ragdall
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Post by ragdall on Mar 2, 2018 9:19:41 GMT
Great that your stories will be preserved, Megan. You are a very gifted writer.
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Post by sandrainsydney on Mar 3, 2018 6:10:53 GMT
I'll second that!
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Post by meganl on Mar 4, 2018 7:54:01 GMT
Winter weather
This weather got me thinking back to days past. Many years ago in the early sixties one of my first weather memories was of icicles hanging from the metal window frames in our council house right. On the window sill below the hinge was a big icy carbuncle were the water had dripped with each short daytime thaw layer over layer it built up till it resembled the big toffee dummy tit you used to get at the seaside.
Milk came in pint bottles with a tinfoil top which we collected for guide dogs for the blind, though my pal and I nearly got sent to the headmaster for saying it was for blind dogs for the guides. It probably hadn't helped that by the time she had finished telling us of every child in the playground was using the same name .
One morning it was so cold when I was sent to the door to bring in the milk it was standing a good two inches above the lip of the bottle. Mum plunged it into a pot of cold water then slowly added water from the kettle till it started to melt. At last she pulled the frozen cream out of the top of the bottle and I sucked happily on my milky ice lolly.
In the years before the clean air act was introduced in 1964 we got fogs so thick you could walk into a double decker bus before you saw it. To get from my school to home you could either walk the streets or take the shortcut across the fields. Dad had decided the weather was to bad for me to walk home on my own so he came to meet me but by the time the school bell rang the fog was a proper pea souper.
We set of and did quite well till Dad decided to take the short cut across the park. I had always had lung problems, back then they called it bronchitis so dad took of his scarf and wrapped it around my face to filter the smokey fog. Like handsel and Grettle we wandered around getting no nearer home till I bumped into an old friend, the devils rock, a big boulder with a bit of an overhang that us children played all over. We managed to point ourselves in the correct direction from him and eventually made it home where a very relieved mum put the soup back on to warm since a journey that would have normally taken about six minutes had taken us two hours.
The years rolled on till we reached the winter of discontent, strikes and power cuts had made life miserable for many people then at the end of 1978 winter struck with a vengeance and hung around for weeks. Mum and dad were awfly worried about the old folk that lived above the shops so whenever we had power mum would have the big old jampan on making vast quantities of soup. There wasn't much money but it is amazing what you could do with a few carrots and a neep and a big packet of lentils.
My brother was working nights and found a wee bakery near the work he spoke with the man and every morning he would come home with 4 or five cob loaves. My other brother scrounged around various places and found us a supply of candles, we didn't need them since we had paraffin Tilley lamps but they were vital to my parents plan..
As soon as the power went of dad got the primus going and mum heated up the soup and poured it into every flask we had (and we had a few , since we were a great family for the outdoors). When the first two flasks were filled the bread was quartered and put in a bag and dad would set of up the road with his gifts and a pocketful of candles to make sure any old folk that had been on his walk as a postman were safe and had a warm bowl of soup to keep them going. That was a hard winter when pipes froze and many a house was flooded when the thaw came.
There was one light moment during that winter The younger of my big brothers had climbed up to the loft and turned of the valve on the water tank after mum had filled the bath with cold water to keep us going. The taps on all other sinks were turned on to drain the pipes so they wouldn't freeze, things went from bad to worse and they ended up sending water tankers to the local school where you could go and fill up anything you could carry. Eventually the thaw came but still there was no sign of water in our house, in all the kerfuffle we had all forgotten about the valve being turned of dad was fetching water from the local janitor till somebody finally climbed up into the loft to see if the tank was frozen, needless to say big brother was not allowed to forget what he had done .
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Post by sandrainsydney on Mar 4, 2018 9:39:32 GMT
I'm there with you - you certainly carry the readers along. MORE, MORE! especially hot soup on a cold day (a day I would never experience in Sydney's mild winters)
I recently stopped reading an interesting book cos I was frustrated by the author's style, at the same time I was reading another book & it galloped along.
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Post by meganl on Mar 5, 2018 9:16:26 GMT
Thanks Sandra Katlaughing encouraged me to gather my bits and pieces to create my own version of her wind words, but like most things time seemed to drift past till the folk in the Scottish group kept demanding my memories.
