Amaretti

Here are my little amaretti dusted in icing sugar.

 
Amaretti means ‘little bitters/little bitter things’. I’m not exactly a fan of the really brittle, very bitter amaretti  you can get, although they’re very nice crumbled onto peaches bound for the oven, or layered with berries, coulis and mascarpone for a really easy summer dessert. I am a fan of the really chewy ones, the ones that cost a fortune, so I’ve always tried to recreate them at home, often to great disappointment. The recipe in Indulge by Claire Clarke of the French Laundry was possibly the worse ever. My God they were awful (other things in this book weren’t, so an aberration).

Anyway, Joanna of Zeb Bakes recently posted a recipe for Hazelnut Amaretti which I was determined to try.

I’m not a fan, believe it or not, of things coated in chocolate. Like I cannot understand people who coat strawberries in chocolate. It’s all wrong to me. So I had no desire, whatsoever, to coat or drizzle my amaretti. But if you have such a desire, do follow Joanna’s recipe in its entirety and not the one below.

Anyway, here’s what I did.

250g of ground almonds
250g hazelnuts, with skin on, ground in my mill attachment of my Kenwood chef (note: Joanna used 200g hazelnuts and 50g of pistachios, I didn’t have any of the latter)
4 egg whites
400g caster sugar
half a teaspoon of Amaretto di Saronno

You basically mix everything up together. You don’t whisk up the egg whites. You’ll end up with a sticky, heavy dough which tastes very nice. Roll out little balls and place on a baking  tray lined with parchment.

Now, perhaps if your dough is wetter, the amaretti will spread out more. My dough was sticky but solid and so my amaretti didn’t spread and thus I was able to get quite a few on my baking tray. Don’t ask me  how  many this recipe  makes cos I didn’t count but I’d say at least 30!

Bake at 160C. Joanna says between 12 mins and half an hour. I did my first batch for 29 mins which resulted in a very crisps amaretto with some chew inside – I actually really like them like this and they look golden (they should still be soft when you take them out as they firm up as they cool). I did the other batches for 20-22 mins which resulted in a paler, much chewier amaretto. Experiment and see how you like them.

They are excellent and very filling! I was thinking that these are a relatively high protein biscuit – with the nuts and the egg whites and gluten free. Would  make delightful little presents too as they travel well.

The iPad – a late review

I know loads of people have written about the iPad, and I’m not attempting to compete with them (or anyone, actually). What I will try to do is give my impression of the iPad because I found out certain things, after owning one, that I didn’t know. And you might not, either.

Why buy an iPad?

Well this is a good question. Lots of people asked me this when I expressed wanting one on Twitter and Facebook. And oh gosh yes, in real life. “It’s just a big iPhone” they said. Well, der, it’s not actually since it’s not a phone, for one.

I’m writing this on my iPad, a feat I could not have managed, easily, or whilst still retaining my sanity, on my iPhone. I wanted an iPad because we don’t have a computer in the house. This isn’t some grand statement. I think computers are great and like all things, if used wisely can augment rather than diminish, real life. I also think they have a real place in educating children and that we shouldn’t be so afraid of them. If you’ve ever watched a young child – as I have – use technology – you realise not to be so afraid of this union. When I interviewed Dr Joan Freeman recently, who has conducted the longest ever study of gifted children, she said there was a direct connection between being gifted so young and access to IT.

But we don’t have a computer in the house because the laptop we did have is now about four years, which in computer years is equivalent to being a hundred (one human year = 25 computer ones, source: Barbieri, 2010) and it’s so slow as to now be unworkable with. Plus, PLUS, the battery went just as it was out of guarantee, so it can’t recharge (and a new battery costs £100), thus it has to be plugged in the whole time, so it has neither the portability of a laptop, nor the capability of a desk top model.

So I was faced with a dilemma – to have on computer in the house for me is unthinkable, but get a new laptop? Not at £1000 a pop (I only do Macs, I’ve only ever only done Macs so don’t go telling me about your PC wonder, I’m not listening). The iPad was a really viable alternative. Not because I expected to write a novel on it – I sit on the sofa and write with a fountain pen on my Basildon Bond for that – but because I need something to be able to answer emails on in more than the three misspelt words the iPhone allows. I wanted to be able to look something up on the internet easily and I wanted to be able to update my blogs.

