked but don’t get too technical. My parents did this for me and growing up I got to see the damage that not doing that had on others. I always had the information I needed, my parents never lied to me (well not about that!) and they trusted me to make the right choices but if I needed help or had questions, they were always willing to talk. Fortunately, the parents of all my godchildren have felt the same way, unfortunately for me, I sit in that space of ‘adult that you can talk to about stuff you’re too embarrassed to talk to your parents about’, there was always a little part of my brain doing a ‘la la la, not listening’ dance and that’s ok. What’s not ok is letting your children do unsafe things because you listen to that voice!

Google will not protect your child, any more than the government. We have to teach our kids about the worst aspects of the internet and of sex. Both involve consent. In order to do this we have to trust our children. Are we grown up enough to do that?

6) This is far to sensible to ever happen but it should.

First, the public have no great affection for the private train operators (with the possible exception of Virgin, but maybe that’s because the brand used to sell records).

Second, reversing privatisation need not cost any money. The track and stations are already in public hands with Network Rail. The private franchises could simply be allowed to run their course and, upon expiry, services folded in to the existing public operator, East Coast.

Third, by combining this enlarged public operator with Network Rail, significant efficiencies and savings would be realised, which could in turn be used to cut fares, increase investment, or reduce the deficit – all politically popular ends.

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Home

Four years ago today, I picked up the keys to my flat, I didn’t move in until 4th July but I went to the flat and planned. It was lovely, for the first time in eight years, I was going to live by myself, furniture and all of the books were coming out of storage and I was ready to be alone and to make a space that was mine again.

Moving in/sorting out

The places we live are usually always about more than where we sleep and put our possessions. They are places that we create relationships and families in and they shape us in ways impossible to imagine when we start living in them. I remember the house Ma, Ben and moved to when we moved out of Fulham (and away from my father) as the place we started to create ourselves as a family again. Oaklands Road was the place that Christelle and I became family instead of just friends. Living in Sarah’s flat in Fulham after Stef died was about being safe and loved and understood.

Kitchen

Moving into this flat was about being healed and ready to be me again with all the joy, difficulty and responsibility that entailed.

Living alone isn’t always easy, neither is living with people but living alone, especially when you’re single is a particular type of difficult. You are, well I am, faced with being enough and spending more time in my head than might be healthy.

I spent time after Stef died living with people who were safe, Sarah cause she knew me really well and Ian’s because much as I love my uncle and cousins, they are so wrapped up in what they’re doing, they didn’t really care about how mad I was. It was great to be around people who didn’t take me seriously and it taught me to do the same.

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So this flat was the beginning of feeling that I was enough, that I could be alone and it wasn’t the end of the world, that life would have good things in it.

Nowadays, my life has more balance in it. I love the flat, it feels like home and being alone in it is peaceful and feels safe. Like everything in my life, it didn’t all come together because of my effort. That’s not to knock the effort I put in, I did put my life back together and the flat is a reflection of who and what I am. It’s also a reminder, in the most concrete way, that I didn’t do it all by myself and I’m not actually alone unless I choose to be. In the four years I’ve been living here, the flat has been full of people that I love and lots of things in it  were gifts.

Mostly, the flat is a physical reminder of how lucky I am, to have a place to live that’s safe and warm (well most of the time) and to have people in my life that help me feel like that.

 

 

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Today

Wearing my favourite necklace

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Wondering why the varnish on this finger always chips first

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I’m spending time working on not being annoyed at tourists. Who walk too slow, stand on the wrong side of escalators and think that their suitcases deserve seats. As if being jammed on a train isn’t bad enough.

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I think the key word for the day is frustrated.

I’m just not getting everything I want to do done, I don’t feel that I’m doing the things I do accomplish well, I feel out of control and that I might never be in control again.

