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ECONOMY BROTH

It was 1947 and Harry and May lived in a small stone cottage with an exceptionally large garden also an orchard. Harry was Manager of the farm owned by a Colonel who was shortly to retire from the Army. They had a young daughter and Harry's daughter played with her in the sumptuous nursery. May was the nursemaid.

There was no electricity or water in the cottage. They used candles and carried water from a stream running from the side of a hill about half a mile away. Harry put the barrels of water onto the back of the tractor and brought it to the cottage and the large farm house. They could have as much milk as they wanted. May used to sit in the evening and make the butter and cheese.

May dug up the vegetables from the garden in front of her kitchen for the meal each day. Harry brought home a rabbit, a hare or wood pigeons, whatever he caught. May cooked whichever one she had for their evening meal.. All the scraps of meat and vegetables were made into broth. She loved cooking and made pies from the fruit. They had very little money because the cottage was part of his wage. Every Saturday morning May took her homemade jam etc. to the Mothers Union stall at the local market. Whatever she sold she gave a percentage of her money to support the Mothers Union.

Eventually their daughter qualified as a Dentist, married and moved to Australia. Rarely did they see her. Harry and May bought their cottage when the Colonel sold the land to a Building firm. They modernised it and still live in it now in 2007. Although May still cooks it is much simpler now. She goes to the local Supermarket and buys a cooked chicken also a bag of frozen vegetables and makes the following :-

BROTH. Take the skin off and the flesh from the bones .Put them into a pan, add water and simmer. Discard bones and skin and you have a good stock. Add pieces of chicken from the legs and wings, half a bag of frozen mixed vegetables, a chopped onion and a couple of potatoes to thicken it. Simmer for about 45 minutes then add a flavoured OXO cube. It's delicious. Divide it into four or five portions and put into plastic dishes in the freezer to use whenever. Bacon can also be used instead of chicken.. The two chicken breasts can be used for salads or dinner later.

May made the same things 60 years ago when she was hard up young Mother and had to count the pennies. Nowadays she's a pensioner and is doing exactly the same - counting the pennies It's much easier now as most things are frozen and ready to eat

Stella Rutherford.

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OLD RECIPES FROM DAYS GONE BY

One of my earliest memories is of the smell of cooking. It pervaded all over the house.

I was five when we moved into a newly built house. It had a huge black range which became the hub of the house. Mam cooked over a coal fire which burnt continuously. At the side of it was a large oven which always had something inside cooking.

My two brothers and I had to walk one mile to school, return home for lunch, walk back to school then home again - a total of four miles each day. It was fun at our ages. It was during the war so there were no school meals and food was in short supply.

I loved coming home. I always hugged Mam then sat down at the table where a hot meal was put in front of me. Monday was the weekly wash, which was an all day affair. We always had panackelty for lunch. It was made with left over meat from Sunday, an onion, potatoes and any available vegetables added. They were put in alternating layers in a casserole dish, then in the oven, and the cooking took care of itself. It was delicious, but to this day I still don't know where the name came from.

There is also a similar dish called Pan Haggerty, which is cooked in a frying pan over the fire. All you need are potatoes, onions, cheese also suitable dripping or lard (there was no cooking oil in those days).

Slice the onions and potatoes, grate the cheese, and then place in heated oil in the pan, finishing with a layer of potatoes. Season with salt and pepper, cover and fry gently until vegetables are cooked, for about 20 minutes. Remove lid and place under a hot grill to brown.

These were my two favourite meals, as they always tasted differently depending on what meat and vegetables were added together in the pan.

Stella Rutherford

THE RECIPE BOOK

"I wonder if you would find this helpful?" Sheila said to her granddaughter Amy, holding out a dirty tattered paper book "It has been passed down the generations since 1899."

"Let me look through it please?" Amy said. She opened it and on the front page was written

Lizzy 1899 Betty 1919 Glynis 1940 Sheila 1958 Amy 2008

"Why is there a gap between the last two?" Amy asked.

"The book is only passed on to daughters and I had four sons. It was helpful to me as I hadn't much money, and everything had to be made daily. I found lots of economical recipes in the book."

"I doubt if I'll use it. McDonalds and Greggs are just across the Street and Herons has lots of frozen food just to heat up in the microwave." Amy said.

Amy and Graham were engaged and had bought a flat. Neither had done any housework or cooking and didn't really want to do any. Another argument started once they came home from work. It was always about lack of money.

"We both work full time and never have any money to socialise. We pay the mortgage, poll tax, gas, electric, water rates. We both have a car but the cost of petrol has increased so we'll have to give up going to the gym three times a week. We can't afford the fees. I wish we'd never bought this flat. You don't help with housework, washing, cooking. In fact you do nothing. I wish I was back home with Mam and Dad. I was happy but didn't realise it until I moved into the flat," Amy cried. "However we've got visitors coming so I'll start cooking from the recipe I've chosen.".

Next day Sheila called to see Amy "Did they like the fish pudding?"

"They did. Thought it was unusual." However Graham and I had a flaming row later. He wouldn't wash the dishes after I had cooked.. He later put the washer on and the stupid man opened the door and flooded the kitchen. I left him to mop it up. I went back to Mam's house and I'm going to stay there. I can't live with him any more. I'm never going to leave again. It's too much hard work doing everything myself."

Sheila chuckled to herself "Until the next time when you meet someone and want to be together."

FISH PUDDING

Any fish may be used. Take out the bones, and mash up the flesh with fresh boiled potatoes. Add a piece of marg, seasoning, a dash of mustard, a well beaten egg and enough milk to bind together. Bake in a tin or pudding dish for half an hour, or steam in a mould for one hour. Serve with fish sauce made from the bones and scraps, and strained. As an optional, sprinkle grated cheese over the top.

Stella Rutherford.

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Never go to bed mad - stay up and fight.

Phyllis Diller.

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Katie’s Toffee Cakes

On Friday my youngest grandchild came to stay overnight. Katie is six, going on twenty-six and a lovely and loving child. She is bright as a button and full of energy, as they all are at that age. Unfortunately while her Grandma is for cuddling, her Granddad is her elected play pal. Not that I really mind, it can be and is very rewarding. But it is also exhausting, not physically but mentally. She is so energetic that you get tired just watching her, never mind joining in the games.

At the moment Katie is having swimming lessons after school and then after tea, my daughter Clare brings her over to ours. Inevitable Katie comes bounding into the kitchen with big smiled on her face and after giving us a hug says, ‘Will you watch a DVD with me Granddad?’

I generally reply, ‘Yes, when I finish my cup of coffee.’

Mollified for the moment, she tells us about her swimming and then before I have managed to get half of my coffee drunk, ‘Can we watch the DVD now Granddad?’

‘In a minute, I’ve nearly finished. What are we going to watch anyway?’

‘Aquamarina.’

‘Oh, is it about painting?’ I ask.

‘No Granddad,’ she explains as if to a child. ‘It is about a beautiful mermaid.’

All Katie’s DVD’s are about beautiful mermaids or princesses. I finish my coffee, put the DVD in the player and we settle back on the settee in the lounge to watch Aquamarina. This is the easy part but it won’t last long. Five minutes into the film.

‘Granddad I’m hungry and thirsty too.’

‘Go and ask Grandma what you can have.’

I sit watching the mermaid film on my own until she returns with one of those lunch boxes in one hand – you know, the one’s, little slices of ham and cheese with little biscuits to put them on – and a purple Fruit Shoot in the other.

Ten minute later she jumps up and dances around to the music on the DVD. After a few minutes of this she decides to show me the new moves she has learnt at her cheerleading class. By now the DVD is forgotten and she wants me to play X Factor. I switch the DVD off and settle back down on the settee. The game goes as follows, Katie goes behind the bookcase under the stairs and then walks out to the centre of the floor and I have to say, ‘Hello, what is your name?’

‘Katie.’

Katie sings, she has a nice little voice, makes up the words as she goes and the songs sound very Disney like. I clap, whistle and stamp my feet when she finishes and she takes a little bow. Now I have to be all three judges and vote for her to go on to the next round. This game goes on for another three quarters of an hour with Katie taking the part of different singers and dancers before she becomes bored.

Next she calls her Grandma in and we play schools, Katie is the teacher, Grandma is the good little girl and Granddad is the cheeky boy who gets sent to the naughty corner. Katie always starts the game the same way. ‘Today children we are going to…’

Half an hour later she is looking for something else to do, She decides that she would like to draw and colour in. I get the paper and pencils go to the bookcase and take out, ‘The World Of Beatrix Potter Treasury’ and we draw and colour in Peter Rabbit, Jemima Puddle-duck and Mrs Tiggy-Winkle.

After an hour or so of this Grandma decides it is time for bed, but Katie begs us to play just one more game before she goes. We have recently introduced her to dominoes and she loves it. After six games, she and Grandma go up to bed and I am left to tidy up. I used to go up and read her a bedtime story, but now she says that she is a big girl now and she takes her own book to bed with her.

By eight thirty on Saturday morning Katie is up and raring to go. We have a couple of games of ‘Where is Tinker bell?’ before breakfast and after breakfast we go into the garden to check how her plants are doing. Back indoors she asks what we can do next and after checking the cupboards I suggest we make toffee cakes. My wife Ann is not pleased; she hates me messing up the kitchen. I tell Katie what we need, butter, sugar, vinegar and treacle and she get them from the cupboards. Taking down a pan I stand her on a chair and let her put in all the ingredients. She is not allowed near the stove, so while the toffee is bubbling in the pan I get her to grease the bun tins with a little butter. When the toffee is ready I test it in water and then pour it into the bun tins and place the tins on the windowsill to cool. (I used a twelve-bun tin and filled each just over half way).

