Taking the pith

Ah, hello.

I have neglected you, Blogland.

I didn't mean to. Life got busy and the dog ate my homework, Miss - honest.

Anyhoo.

It's January!! You know, of course, what that means?

Yup. Marmalade.

Now, I don't like the stuff you can buy. The real stuff is where it's at.

No-one really seems to know the origins of marmalade, some say French, others Portuguese. All I know is that I find it delightfully medieval and really rather scrumptious on a piece of toast. Whatever it's origins it is traditional and therefore, in my mind at least, something that needs preserving. As English as Morris Dancers, real ale and country fairs - this is our heritage. You therefore have a duty to have a go at making some.

And it's really not too tricky.

Now, it's always best to use a reliable recipe. In this, I look no further than that Cooking Canary fan, the marvellously efficient Delia Smith. Here is her recipe. This is what I'm using today.

So. Get your bits together. Hoik some jars from the recycling bin, or, if making for pressies, it's a good idea to use smaller jars (and thus get more!!). Lakeland sell smaller jars and lid but they are pricey so what I do is buy cheap jars of mint sauce (about 20p each) and chuck the mint sauce away (makes the drains smell lovely as a bit of a bonus). You can't always get the minty smell from the lids though so you can buy those separately, if you wish. You know the drill with sterilising the jars and lids - hot soapy water, rinse with hot water, turn upside down and put in a warm oven.

In addition to her fabulously comprehensive recipe I would add that you need some handcream (for your hands, people, not to put in the marmalade - that would be mad) and a wonderfully tolerant husband who doesn't mind the house honking of orange for a while.

First off - cut the oranges in half and juice them. Not a lot of juice will come out of them but gazillions of pips will. Put a square of muslin over a bowl and squeeze the orange halves over it. Get most of the pips out and put in the muslin.

Put 4 pints of water into a preserving pan (if you have one). *adds gratuitous shot of my preserving pan because I am smug*

Add the juice to the water.

Then comes the zen bit. You gotta shred the peel. You could get all bored doing this but bung some music on, or a bit of Ken Bruce and enjoy. Hoik the pith off the peel and put this in the muslin too. Slice the peel into matchstick sized strips and put these in the juice/water combo.

So basically use every single bit of the oranges up.

Time to soften the peel up and extract the pectin (setting agent) from the pith and pips. Gather up the edges of the muslin and tie with some string to make a, ahem, "ball bag" (fnarrr). Hang your ball bag in the pan and attach it to the handle with a longer piece of string. Let it dangle in the water/juice/peel combo. Warm up the hob and simmer it for a couple of hours. Perhaps a cup of tea here would be appropriate? When the peel is soft you can squidge it between your fingers.

This is where you scamper to the freezer and put a couple of saucers in there. Get those jars in the oven to sterilise.

OK; this is the messy bit. Retrieve the pithy/pippy ball bag from the pan and leave to one side on plate to cool. When coolish enough to handle it's groping and squeezing time pectin extraction time.

Over the pan, squeeze that ball bag darned hard and you will notice slimy stuff oozing out. This is magical pectin and it will help the marmalade to set (after all, no one wants marmalade that drips off their toast and down their arm). Squeeze as much out as you can. Wash your hands. Then the handcream bit. Handling these oranges will strip all the grease from your hands, believe me.

Add 4lbs of sugar to the pan. Delia recommends you warm it first to speed up this process.

 I didn't bother (forgot). It seems like a heck of a lot of sugar but keep stirring it over a lowish heat  - it must dissolve properly  before boiling or you will get sugar crystals (and you don't want them, no, no, no). When it's no longer gritty then crank up the hob as high as you can and get a rolling boil going.

Set a timer for 15 mins. After that time grab a cold saucer from the freezer and spoon a blob onto it. Leave it a minute and push your finger into it. If a skin forms and wrinkles then you've got a set. Hurrah! Pat yourself on the back and take the pan off the heat.

You may notice it's got a ring of SCUM around it. SCUM is the enemy of a pretty preserve. Don't try to scrape it off; for one you'll be there, like, forever and two; you'll have no marmalade left.

Instead, get your knob out. Knob of butter, that is. Put it in and mix well and the SCUM should disperse.

Give it ten minutes to settle a bit (otherwise the peel floats on the top) and ladle into jars, using your jam funnel.

And voila!



Taste the sunshine.



Kitchen chemistry

Right, now, here's the next thing wot I do from time to time.

Making soap.

Yup. Making it.

Why? I hear you ask. Well, The Tinker has unusually sensitive skin, like my good self and his granny. So, I thought, why not have a crack myself and put stuff I know everyone's skin can cope with.

And this is why I love the t'interweb.