Then I realise that it’s nonsense. I’ve done loads this week, I’ve walked 5km a day, I’ve made the bed every day, I’ve packed a lunch and a breakfast every day, I’ve seen a movie (Much Ado About Nothing it was really good although I can’t decide if I’m getting into the rhythm of  Shakespeare or this was just much easier to understand!), washed the dishes every night, booked an appointment for a medical. Yes I have things that I need to do, there’s ironing, I need to be more aware of my need to go to bed early, I need to spend some time writing posts for here, I need to finish the picture wall in the kitchen, I need to add up my points for the Super Summer Challenge…

Overall though, things are getting done, I’m doing them. What I really need to do is make peace with ‘never finished’ and ‘good enough’. Daily life is about accepting both of those things and getting on with it anyway.  I’m not good at that, if I can’t do it right, I’m more likely to just stop trying. Which is a ridiculous way to live. You have to keep trying because everytime you do it, you find a different way to improve it. This is a lesson I’m learning with making the sourdough, now I need to apply it to my everyday life!

 

 

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Life happening..

The weather is being weird. It’s warm, it’s grey and it rains a bit.  The Met Office is promising hot and sunny until Wednesday when the heat will ’cause rain. Lovely. The Met Office is also having a meeting of experts today to talk about how strange the weather is at the moment, which seems like a very British thing to do.

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I’m not sleeping well, I wake up every morning feeling like I’ve been hit by a plank. I move much slower in the mornings, which may be old age or natural laziness. I’ve started to shower before bed and pack my breakfast to take to work with me so I can make up for the extra time it’s taking me to do anything in the morning.

Commuting is worse than usual, I realised this morning it’s because, even though it’s not sunny and doesn’t feel like summer, London is filling up with tourists.

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Also if you are in London, go and check out the Festival of Neighbourhood. Which is great. And Apsley House for the Waterloo Festival.

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Today is the anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo, Ma has been sending me texts about it, we are very strange…

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The Weekend

 

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In this weekend, here was karaoke, beer, baking, a haircut, lots of rain, lots of walking, Friday Night Lights, pizza, reading, time with friends, a bit of housework and some general re-charging of batteries.

What there wasn’t was no writing for the blog, no photos and absolutely no guilt!

 

Last week was difficult and the weekend was just what I needed to feel better about myself and my life and face this week with grace and enthusiasm.

How was your weekend?

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Friday Night Cocktail – World Gin Day

Tomorrow is World Gin Day and there’s loads of gin related stuff happening, this year the lovely Gin Monkey is in charge.

I have a prior appointment to get my haircut so won’t be attending any of the events that are popping up. I will of course be drinking some gin. So this week, I thought I’d link to all of the various cocktails that I’ve made for FNC that have gin in them!

 

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The Bronx

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How to make a Gin and Tonic

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Sloe Martini

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The Final Fling

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Marmalade Cocktail 

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The Pegu Club

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21 Hayes

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The Green-ish Deacon

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Something with Kamms

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Pimms 

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The Londoner

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Summer in a Glass

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Sloe G & T

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The Cold Cure

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The Moonlight Martini

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The Archangel

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The Leftover

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Aperol Negroni

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Gin Lane Spritz

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White Lady

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The Jasmine

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Friday Links

Happy Friday, it’s been a difficult week for me and I’ve spend an lot of it feeling that I’ve been hit by a bus.  So only two links because I just haven’t spent much time at the computer.

1) Stuart Maconie on Michael Gove and education policy. Spot on…

Tory activist Tim Montgomerie smirked yesterday: “While I would love the nation’s children to be taught History Gove style – all Henry VIII, Shaftesbury and Churchill – I wouldn’t like Ed Balls having that power

2) The bedroom tax, isn’t having the affect the Govt. thought it would. That’s what happens when you don’t listen to the people who actually have knowledge and go off half cocked..

And so it has proved, because the obstacles are as immovable as scores of people said. One- and two-bed flats in particular are impossible to come by and, in any case, people are understandably reluctant to leave behind the networks of family and friends. So, they are staying put, and suffering – as proved by a slow trickle of human stories, which have already included one suicide.