While I clean the pan and the spoons, Katie puts the ingredients back into the cupboards. Once the toffee has cooled I give Katie a small cake box and just as she finishes filling it with toffee cakes her Mum arrives to take her home. When she leaves she gives us a kiss and a cuddle, says goodbye and I can’t help wondering what she will have me doing next weekend.

Fred Watson

Toffee Cake Just Like Katie’s

Ingredients

4 oz of butter

8 oz of granulated sugar

2 tablespoons of vinegar

2 level tablespoons of golden syrup

Method.

Use a heavy pan.

Place butter in the pan over a low heat to begin melting. Add the other ingredients and stir until the sugar is melted.

Bring to the boil a boil briskly, stirring occasionally , until mixture turns a golden brown.

When you feel that it is ready test a small drop by dropping it into a saucer of cold water you want it to set so that when feel it between your fingers and thumb it is hard but chewy.

When you are satisfied pour it into your greased bun tins and leave to cool.

My mother was a good recreational cook, but what she basically believed about cooking was that if you worked hard and prospered, someone else would do it for you.

Nora Ephron.

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Jam Sandwiches In Batter.

My father used to sometimes cook breakfast on a Sunday morning and his idea of a good start to the day was the great British fry up. Bacon, sausage, black pudding, egg, beans or tomatoes and a slice of crispy fried bread. Full of calories I know but it smelt and tasted great and we loved it. Now and again, and it was now and again, because he would sooner be at the pub playing darts, he made Sunday lunch. But his speciality in the kitchen and the only other thing I remember him making – apart from him once making ice cream. But that’s another story – was a favourite of my brother’s and mine. It was jam sandwiches in batter. I know it sounds a bit weird, but believe it or not they really are very nice. They’re easy to make so why not have a go.

Fred Watson

Jam Sandwiches In Batter

Ingredients for Batter

2 oz of plain flour

Pinch of salt

2 teaspoons of salad oil

4 tablespoons warm water

1 egg white

For sandwiches

Slices of thin white bread

Butter

Strawberry jam

Oil for frying

Caster sugar

Method

Sift flour and salt into a basin, make a well in the centre and add half the water.

Beat well and then gradually beat in the rest of the water

Cut the crusts off the bread, make your sandwiches and cut into triangles.

Whisk the egg white until stiff and fold into the batter mixture

Dip sandwiches into the batter and then fry in hot oil until brown

Remove from pan lay on a piece of kitchen roll to drain and the sprinkle with a little caster sugar.

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I don't even butter my bread; I consider that cooking.

Katherine Cebrian.

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Homemade Ginger Beer

Do you remember when your mother and probably your friends mothers as well, had a ginger beer plant in the pantry? If you do, congratulations, you can now travel anywhere you like in England with your free bus pass.

If you aren’t one of us in the know, you will be wondering what on earth I am talking about. Strictly speaking a ginger beer plant isn’t what we think of when we imagine a plant. It has neither root nor branch and you can’t buy one at a garden centre. At least not at any garden centre that I have heard of. I shall endeavour to explain. A ginger beer plant is yeast, water, a little sugar and a little ginger in a jar that if you feed for seven days will form the basis for a gallon (4.5 litres) of delicious home made ginger beer.

Ginger Beer originated in England in the mid 1700’s. Up until 1835 ginger beer had been brewed and consumed locally. But with the introduction of an improved Bristol Glaze, it could be poured into glazed stoneware bottles, suitably corked, and safely exported all over the world.

Your Ginger Beer Plant.

½ oz of dried yeast

½ a pint of water

Sugar

Ground ginger

The juice of two lemons

Method

Put yeast, water, 2 level teaspoons of sugar, 2 level teaspoons of ginger into a jar and mix together.

Cover jar with a sheet of polythene, held in place by an elastic band.

Each day for the next 7 days, add 1 level teaspoon of sugar and 1 level teaspoon of ginger.

Strain the mixture through a piece of muslin and add the lemon juice to the liquid. (Keep the sediment to one side, it can be used again; see bottom)

You are now ready to make your Ginger Beer. But please follow the instructions carefully so as not to be at risk of bursting bottles and flying glass.

Sweet Still Ginger Beer.

Ingedients

The juice from the plant

1 lb of sugar

1 pint of water

Method

Put all of the ingredients into a pan and stir until the sugar dissolves.

Bring to the boil and simmer for five minutes, to kill the yeast.

Make up to 1 gallon with cold water.

Bottle the ginger beer and cork tightly. Keep for a few days before drinking.

Dry Sparkling Ginger Beer.

Ingredients

The juice from your plant

2 oz of sugar

Water

Method

Add sugar to your juice and make up to 1 gallon with cold water, stir to dissolve the sugar.

Pour into screw cap bottles making sure the caps a screwed tight. Keep for 7 to 10 days when the ginger beer will be sparkling and ready to drink.

(Split the sediment you have left in the muslin into two jars. You now have another two ginger beer plants. I would suggest that you give one away. You can now start again by adding ½ pint of water, 2 level teaspoons of sugar, 2 level teaspoons of ginger and carry on as before for the 7 days).

Fred Watson.

No man is lonely while eating spaghetti.

Robert Morley.

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Spotted Dick

As a lad one of my favourite Puddings – I say one of, because I had many favourites – was ‘Spotted Dick’ a sweet, steamed suet pudding with currants and raisins that is served with lashings of custard.

This sweet treat has been around for a long time. The earliest recipe comes from 1847, but where did it get its name? Someone has suggested the theory that Pudding became Puddink, from there it became Puddick and then simply Dick. There are other theories, even one relating ‘Spotted Dick’ to ‘Spotted Dog’ (another version of the pudding) and then to Dalmatians as they are spotted too.

Wherever the name came from, it has been changed at least once. A BBC news article from the 10th of September 2002 reported that the Gloucestershire Hospitals NHS Trust had put the name ‘Spotted Dick’ back on the menu. The name had previously been changed to ‘Spotted Richard’ in the mistaken belief that patients might have felt uncomfortable having to order Spotted Dick.

Snippets like this may be interesting, but wherever the name came from, the pud is still good, as far as I’m concerned. If you haven’t tried it why don’t you give it a go, it really is a sweet treat.

F Watson.

Spotted Dick

Ingredients

8 oz of self-raising flour

6 oz of suet

Pinch of salt

1 oz of caster sugar

6 oz breadcrumbs (white)

2 oz of currants

2 oz of seedless raisins

5 to 8 tablespoons of milk

Method

Mix salt, suet, currants, raisins, breadcrumbs and flour together

Mix with a fork adding milk gradually until the mixture binds together.

Knead until the dough is slightly sticky

Roll dough into a cylinder

Wrap in a single layer of foil that has been brushed with butter and seal

(My mother used to wrap her pudding in a cloth to steam it, but these days it is easier to use foil)

Steam for two hours.

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The Worse thing that ever happened to me was that I offered a fellow a crisp from my bag and he took two.

Vic Reeves

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PEASE PUDDING HOT, PEASE PUDDING COLD.

Pease pudding hot, Pease pudding cold

Pease pudding in the pot – nine days old

Some like it hot, some like it cold

Some like it in the pot – nine days old

Pease Pudding, made from dried yellow split peas, has always been a favourite in the Northeast of England. Traditionally it is served with boiled ham, either on a plate with vegetables or as a sandwich, in that other northern favourite the Stotty cake.

Pease pudding also makes an excellent accompaniment to the savaloy sausage. My wife Ann remembers going to the local pork shop on a Saturday morning, and standing in the queue with a basin, to get Pease pudding, savaloy’s and gravy for Saturday lunch.

Fred Watson April 2008

Pease Pudding

Ingredients

1 lb of yellow split peas

1 medium onion chopped

1 pint of water from boiling a ham shank

Pepper

Method

Place split peas in a basin, cover with water, and allow to soak overnight Drain off water, place split peas in a pan with the onion, and water from ham Shank.

Bring to the boil, cover simmer until peas are tender, add more water if peas start to dry out.

Add pepper and blitz in a liquidiser, it should now resemble a thick paste.

Pour into a shallow greased oven dish, smooth over surface And bake in a preheated oven for 30 minutes, Gas 4, 180º C, 350º F

***

You can get a ham shank for about £2.50p Place in a pan, cover with water, bring to the boil, check to see if the water is too salty, if it is, pour the water out, put in fresh, bring to the boil again and boil for approx 1hour, put the meat to one side to eat later and use the water to make your Pease pudding.

My mother's menu consisted of two choices: take it or leave it.

Buddy Hackett.

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Pickling: Pickled Eggs

The Romans imported food into Rome from many parts of their empire and much of it was pickled in brine, vinegar, and oil, to preserve it throughout the journey. In medieval times the cooks in England – possibly having learned the art from their former conquerors – pickled surplus produce. This was used to provide a valuable source of food and vitamins during the harsh winter months when very little fresh produce would have been available.

My foray into pickling came about because had a surplus of produce. Unlike the Medieval cooks, I didn’t need to pickle to feed us through the winter – we had a couple of perfectly good supermarkets nearby, for that – but we did need to use up a constantly replenished surplus of eggs.

How did I get this seemingly never- ending supply of eggs? Simple really. I had at that time, two young grandchildren and since I had plenty room in the paddock I decided to buy some chickens. I thought the kids would like them and as a bonus we would eventually get some eggs.

