Revisiting the past

I DO us a tasty stew thing as my experimental cook this week – a mix of chicken thighs, sweet corn and broad beans, all slow-cooked together in a tomato sauce.

And it’s such a relief to be back in good appetite again, for both My Good Lady and myself… our stomach complaints have finally abated.

Meanwhile MGL and I have been making little trips out in the car to see how well I can cope with the driving.

Since my stroke last year, it’s been something of a chore for me to go any distance – some of the deadness in my leg returns.

Anyhow, today we do the weekly shop and then, since it’s such a bright afternoon, we go off into the countryside around us, and pay a visit to the village of Silverdale, a place we know very well indeed; the hotel, there, was at one time one of our favourite dining spots.

Oh, it’s all changed of course – under new management, revamped and, to me, running to seed a bit, but still pleasantly familiar nonetheless: plus ça change and all that.

It’s a far cry from its glory days, though, when the hotel’s telephone number was “Silverdale 3” and when excursion steamers used to moor there for afternoon tea.

Back in those days the grounds extended down to Morecambe Bay, with fine, manicured lawns, beautifully laid-out gardens, and where guests could avail themselves of the tennis courts and the bowling greens.

Then the deep-water channel of the River Kent shifted and the hotel – indeed the whole village – was left high and dry, marooned as it were on an expanse of sand.

Most of the land was sold off for redevelopment and the village now has the sleepy air of a dormer backwater.

It’s still got a certain charm though and I can well remember our first excitement, when, as newlyweds, we lived in a damp, draughty cottage at nearby Crag Foot, and we used to explore this Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

Happy memories!

The longest week of the year

IT HAS struck me before now of course – this interregnal period between Christmas and the New Year, and just how long it often seems.

But this time it’s been, I think, the longest few days of the year.

Partly, of course, it’s due to the fact that the holidays have fallen on the weekend, extending the brokenness of the period by an extra four days.

Mainly, though, it’s because My Good Lady and I have been suffering from severe digestive problems caused by – I’m not quite sure what.

Food poisoning is my first thought, but I’m told that there’s some sort of virus floating around.

Oh, Christmas lunch with our friends goes off well enough, but we come home already feeling suspiciously tired; I certainly need an hour’s nap, and MGL is away to her bed by about 8 o’clock.

The next day the problems start with us. Neither of us feels much up to either cooking or eating, so we heat up one of the ready meals we keep in the freezer for emergencies.

The next day I am in really serious discomfort, with my stomach aching, a general feverishness wracking my whole body, and my appetite completely deserting me, as has my sense of taste: MGL has gone to the trouble of cooking up a Moroccan lamb tagine thing and I can barely manage a mouthful of it.

I eat practically nothing for the next couple of days – a bowl of soup, a small, plain omelette and that’s about all.

By this time MGL is also showing similar symptoms to mine – truly we’re a sad pair indeed.

So passes the week until Friday, when, for the first time we feel well enough to join some of our friends at the Pub for an hour or so.

By Saturday, though, New Year’s Eve, MGL is in frightful state again; she spends most of the day curled up in her armchair, a blanket pulled up to her ears, clasping her griping stomach and refusing almost all food and drink.

I’m doing a little better, though; I persuade her to try a bowl of cream of chicken soup, and later in the evening, I microwave a rather bland fish pie for her.

She does rally a bit later, we even manage a bottle of wine, and in this way we see in 2012.

But I have to say this has been one of the longest – and worst – weeks of the whole year!

You can bet that I’m praying for a happy New Year for us all!

A Christmas dream

TO BE honest, I don’t really consider myself an adherent of the Christian faith. There are as many things about Christianity I loath as I admire.

I suppose I agree with Nietzsche’s comment that Christianity lends itself to corruption as much as to joy and Godliness.

But if I’m not of the faith, I am, of necessity, of the tradition; I was brought up a Christian, indeed a Catholic, and especially at this time of year I’m surrounded by the symbols of that two thousand year old tradition.

Okay, I admit, it’s a stretch from the gifts of the Magi to the crass commercialism that we all endure today and of which we are all, willy-nilly, victims.

I do admire some of the music which the tradition has inspired, both classical and popular.

And in the latter category, I would like to mention one of my favourite secular carols which I was pleased to hear again on Sandie Dunleavy’s radio show in BBC Radio York.

Christmas Dream was written by Andrew Lloyd-Webber and Tim Rice for the otherwise rather forgettable 1974 film, The Odessa File.