 

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Not what I thought I’d be writing today..

Today’s post was supposed to be about World Oceans Day and sustainable fish. I know you can hardly contain yourself and if you hang on that post is coming, it’s just going to take a little time because there is so much to say and I haven’t really had the time to sit down and think about it.

Instead, I’m going to write about dying. Which sounds even less exciting than a post about fish! However, it’s on my mind, so bear with me.

There was a period of time when it seemed like everyone I knew was dying or had died. That’s mostly Dempsey melodrama, it was about 4 people that I was close to over about 8 years, it wasn’t exactly a plague but did it seem as if every time I was getting back to a ‘normal’, someone else was sick.

I was also for much of that time, depressed and involved with a bunch of people that were not good for me. The dead people didn’t help but they were only a small part of the problem.

Anyway, in the last eight or so years, I’ve got over myself, which is why when I read Jenny’s wrote a post about her dad, I was surprised about my reaction to it.

And on this journey to death there is a drawing in, a needing more, a silencing of a once-strong voice, a diluting of a dominant personality. There is a sadness at what is being lost and a deep gratitude for all that has been.

It’s a beautiful post, Jenny’s experience with her dad, is the opposite of my experience. Grandad died after he’d been in hospital for a week, Stef was diagnosed and died within 3 months, my Dad had a heart attack.

I have no experience or understanding of the gradual decline into dying. For me, having people in my life that are dying has been all about the stuff that needs to be done.

With Grandad it was about being with him, making sure that he was clean shaven and helping Mum. Grandad was 83, once he was told he was actually dying, he was very calm about it. Certain that he was going to a better place, he said goodbye and was at peace with it. Death didn’t hold any fear for him, being with him when he died wasn’t good exactly but it felt right.

Stef was different, he wasn’t even 40 yet and there were the twins and we kept getting overtaken by the cancer, we’d plan this and realise that no that wasn’t going to work because the cancer was somewhere else or he was having problems walking. About a week before he died, he had the ‘worse case scenario’ meeting with family and lawyers and put everything in place assuming he wasn’t going to wake up in the morning. That done, he asked us to refine the plan. He’d reached an understanding that there was never going to be enough time and we were just going to have to suck it up. There wasn’t a drawing in, he spent that week talking, telling the kids and everyone else how much he loved us and wanted to be around but that there would be a point were he would stop because he’d rather be dead than not know who he was. Stef died like someone who didn’t want to leave a party but knew that if he didn’t he’d end up being sick in the host’s bathroom and ruin the night.

Last night, I went to see Tina. She’s still Tina but has over the last couple of months gone from being sick to dying. Last night was the first time we’ve ever spoken about it, she said it could pretty much happen anytime. She was very Tina about it. Which boils down to “don’t be soppy about it” and for heavens sake “don’t emote all over me”

So I won’t. I’m going to remember what I said last week about tragic deaths. What’s happening to Tina is not nice and it feels like a tragedy but it’s not. Not for her, because she won’t bloody let it be, it’s sad for me because I will miss her and it’s terrible for Charles and Christina and Tom. However, it’s not about me, Tina wants her life to be about other things and so it is and so it will be. So I’m going to go and bake her a cake and take her some sourdough because those things would make her happy and drama and emotion would not.

I don’t know that this time is an invitation to patience and love, I don’t want T to be in this place and I can’t make anything better, there is nothing I can do to make any of this easier for T or Charles or their children.

What I remember about the time before Stef and Grandad died was that it wasn’t about me. It was about them and our relationship and the need to do the right thing. For Grandad it was knowing how to say goodbye, for Stef, looking after the things he couldn’t, for Tina it’s about getting on with it and hugs! So I’d better get a move on with that bread…

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Sourdough

I’ve been thinking about trying sourdough bread for a while. I like making bread and sourdough tastes great. Also in May I found and now follow this blog by Annalisa Barbieri who waxes lyrical about sourdough and likes the same duralex glasses as me!