Having made the decision, I set to work building a portable henhouse. Four and a half 8ft by 4 ft sheets of exterior plywood and some 2” by 2” timber made an 8 ft long A frame henhouse (in the shape of a steeply sided tent) with a drop down door at one end, some nest boxes at the other and broom shanks inside for perches. I also fitted handles at each end so that two of us could move it to a new location now and then – As per normal no one ever seemed to be about when it needed to be moved and I had to drag it myself. In addition to the henhouse I made a wire mesh chicken run, also portable, to attach to one end.

Now all I needed were the little fluffy yellow chickens. A couple of days later I was on my way to Doncaster when I saw a hand written sign advertising pullets for sale. Pullets to my mind were young birds; hence they were what I was after. Wrong. Parking the car I walked back, the sign that was fastened to the fence of some allotments. The place I wanted was right at the back, beyond all vegetable plots and consisted of several long sheds filled with literally hundreds of 15-week-old, point of lay pullets. They weren’t what I wanted, but when found out that they had been bred to sell on to a battery farm, I decided buy ten, not many I know, but my henhouse wasn’t that big and at least those few would live a better life.

They might not have been little fluffy chicks but the kids thought they were brilliant and really loved to help with the feeding and egg collection. It was two weeks before the first egg arrived but after that they really got into swing off it and before long we were collecting about twenty eggs a day, seven days a week. We ate an awful lot, gave a lot away and since we still had a surplus I decided to pickle them. If you have surplus eggs or you just like the taste of pickled eggs, why not try out the recipe below.

Pickled Eggs.

Ingredients

6 eggs

1 pint of white vinegar (either wine or cider vinegar)

1 oz of pickling spice

Method

Place eggs in a pan of cold water, bring to boil and boil for approximately 12 minutes.

Plunge eggs into cold water and when cold, remove shells, place eggs in a wide mouthed jar.

Boil vinegar and spices for 10 minutes, strain and allow to cool.

Pour the cold vinegar over the eggs in the jar.

Fit lid to jar ensuring it has a vinegar proof seal. (Hard plastic screw on type lids are OK)

Keep for three weeks before eating.

After eating your eggs save the vinegar, it can be used again to pickle more eggs, generally two or three times before it goes cloudy.

Fred Watson March 2008.

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Let's Get out of these wet clothes and into a dry Martini.

Mae West.

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Blackberry Picking + Blackberry plate Pie.

I often wonder if anyone goes blackberry picking these days, I like to think there must be some who still do. I know that children now think that blackberries come neatly packaged in clear plastic boxes from the fruit shop, but they don’t have to. Not when there are loads of blackberry brambles out in the countryside and you can enjoy a family outing out on a fine autumn day, picking the sweet black fruits for free.

Blackberries ripen in September and October and when I was a lad my brother and I would pester mum for a couple of empty jam jars and set off for our favourite patch of brambles to pick blackberries. Later when the jars were full we would return home, covered in scratches from the brambles, with our mouths and fingers stained red and by the time we’d manage to scrub off the stains, mum would already have started on a pie.

Blackberry plate Pie.

Short crust pastry.

15 oz white flour 3 oz lard 3 oz margarine 3 tablespoons of water ½ a teaspoon of salt

Make up pastry

Mix flour and salt in bowl, cut margarine and lard into small cubes, place in bowl and rub between fingers until the mixture feel like breadcrumbs, stir with a round-ended knife until it begins to bind, then knead it lightly with your hands until becomes dough, allow to rest for ten minutes.

Filling

1 lb blackberries 2 tablespoons of sugar

Method

Take an enamel soup plate with a rim, roll out half of the pastry and line the plate with it including the rim, fill with black berries and sprinkle on the sugar.

Roll out the rest of the pastry to make the lid, brush the pastry rim with water, cover with lid, crimp the edges with a fork and cut 2 small slits in the lid. Brush lid with water and sprinkle with a little sugar.

Bake in oven Gas 6, 400°F, 200°C for 35 minutes.

Fred Watson 2008

But I'm not so think as you drunk I am.

J. C. Squire.

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Caller Hearn, Baked Herring Recipe

As a young lad of six or seven I remember the Fishman coming around once a week with his horse and cart and calling out, ‘Caller Hearn,’ to alert the housewives to his presence. He used to sell; dependant on the season, whatever fish was available. Sometimes it would be cod, haddock or mackerel and some times sprats or herrings. On hearing his call the women would go to the cart with their enamel basins and pick the fish they wanted. The Fishman would then weigh the fish and pour them into the basin and take payment.

My dad liked his herrings dipped in oatmeal and fried in a pan, but my mother liked hers baked in the oven. We, my brother and I, were given whatever was going and we ate a lot of herring when herring season came round. It was, at that time a very cheap fish to buy, which was important to families on a tight budget. But it was equally as important as a wholesome nutritious food.

Fred Watson.

Baked Herring Serves 4

Ingredients

4 herrings

Salt and pepper

½ pint of half and half, malt vinegar/ water

1 tablespoon pickling spice

4 bay leaves

2 small onions, sliced

Method

Clean herrings, cut off heads and tails

Scale and bone herrings, cut down middle to give you two fillets

Rollup the fillets from the tail end with the skin inside

Place close together in an ovenproof dish

Pour over the vinegar/water mixture

Sprinkle with pickling spice

Place onions and bay leaves on top

Cover with foil and bake slowly in a warm oven for 1½ hours At Gas 2, 300ºF, 150ºC.

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Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

G. K. Chesterton.

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Easter; Hot Cross Buns

Hot cross buns! Hot cross buns!

One a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns

If you have no daughters, give them to your sons

One a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns

The crocuses have been out for a couple of weeks, the daffodils along the roadsides are blooming, Easter is early and it’s a long time since you could get one hot cross bun for a penny never mind two. At Easter the family will gather together as it has done since I was a lad, nowadays the gathering takes place at our house. But back in the mists of time the clan used to gather at my mother’s house on Easter Sunday for tea. Apart from chocolate Easter eggs, the thing that I liked most about Easter was hot cross buns sliced through the middle and spread with best butter. Nowadays I am not fussed with the chocolate eggs, but I still loved a hot cross bun and despite the cries from the dieters in the family of, ‘You’ll never lose weight using butter, besides it’s not good for you.’ I still like mine spread with best butter.

Hot Cross Buns

Ingredients

1 oz of fresh yeast

3 oz of caster sugar

½ pint of tepid milk

1 lb of white flour

3 oz of unsalted butter

¼ teaspoon of powdered cinnamon

1-2 tablespoons of mixed spice

¼ teaspoon grated nutmeg

Pinch of salt

2 large eggs

3 oz of currants

2 oz of sultanas

1 oz of mixed peel

I packet of ready to roll short crust pastry (to make the cross)

Method

Switch on oven and allow to preheat, Gas 7, 425° F, 220° C

Dissolve the yeast and 1 tablespoon of sugar in a little tepid milk.

Sift the flour into a large bowl and rub in the butter, add cinnamon, nutmeg, mixed spice, a pinch of salt and the sugar, mix well.

Whisk eggs and add to the milk. Make a well in the centre of the flour and add the yeast and most of the egg/milk. Mix until you have a soft dough. (You can add more of the egg/milk if you need too).

Leave for 2 to 3 minutes. Then knead until smooth. Add mixed peel, sultanas, and currants, knead until dough is shiny, cover dough place in a warm place and allow to rise until it is double the size.

Knock back risen dough by kneading on a floured board and allow to rest for a few minutes.

Shape the dough into twelve buns, place on a baking sheet and brush with a little egg wash. (Egg yoke mixed with a little sugar and milk) mark each bun with a cross.

Roll out short crust pastry, cut into 24 narrow strips, place strips on buns to form crosses, allow to rise, then brush again with egg wash.

Bake buns in preheated oven for five minutes, then reduce heat to Gas 6, 400°F, 200ºC and bake for a further 10 minutes or until golden brown.

Remove from oven and allow to cool on a wire rack.

Fred Watson March 2008

When I ask for a watercress sandwich I do not mean a loaf with a field in the middle of it.

Oscar Wilde.

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Sun, Sea and Stotty Cakes.

As I have mention before, friends of ours, Malcolm and Anne, have retired to the Costa Blanca. They are a lovely couple, typical warm-hearted northerners who will do anything to help and on those weeks that we don’t hire a car, go out of their way to pick us up and take us back to the airport. Despite being lucky enough to live the life of sun, sea and sangria, they still miss the Northeast.

Not the weather, that goes without saying. But they do miss the friendly northern patter and have fond remembrances of life on Tyneside. The people, the places and particularly the food of home, yes that’s right, home, because no matter where they now reside, they still in their minds think of the Northeast as home.

One of the things that they miss is a Stotty Cake – hence the title, we always take them some ham, peas pudding and a couple of stotty cakes when we go out. The Stotty is a type of flat round bread belonging quintessentially to the Northeast of England. Made from white bread dough, but without a second rise or a second knead, they have a tighter consistency and are cooked in the oven bottom so that they only rise a small amount. Cut into quarters they can be split across the middle and filled with whatever you want. Traditionally they are buttered and then filled with ham and peas pudding. Nowadays a lot of workmen breakfast on a ‘Stotty Full House’, bacon, egg, sausage and bean, inside half a stotty cake.

Stotty is a Geordie word that roughly translates as bouncy and it is said that in the old days no baker from the area would consider the dough properly made, if it didn’t bounce when thrown on the kitchen floor.(please do not try this at home)

Stotty Cakes

Makes two cakes, or if you want four simply double the ingredients.