It's fairly simple process. You have your fats/oil and you have something the 'Merkins call 'Lye' or Caustic Soda to us Limeys and you can get it in a hardware shop. It's a powdery stuff you sling down drains to clear them. Honest. It looks like this:

Basically, you melt your fats and oils (more of them later) and to them you add a solution of 'lye' and water and you stir it all up. The technical name is 'saponification', for all you science geeks out there. You pour it in a mould and wrap it up and leave it to set. Jobs a good 'un.

Back to the fats and oils. You can use what you like. In the *adopts wizened old lady voice* 'olden days' folk would use animals fats rendered off carcasses mixed with some sort of ash thing. Mmmmm, sounds yummy. These days you can get cocoa butter, shea butter, olive oil whatever takes your fancy and achieve a vegan or organic soap if you so desired  (or indeed, organic and vegan soap if you wanted to, if you can put the knitted organic mung bean and hemp salad down long enough, that is). You can buy these solid fats of said t'internet  - ebay and specialist online places.

You can get a recipe off the internet if you like. You can make up your own if you feel brave/insane enough. If you are indeed brave or insane enough then you need to make sure your concentration of lye is correct. Different fats and oils need a different amount of lye to saponify (ooooooh, get me!) and you can figure it out by using this. This is what I have done today.

Warning: this is real chemical stuff wot causes real burns so not for kiddies. Even big grown up types will need gloves and a pinny on. Even then it's living dangerously, but I kinda like that.

You will need

100g coconut oil
100g pura cooking fat (try not to think about what it actually is)
100g cocoa butter
100g sunflower oil
58 g lye
153g water (bottled, dunno why, just do it) and yes, I know it says grams and it should be ml, but that's what 'soapers' do (just follow the instructions, don't ask questions people)
15g essential oil of your choice. I chose orange today, though lavender is nice.

You'll get 1lb of soap out of this lot, roughly.

equipment needed: a wooden spoon which you cannot use for food again
                             a saucepan to melt the oils
                             a jug
                             accurate scales (digital preferably)
                             an old bowl
                             a stick blender (will need a good old wash before you can use it with food again)
                             rubber gloves.
                             plastic mould (today I raided the recycling bin and found a dishwasher tablet box)
                             vaseline
                             old towels/blankets (yeah, weird, but more of that later...)

1. First put all the oils and fats in the pan and slowly melt them over a low low heat. Have a cup of tea whilst you're waiting. Don't let them get hot, just warm. Get an apron on.

2. *warning scary chemical bit coming up* Put your gloves on and pour the powdery lye/caustic soda into the water in the jug. Not the other way round for goodness sake or there will be horrid scenes of burning and mutilation. Keep your face well out of the way. The lye and water will produce an exothermic reaction i.e. it will get hot. Stir it a bit, again, keeping your mush well out of the way.

 Put it somewhere safe for about 5 mins. Meanwhile get the mould ready by rubbing a bit of vaseline around it (like you would a cake tin with butter) Pay attention to the corners especially.
3. Put the oils/fats into the bowl and, with your gloves on, pour the lye solution onto them. Stir nonchalantly with the wooden spoon for a minute.
4. Use the stick blender to whisk it all up. It will go cloudy and get thicker.

 Probably takes about 5 mins to do this. When you can lift the blender and draw a number 8 on the surface that stays there for a few seconds then it's ready. Then you can add the essential oil.
5. Pour into the mould (carefully, it could still chemically burn you a bit).

 Give the mould a jiggle to get any air bubbles up and out. Then cover up the mould with the towels/blankets. Leave for 24 hours without peeking.

I always peek, but you're not supposed to, so am obliged to tell you that bit. If you do weaken and look and you notice that it goes weird with darker bits in it then do not worry - it's supposed to.
6. After 24 hours, wearing gloves, demould it. It's ready to slice now. You can do that with a knife (not a serrated blade though). It will be much easier to slice it up if you dip the knife in hot water and dry it between each cut.
7. Now, here's the rub. You cannot now scamper off bathwards clutching your own homemade soap, a copy of Heat magazine and a bar of Dairy Milk and jump in. It hasn't finished reacting yet and will irritate your skin. I wrap each chunk in tissue paper and leave in a drawer for a month. Then it will be ready.

This is known as cold-process soap making. It'd be nice to put bits in the soap but this is not possible with this method as the chemical would react and burn them - though I did sling some cinammon in one of my moulds and sprinkle some cinammon bark on the top (experimental, you understand).

This is what they looked like:

(I don't think Lush have a lot to worry about)

 If you wanna do 'bits' properly then you need to do hot-process soap making.

 And that, children, is another story for another day.

To the old trout..

who tutted yesterday every time The Tinker chirped up in the cinema during Toy Story 3, can I suggest you need to be less ignorant more tolerant?