All the essentials of life. I have a big fuck off Mac in my office for work, writing articles and writing letters in giant font. What I wanted for my home computer was a bit of fun, but also, ease. The iPad looked ideal except for one important detail – no keyboard. I can’t be fucking doing with a virtual keyboard. I need a proper functioning keyboard for my super fast digits (120wpm typing speed, oh yes). Whilst the keypad that the iPad offers is bigger than the one the iPhone does, it was still one of those touch-screen things. No use to me and my bendy digits.

Then I realised that you could get a keyboard. A proper keyboard, that the iPad slots into. It costs £55 and it renders the iPad into a little mini computer, quite a beautiful thing actually. I was sold.

A note here: do not buy the cover that Apple makes for the iPad if you intend to get the keyboard. The cover (£30) fits on to snuggly and to get it off (and you need to get it off to fit it onto the keyboard slot) is hair-pullingly frustrating. If you plan to carry your iPad around with you, then get a zip up cover.

I got the most basic model (WiFi, 16GB) because my thinking went like this:

I didn’t want my iPad to be a travelling device as such: I have an iPhone for that.
I didn’t need to store loads of stuff. I have a desk top computer and if I want to put films and photos on and I run out of space, I just delete stuff. So the 16GB is fine for me.
I didn’t need 3GS, not only does this need a separate SIM (with contract), but I had an iPhone for that. So I use my iPad at home on wireless.

By the time I’ve grown out of my iPad the chances are it will have broken, died, be superceded by a model so much fancier and more able. Sad but true. When I bought my laptop just four/a hundred years ago, it was the latest Mac laptop, now it looks as modern as a rag and bone man.

Much is made of the iPad’s incredible battery life, but IN WHAT WORLD?? If you use it for anything that involves grabbing information from the outside world, the battery lasts from sunrise to sunset and not a moment longer. And it takes FOR EVER to recharge. Not like the iPhone which can take a 100% charge in an hour or so. My iPad has to charge all night (it, I’m sure, takes less time than that but I recharge it at night) to be at 100% in the morning.

You also need OS10.6 to use it. No-one told me this. Or at least, I didn’t register it. My desktop computer is three and a half years old and was running 10.3, so when I got the iPad I had to wait to update the OS (you can just buy the latest Snow Leopard at about £25 and it works fine, you don’t need to buy the Snow Leopard before that one, or at least that’s what my Mac expert tells me and it worked fine for me) and install it before I could use my iPad. If you already have an iPhone you can transfer all your apps over – all but the camera/phone reliant apps go over (since the iPad has no camera or phone) easily. But, they come out on the bigger iPad screen the same size as the iPhone. You can blow them up (there is a x2 button that appears on the bottom right hand side of your screen) so that they fill the screen but the resolution goes somewhat.

When you go to the iTunes store you can see which apps are made specifically for the iPad, and these will make proper use of the bigger screen. Otherwise, with some exceptions, you’re looking at a small-screen in a big screen unless you blow it up.

The Mail and iCal functions are much better on the iPad. There still isn’t full search capability on Mail – you can only search by mailbox. So for example, on my full size computer if I want to search for an email from Miuccia Prada (name drop, name drop) I can simultaneously search for one from her across all my mail boxes and it will find it. On the iPad it can only do one folder at a time, so you’d have to search you ‘inbox’ first, then ‘sent’ then ‘trash’ then any other folders/mail boxes you had. This is minor, but important if it’s a function you use a lot. Safari is used in exactly the same way as on a desk top model, just you get a smaller screen. But you still have your book marks and everything. I can also do banking on my iPad whereas I couldn’t on the iPhone (this varies according to which bank you’re with though). Note that, as per the iPhone, you can’t access Flash sites on the iPad.

You can only get photos onto your iPad by importing them through iTunes (or I guess whatever you use on PC, I only know about iTunes) or – what I do and find infinitely easier as most of my photos these days are taken on my iPhone – email them to myself.

I wouldn’t want to read on it for ages – it’s backlit and so it hurts my eyes. And I don’t find it super light to hold for ages either, not one-handed  like a book. I don’t read many books (other than for work, so I tend to do that at my desk) and if book reading is your thing, I’d look at a Kindle which is a totally different thing from the iPad anyway..