Ingredients

1 lb of plain flour 1 ½ teaspoons of salt 1 ½ oz of lard 1 ½ level table spoons of dried yeast 1 teaspoon of sugar ½ pint of tepid water

Method

Pour the flour and salt into a large mixing bowl. Rub in the margarine until well combined. Then stir in the yeast and sugar. Make a well in centre, Gradually pour in water while stirring the mix until combined. If the mix is too sticky add more flour. If it is too dry add more water Knead the dough for a good ten minutes or until it springs back if you push your fist into it.

When the dough is ready, dust with flour, Place in a dish, cover with a clean cloth And in a warm place for about an hour, It should rise to double the size. Place a metal baking sheet in the bottom of the oven and preheat to gas 9, / 250°C, / 475°F

Remove dough from dish; dust a board with flour, and knead dough gently to expel any air. Divide in two, shape into rounds and roll out until 1 inch thick Pierce in several places with a fork Place onto the baking sheet and bake for approx 20 minutes, until the bread sounds hollow when tapped.

Fred Watson March 2008

_______________________________________ ________________

The Hotel Carvery - as much gristle and cornfour as you can stuff down for a tenner.

A. A. Gill.

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Carlin Sunday - Carlins

Do you remember Carlin Sunday? Carlins seem to have dropped out of favour nowadays. But when I was a lad in the northeast of England, we used to have Carlin peas also called Maple peas, Black peas or Pigeon peas once a year on the Sunday before Palm Sunday. It was a yearly tradition in much of the north and on Carlin Sunday even the local pubs and clubs would provide bowls of them free for their customers.

These small black peas were mentioned in Elizabethan times, and in all probability carlins would have been grown by monks of the early Middle Ages, in the monastery gardens. In those days beans and peas were a large part of the staple diet. The six-foot high plants produce abundant crops and can be eaten when fresh, or dried for use in the winter months.

There was even a rhyme that mentioned them.

Tid, Mid, Miserai

Carlin, Palm, Paste egg day.

We shall have a holiday,

bonny frocks on Easter day.

Carlins according to an old tale even rescued the good citizens of Newcastle upon Tyne from starvation during the English civil war. In those days Newcastle was a Royalist city in support of King Charles and a Scottish army crossed the border and swept south intent on capturing Newcastle and securing the coal supplies on behalf of their allies the parliamentarians. Newcastle however was no easy nut to crack and the city was put under siege. The siege of 1644 lasted from July until October and at one stage the supplies ran out and the people were starving. Just when thing were at their worst a Dutch ship saved them by evading the blockade and reaching the port with its cargo of carlings.

My mother used to serve the peas hot, sprinkle with salt and pepper and we would add a good slosh of vinegar before devouring them with gusto.

Recipe.

1lb Carlins

2 oz butter

A good pinch of salt

Vinegar

Method.

Place the Carlins in a bowl, cover with water, add pinch of salt and soak overnight.

After soaking, drain and place in a pan of boiling water for 20 minutes. (Boil for longer if you like them softer)

Heat up the butter in a frying pan, drain peas, add to the pan and fry for 2 to 3 minutes.

Serve hot with salt, pepper and vinegar.

Or if you wish you can serve them hot, sprinkled with brown sugar and a good splash of rum.

___________________

The following carlin recipe has nothing whatsoever to do with my mum, but I spotted it on an Internet site belonging to the ‘Irish Seed Savers Association’ and I thought it would be interesting to try. The recipe was sent in to the site by Lorraine Marshall and I have reproduced it below.

Carlin Pea Fritters

4ozs Dried whole Carlin peas

1/2 tablespoon olive oil

1 egg

2ozs self-raising wholewheat flour

1/8 pt(75ml) milk ( I use soya milk)

sea salt

freshly ground black pepper

oil for shallow frying

Cover peas with boiling water and leave them to soak for several hours, then drain and rinse them.

Put into a saucepan with more water and simmer until they're soft- about 45 mins.

Drain them and mash them (I find that the carlin peas cook unevenly some are still hardish, so I get my husband to mash them with a fork!).

Add oil, egg, flour and milk plus salt and pepper, mix well.

Fry in a little oil in desertspoonful sizes until crisp and brown on both sides.

Drain well on kitchen paper.

Fred Watson.

To duplicate the taste of hammerhead shark, boil old newspapers in Sloan's Liniment.

Spike Milligan.

_______________________________________ ____________________

Grandad’s Pigeon Pie

Thursday is shopping day in our house, not that I normally get involved in the traipsing around, I just do the dropping off and picking up bit and my wife and her mother do the actual shopping. Last week however there was a change in plans; my mother in law was going on a trip to South Shields on Thursday with a gang of her neighbours from Porlock house – I ask you who in their right mind would go to the beach in January, in a howling gale, to have a Minchella ice cream on the sea front?

Anyway, since her mother would be on this trip and was meeting her sister on Wednesday, my wife jumped the gun, decided to do her shopping on Wednesday and volunteered me to help. I didn’t mind, it was a change and I still had some book vouchers left over from Christmas, so I could have a browse through the books and meet up with her later. After selecting a couple of books, I caught up with her at Sainsbury’s poultry section and on one of the shelves in amongst a range of game birds were ready boned pigeons, which reminded me of my Grandad’s pigeon pies.

When I was a young lad I use to go to the Grainger market in Newcastle every other Saturday to troll through the books in Robinsons bookshop and as often as not my granddad would ask me to get him a couple of pigeons for his pigeon pie. Grandad used to pluck, clean and quarter his pigeons and they went into the pie bones and all, but today you might prefer use the ready boned meat from the supermarket and make your stock with a chicken stock cube.

Pigeon pie

Ingredients

8 oz of shortcrust pastry

Two plump pigeons

¼ lb bacon

¼ lb mushrooms

1 onion

½ pint stock

1 oz butter

salt and pepper

Tablespoon of flour

A pinch of gravy salt

Method

Place the pigeons in a pan, cover with a pint of water, season with salt and pepper and simmer for an hour and a half. Save water.

Place pigeons in pie dish

Slice onion and mushrooms, cut up bacon and fry them together in the butter.

Add them to the pigeon in the pie dish

If you are using meat of the pigeon only, use ½ a pint of the water that the pigeons were cooked in to make the stock by adding a chicken stock cube, then thicken with tablespoon of flour, add a pinch gravy salt, to colour and pour over the pigeons. (If you have cooked the pigeons complete with bones, simply miss out the stock cube, strain out the bones and use half a pint as your stock)

Add stock to the Pigeon

Cover with pastry and bake the pie for thirty minutes at, gas 6, 400°F, 200°C.

Fred Watson

_______________________________________ _____________________

I think a grave has just walked over this goose.

Noel Coward.

_______________________________________ ________________________

Coconut Haystacks

Some time ago, we receive an email from Margaret, an expat, who despite living in Australia since the age of twelve still has fond memories of the Northeast. She was asking for the recipe for coconut haystacks. I sent her a very good recipe supplied by Stella. However at the time it struck me that it wasn’t the same as the one my mother used. So on my next visit I asked Me Mam for her version. She wrote it out for me on the back of an old envelope, I put it in my pocket, promptly forgot all about it and only found it this week.

So, better late than never, here is me Mam’s recipe.

Coconut haystacks

Ingredients

1 large egg

4 oz Caster sugar

½ lb Desiccated Coconut

Method

Beat eggs and sugar until thick and creamy, mix in coconut; it is quite a dry mixture. Use an eggcup to shape the mixture into haystacks and place onto a greased baking sheet, cook in a moderate oven for 15 minutes.

Aprox: 15 cakes.

Fred

A politician will always be there when he needs you.

Ian Walsh.

_______________________________________ ____________________

OF GOBBS AND WORMS AND OTHER THINGS

I was sitting at the laptop in my cubbyhole, when my wife called upstairs, ‘You’d better go and pick up Katie.’

Katie’s my youngest granddaughter and since her mum worked a bit later, on a Wednesday. I was elected for the school run. Besides, my wife, bless her, insisted that they all came to ours on a Wednesday for a proper dinner, as she called it. A proper dinner consists of a joint of some sort, roast potatoes, assorted vegetables, Yorkshire puddings and gravy and a sweet to follow.

As I passed through the kitchen the aroma of roasting meat made my mouth water and I asked, ‘Is it Beef?’

‘No it’s lamb, you know Rosie won’t eat beef.’

Shows what I know, I should have remembered about the Beef. By the way, Rosie is Katie’s elder sister, a lovely and loving girl of eleven, but oh what a fussy eater. I was picking her up after I collected Katie.

After a belly busting dinner and they’d all gone home, I helped with the washing up – no I’m not kidding – then returned to my little box, to continue with my story, It’s about a girl who longs for a horse. Anyway I opened up the file and for the life of me, couldn’t think of a thing to write.

While I stared at blank page the title of an old song popped into my head,

‘Boiled Beef and Carrots.’ (Sad or what?)

Boiled Beef and Carrots, boiled beef and carrots,

That's the stuff for yer Derby Kell

Keeps you fit and keeps you well.

Don't live like vegetarians on food they give to parrots.

From noon to night blow out your kite On boiled beef and carrots.

That thought led me to, ‘Any Umberellas,’ another music hall favourite from the past.

Toora luma luma, toora luma luma, toora ly aye

Any umberellas any umberellas to mend today?

Bring your parasol it may be small, it may be big

I can mend them all with what you call a thingamyjig.

Pitter patter patter, pitter patter patter, here comes the rain

Let it pitter patter, let it pitter patter don't mind the rain.

I'll mend your umbrellas and go on my way singing

Toora luma luma toora lye, toora luma luma toora lye

Any umberellas to mend today?

