Despatches from a mother who started late (and is running to catch up)

October 2009

Apple a day

JCAYSCTBLCAV3P577CAH0SA2YCAJEPWMRCA3XWXC5CA0MZ23LCAU7X04OCAMLUSSTCA26OADJCAC9CGEACAOCJ4N1CAUNYYJICAOWM68CCACF27KDCAKRK8A2CAO3K2X7CAUARIJICALKG4D4CA3Q807Z_Small.jpg Friday was one of those glorious autumn days when much-discussed hopes of an Indian summer finally materialised, so it seemed only right to indulge in a spot of apple picking in Granny's back garden. After all, the sun was shining and ripe apples were - quite literally - dropping about our feet in what felt like a series of Keatsian moments. It would have been a shame to let all that lovely fruit - and ambience - go to waste.

I began by picking fruit with my hands from the lower branches, being careful, of course, not to get mud on my new sheepskin boots while stretching across flower beds. Then I moved on to a clothes pole, which proved just the thing for knocking fruit down from higher branches. Granny sensibly removed Button to a place of safety as apples tumbled down around us. Not so much clothes pole as mediaeval jousting spear.

In no time at all, we filled up two large plastic bags with the cookers, easy to forget how much bigger they are than eating apples. Granny brought out more bags; we filled those too.

That evening, back home, we feasted on baked apples, stuffed with raisins, honey and cinnamon. Topped off with a tin of custard. I love eating in tune with the seasons, I am the most die-hard townie, but that makes me feel more in harmony with nature.

The next day I gouged, cut, cored, peeled, quartered, sugared and boiled about twenty more apples. Husband Va-vay even made a special trip to the shops to buy more plastic tubs for freezing the apple puree.

Oh, the satisfaction of a job well done. The pleasure of packing away rows of small boxes, each with their freezer-proof label stating date and contents. A proud moment, if I might be allowed to say so.

Granny rang on Sunday evening to enquire about the apples.

"How did you get on?" she asked.

"Pretty well," I said. "I've done a big batch of them."

Then she popped round on Monday morning and looked round the kitchen.

"I thought you said you'd done a big batch of apples," she said.

"I did," I told her, trying not to sound hurt. "I made a tonne of puree and we've been baking them too."

"What are all these, then?" she said, pointing to half a dozen repurposed plant pots, scattered around the kitchen, each one of them packed with apples.

"Those are the rest of them."

"Ah," said Granny. "Don't worry. Plenty of time yet. They used to keep cookers until Christmas."

Posted 19 October 2009 21:47 | Number of comments: 7 | Comments

Button Daughters Edinburgh Food Fun Granny Health Home Out and about

Biodegradable potties?

ecofriendlybiodegradablepottybecopotty1320pekm281x240ekm_Small.jpg A press release lands in my inbox, announcing the launch of what claims to be "the world's first biodegradable potty". Now, I am all in favour of doing my bit for the environment, but fear I may have to draw the line at the Becopotty. A glance at the potty's webpage reveals: "This potty is not only kind on your baby but also the environment."

Like toilet training a small child isn't hard enough at the best of times, do we need potty makers weighing in with this kind of shameless commercial guilt-tripping? Well, according to Becopotty's makers, yes, we do. They suggest the world is in dire danger from reckless parents buying and discarding potties. Apparently, an annual 17 million potties around the world are sent to a potty graveyard in the sky, in the form of landfill sites. Presumably hurried on their way by parents from every corner of the globe, united in pleasure at an end to toilet training their offspring. At last, an end to the constant refrain (albeit in Spanish, Arabic, Russian or Mandarin) to little Miguel, Issa, Ivan or Ying of "Now, are you sure you don't need a wee? Why don't you just try?"

Those of you who worried by the thought of all those poor plastic potties lying on landfills, stubbornly refusing to biodegrade and polluting the environment, might be interested to know how the Becopotty breaks down naturally. It is because the potty is made of an unusual, though natural substance. What unusual substance? It is made of, wait for it, rice husks. Yes, rice husks. Reading that made me imagine a potty made of rice cakes, stuck together like Lego bricks, (though not, obviously, made of anything as evil as plastic). But apparently the Becopotty is a great deal more water-resistant than a rice cake would be. Which can only be good news.

Posted 13 October 2009 18:19 | Number of comments: 5 | Comments

Childcare Fun Home Kit

Have your cake

I was stood at the kitchen table, wearing one of Beanie's aprons, when the treacle tin exploded. I had warmed the treacle in the oven's bottom shelf, as instructed, so it would mix more easily into the flour, sugar, fat, spices and fruit. Unfortunately, after putting the treacle inside the oven, I forgot all about it and left it too long. By the time we needed treacle, the tin was so hot I had to use gloves to remove it from the oven. I carried it over to the table and put it down. It was then I made my big mistake; using a fork I prised the lid open. Hot, black gloop spurted out like lava from a volcano, bubbling up uncontrollably over the oven gloves, the table and the cake mixture. The explosion left a layer of caramelised tarmac over the recipe, preserving it like a relic from the Cretaceous Period. A sticky, sweet-smelling relic.

Despite this set-back, making the Christmas cake (well, two of them, actually, as we made an extra one for Granny) was a delight; the flat was filled all weekend with that evocative smell of baking fruit, nutmeg and cinnamon. The cakes are now packed away tightly in tins, wrapped in layers of grease-proof paper to marinate for three months. The plan is to feed them with brandy at intervals before December 25, dripping alcohol in via holes made by knitting needles. Cake-making: an honourable exception to the evil of premature Christmas preparations, worth braving exploding treacle tins for any day.

Posted 05 October 2009 10:34 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

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