Some apps I like:

MiTypewriter, £1.19 – this is my eldest’s favourite app – it’s an old fashioned type writer. Gorgeous fun. You can email what you write to yourself and then print it out from your desk top machine. Makes a lovely tip tapping noise and you get to push the whatchamacall it to make the page go up (what is that thing called).

Notebooks for iPad, £5.49 – I first had this on my iPhone and I use it to store recipes and shopping lists on (so they’re always to hand, when I’m shopping). I can’t pretend it didn’t nearly blow my head off setting it up on  my iPhone. It’s much easier on the iPad, I can’t work out if that’s cos I already knew a bit about it or it’s changed or what. So if you scare easily this might not be for you, but there’s lots of help and the developer is very good at replying to emails.

iQuarium HD, £1.19 – this is a virtual aquarium. You ‘earn’ points by keeping the fish alive and feeding it. You trade the points in for rocks, gravel, water plants. I can’t pretend it’s the best aquarium out there – I’m sure there are others. But it’s fun for five mins a day and children will like it. Note: if you don’t feed the fish it will eventually ‘die’, so be careful out there if you cry easily.

Little Things, £1.79 – a beautifully designed game. You search for various items in a picture made up of hundreds of objects. I love this app. It looks great and it’s a bit of gentle fun (although it does make me go a bit cross eyed after a while, it’s the staring so intently and the backlit screen).

Corkulus, £2.99 – this is a virtual cork board. You can add virtual post it notes, to do lists and photos. It’s a great idea, but I have to say that to really work it needs an even bigger screen than the iPad. So it’s a little indulgent, but I like to think I have a virtual corkboard on my iPad, I mean, just in case I have to story board something, like you do..

Real Solitaire HD for iPad, £1.19 (free version also available but you get ads and I kept clicking on them by mistake and it got annoying) – again there are many card apps out there, this just happens to be the one I have. This is the app I use the most – I am currently obsessed with playing Patience/Solitaire.

My first Italian words, £1.19 – I really liked the graphics on this. It helps you spell very basic Italian words. Good accent and really lovely design (hey, it’s important!)

I’ve got about twelve million other apps – ones that tell me which stars are in the sky, various games that you’ll all already heard of – what I’ve tried to do is highlight apps you may not have heard of and that I find particularly fun/useful.

Do I regret buying it? Not in the slightest, it’s fun,  useful and portable although ironically I tend to keep it docked to the keyboard in the kitchen for recipe looking up more than anything.

Making sourdough whilst drunk

A few days ago I started making some white sourdough, in large part to take to a friend’s house and also because I fancied a change from our usual largely-wholemeal sourdough. It turned into a long process. I kept taking out the starter, meaning to get the dough going, but somehow never finding the five minutes I needed to do it.

On Thursday of last week (it’s Monday as I write now) I weighed out my starter, refreshed it in the bowl to make it up to the weight I wanted (400g of starter), refreshed the starter in the Kilner jar and put the latter back in the fridge. However, in between me doing this and the starter in the bowl becoming active, my partner had made a loaf of yeasted-bread (no doubt fed up at having no bread..) and used up some flour. Because I needed a lot of white flour – 1k of the stuff – there now wasn’t enough.  So the dough became a mishmash of white flour, wholemeal and whatever else I could bung in. It ended up being 500g of white, about 430g of wholemeal and 70g of barley flour.

I started it off. Knead, rest, knead, rest. Somewhere along the line, that magic, nebulous hour of evening came, the one that tells you it’s socially acceptable to have some wine and thus it was that I poured myself ‘un dito di vino’ (a finger of wine): it really doesn’t take very much to make me feel merry. I started chatting to my partner, had another dito di vino, la la la la. Suddenly I remembered the bread. It had sat there for hours (it was at the ’30 min rest’ stage, some 30 minutes that ended up being).

I kneaded it, slung it in a bowl and put it in the fridge, thinking “fuck”. Over the next few days I kept doing this – taking it out, kneading it and then putting it back in as I kept running out of time. Look, I’m a very social, busy person when I’m not being a hermit. To cut a really long story short, it wasn’t til last night that I put the dough into some bannetons and put it in the fridge for what I planned to be the final rise.

I had no idea what to expect, so we’d made some ‘normal’ bread for eldest daughter’s sandwiches this morning, just in case (I say ‘we’ it was of course entirely not of my doing).