Then leaving the south behind, my mind drifted – It does a lot of drifting these days – north to the land of my fathers, and,

‘The Blaydon Races,’

Aa went to Blaydon Races, ttwas on the ninth of June,

Eighteen hundred and sixty-two on a summer's afternyun,

Aa tyuk the bus fra Balmbra's and she was heavy laden,

Away we went alang Collingwood Street - that's on the road to Blaydon.

*

Oh me lads, ye shud a seen us gannin'

Passin the folks upon the road just as they were stannin'

Thor wis lots o lads and lasses there aal wi smilin' faces,

Gannin alang the Scotswood Road ti see the Blaydon Races.

And ‘Cushie Butterfield.’

I'm a broken hearted keelman, an' I'm o'er head in love,

With a young lass from Gateshead, an' I caal her me dove.

Her name is Cushie Butterfield, an' she sells yella clay,

An' her cousin is a muckman, an' they caal him Tom Gray.

*

She's a big lass, she's a bonny lass,

an' she likes hor beer,

An' they caal her Cushie Butterfield,

an' I wish she was here.

Then there was my uncle Len’s party piece ‘The Lambton Worm,’ a grand old beast,

even if it swam in the wrong river. ( apologies to any Wearsiders)

*

Whisht’ lads, haad yer’ gobbs

An’ aa’ll tell yer’ an awful story

Whisht’ lads haad yer’ gobbs,

An’ aa’ll tell yer’ aboot the worm

*

On Sunday morn young Lambton went,

A’fishing on the Wear,

And catched a fish upon his heuk,

he thowt leukt varry queer

But whatnt kind oer fish it waas,

young Lambton couldn’t tell.

He waddnt fast tu carry it hyem,

So hoyed it doon a well.

*

Whisht lads haad yer Gobbs.

An aa’ll tell yer’ an awful story

Etc, etc,

And after all of that, I hadn’t come up with anything for my story and my mind wandered – It does a lot of wandering as well – back to the boiled beef, what does it taste like? And how on earth do you do it? – I told you it wandered.

Anyway, I had a word with me 85 year- old Mam and the equally ancient grand dame, and between them, ended up with a recipe for boiled beef and carrots.

BOILED BEEF AND CARROTS

First you have to salt a piece of beef.

Three pound of silverside or brisket will serve 4 to 5 people.

BRINE.

4 pints water

¾ lb coarse salt

½ lb dark brown sugar

1 oz saltpetre

1 bay leaf

1 sprig of thyme

5 crushed juniper berries

5 crushed peppercorns

* Put all the brine ingredient into a large pan, bring to the boil and continue to boil for 5 minutes. Then leave to cool.

Strain the brine into a basin, immerse the meat in the liquid, and leave for 7 days.

To cook the beef.

2onions, 2 cloves, 3 carrots, 5 peppercorns and a bouquet garni, (half a bay leaf, 1 teaspoon dry parsley, ½ teaspoon thyme, tied into a piece of muslin)

Method.

Take the meat out of the brine and rinse with cold water.

Put the meat into a pan, cover with cold water and bring to the boil. If the water tastes very salty, throw away and start again with fresh water.

Add the onions stuck with cloves, sliced carrots, bouquet garni and peppercorns to the pan

Bring slowly to the boil, cover pan and simmer for 30 minute per lb and 30 minutes over.

Can be eaten either hot or cold.

I haven’t had time to try it yet, if you do, let me know what it tastes like.

F. Watson.

_______________________________________ ___________________

It takes more hot water to make cold water hot than it takes to make hot water cold.

Larry Dowd

______________________________________________________________

Shriving Day

‘You’ll be looking forward to the feast tomorrow, Father,’ said Edgar.

Edgar always calls me father and I put up with it; it’s better than priest, God knows I’m no holier than thou priest; I’m just an old warrior, who found his God late on in life and joined a monastery, where I’m known as brother Osbert.

‘Aye, it’ll be the last chance to have a good feed before the fasting begins.’

Not that it will be much more than simple fare, just the meagre supplies that the good people of Chippenham have managed to hide from Guthrum’s men and of course the traditional pancakes to use up the fat, butter and eggs that are prohibited during lent. But then anything will taste better than the fish and eels we’d had to eat at ever meal, while we were in the swamps of Athelney.

Nigh on two months we spent camped there, while Alfred gathered his scattered force. Then when the swamp could hold no more, we burst out to drive the Vikings back beyond Chippenham. That was yesterday and here we shall stay, for the holy days are upon us and there will be no more fighting until Easter has passed.

‘I don’t suppose there’s a chance of meat, to go with tomorrows pancakes?’ I ask, hopefully.

Tomorrow is shriving day and when the bell rings, Alfred insists that we all attend church to be shriven of our sins before Lent. And the day after tomorrow we all shall fast, of that there is nothing surer. For we are followers of King Alfred and the King is a pious man, who adheres strictly to the teachings of the church and expects us to follow suit.

‘I’ve sent Aldric and the men to scour the country, who knows, they may be lucky and find a boar, Father.’

‘I’ll pray to Saint Guthlac for success, I do like a nice piece of pork.’

Mind you, if they do catch a boar, by the time it’s shared with Edgar’s sworn men and their women, the portions are going to be small. Still we can fill up with pancakes, there’s always plenty of those on Shrive Tuesday.

Fred Watson

Recipe for Pancakes.

Makes about 14.

4oz plain flour

½ teaspoon salt

1 large egg

½ pint of milk

Lard.

1/ Place flour and salt in a basin and make a well in the middle.

2/ drop in egg, gradually mix in half of the milk,

3/ beat well until bubbles show,

4/ Gradualy beat in remainder of the milk,

5/ Heat a small frying pan and add a knob of lard, melt and spread around pan.

6/ Pour in a little batter and tilt pan so that it covers bottom.

7/ when golden toss or turn over to cook the other side.

Sprinkle with a little sugar and lemon juice, 'roll and enjoy’

It was Halloween night. The kids had already gone around playing trick or treat. They were given money and sweets, but the best part of the night was to follow. It was also Jordan's birthday. He was having a Halloween party.

Jordan and his friends looked weird as they entered the house. Jordan was dressed as a pumpkin, and Elizabeth as a witch with long pointed talons.

There were no electric lights on in the room. It was lit by pumpkin lanterns strung around the walls, making the place look eerie. On top of the T.V and window cills were eyeball candles which were scary. The candle shone through the eyeball. On top of the table and dresser were Ghoul candle holders. Hanging from the staircase, which ran up the side of the lounge, were several black lanterns with horrible faces cut out.

In the middle of the table was a horror cake. It was dark brown and had marzipan shapes on top. Written on them were "scared silly" "trick or treat" and "freaky friends" Next to the cake was a plateful of small cakes with coloured skulls and pumpkin faces on the top of each one. There was a dish of Vampire Fangs Chewitts,. Jordan's Mam had made Gingerbread men. They had white skeleton bones decorated on the top with white icing sugar.

Elizabeth, cried out "I'm frightened of the awful faces on the cakes. We won't be able to eat anything because they'll taste awful"

Jordan's Mam said "I bought everything at Asda, They are normal cakes but just have horrible faces painted on the top which can easily be lifted off. They're only decorations"

"Look what I've got" Jordan shouted. He carried a dish of water with green apples in. Elizabeth had her hands tied behind her back, knelt down and tried to grab an apple in her mouth .She got her hair and face wet but no apple. One by one each child tried to pick up an apple. They screamed and laughed with delight.

The doorbell rang. Jordan ran and opened the door. A Witch flung past him into the Lounge. She was old and wrinkled and had a green luminous face. She wore a long black flowing robe, had a black high pointed hat on her head and her straggly black hair hung loosely down her back. She had a broom between her legs. The kids stared in shock and ran into the Conservatory. The witch followed them laughing at their yells and howls of fear. They screamed and ran into the large backgarden. The witch followed. She opened her mouth and screamed over and over again. She shouted, "The wind is angry and it's blowing all the leaves from the trees. They' re falling on the grass then lifting up into the air over the hills and fields far away. The trees are very angry with the wind roaring through them." The kids ran into the shed in the corner screaming and wailing in fear.

Jordan's Mam knocked on the door." The witch has gone. Open up and come into the house. It's time to eat."

They ran into the house. Sizzling hot beefburgers, mini sausages on sticks, hotdogs, crisps and nuts had been put on the table. They chose what they wanted and put them onto plates with witches, pumpkins, skeletons etc. painted on. Grandma walked into the House saying "Happy Birthday Jordan. He's a present for you"

"Thank you Grandma. We've had a real Witch on a broomstick chase us around the garden. She had a glistening green face. We were scared and hid in the shed" He laughed and said "But the angry wind blew her back to where she came from"

Jordan's Mam came over to Grandma "I'll just wipe your face. You've left a little green paint on it". They smiled at each other.

GINGERBREAD SKELETONS Plain flour 350g (12oz) Bicarbonate of soda 1 tsp Ground ginger 2 tsp Margarine lOOg (4oz) Light brown sugar 175g (6oz) Golden syrup 4 tbsp Egg 1 large, beaten Icing pens, to decorate.

Sift the flour, bicarbonate of soda and ginger into a bowl.

Rub in the margarine until it looks like breadcrumbs.

Mix in the brown sugar.

Add the golden syrup to the egg, then mix into the flour.

Knead mixture lightly until it forms a smooth dough.

Halve, flatten into two discs, warp in cling film and chill for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 190C / 375, gas 5

Lightly flour the work surface,

roll out each piece of dough to a thickness of around 5mm (l/4inch)

Cut the figures with a gingerbread cutter (or make a template using cardboard)

and bake on a baking sheet for 10-15 minutes until golden.