It seemed a bit complicated though, with making a starter and feeding it and then working out how to make the bread, if there’s one thing I’m pretty much allergic to in cooking, it’s complication. I kept the article from the Guardian a few weeks ago but didn’t do anything with it in, largely because it required wholemeal bread flour which I didn’t have and chucking half of it away which seemed a bit fussy not to mention wasteful, wholemeal bread flour is quite expensive and I was in a funk and it was all too much effort. A couple of weeks ago I noticed that there was a recipe on the back of the white bread flour packet for a starter that seemed easy.  70g flour with 70ml water in a jar, add the same amount every day for 7 days, then you can either use or stick in the fridge. It didn’t say that the flour had to be wholemeal or organic, it didn’t want you to chuck half of it away. So I pulled out a jar, gave it a quick wash and started.

I was so proud when after 2 days there were bubbles and a slightly funky smell. Every morning while I was making coffee, I added flour and water and gave it a stir. By day 5, I had bought some wholemeal bread flour and started to add half wholemeal, half white flour. I was and am ridiculously attached to my starter, I fed it for two weeks and then got worried, was it bubbling enough? It smelled like ripe bananas, was that right? There were two days when I forget to feed it, would that kill it? Did I need to start throwing it away? The jar cracked, I needed to make some bread and soon.

Starter

Starter

On Saturday morning at about 8am, I took 150g of my starter, added 250g of strong white bread flour, mixed it together and left it for the day.

On Saturday evening, I added 300g of bread flour (250g white, 50g brown wholemeal), a tablespoon of olive oil and 10g of sea salt and made a rough dough. I hate kneading dough. Hate it, I wish I found it therapeutic but mostly I find it a pain in the arse and tiring, so I decided to follow the Dan Lepard method as described in Annalisa’s blog. Partly because Annalisa seems to know what she’s talking about and I love Dan Lepard’s method for baps which is similar and has never let me down, in fact I was baking a batch of them for the freezer at the same time as I was faffing with the sourdough.

So the method is mix the dough, rest for 10 mins, knead for 10 seconds on an oiled surface, repeat twice, rest for 30 minutes, knead for 10 seconds, rest for an hour, knead for 10 seconds twice. Then follow the recipe. It’s easier than it sounds but it takes three hours. Then I was supposed to prove for another couple of hours and give it an overnight rise. However, I was totally out of time and one of the things, I’ve become very relaxed about with all sorts of dough is just leaving it on the side in my kitchen and letting it do it’s thing. This is because I’m mostly quite forgetful and I’ve only had a ‘that bread done riz’ (if you can guess where the quote is from, I will love you forever!) disaster once in the last four years.

After it's first rise

After it’s first rise

This is a really long winded explanation of why the dough only got an hour and a half to prove before I stuck it in a container for it’s overnight rise and didn’t put it in the fridge. Long story short, I ran out of time, which I kind of knew was going to happen and left it out on the counter overnight, praying that it could handle this kind of treatment because if it couldn’t it would be the last sourdough loaf I ever made!

Going to rest overnight

Going to rest overnight

On Sunday morning, it looked pretty good and ready. I heated the oven and put two baking trays in it.  Then I turned my dough out onto one of them, put a glass of ice cubes in the other and put everything back in the oven and left it for a bit. I didn’t have a spray to spray water on it, so I didn’t do that.

It's alive..

It’s alive..

Finally about 40 minutes later, I had bread.

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Yes is was amazing, yes I should have let it cool a bit more before I started to eat it!

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Since then I’ve made another two loaves, one above that was mostly white flour with a bit of wholemeal and one that was mostly wholemeal with a bit of white.

I started them on Thursday morning and baked one on Saturday morning and one on Sunday morning. The white turned out better than the brown but both tasted amazing and I can see this being a regular part of my weekly cooking.

Have you ever made sourdough? Tempted to try it? Do you have any tips for me?

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