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Post by meganl on Mar 16, 2018 8:00:52 GMT
You may notice at the end of this one the family names have been changed Rab was Roys name from Gran who called him Rab Haw the Glesca glutton Donal was Theo though no one ever found out why she called him that and my big sister Audrey was wee Isabell because her nature reminded Gran Sinclair of Grandmother Barclay, Freddy was dad although his birth name was Benjamin at age seven the teacher got him to recite Freddy and the cherries and the name stuck and I am Daisy at least that's what dad called mum who was the real Davidina Sinclair Peevers playgrounds and parents Empty shoe polish cans were prized possessions filled with some earth from the garden or if you got lucky some sand they gave hours of fun playing peever. Of course what it was called depended on where you came from weans played peever , hopscotch or beds and were probably confused when they went to visit cousins who played what looked like their favourite game but called it a totally different name. Our street didn't have that many children so we were more likely to be found playing together, the boys were even known tpo take a turn to caw the ropes if we were short handed and a lassie would kick a ball wie the best o them. we did not have vast areas of blank wall to play ball on but my pal lived in the end house so we would use the end wall of the house till her dad came out to threaten us wie a skelped lug if we broke a windy. Our summer days seemed to be full of running , dodging and singing. "Hands up kick the can Daisy Sinclairs got a man." "In and out the dusty bluebells" "A sailor went to sea sea sea" we had mair songs than Lulu had hits A jeely piece and ootside aw day playing wie jauries on a stank or trying to avoid Mr Wolf. The women would get the house clean then drag a chair out onto the pavement and knit or sew as they blethered and watched the bairns play. That was till mum would grab the polish can and join the game or produce a length of washline and start skipping with different lassies jumping in and out. With tig and statues , Brittish bulldog and so many other games we never seemed to run out of things to play and hated being kept indoors but even then we lassies had dollies and scraps to swap while the boys had tin soldiers and wee cars. Mind you I like summer cause dad would have made me a new toy the best was a castle with a watermill at the side you aimed the garden hose at it and the draw bridge would go up, when it closed it pressed a peg that caused the drum to run free and it would open again. All to soon it was tea time and mum would come out to the door, I know I was the last In the line all my brothers and sisters were grown by the time I was born but she still rattled through every family name before reaching mine. I wouldn't have minded but my pals thought it was hilarious to hear Rab, Donal, wee isabell , freddy, Daisy it wisny so bad but did she hiv tae include the laddies as weel as the lassies .
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Post by sandrainsydney on Mar 17, 2018 0:42:05 GMT
megan, wonderful memory + skill with words = perfect stories!
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Post by meganl on Mar 17, 2018 9:07:00 GMT
Thank you Sandra
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Post by meganl on Mar 26, 2018 7:16:31 GMT
It is strange how your view of something you have done for years can change when you try to explain it to someone who has never done it before.
Having a look at some basic recipes for folks that might be new to baking. I will give the ingredients as usual but will try to give instructions in more detail than they would normally be seen in recipes.
So let us start with a basic sponge. When I was young if someone said they were making a 4442 folk would instantly know they were making a Victoria sponge, the numbers were the proportion of flour, sugar , fat and eggs.
The recipe we will be following is enough to make a 9-10 inch or 23-25cm round or spring form tin. A spring form tin has a loose base and a lever that allows it to be loosened when the cake is baked.
before you start put your oven on to heat to 175°C/350°F/ gas mark4
Ingredients
8oz/250 g Plain flour (all purpose) 8oz/250g unsalted butter 8oz/250g Granulated sugar 4 eggs 1 tablespoon baking powder pinch of salt 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
The butter The night before if possible leave the butter out of the fridge it must be soft enough that the flat of a table knife pushes through it easily.
The eggs Leave out the night before to allow them to slowly come up to room temperature
The baking tin Grease the tin and line the base with baking paper(parchment or greaseproof paper) then grease the paper and tip a spoonful of flour into the tin and swirl it to cover then the base. Then move over to the sink and turn the tin while gradually tipping it towards yo so the sides get covered in flour. If there is any left moving about when the whole tin has been coated tip it out.
Method
Into a bowl fit a sieve and into that place your flour, baking powder and salt and sift. In the old days this was because the flour would clump together in lumps. they now put an anti caking agent in the flour so that does not happen. It is still advisable to sift it since it helps incorporate the dry ingredients, it also adds a little air to the mix.
In a large bowl place the softened butter and with an electric beater or a balloon whisk beat for 2 minutes to break it down
Gradually add the sugar to mix ( If it is your first attempt take a small teaspoon of the mixture out and leave on the side ) then beat vigorously for about 5 minutes. When this is done look at the difference in colour between the butter in the spoon and what is in the bowl. You should notice that the butter and sugar in the bowl is considerably lighter and fluffier. (Not something I would normally do but if it is you first time take a tiny drop of the butter sugar mix from the spoon and rub it between your fingers you will feel the grains of sugar, If you repeat it with a tiny spot from the beaten mix you should not feel the sugar grains.
With the mixer switched on to a low setting beat in one of the eggs. (If the mix is warm enough) When that egg is thoroughly blended into the mix repeat with each egg till all four eggs are in the butter and sugar mix. now beat in the vanilla.
the next bit is best done with a metal spoon (large soup spoon will do) You want to add 1/3 of the flour and using a figure of eight motion, turning the spoon slightly so the thin edge enters the mixture first this allows the flour to be thoroughly mixed with the butter sugar and eggs without deflating the air you have built up in the mixture.