Leave to cool, then decorate with icing sugar pens to look like skeletons.

Stella Rutherford.

_______________________________________ ____________________

I'm on a grapefuit diet. I eat everthing except grapefruit.

Chi Chi Rodriguez

If you can't annoy somebody there is little point in writing.

Kingsley Amis.

_______________________________________ ______________________

Tomatoes

I’m not by any means a gardener, but I do love my grandchildren and when they clamoured to buy some seeds, I let them pick one packet each. Chloe the eldest picked a packet of mixed flowers, and I reckoned I could cope with them. But the youngest Bethany was going through one of those phases that children go through. She had taken to eating tomatoes, as if they were apples, she couldn’t get enough of them.

Yes, that’s Right. You’ve guessed it. She picked a packet of tomato seeds. Glory Be; what was I to do now, as far as I was aware you needed a greenhouse in these northern climes, to grow tomatoes. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was having none of it.

‘You said I could pick my own seeds, Granda,’ she cried.

‘Yes, but I don’t think you can grow them without a greenhouse.’ I said.

‘Why?’

‘Because, they don’t like the cold.’

‘But it’s not cold, Granda, it’s nice and warm.’

‘I don’t mean just today, I mean in general.’

‘What’s in general?’

‘It means…em… it’s cold most days.’

‘That’s alright then, we’ll plant them today while it’s warm.’

I gave in then, thinking, we’ll plant the seeds today and she’ll eventually forget all about them.

I paid for the seeds, a pack of plant pots, a bag of compost, and lugged them home on the bus. After getting off the bus the girls ran ahead, leaving me to hump the compost and plant pots. Reaching the house and since my hands were full, I pushed the door open with my foot and was just in time to hear the little one say, ‘And, Grandma, Granda’s coming with the pots and the compy stuff and we’re going to plant the seeds straight away.’

‘Hold it, hold it,’ I said as I staggered through the door, ‘before Granda does anything, he’s going to have a nice cup of tea.’

‘Aw, Granda,’ she said.

But she waited, after a fashion, humming a hawing, until I had a cup of tea, and then she dragged me out into the garden.

Opening the bag of compost I filled six pots for Chloe and let her plant her own flower seeds, then help Bethany with her tomato seeds. Now all we could do was wait.

The weather was mild, so it should have been, since it was May and we were far too late for planting tomato seeds. Two weeks went by and the flowers started to show, but there was no sign of the tomatoes. Another two week went by and just when I’d given up. Bethany came racing indoors, all excited.

‘Come and look Granda, they are growing.’

And sure enough the tomatoes were showing, but I didn’t hold out much hope for the crop. Anyway as soon as the plants were big enough I transplanted them into a couple of grow bags and they took off, like Jack’s magic beans.

It’s now the 30th of September, the plants are 5ft high, filled with tomatoes, and are still flowering. Bethany is over the moon and is looking forward to picking her first fruit, or should I say vegetable?

But as we slide into October, no way on earth are they going to ripen and to save her disappointment I decided after consultation with the Grand Dame, my mother in-law, to turn them into chutney.

See the recipe below. By the way, Chloe’s flowers bloomed, though they are nearly finished now.

GREEN TOMATO CHUTNEY. Will make 5- 6lb.

INGREDIENTS

4lb green tomatoes

1lb apples

1lb of onions

8oz of raisins

2lb of soft brown sugar

1/2oz of salt

1/2oz of root ginger

1oz of mustard seeds

1½ pints of malt vinegar

METHOD

Cut up tomatoes, peel, core, and cut up apples, cut up onions and chop raisins.

Bruise ginger and tie in muslin bag.

Place all ingredients into pan, bring to boil and simmer until vinegar has been absorbed. (Approx 2 hours) At this point you should be able to draw a wooden spoon across the mixture and it will leave an impression.

Remove the bag of ginger, pour chutney into hot dry screw-top jars and place waxed discs on top of each one.

Cover jars with a clean cloth until cold. Screw on lids (Make sure they are vinegar proof first) label and store in a cool cupboard.

Mmm, I can taste it now.

F Watson.

Half a cup of basmati rice

One whole cup of water

Heat it in the microwave

And serve it to your daughter

J. T. K.

_______________________________________ _______________________

WINTER ABROAD

Peter was helping his Dad to pack their caravan. Every article had to be evenly distributed. Fred and Doreen migrated to Spain every September and returned at Easter. They had done so for the last six years since Fred retired.

"I've mapped out the route. We travel to Dover, cross the Channel, go through Belgium into Luxemburg. We hope to stay there for a week or so. We spent our honeymoon there and it has many happy memories for us" Fred said to Peter.

Fred laughed as he said "We travelled all the way to Luxemburg on a Motor Scooter. It seemed to take forever. This time it's a bit more comfortable. We go on through France to Andorra. Finally we reach Spain. I've planned it so it takes about three weeks to travel and go sight seeing"

They drove through the gates of an enormous Caravan Park on the outskirts of Barcelona. People waved to them as they made their way to their parking bay.

"Hello" said John "Had a good journey here"

"Yes it was brilliant" Fred said. Bill and Phyllis joined them

"Hello Folks, see you've got yourself another new caravan"

"Yes it's the latest model" Fred replied gazing lovingly at his luxurious 21 foot white caravan. "Come and look inside later when we get the awning up. It's like a bungalow. It's got every luxury".

The Caravan Park was at the top of the cliffs overlooking the beach below. Doreen stood watching the seabirds wade in and out of the sea and the boats bobbing on the distant blue swell. How I love this place she thought.

About 30 people sat round in a circle outside their Caravans chatting to each other. They were all Members of the Caravan Club in England and kept in touch during the Summer Rallies which were held every weekend.

Fred said "Listen everybody, it's our Golden Wedding soon and we're going to have a party He handed invitations around which read:

Fred and Doreen invite you to their Golden Wedding Anniversary On Saturday 21st December at 6.00pm on the Sand Dunes Bring your Table, Chairs, Glasses, Plates and cutlery along B.B. Q. and buffet laid on. Everyone is welcome.

Fred chopped down a few small trees and bushes sprawled on the deserted scrub land at the edge of the Dunes "I'll collect all the wood and make it into three bonfires. We'll set out the tables in the middle space"

He came hurrying back across the Dunes with another armful of wood "I'm so excited about tonight. I'll make a stockpile of wood to keep the fires going for hours. We'll be sheltered from the Sea breeze in the cool of the evening"

Their friends arrived carrying tables and chairs onto the sand dunes. Some of the tables were pushed together and filled with a selection of salads, pitta bread, finger sandwiches, sauces etc. Five B.B.Q'S were cooking an assortment of chops, sausages, burgers, potatoes wrapped in foil. The smoke from them spiralled upwards.

The sky was black with clusters of brilliant sparkling stars. The sea gently lapped the beach below making a musical sound,. The bonfires burnt with swirls of red and white flames which lit up the area. The beat of the music thumped from the loudspeakers in the distance and the laughter and chatter of the people moved around with the appetising smell. Everyone was very happy,.

Suddenly a smartly dressed man appeared carrying a large silver tray on which was an iced cake with five sparkling and spluttering candles on the top. Everyone raised their glasses and shouted "Happy Fiftieth Anniversary to Fred and Doreen".

They held hands over the knife and sliced the cake.

"Speech, Speech" a few people shouted

Fred spoke emotionally swallowing a few breaths "Thank you all very much for coming to our Party and for the surprise cake, To-day is better than our Wedding Day. Good friends beside us and a perfect setting. I didn't chop a pile of wood 50 years ago either".

Everyone cheered, clapped and laughed.

BIRTHDAY CAKE

8 ozs. Self raising Flour

6 ozs. Currants

One teaspoonful of Mixed Spice

6 ozs Sultanas

5 ozs. Caster Sugar

2 ozs. Chopped Peel

5 ozs Margarine

Two eggs, beaten with 6 Tablespoonfuls Milk

Mix the flour and Spice. Clean and mix the Fruit. Beat the margarine and Sugar to a cream in a warm basin. Beat the Eggs and Milk together. Then stir (alternately, a little at a time) the Flour mixture, and the Eggs-and-Milk, with the Butter and Sugar. Add the Fruit last, and MIX THOROUGHLY. Line a 7-inch Cake tin (3 inches deep) with greased paper, pour in the mixture, and bake for 2 and a half hours (the first hour in a Moderate oven, then a slow oven) Double everything for a larger cake.

By Stella Rutherford

_______________________________________ __________________________

There was an old geezer

Who went to the freezer

To find summat for his dinner

But when he got there

The freezer was bare

Now he's half a stone thinner

J. T. K.

Northumbria, Mercia and East Anglia, had all fallen to the Danish invaders, leaving Wessex as the only Saxon kingdom not yet under the thrall of the Danes. Despite being hard pressed by the invaders, King Ethelred with his younger brother Alfred (Aelfred) at his side, won a stunning victory over the enemy on the 8th of January 871 at Ashdown. However the victory was short lived and the Saxons were beaten on 22nd of January a Basing. The Saxon force was again beaten and Ethelred killed at the battle of Merton. Alfred became king on the death of his brother.

For the next few years a peace of sorts reigned as the Danes consolidated their gains elsewhere. But in 876 Guthrum a new leader of the Danes appeared and captured Wareham. A peace was negotiated, and hostages taken by both sides. It wasn’t long before Guthrum broke the peace and attacked Exeter.

Besieged by Alfred’s army, Guthrum agreed to another peace, Alfred insisted that this time Guthrum and his men decamp to Mercia.