Fact is, dear, if my boy were in a wheelchair and drooling then you'd feel some degree of sympathy, but because he walks and talks you assume he is not disabled and we are just stupid lazy parents who should discipline their kid better.

Shit, I wish I were a crap parent. I could do something about that.

Autism is a neurological condition. That means Tinker's brain is wired differently to yours. He hears, sees and feels in a different way to you. The world is a baffling and confusing place for him. On top of a receptive and expressive language delay this means he struggles with stuff ordinary kids take for granted. He is thus considered disabled, actually, by The Man. Official like.

All I can do is help make his life easier. Keep trying 'difficult' things, like the cinema, is part of that.

He wasn't that chatty anyway.

Can I suggest then, if you do require utter silence during a film then maybe you do not see a kids' film during the day.

As you were.

Porn

Of the quilt variety, people.

Now, I love fabric me.



I love sewing. I indulge in the crazy loco past time of cutting up said fabric and sewing it together again. Madness, but hey, keeps me off the streets.

Whilst enduring the early mornings with The Tinker (6am is the sticking point at the moment) I sit and read my shamefully ever expanding collection of quilting and sewing books. Well, that's in between pressing the remote control for the DVD player for the short person (DVDs are a big obsession at the moment).



Got this one last week but, lazily, left it in the packet and only got round to opening it this morning.
 



 
Oh my goodness- why did I wait? So good.
 
Usually you get a book with about 50% stuff in it you like, but this stuff is all just lovely. Inspiring even. The sort of stuff that makes a girl want to scamper to her fabric stash and get going straight away.
 
But, unfortunately, I must paint the front room this week and the combination of DIY and sewing would make my brain explode.
 
*gnashes teeth*
 
I guess I should've called this one 'Porn & Frustration'  Ooooer, that's even ruder.

Postscript: here's a piccie of a recently completed masterpiece using the book

Fudging

So: continuing on my culinary crusade to debunk the myth of stuff you think is 'too tricky' to have a go at; today I tackle Fudge. Motivated by my greed, this is a recipe I have found to be the most reliable, so thanks James Martin (click here for recipe)

Now this fudge is a bit like butter tablet (tooth achingly sweet Scottish confection) not the gooey creamy stuff. Sort of grainy in a creamy sort of way.

It is the perfect activity for wet afternoons, but hold the kids on this. Grown up hot stuff. (Have kid friendly sweet stuff in the pipeline though, don't panic)

Some points:
1.  you're gonna need a heavy based saucepan for this. The sort that if you dropped it on your toe would require a trip to A&E. It's essential, I'm afraid. It will prevent the stuff from burning. I use my Le Creuset casserole for this (in fact, rather revealingly, I use it more for fudge than casseroles) *the shame*
2. use proper vanilla extract please.
3. I'm adding nuts to mine. Pecans and walnuts bashed with a rolling pin. You could leave them out, of course.
4. I use full cream milk, or why bother.
5. golden caster sugar will melt/dissolve more easily than granulated. Fair trade would be good (and you can feel morally superior when guzzling it down later)

Start by melting it all together on a lowish heat, but leave the vanilla out for the time being. Bit of stirring here and there. You could multitask this with tea drinking and getting a tin ready. Brownie tin size and greased with a little butter. Also get a little bowl of cold water, about half full and put to one side.

Like the jam, make sure all the sugar has dissolved/melting; check by feeling the back of the spoon. When that's done then turn the heat up. At this point you will have to put the cup of tea down and stir. Sorry.

Boil it for 15 mins (maybe more), stirring a lot of the time and then take it off the heat - you need a steady boil for this. You will notice a lot of the moisture will have evaporated off and it's thickened up. In fact, rather than boiling up the side of pan it will be a bit like melted cheese and will decrease in volume.


Take a spoonful (small) and drop it in the water. Leave it for a min and then give it a squeeze. If it is a 'soft ball' then stop boiling. If not, back on the heat. *Science bit: the setting point for this is 112-115C for nerdlingers with their own thermometers and sugar concentration will be 85%*

If it is ready then walk away and leave it for 5 mins. Have a brew perhaps and come back. At this point add the vanilla (sizzle), and in my case, nuts. This is a critical bit. Beat that sucker until it starts getting really thick and a bit grainy (about 5 mins) You don't want it so thick you can't get it out of the pan though. Think consistency of cake mixture - stiff cake mixture. If it turns into sand then you've gone too far (in which case, open the gin)

Hoik it out of the pan and into the tin. It will be craggy - take time in trying to make it smooth. It it is cool enough, press it down with your fingers.

You can see from mine that I didn't fill the whole tin. I wanted tall chunks rather than paving slabs. Mark out squares whilst still warm to aid the cutting process.

Leave to cool.





Then gorge yourself into a hyperglycaemic coma. I made double quantities so some will be going to my Monster in Law to bribe some babysitting out of her.