Repeat this until all the flour has been added then tip the mixture into the prepared baking tin.
The cake will rise a little more in the centre to reduce this lightly swirl the mixture to distribute evenly in the pan then with the back of the spoon push a shallow dent in the middle.
Bake in the heated oven for 40-50 minutes the cake should have come away from the sides of the pan a little if gently pressed near the middle of the top of the cake it should spring back to its position quickly. You can also insert a toothpick or thin skewer into the middle of the cake if there is no sign of cakemix on it then the cake is ready.
Transfer to a wire rack to cool
When cooled this simple sponge can be split horizontally and filled with cream and jam or fruit. The top can be simply dusted with icing sugar or more whipped cream and fruit or an easy icing made with 3 1/2oz/ 100g icing sugar mixed with5-6 tablespoon 75-90ml of water (you could also substitute orange or lemon juice for the water.
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maeve
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Post by maeve on Apr 6, 2018 14:55:39 GMT
Hi, Megan! I enjoyed this recipe very much. It's full of useful advice. Thank you for sharing it here with us!
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ragdall
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Post by ragdall on Apr 8, 2018 19:57:39 GMT
Hi Megan, Lots of good advice in there that is new to me. I've never put parchment paper in the bottom of a baking tin and didn't know about pushing a shallow dent in the middle of the top with a spoon to prevent a rise in the centre. I'll try to remember to use those ideas.
I've usually made a sponge in a fluted flan pan. The inverted finished sponge has high sides and a depressed centre in which I arrange sliced tinned fruit such as peaches or pears then cover with a flavoured gelatin.
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Post by meganl on Apr 9, 2018 6:38:25 GMT
sounds good Ragdall I love fruit flans. I am working on a series of basic recipes because so many of the folk who come into our group never learned to bake because mums were out working. The skills are fading but with programmes like bake of they are getting interested so in the group we try to help when they encounter problems.
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ragdall
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Posts: 1,687
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Post by ragdall on Apr 12, 2018 6:09:14 GMT
You're providing a worthwhile service, Megan. The information and skills that they learn from you can be can passed on to future generations.
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Post by meganl on May 4, 2018 7:22:42 GMT
Another memory of Ella’s kitchen?
These stories are from her small cottage but in my grandmothers house and my mother's indeed the length and breadth of scotland the story was the same. The kitchen table was always washed down after meals but when Ella brought out the cardboard box of salt and the kettle of boiling water I knew we were in for a day of hard work. Some boiling water was tipped onto the deal table and given a scrub before salt was sprinkled over it and scrubbed again before being rinsed of and left to dry.
This ritual occurred several times in the year for in those days we didn't run to the supermarket for strawberries in December. We lived by the seasons and the scrubbing of the old table was the signal that a fruit or vegetable had come in to season.
Raspberries and strawberries, blackcurrants and gooseberries each had their time upon the old table as the were added to the big maslin pan with the sugar. Sometimes a muslin bag of apple skins or some lemon were added to increase the pectin. How they must have rejoiced in 1929 when Certo a liquid pectin came on the market making getting the set right so much easier.
First of course had come the rhubarb the earliest served stewed for tea or if you were good a wee slender stalk would be handed over along with a bit paper twisted into a pokie hat filled with sugar. As it grew a little courser it lay on the table to be sliced with some ginger or a few cloves to be turned into jam. There were some wummin added that many cloves yer mouth was as numb as if you had been to the dentist. By the end of the rhubarb season it was added to apples onions and dried fruit and slowly cooked with vinegar and sugar to make chutney.
Vegetables in their turn were pickled or turned into relish or chutney. When we saw the small yellow tin placed beside the chopped up Cauliflower we knew it was the day for piccalilli.
And as the nights shortened the summer elderflower blossom which gave us cordial ,ripened into berries which along with the rose hips were made into sweet syrups to help fight of winters colds.
And before the world of nature drifted into its winter slumber crab apples and rowan berries were turned into jellies their sharp bite working well with the late season game.
If I close my eyes I can drift back and hear once more the bottles and jars dirling and dancing as they were sterilised in the big old soup pot while the waxed paper discs waited to be dropped onto the hot contents before the jars were sealed.
Jar by jar and bottle by bottle the shelves of the press would fill with delights created to lift and chear the blandest of winter fare
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ragdall
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Post by ragdall on May 4, 2018 23:36:30 GMT
Beautiful, Megan. I could smell the various fruits and veggies being prepared.
The Rowan berries we have here have a very nasty taste. i wonder if the variety there are any more palatable? I can't imagine anyone making jelly with ours. Are they used in combination with the crab apples, by themselves, or both?
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