What I really didn’t expect was to get some bread that was – is – just delicious. It’s far more aerated than a normal loaf (which usually contains 60/40 white to wholemeal; this loaf as you see above was 50/50. This is because it had a higher hydration than my usual loaf (65% instead of 55%), whilst having less starter (40% instead of 50%). I have no idea what any of those numbers really mean, but for once, making a mistake whilst cooking has led me to a happy discovery. Not only has it got far bigger holes than my usual 60/40 loaf, because I made it over four days, it has a wonderful taste to it.

This is, perhaps, how people invent their own recipes. My knead/rest cycle went something like this, for those interested:

Knead, rest for ten minutes.
Knead, rest for ten minutes.
Knead, rest for ten minutes.
Knead, rest for four hours.
Knead, cover guiltily with a cloth and put in fridge for 14 hours.
Take out of fridge and ignore dough for an hour or so.
Knead, put back in fridge for a day, or so.
Take out of fridge, knead. Put back in fridge for another day.
Take out of fridge. Knead. Rest for one or two hours – who can remember. Shape, put in bannetons, cover, put in fridge for 18 hours.
Cook. Eat. Enjoy.

When I said sourdough was the most forgiving of breads, I wasn’t lying.

A very good sourdough me thinks.

Comfy blankets for grown ups aka pashminas

Sorry I’ve been so absent. I’ve been really busy with real life. In my professional life there has been many exhibitions to see (Canaletto at the National Gallery and Shadow Catchers at the V&A are two really worth seeing) and shops to visit, ‘n’ stuff.

Just to whet your appetites these are the things I’ll be covering in the next few weeks in no particular order. This will also make me write about them…

Edible Christmas gifts: chilli jam, panforte, chocolate pave and amaretti.

The iPad. Yes yes I know it’s been covered in so many places, but I promised I’d do an entry for those still wavering.

How to make a Christmas wreaths, bath bombs (bath bombs are going to be our present/cards this year) and snow globes with the children or just with yourself.

The Nihola trike.

The best pens for every day.

The best diary in the world.

My special Christmas gift round up.

Good creams to give you a bit of omph for party season.

On my The Sour Side blog I’ll be looking at the new essences from Bakery Bits, bagels and pizza.

So now that I’ve chained myself to that itinerary, let’s begin with today’s entry which is about pashminas.

Look, I don’t care that pashminas aren’t fashionable. I never wore them when they were.  Here is me spouting on about them in the New Statesman.

Since then, I’ve added to my collection. Each of my girls has one – full size, pure cashmere. I ordered the one for my youngest before she was born and it’s been brilliant. The baby can’t of course fully appreciate what she has, but I use her pashmina when I get up in the night to feed her and it sits on her lap in the pram, or car seat.  The older one uses hers when we’re travelling, as a blanket, or puts it over her head for dressing up.  She treats it with real respect. But then my children aren’t brats and have been brought up to understand and respect a bit of luxe.

I have various pashminas in one or two ply, which I use every day in winter – as a big comforting scarf, or as a shawl in the office when I’m hunched, writer-like, over my Olivetti type writer (the latter a lie, of course, I use a Mac). At price per wear, they work out really well.

I get all mine from My Pashmina. And before you ask, and before you wonder, I’ve always paid full price for them and never got any sort of discount (not that that would ever influence what I thought, and therefore what I wrote). They are very good quality and the price is reasonable. You can also get scarves – the littlest size scarf is great for children and I was lucky to get one in the sale for my eldest (otherwise they’re nearly £25). But for pashminas, I urge you to go for the full size shawl in pure cashmere (£65.45 postage included) – not the silk/cashmere hybrid. The two ply is great for winter, the one ply makes for a lighter shawl/scarf but it’s not as warm by any means.

Chipmunk boots

I love these little boots. I buy them every year for my eldest (the youngest is too small to fit into even the smallest size). They are the perfect boot for walking and mucking about; they’re well made and fantastic value: £21-£23 depending on where you buy them.  Easy for even the smallest children to put on (although the smallest size they come in is a four) and with a sturdy sole. Ostensibly they’re made for little children who ride ponies (mine don’t), but obviously that doesn’t stop you wearing them even if you aren’t that way inclined.

Anyway, I found them quite by accident a few years ago in our local country shop; of which we have several around these here parts. Last year we got purple, this year we got brown.