The peace held until January 878. While Alfred’s court was still celebrating the twelve days of Christmas at Chippenham, Guthrum attacked without warning and overran Alfred’s army. Alfred fled to the marshlands and tidal swamps surrounding Athelney to lick his wounds and rebuild his army.

According to legend, when the king – in disguise to avoid detection by Guthrum’s Men – first arrived in the swamp, he sought shelter with the family of a swineherd. The wife not knowing her guest was a king, asked Alfred to keep an eye on the cakes and make sure they didn’t burn. Alfred agreed, but having other things on his mind, allowed the cakes to burn. The wife returned and gave him a clout around the ear.

Whether the tale is true or not, no one knows. But history shows that Alfred left the swamp in the spring and defeated Guthrum and went on to become Alfred the Great, the king of all England.

By Fred Watson

The Cakes would not be what we call cakes, but would most likely be oatcakes, part of the family’s staple diet and be eaten as an alternative to bread. The recipe below is the nearest I can get to the original.

Oatcakes.

Ingredients

A spoonful of pig fat

4 oz oatmeal (porridge oats)

A pinch of salt

Some warm water

Method

Melt the fat; add it to the oats and salt. Stir in warm water until you have softish dough. Powder board with dry oatmeal, turn dough onto it and kneed. Flatten out dough cut into portions Bake on a hot griddle for approx five minutes a side, should be cooked but not brown.

And remember, DON’T BURN THE CAKES.

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The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but left overs. The original meal has never been found.

Calvin Trillin.

Soaring temperatures, melting tar, the sound of chimes, and all around, the happy cries of children, as the ice cream man wends his way in and out of the streets. The paraffin like smell as the barbecues are primed and lit. Later when the charcoal reaches cooking temperature, the air is filled with the rich aroma of sizzling food.

In at least six gardens around me the barbecues are out and the man of the house, he who would never normally go near a stove, dons an apron and become a chef for the night. Steaks, chops, sausages and burgers, or maybe prawns or fish wrapped in shiny foil, he gives them all his full attention.

The tables on the lawns are set with bowls of salad, both of the green and potato variety and baked potatoes piping hot from the oven. The plates are heaped, loud banter and even the shrieks of children become a murmur as mouths and bellies are filled. The head of the household now ensconced at the head of table, gracefully and even bashfully accepts the compliments on his culinary skills.

Washed down by beer and wine, or in the case of the kids, Coke and Fruit Shoots, the food is consumed, the table cleared and the kids sent to bed. The music and garden lights come on and all around can be heard the muted sound of laughter as jokes and tales are told, the birdie, the one that got away, the tummy tuck that the woman from number sixteen had, and the latest celebrity wedding in OK.

Somewhere around about midnight, the taxis arrive for those not staying over and goodnights are said. All in all, it has been a pleasant way to spend a warm summers night.

*

Since we are enjoying Spanish weather why not try Sangria, instead of beer and wine.

Sangria.

1 Bottle red wine

Shot glass of limejuice

3 Shots Brandy

Chunks of fruit (of your choice)

*

Pour all ingredients into a jug, chill in fridge

Add lots of ice cubes before serving

(You can use less, or a different spirit if you like)

By Fred Watson

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Cucumber should be well sliced, dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out.

Samuel Johnson.

Many years ago, after spotting a small add in the ‘Sunday Sun’ we had the good fortune to be able to purchased a small back to back terraced bungalow on an urbanisation on the Costa Blanca. We were fortunate because we bought it for less than the cost of a second-hand caravan back home.

The plan at the time – since put on hold for various reasons, not least of which was the impossible July and August heat – was that we would one day retire to a life in the sun. Alas it was not to be; instead we use it as a holiday home and even taking into consideration the flights and the running costs of the house, we can have several holidays a year for the same price as a fortnight in a decent hotel back home.

As usual I am blithering on and bragging a bit, sorry about that. What I was leading up to was that we have been out there for ten-day break and it was hot. 86 F might not be hot for some, but for a cold-blooded northerner like me it is hot.

So needless to say we ate lots of salad and not being a rabbit, I got bored with the whole lettuce thing. However my wife bless her, pulled out all the stops and by addition of various ingredients and dressings improved things no end. But the salad we enjoyed best was a recipe for Chicken Caesar Salad, that she found in the ‘CoastRider’ a local free paper covering Torrevieja and the Costa Blanca South. (They also have an excellent Web site for those interested in the Costa Blanca area. www.coastrider.net)

Chicken Caesar Salad.

Ingredients:

4 slices of white bread (180g)

2 tablespoons of olive oil

4 bacon rashers (280g)

3 cups (480g) coarsely chopped barbecued chicken

1 large Cos lettuce, trimmed and torn

6 spring onions

1 cup (80g) flaked Parmesan

*

Caesar Dressing

Half a cup (225g) whole egg mayonnaise

1 tablespoon lemon juice

4 drained anchovy fillets, chopped finely

3 teaspoons Dijon mustard

1 tablespoon of water

*

Method

1. Preheat the oven to moderate (180c/160c fan oven)

2. Make Caesar dressing by blending or processing ingredients until mixture is smooth.

3. Remove crusts from bread; discard crusts, cut bread into 2cm squares; toss with oil in medium bowl. Place bread in single layer, on oven tray; place in oven for ten minutes.

4. Cook bacon in frying pan, until brown and crisp. Drain on kitchen roll

5. Combine half the chicken, half the bacon, half the croutons and half the dressing in a large bowl with lettuce, half the spring onions and half of the cheese; toss to combine

6. Divide salad amongst serving plates. Top with remaining chicken, bacon croutons, onions and cheese; drizzle with remaining dressing.

I hope you enjoy it as much as we did.

By Fred Watson.

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Whenever cannibals are on the brink of starvation, Heaven in its infinite mercy, sends them a fat missionary.

Oscar Wilde

Sheila and Bill finished their lunch in the Pub on the top of Kirkstone Pass. "I thoroughly enjoyed that," Bill said. They jumped onto their motorbike and started going down the Pass.

"This is fabulous" Sheila screamed into Bill's ear. As they went whizzing down the hill Sheila hung on tightly. "I'm scared" she shouted.

Bill dropped to bottom gear, applied the brakes and they gradually slowed down.

Sheila said, "I was very frightened. I thought we were going to crash we were going so fast"

."I thought I was going to loose control" Bill replied." We'll turn left along this narrow road and see where it leads." It took them to the shores of Ambleside.

"This is a pretty village. Let's stay and look around." Bill said.

"This is the house where William Wordsworth lived. I've read some of his poems Let's go in" Sheila replied.

They continued their travels and stopped outside a shop called The Witches of Pendle, then went to the Cemetery where the witches were buried "Do you think the story is fact or fiction," Bill said.

"I believe it's true," Sheila replied.

Next morning, after breakfast, they climbed on their motorbike and roared away.

They arrived in Skipton, had a meal, then decided to go to Mother Shiptons Cave, at nearby Knaresborough, the most famous cave in England. Sheila picked up a leaflet and read it out to Bill "She lived some 500 years ago during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. She was a famous Prophetess. .Her visions became known with many of them still proving uncannily accurate to- day. The Cave, her birthplace, is near to the unique geological phenomenon - The Petrifying Well. See it's magical cascading turn items into stone ". "I can't believe it is England's oldest Visitor Attraction, first opening in 1630, over 360 years ago. It's amazing and so historical. I'm so glad we came here" Sheila said. "I've loved every second it's uncanny."

Next day they resumed their traveling and stopped at a large Pub on the main road called the Horse and Jockey. They decided to stay there. At the back was a field with a stream running the length of it, also a haystack and Barn. There were a few stone houses nearby and it looked very picturesque. Several people stopped and parked their cars then went into the Barn. Mary, the Landlady went with them. Sheila and Bill followed.

The people were sweeping out the barn and carried bales from the haystack into it. They placed them around the sides. They then carried plastic tables and chairs from their cars into the barn.

"What's going on" Sheila asked Mary

"We've having a Dance and B.B.Q. tonight and we're getting everything ready. You can come if you want to. You just pay at the door. You'll see how we enjoy ourselves in this village"

"We would be delighted to come and we'll also stay another night if it's alright" Sheila asked.

They were excited, as they loved dancing. Mary nodded her head and smiled.

Pointing to the hay bales at the side of the Barn Mary said "There are your seats and table for the evening as you are unable to bring your own. Sit down and enjoy yourselves. I must go and organize the B.B.Q."

They stared in disbelief but found them quite comfortable when their coats were thrown on the top.

Two men entered. One played the accordion; the other played the drums and sang. Sheila and Bill danced the Valetta, The Gay Gordon's, the Bradford Barn, and several others they didn't know. They followed other couples and soon picked up the steps.

"We've had a wonderful time, quite unlike any other dance we've been to" .Bill said. "We've sat on hay bales and danced unusual dances in a smelly barn. We've visited places we had only heard about. It's a shame we have no money left so we'll have to go home tomorrow"

They travelled home and parked their beloved motorbike. Bill picked Sheila up and carried her over the threshold saying, "I hope the rest of our lives are as happy as the last few days. We've had a wonderful honeymoon" They kissed and he kicked the front door shut.

RECIPE FOR COCONUT HAYSTACKS

8 ozs Self Raising Flour

3 ozs. Sugar

1 egg and a little milk

3 ozs Coconut

3 ozs. Margarine

Mix flour, sugar and coconut in a bowl; rub in the Margarine. Mix to a STIFF DOUGH with beaten Egg and a little Milk. Place in approximately 14 rough heaps on a greased baking sheet. BAKE IN A HOT OVEN (425 - 450 F) about 15 to 20 minute When cold, brush with jam, and sprinkle all over with Coconut.