Evil laughter.....

Jellytastic

No, not more jam shenanigans. But this:

I know I seem like a one woman WI branch and I realise I am deeply uncool. I spent a lot of time with my Nannan as a kid...

Anyway. So, patchwork quilting. I made this with a jelly roll (which I believe is some Americanism for something edible involving jam); to the uninitiated it is a collection of different fabrics in 2.5 inch strips, approx. 44 inches long. Inches I say, because that's what quilters work in.

I used this book, btw

I've got my eyes on some nice ones from here. Thanks to Nat for pointing me in their direction.

Domestic goddesstry - maybe

Well, it's about time I went all Delia on yo'asses.

Cruising past the soft fruits in Waitrose (yeah, we're not that posh - we sloped in to renew the endless supply of ice lollies needed to keep The Tinker quiet) I spied some raspberries going dead cheap.

29p for 200g, marked down from £1.99

So, I pick me up 10 boxes and headed home for some jam making.


Now - your gonna say, why bother? Well, home made is better but only if you can source some reasonably priced fruit.

I've made jam quite a lot and here's some observations.

1. you don't need all the jam making equipment they say you do.
2. follow some rules and it's OK, really it is.
3. don't try and make it with house full of kids. Or The Tinker under your feet.
4. preparation is necessary, boring, but necessary.
5. wear an apron for goodness sake.
6. strawberry can be tricky for the novice jammer.

So here's my foolproof recipe/method for raspberry jam.

First of all. Get a pinny on. Weigh the fruit. Check there's no beasties crawling around in it.
You can do equal amounts of fruit to sugar (bog standard granulated is fine) but I like it a bit fruitier, me. I had 1.8kg of raspberries to 1.4kg sugar.
Put sugar and fruit in a big pan. It doesn't have to be a preserving pan. Be aware that this stuff boils up the sides and unless you want to be scraping it off your hob after then dig out a big one. Mix fruit and sugar up a bit. Leave.

Wash your jars. You need hot soapy water for this one. Scrub the lids. Now, for jars you can go posh like those kilner jars. You can get some ordinary ones (available from Lakeland) . Both pricey options. For the cheapskate like me you can cunningly save jars from the recycling or buy truckloads of Tesco value Mint Sauce (bargain at 25p each). They need to be emptied and washed out quite a bit and the lids will needs soaking in bicarb of soda to take the minty taste away. Try and use small jars if you're giving these as gifts, no one wants 2lbs of jam, even if it is nice. Rinse the jars in running water and put in a warm oven (warm not hot). You need to put the lids in too. Leave them in there until you need 'em. This is sterilising, people.

Find 3 saucers and put them in the freezer.

Make a cup of tea. Sit down and drink it. Have a biscuit, perhaps.

Stick pan on heat. Medium heat at first to dissolve the sugar crystals. After 5 mins and you've felt the back of a wooden spoon to check it's not gritty you can turn the heat up to high. Juice a lemon at this point and sling in the mixture. Boil it up, stirring every now and then. After 10 mins you can check for a 'set'. Get a cold saucer from the freezer and spoon a bit on to it. Leave it for 2 mins. Then prod the blob with your finger - if it wrinkles a bit when you push it then you can stop the heating and start bunging it in the jars from the oven. If it hasn't, then give it another 5 mins and test again. If you are nerdly enough to have a sugar thermometer then you need it to hit 115 degrees C.

Now, at some point during this you will notice a frothy ring around the pan edges and on the top of the mixture. It is SCUM. You can leave it on, you can scrape if off and some people even claim that if you mix a bit of butter in then it will disperse. Up to you.

Be warned that raspberry jam will be absolutely chocka with seeds. It will amaze you. You can strain them out entirely with a sieve (metal one, purlease, hot jam and all that), or leave them in, or strain out half. Up to you, again.

I did strain today but it's not a question of pouring it through a sieve. Oh no. This is the tiresome bit. You gotta push the red hot liquid through it. The tasty bits of the raspberries are around those pesky seeds. So, it's a bit of work. Decide if you can be bothered.

So, you've boiled it, strained it, tested it for a set and you're ready to jar up. You can use a jam funnel for this. I'd say this was an very useful bit of kit, and cheap as chips. If you get molten jam on the outside of the jars it's a feckin' nuisance to clean off. Cover the top of the hot jam in the jars with a wax disk (again, not necessary but useful) with the shiny side down. Screw the lids on whilst it is all still hot.

Use gloves for this. Screw them on tight. As the jars cool down you will hear satisfying click of the little buttons on the lids as they contract back.

Clean up the kitchen. This will invariably mean chipping sticky jam of various surfaces.

Make a cup of tea and marvel in your ability to make a mess  domestic goddesstry.