Unless you live near me you’ll probably need to get them from the internet: I found this site that sells them in every size (4-12) and colour (black, navy, purple, fuchsia) they seem to come in. I’ve never used this site, so on your own head be it.

My daughter wore hers straight out of the shop. As we got into the car I said to her “darling you can wear them when we go to the country” to which she very sensibly and correctly replied “Mummy WE live in the country.”

Hot and Sour Soup (or a soup for a cold)

I got this recipe a year or so ago from Delicious magazine. It’s become a staple in our house. As a busy person I appreciate that it’s quick and nourishing. As a lazy person I appreciate that it’s quick and nourishing and as a mother of a toddler who likes to wrap herself around my legs, I appreciate that even though it’s quick, it can be made in stages.

The joy is further deepened because you can adapt it according to:

How much you want to blow your sinuses to Kingdom come (you increase the heat).
Whether you are low carbing or not (if not you can add noodles).
How many people you are feeding. You can up the broth part by adding more stock, or just beef it up by adding more prawns or mushrooms or summat. It’s versatile.

Here is the recipe:

Broth:

1 litre of stock, vegetable or chicken, cube fine
2 large chillis, halved (deseed them if you want to, I like the extra heat, also I’m lazy, have I mentioned, so I keep the seeds in, also less chance of rubbing your eyes and burning them OUT OF YOUR HEAD if you don’t de-seed them. Lisa I’m talking about you honey)
2 kaffir lime leaves, scrunched up and chucked in
3 tablespoons of fish sauce
2 lemongrass stalks, bruised(I use two teaspoons from a jar, cheaper too)
Juice of one lime
1 tablespoon of caster sugar

T’other ingredients:

125g oriental looking mushrooms
250g large raw prawns (it won’t be the end of the world if they’re ready cooked)
1 pak choi (I now use spinach, so much easier to eat and deal with)

200g noodles, leave out if you’re low carbing.

A hanky or tissue.

First you make the broth. Put all of the first lot of ingredients in a pan, cover and simmer. The recipe says to do it for four  minutes and then sieve and then you chuck out the chillis and what not. If you want the broth hotter, simmer for longer and/or keep the ingredients in for longer before sieving.

Strain the broth into another big pan.

(If you want, you can leave it now to cool down and either put it in the fridge for later/another day or freeze it.)

Add the other ingredients. If you’re using frozen prawns give them five minutes cooking time, then add the pak choi etc. Cook noodles according to packet instructions, you should be able to just add them in for the last two minutes if they’re regular Chinese noodles.

Slurp. Use the hanky to wipe your nose.

And yes Pete, I DID forget to put the noodles in this lunchtime!

Kiwi sheepskin boots

Three years ago,  during my first ‘country winter’, my friend Rosie, one of the moderators on I Want My Mum, the parenting website I co-run with The Analytical Armadillo, told me about Kiwi Sheepskin boots.  She fair raved about them, so much so that a rare (for me) thing happened. She ‘made’ me buy a pair.

Ever since I saw Pamela Anderson on a beach wearing a bikini and sheepskin boots, I’ve wanted a pair. Of sheepskin boots (I’ve already got the breasts, thank you).  I know, I know: makes no sense. Now that I live in the country I decided I positively needed warm boots. I mean, I have neoprene lined wellington boots, from  my days as Fishing Correspondent of the Independent (oh yes really).

Sheepskin boots have got a bad name in the last few years, mostly because you can get really cheap rip offs (i.e. not sheepskin at all). But you need to ignore all of this. If you need warm boots nothing beats sheepskin. Don’t think of them as high fashion items – they’re not, they’re not even a low fashion item, you missed the boat on that one; but rather think of them as what they are: practical, but nice, objects. To my mind, few things look more stupid than girls/women inadequately dressed on a very cold day.

And I thought this well before I became a mother, okay?

Kiwi sheepskin boots are really well priced. I got the Musketeer Ultimate Sheepskin boots and they now cost £107 odd including everything: P&P and customs. I think I paid about £90 for them. Who remembers. I got them in chocolate and they are rarely off my feet in the winter. They’re beautiful, much nicer than the website makes them look, although I never wear them with the cuff folded down, and I doubt you will too. But you can get simpler boots, shorter, different sole, for a shade under £68. That’s significantly cheaper than anywhere else I’ve found for real sheepskin.

