A small regret

PEOPLE who know me well will tell you that I have a great love of musical theatre and film.

I mention this because I’m listening (again) to the BBC’s radio tribute to Kander and Ebb’s amazing work (Friday Night is Music Night, Radio 2 and online).

Sometimes I regret my decision not to move to London after I graduated – I would really have enjoyed the whole West End theatre scene.

Our visit last year to see Les Misérables is a case in point – what a joy that was!

Unfortunately, it was a bit of an epic journey for us, what with My Good Lady’s disability and, now, my recent stroke makes it, for the moment, almost impossible for us to get down.

There’s also the small matter of the not inconsiderable costs involved.

Still, I can enjoy CDs of soundtracks and DVDs of movies, as well as the wonderful musical output that the BBC provides almost daily.

So yes, it is one of my small regrets, not being a bit closer to the Big Smoke, it is in reality a very small one.

Discomfiture

A SENSE of unreality pervades me as I drive back from our Friday gathering in the Geriatrics’ Corner of the Pub.

I know my car control is a little erratic – but then other people’s seems no less so.

And the unreality extends to meal time, too; I’ve prepared us a Moroccan spiced tomato and chicken casserole, and I’ve just got the boiled rice to do.

It’s not until My Good Lady asks me if I’m not making the accompanying

Gremolata that I realise I’d completely forgotten about it.

Unreal!

Quite what is causing this state is a bit of a mystery. Oh yes, I find the Pub today too noisy for my hearing. My tinnitus is playing up badly, and with PD yelling, as it seems, at the top of his voice across the Corner while I try to talk with Fran and Den and Henry, it makes it almost impossible for me to follow what’s going on.

My leg is giving me difficulty, today too, and for some reason my back is aching.

All in all, I’m feeling a bit of old crock!

On the positive side, my chicken dish is quite amusing, even without the Gremolata condiment, and the Romanian Merlot, Cab Sauv., Shiraz wine proves to be quite enjoyable, too.

Best of all, today, My Good Lady seems to be in much better spirits than of late, with her “black dog” experience finally in abeyance.

I know, I ought to count my blessings instead of wallowing in my own discomfiture.

Sunday pies

THERE is something comforting and very English about a good old pie.

I’m very fond of them – especially on a Sunday, when, after the housework, we succumb to an easy-cook, shop-bought, frozen pie.

I just pop it into the oven – a rather nice chicken pie today, although we’re just as partial to a well-made steak and kidney, or even something fishy.

I insist, though, that our choices are well-made, not just those cheap, weak and watery things you can sometimes get at “bargain” prices.

If I could, I’d make my own pies and freeze them, ready for Sunday use, but unfortunately I don’t do pastry – I don’t have the hands for it.

My Good Lady has – cold hands – and she does excellent pastry, and sometime I do prevail on her to rustle us up some tasty Cornish pasties, or a succulent chicken and vegetable pastry.

For some reason, for me, the art of pastry-making doesn’t really appeal, so I shall continue to stock the freezer up with good-quality shop-bought treats to enjoy on our quick-cook Sundays.

Revisiting Lawrence

I’M JUST reading some of D. H. Lawrence’s shorter fiction, a fat volume of which has sat on our bookshelves for nearly twenty years.

I’m familiar, of course, with some of Lawrence’s novels – indeed, I had to study Sons and Lovers for my A-Levels.

I’m also acquainted with a handful of his short stories, with Fanny and Annie being, in my view, in the top ten of the finest stories ever written in the English language and one that I personally found deeply influential on my own writing.

This is not to say that I’m an unadulterated fan of Lawrence’s work – at times he irritates me as much as he fills me with admiration.

But I suppose, on the whole, the latter emotion is uppermost in me as I read his dissection of German militarism in The Prussian Officer, or the conflict between love and class consciousness in Daughters of the Vicar.