Why I like this particular song is because of the lyrics which talk of “the crying, the shouting, the dying” – unusual to say the least of it.

The sentiment that “All nights should be silent, they should all slow down” is one that I heartily subscribe to.

Above all, the chorus:

The whole world needs a Christmas dream

We need it to warm us,

To calm us, to love us…

is surely at the very centre of the Christian tradition.

And in that tradition, in that spirit may I offer to one and to all a warm, calm and loving Christmas.

My Christmas dream indeed.

Cold feet

I’VE BEEN somewhat remiss about my postings of late – no real excuse for it except a kind of lethargy which has been upon me for weeks now.

I seem to spend more time asleep than fully conscious.

We’ve been dogged by a certain amount of ill health, too – again, nothing major, just the usual seasonal coughs and colds and the like.

But it just adds to my winter moroseness.

Oh, what I wouldn’t do for a few weeks in the sun! I tell My Good Lady so this very evening as we recall the glory that is the Caribbean, or the wonder of South East Asia.

Not for us at the moment, alas. Maybe later next year. We shall see.

Anyhow, the Big Day is nigh upon us and we’re about as set for it as we’re likely to be.

Little or no cooking involved for us this year, we’ve been invited by some friends for Christmas lunch – and I have to say even this has been something of a trial.

PD, our host, has certain mental health problems, and in the space of the last few weeks has been getting himself more and more worked up about our now immanent arrival.

At first he was really keen, but now I fear he may be in the edge of some kind of breakdown on our account.

Were it not for the fact that Lin, his wife, is really enthusiastic about our coming to their home, I think I might have tried to extricate us from their invitation.

Far too late now, of course – we’re committed.

But I approach the day with a certain feeling that the old feet are getting well and truly icy!

Of seasonal wine and rather a lot of turkey

AND STILL in the spirit of the fast-upcoming festive season, we’ve just taken delivery of some Christmas wines.

Quite a good selection this year – albeit an expensive one – ranging from a Châteauneuf-du-Pape to go with the roast turkey, to a premier cru Chablis to go – well, anytime really.

Also included is a bottle of Champagne with which to welcome in the New Year.

I always feel a little more celebratory when our Christmas case arrives, and the promise of all that delicious supping!

Meanwhile I turn my attention to today’s dinner – turkey, by coincidence – in the form of a creamy stew with mushrooms and mustard and a good dollop of dry white wine.

I misread the recipe, though, and by accident I make a sufficient quantity for 4 to 6 people.

And because there’s cream in it, I can’t freeze it. So, what to do?

There’s far too much for 2 people, and it’s too late to ring round and invite some guests.

I end up serving half the portion and the rest I put in the fridge and keep fingers crossed that it doesn’t go off before we can get round to consuming it.

Actually, it rather good with My Good Lady’s only criticism being that the coarsely chopped meat could have been cooked for a little longer.

She clears her plate, though.

Sausage day

IT’S MY big cook day, and I’m doing us old-fashioned curried beef sausages.

And, as usual when attempting something new, I’m a little nervous.

The fact is I’ve never even tasted beef sausages before, let alone used them in slow-cooked curry sauce.

They turn out to be pretty good; less fiery than the more normal pork verities, they nevertheless go well with the warmth of the curry.

All washed down with a very agreeable Australian Durif-Shiraz wine.

Excellent.

Christmas plans and pea soup

I CANNOT believe that the run up to Christmas has already begun.

But yes, we’ve already booked the table for our group festive dinner at the Pub, and our plans for the Big Day are firmly laid.

We’re dining at the home of some friends this year, as a change to eating out which, to be honest, has got a bit tedious.

We’re looking forward to a good, homemade Christmas dinner – a roast turkey with all the trimmings… Promises to be good, especially since PD and his wife Lin always go to the trouble of getting a premium quality bird from Marks and Spencer’s.

Meanwhile, I’m busily soaking some split peas, ready for my pea and ham soup done in the slow cooker tomorrow.

I really do enjoy using our “Big Ears” – the aromas as it plops away, hour after hour, fill the whole house.

I have to admit to a certain apprehension about this soup, though. My mother used to do it to perfection when I was a lad, and the recipe I’m following is definitely not the same as hers.

For example, with mine, everything goes into the pot at the same time; my mother used to boil the ham first, then use the stock to make the soup.

The ingredients are a little different, too.

I guess I shall just have to keep my fingers crossed.