A few things to note: I can’t walk long distances in mine. It’s all too ‘soft’ inside and your foot slips around. So for long walks, you really need proper walking boots. What they’re excellent for is cold winter days, leisurely walks, just being out and about. Not hiking.

The sizing: I got mine too big. The sheepskin compacts after a few wears so if you’re inbetween sizes, I’d counsel going to the smaller size. After a few season’s wear the sheepskin inside the foot chamber wears out, so buy new insoles for extra cosiness (these you can buy anywhere, they don’t need to come from there but do make sure you buy real sheepskin – not synthetic – or your feet will stink).

The service I got three winters ago was great.

Ines Rosales and her damn biscuits

Fantastic packaging and unfortunately what’s in them is just as nice.

A few weeks ago, my boyfriend spotted some biscuits in Waitrose. They were on special offer and instead of the usual £2.99 they were £1.99 (the offer has now ended, at least in my Waitrose, which is the only one that matters let’s face it).

The packaging was great, waxed semi-transparent paper and what looked like large wafery things inside (they are olive oil ‘tortas’ which just made me confused). I made a face and said “nah, they’re TWO QUID”. “But they might be great,” he retorted. I soldiered on with the shopping trolley and the purchase was not made.

But a week or so later, we did buy them, the Seville Orange ones. Even before we were out of the carpark I’d opened them and was sampling one.

My they were delicious. Flakey, but with sugar on the top and as more-ish as ‘stracci’ (Italian deep fried ribbons of pastry that are simply too dangerous to eat, they are the crack cocaine of pastry). I have no idea how Ines cooks her damn biscuits but they taste deep fried. On the website they go on about how olive oil is really good for you, so I reckon the must be. They’re odd though. I mean the Seville Orange ones were sweet, but not sure how you should eat them, with coffee? On their own.

By the time we got home I had eaten three of them whilst I pondered this. I still don’t know.

What I do know is that they come in various versions and you absolutely should never buy them.

Nice gloves for a cold day

M&S ‘Autograph’ gloves in black, lined in cashmere, which is turned back here so you can see.

Close up of the lining for those who are really paticular, like me. Although it looks thick, it isn’t and the gloves manage to be rather ‘fino’ as we say in Italian whilst also being very warm. Nice.

Two winters ago, I was in London for the day (that seems a sad sentence in a way, as I lived in London for most of my life and yet, and yet, it also makes me happy as I love Suffolk – where I live now. So I guess you’d call that a bittersweet collection of words) and got caught out on a day so cold, I couldn’t carry my bags. I had no gloves with me and in a fit of extravagant desperation, I walked into Marks and Spencer’s to buy some gloves.

In truth, I was after the same sort of gloves I’d bought in M&S  many years previously: sheepskin gloves. I have no idea why I’d bought sheepskin gloves. I wasn’t a sheepskin sort of girl (am now, watch out for my entry on sheepskin boots ‘n’ slippers in a few weeks’ time). But I had discovered that they were super warm when I rode my bike and also those particular ones had been fantastic value. But my lovely buff coloured sheepskin gloves had gotten a hole, you know the sort: the stitching had started to come undone and I’d done nothing about it until more and more stitches undid and as the proverb says, where once one stitch was needed, now nine were.

But M&S had no sheepskin gloves that day. They had simple leather gloves, which I didn’t want (not warm enough) or all manner of what I call Bridget Jones type gloves: knitted and full of whimsy.

Instead I spied some Autograph cashmere lined leather gloves. These were exactly the opposite of what I thought I wanted, but I tried them on and was sold. They fitted beautifully, they retained some sensitivity but they were so warm it was like I’d just put my hands in a warm bath. I bought them and, for an impulsive purchase, they ended up being a fantastic buy at £25 because they soon became the gloves I wore every day. Warm, practical  but just that bit posh. I like that because often my hands are the only posh part of me.

But then, one day last year, in a blur of getting the baby in and out of the car, I lost one.

I need to pause here to tell you about another fantastic discovery I made last year. A discovery that the loss of one of my gloves, in the same week that my eldest lost her beloved Mimi the Mouse, spurred me to make. You know those Cash’s name tapes? Well you can order them to say “If found, please call XXXXX”. I got some made and have both Mimi the Mouses (eldest’s was found in the laundry) are now ‘microchipped’, as are my beloved Pashminas (more on pashminas another day). Because my chocolate brown one ply pashmina is lost, lost, lost…

I haven’t actually, sewn them into my new gloves yet though.