Stella Rutherford.

*************************************** ***************************************

The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly and lie about your age.

Lucille Ball.

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Malcolm and Ann, despite having their Spanish bus passes and living the life of sun, sea and sangria, are still typical Geordie’s at heart. Both are fanatical supporters of The Toon, and of course England.

Since Saturday was England v Portugal, Ann suggested that we all come to hers to watch the match. All, being myself, my wife, also Ann, the grand dame Elizabeth, my mother in-law, our neighbour Jimmy – a Yorkshire man hailing from Richmond – and the two girls, Emily and Samantha who were staying with him for a holiday.

The evening began well; Malcolm’s flag that hung from the balcony flapped in the evening breeze like some great crusaders pennant, the drinks were poured; the air-conditioning turned up and I will make no comment on a match that everyone of you knows ended with Portugal winning the penalty shoot out.

Needless to say, it was a sombre, if not sober party that made their way out on the balcony. However Ann trooper that she is – how she managed to slave over a hot stove when it was 42c in the shade I will never know – saved the evening by producing a delightfully array of home cooked food.

The drinks flowed the food was consumed and the mood lightened, then as we rounded off the night with tea and coffee, Ann produced a delicious cake, the recipe is reproduced below.

Happy eating,

If this is not a truly international cake nothing is, ‘Dublin Tea Loaf ’ baked on the Costa Blanca by an expat Geordie, to a recipe from the Whitburn Colliery, Thorpe Thewles branch, of the Durham County Federation of Women’s Institutes.

Ingredients

½ lb Currants

½ lb Raisins

½ lb Demerara Sugar

¼ lb Mixed Peel

¼ lb Cherries

2 cups of cold tea

1 lb Self raising flour

1 egg

Method Steep fruit over night in cold tea, stir fruit and mix in flour and egg, put into a greased tin and bake in a slow oven for about 2 hours (Reg. 3) if cake is browning to quickly cover with greaseproof paper.

F Watson.

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We lived for days on nothing but food and water.

W.C. Fields.

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The small boy slipped from the compound. Furtively he skirted the bullpens and slid down the hill to the river. In two minutes he had crossed the ford and entered the forest. They said seven was too young to join the hunt, but he’d show them. Carrying the small spear Lien had made him, he moved into the trees. The rabbit warren was on the edge of the trees to the west, but if he had gone there directly they would have spotted him crossing the field.

It was cool and dark beneath the trees, but in the distance shafts of sunlight lanced down as the trees opened up where he imagined the warren to be. However when he reached the tree line, he realised it was a clearing still full of last years long grass. The briars interspersed with small thickets of scrub at the far side were bright with sunlight and the clearing alive with the sounds of small animals and insects.

As he stepped forward, the sounds ceased. He walked though the dry knee high grass and sat motionless on a stump. Soon the clearing came back to life.

He was wondering what a squirrel would taste like, when he spotted the flash of white. The rabbit had moved position and he was lucky to have seen it, screened as it was by the dry grass.

He crept across, pulled back his arm and whipped it forward. It was a clean strike. Elated, he did a little jig then went to recover his spear.

After cleaning his spear, he lifted the rabbit by the ears and froze when he heard a rustling deep in the thicket. His eyes lit, another rabbit? Tying the kill to his belt. He wormed his way slowly into the tangled bushes; finally he spotted movement in the dark ahead. Holding his spear ready he parted the last branches and stood for a moment stunned, he’d blundered into a family of wild boar.

He turned and ran the branches tearing at his face and arms, out of the bushes heading for the nearest tree. Behind him the bushes exploded as the black humped-backed beast burst through. He ran as he’d never run before knowing his puny spear was useless against the boar. Then in his panic he tripped over his feet and went sprawling.

The enraged boar closed on him, snarled yellow teeth and vicious tusks ready to tear him apart. Having no defence he curled into a ball and prayed to the gods. The beast squealed, he felt it fetid breath and then there was silence.

A boot nudged his side and as he uncurled he saw the face of his brother and father above him. Beyond at his feet the boar lay with his brother’s spear deep in it flanks. He rose unsteadily and held out the rabbit. From the look on his father’s face he would be severely punished. But still he smiled; he was a hunter now.

Fred Watson.

*

The boy would have enjoyed his rabbit roasted on a spit over an open fire. If like him you enjoy rabbit, why not try the recipe below.

Rabbit Casserole. (serves 4)

2 1b rabbit joints

8 oz streaky bacon

1 oz dripping

14 oz chopped onion

12 oz carrot

6 small washed potatoes cut into ¼’s

3 sticks celery

¼ pint pale ale

6 oz small mushrooms

Pinch salt, pinch pepper

* Soak rabbit in lightly salted water for half an hour.

Cut bacon into small pieces fry gently.

Add 1 oz dripping to pan, fry rabbit joints until golden.

Remove joints and bacon from pan and place in casserole

Fry onion in the fat and transfer to casserole

Cut carrot and celery into 1 inch pieces, add to casserole.

Add potatoes

Pour in pale ale

Add pinch salt and pepper to taste.

Cover casserole cook in oven Gas mark 4 – 350F for an hour

Add mushrooms; return casserole to oven and cook for a further ½ an hour.

Happy eating.

_______________________________________ ______________________

The cook was a good cook, as cooks go; and as good cooks go, she went.

H H Munro

_______________________________________ _____________________

Sunday Lunch, Sunday Tea: Bacon And Egg Pie

A few weeks ago we had the family over for Sunday lunch, nine adults, four grandkids. My wife as usual turned out a cracking meal, Roast beef and lamb – The grandkids prefer lamb – roast potatoes, roast parsnip, cauliflower, small boiled potatoes, carrots and of course, Yorkshire puddings with gravy and mint sauce for the lamb. All prepared and cooked by my long suffering wife, the only exception being the Yorkshire puddings which were precooked by “Aunty Bessie” and only needed to be heated in the oven. If you haven’t tried “Auntie Bessie’s” Yorkshire puddings, try them, they taste so good and are so reasonably priced that it isn’t worth the time and effort of making your own.

Anyway after singing the praises of “Aunty Bessie,” I am blithering on as usual and need to get to the point. Well, after overindulging, also as usual, I sat with the two great grandmothers; my mum and my mother-in- law and we began to reminisce about Sunday teatime in those far off days when I was a lad. Every thing then seemed to be home made and I might be wrong, but to my mind the table always seemed to be laden with goodies. In those far off days no one, as far as I can remember, was on a diet and everyone wasn’t obese, in fact there seemed to be less people of goodly proportions about then. Now that I think about it, the lack of hygiene regulations in the grocer’s – bacon and hams hanging from the ceiling, butter in wooden barrels, great round cart wheels of cheese, loose tea, sugar, flour and a vast variety of dried goods, all packaged or cut and wrapped by hand, with nary a rubber glove in sight – didn’t do us any harm and none of us ever seemed to suffered from food poisoning. Yet in today’s modern world preoccupied with hygiene, health, sell by dates, and warning on food preparation, people do come down with it.

There you are, I’ve had my bit to say about modern versus the old days, not that I’m against the modern day in general, we have better housing, better medical care, shorter working hours and better wages, but do we have better food? Maybe it’s my rose tinted specs, but I think not.

So back to the spread on a typical Sunday teatime when I was a lad living at home. Home baked bread buns, with butter and jam. At least two plate pies, such as bacon and egg, mince and onion, cheese and onion, corned beef and potato, steak and kidney, all baked on enamel plates used solely for that purpose. Pickles, beetroot and sauce to go with them, and of course the sweet stuff. There was always one large sweet pie or tart and a variety smaller cakes or tarts. As to the larger variety the selection might be Apple Pie, Blackberry and apple pie, a custard tart or a treacle tart and the smaller, jam tarts, sweet mince tarts, coconut hay stacks, teacakes, currant scones, biscuits and little cakes with icing on the top.

Mum said my favourite was bacon and egg, and I had to agree, even though I remember being partial to cheese and onion. Come to think of it, I liked all of the rest too. The only thing I can ever remember not liking as a lad was butter beans and I still had to eat them, because I wasn’t allowed to leave the table until my plate was empty. I know I’m waffling again, so I’ll come to the point, after two hours listening while the matriarchs discussed the finer points of cookery, I managed to get the recipe for the bacon and egg pie. As a male with no skill in the culinary arts, other than to consume the finished product, I have reproduced said recipe below and since my mother is never wrong, it will be my fault if it turns out wrong.

Bacon And Egg Pie

Serves 4

Ingredients for short crust pastry

8 oz plain white flour

¼ teaspoon salt

2 oz lard

2oz hard margarine

2 tablespoons cold water

Mix flour and salt in a bowl, cut lard and margarine into small pieces, add them to the bowl and rub between the fingers until mixture is like fine bread crumbs.

Add water; stir until mixture begins to bind. Then use your hands to knead lightly until the dough is formed.

Roll out on floured board, grease 8- inch pie tin and line with pastry, leaving enough pastry for a lid.

Filling ingredients

8 oz bacon

2 large eggs

A shake of pepper

Half pint milk

Cut bacon rashers in half, fry on gentle heat for five minutes, do not crisp, drain off fat.

Place eggs in basin add pepper to taste, add milk and whisk gently together.

Cover base of tin with bacon, pour on egg mixture.

Cover with pastry lid, crimp edges, cut two small slits in top and brush with milk.

Bake in moderate oven, Gas mark 6, 400 degrees F for 30 minutes.

Fred Watson

Email: Blaydon Writers