But what has prompted this interest in a long-dead writer and poet? I’m certainly not planning to sit any more exams in English lit, while my literary aspirations have dried up in recent years.

No, maybe it’s because we visited Vence last year, the town in the south of France where Lawrence died.

Or maybe it’s simply because this big book of stories has sat there so long unread and if I’m ever going to revisit Lawrence's work, it’s time I did it.

Either way, it should keep me out of trouble for a while.

Getting acquainted with Big Ears

SO FAR all the recipes I’ve attempted on my slow cooker, Big Ears, have been fairly basic ones – the ones that accompanied the cooker itself.

I suppose their purpose is to familiarise me with the cooker’s uses.

The simple beef stew I made, for example, was to acquaint me with the browning/sealing function of the cooker, as much as anything else.

Then the chicken and white wine casserole demonstrated the need to cook poultry for the shortest time.

Today, I did the simplest dish of all – a boiled ham, a gammon joint cooked in water on low for ten hours.

And oh yes, it was beautifully tender – if fact, it fell apart as I was trying to lift it out of cooking pan.

And yes, it was very tasty, although I think cooking the ham in cider might have made it bit richer.

The trouble is, though, I don’t really feel these recipes are exactly stretching my culinary abilities.

We do have a couple of slow cook books with recipes aplenty, but My Good Lady is insisting that I continue with the included dishes, so that I become fully conversant with all of Big Ears’ little quirks.

Looking ahead, though, I see some more interesting ideas coming up: a Bolognese sauce for example, a Sausage Pot, a Thai beef curry…

There are some dessert ideas, too – but neither MGL nor I are really pudding people, so I might just skip these.

Adventures in cooking

SOME SMALL health concerns on my part don’t preclude me from attempting an experimental cook yesterday.

I do us spicy prawns with chorizo – it’s intended to be a tapas type dish, but I put some sautéed Jersey Royal potatoes with it to turn it into a main course.

It’s simplicity itself to do.

Thinly slice a clove of garlic, deseed and chop a red chilli, finely dice a goodly length  of chorizo sausage, then chuck them all into some pre-heated olive oil and fry them up for a couple of minutes.

Then toss in a good handful of cooked, peeled prawns – I use the frozen ones, already thawed – and a splash of red wine.

Another three or four minutes of pan frying is all it takes: and you have one of the most delicious ways of serving prawns that I have yet encountered.

Absolutely gorgeous – we have to eat them slowly to prolong the pleasure.

A crusty bread roll mops up the delicious juices.

I’m intending to cook again tomorrow – this time using “big ears”, my slow cooker – so-called because of the large handles on either side of the pot.

It’s a full four-hour job, this – chicken breasts cooked in white wine and stock with cream and mushrooms.

Should be interesting.

Weekend celebratory

THE HOTEL is one of these modern, characterless places designed for economy and for the attentions of commercial travellers.

The whole chain of such establishments have identical rooms in size and layout, so that no matter in which one you stay, you feel as of you’re in a home away from seedy home.

The bed proves to be reasonably comfortable at least - and that’s about the most positive thing I can say about the room.

The bathroom is lit by what seems like a twenty watt light bulb, and it casts more of a pallid gloom than a light!

Never mind, we tell ourselves, it’s only for three nights!

We’re visiting Stoke-on-Trent to help celebrate My Good Lady’s cousin’s golden wedding anniversary, and a couple of birthdays to boot.

It proves to be a great weekend for food and for general conviviality.

I enjoy one of the best steak and kidney pies I have ever tasted at a cosy country inn in the company of three of MGL’s cousins and their husbands.

We indulge in another splendid spread of food at a party the following evening where we also toast the happy couple whose fiftieth anniversary this is.

Yes, a very pleasant weekend, then - satisfying, if, for me, a little tiring – it is the longest journey I’ve done since my stroke and it proves to be rather taxing.

Never mind. Even the dismalness of the hotel doesn’t spoil the pleasure of this family do.