Anyway,  miraculously, given that shops have a habit of making great things and never repeating them, M&S sell the gloves again this year. Here is the link to them on line, although on-line they only seem to sell them in brown. In real life they come in black, purple or chocolate brown. They are lined in cashmere and are really warm. They’ve gone up to £29.50. But still, you really can’t ask more of a glove.

So don’t.

Update October 2012.

Obviously the link above doesn’t work anymore. Here is the link to this year’s offering in red, purple or grey. Or here in black. They’ve now gone up to £35 which makes them a better investment than a savings’ account these days.

Dehydratin’

Oh look at my lovely plate of dried things. It’s like Harvest time. At noon o’clock we have dried orange slices and rose petals, going clockwise we have dried sage and tarragon, cherry tomatoes, aubergines and apples. Martha Stewart will be wondering if she gave birth to me and abandoned me without remembering.

This is the time of year, apparently, when we have a glut of stuff and need to start preserving it. In Italy we’d be doing the tomatoes about now, cookin’ them up, sieving them, passing them through o’Moulinex and slapping the resultant sludge into bottles we’d been saving all year. The entire neighbourhood would smell of tomatoes.

I don’t do that. Mostly cos I don’t grow tomatoes and let’s face it, Cirio does passata for me.

What I do do at this time of year is get the dehydrator out and start drying out anything that takes my fancy.

What’s the point of dehydrating stuff? Well it’s a way of preserving things, if you don’t want to/can’t freeze it, or make it into chutneys ‘n’ stuff. For certain things – mushrooms for instance – it’s absolutely the only thing, as far as I’m concerned, to do with them. But the great thing about a dehydrator is you can also dry your own fruit in it, so you can make your own banana chips, apple chips, you can dry blueberries, pineapple, whatever you goddam well like. In certain parts of the world that will remain nameless (America) they also dry bits of meat to make beef jerky.

I don’t do this.

But you can also dry your herbs before they die off for the winter. Those that do. Apparently some don’t but that sentence alone has taken me to the very edge of my horticultural knowledge.

So much so that I don’t actually know if growing herbs is horticulture or something else.

Anyway. You can spend hundreds of pounds on dehydrators. And if you have an allotment, and lots of larder space and lots of jam jars and are that sort of person, then by all means spend hundreds on a dehydrator that has drawers and you can set the temperature etc. At the other end, you can easily do all of this in an oven, set very low. Disadvantages of that (unless you have an Aga, in which case you will already be a smug bastard) are that unless you have a very energy efficient oven (I do) you can end up spending loads on electricity cos you need to dry things out for about 12 hours.

And it also means you can’t use the oven for anything else, unless you have two ovens (I do, do you hate me yet?). I make fruit leathers in the oven and it takes FOREVER, in the dehydrator it takes half the time.

In between all of this are cheap dehydrators which is what I’ve got. You can get a really good one from Lakeland. It works really well. It’s big though, it has a footprint probably equivalent to an elephant’s. It has trays which you stack. It’s piss easy to use and clean and if you want to make fruit leathers (or meringues come to that) you just use some baking parchment over the trays. It only has an on/off button and only one temperature: 85 degrees.

A dehydrator really isn’t for everyone. But I’ve got small children who eat a lot of banana chips and fruit leathers and I just like making my own. You can chop up dried fruit and also put it on your breakfast cereal if you don’t want to just eat it as it is, but I love that too, it makes a great snack. Somehow naughtier than just eating a normal apple…I’m so sad.

You can also dry veg and just chop it up and put it into stews and sauces. I do this with aubergines and courgettes (you can also do beans, almost anything really, peas you can also do and use them in caterpaults). It’s handy when you’ve got some veg left that you’re not going to use, but don’t want to waste. Dried aubergine slices cost about £5 in deli shops just cos they look pretty and are presented in cellophane bags. Also it makes the house smell amazingly of whatever you’re drying so you know, like a two in one product..

Look at my little  jewels. Remember the little cherry tomatoes up top? Here they are under extra Catholic olive oil in my favourite jam jars, Bonne Maman. That’s my vegetable (raised) bed you can see in the background. Smell the smugness.