Sixty Four Scones

So my dear, old dad was 64 yesterday. I've always found it difficult to know what to buy him - at his age he seems to have everything he needs. However, over the weekend I had a brainwave. You see, my dad and I share certain interests: a slight major obsession with the housing market; fabric snobbery (he's an upholsterer) and eating the ultimate scone. I therefore decided to bake him sixty four scones! I don't know whether the decision was base upon inspiration or desperation but in the end it worked out well as he was chuffed with the scone tonnage and the cream and jam I bought to go with them. 

 Anyway, I've experimented with scone recipes since I took up baking over ten years ago and I've found that some recipes are light but slightly flavourless (Nigella), some are buttery but are not as light as they could be (very traditional English recipes) and some taste too much of baking powder (modern scones which are full of flavours no scone should include - orange and cranberry, dried strawberries...what can I tell you, I'm a stickler for scone tradition). 

Now, I think the success of the scones was less down to me and more down to Paul Hollywood. And folks I say this grudgingly as I am not one of those housewives, of a certain age, who look upon Paul Hollywood as the Wirral's answer to George Clooney. In fact, I think he's a bit of a big head and a bit of a bad lad but, by gum, his scone recipe is the very best I have ever tried (and I've tried a few). So thanks Paul. My dad has put his scones in the freezer and looks forward to eating one, when he returns form work, for the next sixty four days!

Perter Capaldi - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

So Mr Tree told me last night that the new Dr. Who would be Aneurin Bernard - the young chap who plays Richard III, in The White Queen, like a smouldering lead singer of a goth band. However, it turns out that the fan-sites he's been reading were a bit off and we've got Peter Capaldi as the new Who! Quelle Joi! Although I love the programme just as much as my kids, I've been a bit fed up at the giddiness of it all over the past three or four series...it's all been a bit 6th formers on a spree. Anyway, I think Peter Capaldi can really give the whole thing the shot in the arm it needs. But then again, I could be a bit prejudiced as I've been half in love with Malcolm Tucker for years now. Here's a clip of him in full, if unsweary, form. The good stuff comes at around 3:40. Yet again, Armando Iannucci puts his finger on what's wrong with the world. Enjoy!

In Praise of Ina Garten...and Jeffery

The children and I have been enjoying the new series of the Barefoot Contessa on the Food Network. We think Ina is a sweetie, her home just peachie and her husband an absolute darling. Mr Tree, however, is somewhat disparaging and comments thus:

"Oh, yes Ina more is more...why does she have to  pile the flavours on?"

"Why is that man wearing pink trousers?"

"Why do all the men wear pink trousers?"

"Why is Jeffrey making such a fuss about buying a tomato?"

However, for me, watching her pile the butter and whole tablespoons of salt into pretty much everything she cooks has the similar effect that catnip has to knackered out old tabbies. Bring it on Ina, you're making me purr. 

What the girls and I particularly enjoy is watching the lovely Jeffrey eat the grub. He's very sweet and appreciative and ever-so-slightly bewildered by being on the telly. In fact, he seems to bring out the motherly instinct in people, even my fifteen year old daughter commented, "Wouldn't it be lovely to marry a man like Jeffrey?" Well, move over Jack White, that's what I say.

Anyway, I made Ina's Raspberry Crumble Bars yesterday for Sunday tea and I was quite pleased with the results. Queue the inevitable blog photo!

The shortbread base was absolutely scrumptious and very easy to make. Lots of butter in the mixture (well we know that Ina doesn't muck about) made the shortbread very tender and light and the addition of the vanilla made it very good. However, the older I get the plainer I like my cake and although the raspberry jam and crumble topping made absolute sense I would've just preferred a plain vanilla shortbread. The girls however raved about them, but you know who enjoyed them the most and ate four in total? Yes, Mr Tree. From now on he is siding with Ina in thinking that "more is more." I doubt, however, that he'll be buying a pair of pink trousers any time soon.

Proceed Carefully and Methodically

It's a good job that Mrs Much our permanently pre-menstrual, and much loved, rabbit has now gone to rodent heaven (we buried her in the corner of the veg patch - observing her final wishes, as it were). She would've been most dis-chuffed at her mummy/slave/mucker-outer watching this!

Random bits that I enjoyed when watching this film are:
the "country woman"'s skill with a knife.
Her lovely big pie dish.
Her willow pattern china...it pops up at auction all the time, but no-one wants it. What a shame!
Her very unflattering 1930's hair do. Shingling and pin curls didn't work for everyone.

Literary Snippets: A Piece of Justice by Jill Paton Walsh

Here the lady detective reflects on the domestic virtues...and quilting...

Here in this modest little suburban corner, within easy walk of the centre of Cambridge the contrast, Imogen reflected, was not so much between housewives and women with doctorates - half the housewives were women with doctorates. It was a question of how people saw what they did. Of what counted for credit, so to speak. And one way or another, simple skills - domestic skills, the ability to make comfortable beds, and arrange rooms pleasantly, to preserve fruits in season, and make the little back gardens grow flowers and tomatoes and beans, to bring roast beef to table perfectly done at the same moment as perfectly done roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding: all these abilities were disregarded; taken for granted by those who had them, not thought of as achievements worth crediting oneself with. Not taking credit for altogether more arcane skills required for the quilt was part of the culture. Best not even call it an art. 'Craft' was more like it. Imogen reflected, in more ways than one.