Pistachios and eggs

Recently I purchased a time machine. It was humble to look at: a recipe book, printed in 1893, called Cakes and Confections à la mode by Mrs de Salis.

You know how scent and taste can transport you to a moment in your past? Take you right back to that first bite, and to everything that happened around it? This book represented someone else's food memories (Mrs de Salis' food memories), and I knew that her words on the page, if I followed them, had the power to carry me backwards 123 years in time.

Mrs de Salis was a famous home-cook, the Nigella Lawson of her time, with a best-selling range of "à la mode" titles covering everything from "Dressed Game and Poultry à la mode" to "National viands à la mode" and even "Floral decorations à la mode," among many more.

But that was a long time ago, and her techniques are foreign to me, and some of her ingredients even more-so (angelica? alum? greengage? ammonia!? pyrogallic acid!?). How were these cakes supposed to taste? I have no idea. What did they look like? Again, no idea. Mrs de Salis leaves no hints, assuming that her readers are already familiar with these types of dishes.

But if I attempt these recipes, and follow them faithfully, I will be stepping into a late-Victorian kitchen. Cooking by the light of the window, squinting over the words on the page as the afternoon shadows gather, by candle-light or maybe, if I am lucky, gaslight. The fire burning in the cast-iron AGA stove keeps me warm. There must be hens in my yard because many of these recipes call for copious numbers of eggs. For the same reason, I imagine I will be serving up smaller slices to my family than my 21st-century counterpart might do; these recipes read heavy! Victorian-era Naomi will have wonderful muscles in her arms, patiently grinding almonds or pistachios into meal to be used in place of flour.

In the process, lost flavours are rediscovered, forgotten meal-times reignited. This is time travel.

Pistachio Cake (Mrs de Salis, 1893)

Blanche a pound of pistachio nuts and pound them in a mortar with a little orange-flower water. Then add the beaten white of an egg and a little grated lemon-peel, six ounces of castor sugar, the yolks of ten eggs beaten lightly, and the whites of eight beaten to snow. Mix all the ingredients thoroughly, have ready a buttered mould, and bake for an hour in a moderate oven. When cold, ice it with pistachio-nut icing. 

Ten eggs, my friends! Yeesh! Also, as far as I can see in my book, Mrs de Salis doesn't actually supply a recipe for pistachio-nut icing. She does however provide a general icing recipe, which I have copied out for you here:

Icing for Cakes (Mrs de Salis, 1893)

Take some icing sugar, mix twelve ounces of it, and mix it in gradually to the whites of four eggs whisked to a stiff froth, beating it well to make it smooth; mix in the strained juice of a lemon and two drops of pyrogallic acid*, and lay the preparation on the cake with a very broad knife. Put it in a cool oven to harden, but be careful it is not hot enough to discolour it.

Let me know if you bake this. I'd love to know how you go.

* NOTE: Please skip the pyrogallic acid if you try this recipe, as it is apparently poisonous!

The first of June

Last night I had a dream that it snowed in Melbourne.

I was awake before the rest of my family and I looked out into the still-dark garden and saw whorling white. Raced upstairs, and woke everyone up. We played in the blanketed garden in our dressing-gowns until we were all wet and frozen, and then came inside for hot baths and hot chocolate.

The mornings are growing colder. My garden is gathering into itself for the coming winter dark, and thick steam from the shower in our cold house has more than once set off an over-enthusiastic smoke alarm.

Comfort-food cravings. Warm, oatmeal porridge in the mornings. Hands wrapped around steaming mugs of tea, cold fingers tingling against hot porcelain.

I return inside from training climbing roses, tending straggly gaura, pruning back salvia, and wash my cold-stiffened hands. Boil the kettle for a cup of tea. Sit down to write another postcard, and make tiny envelopes out of century-old transparent paper.

(Smells like old books).

All in good time

Pulling out towering, still-flowering cosmos, taller than my head. Shaking the soil from the roots. Lopping dead flowers and seed-heads from a hundred different plants, tossing them into the garden bed to nestle and rest and seed to grow again another season.

Cutting away the dead and decomposing once-green things that had suffocated beneath the cosmos’ enthusiasm. Gently tending, trimming, clearing, watering, anything that had somehow survived in the floral dark. Training the climbing roses up and over fence and pole, and cutting back the potato-vine, inviting flowers.

Tending, training, trimming, trusting. It is a precursor to the big winter cut-back, settling the plants for rest and eventual rejuvenation. The autumn harvest, the garden clean, planting and sowing for fresh new blooms in spring.

And in life, the closing off of long-worked projects, the handing over of harvest, a preparation for hard-earned rest (learning to say no!) and hopes of new growth to begin again. All in good time.

"And autumn garner"

"I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time." ~ Robert Browning

Keeping within yesterday's botanical mail art theme, here are some links "of beauty and utility" that you might enjoy:

* Decorating with houseplants - Taipei style

* Lovely fern-pressed jar DIY

* Gorgeous gift: seed bombs!

* The most beautiful self-watering pot I've ever seen

* How to incorporate plants into your home

* Make a mini green wall out of old jars

* One plant three ways

* How to keep your house plants alive

* Good idea for Mother's Day? DIY marbled hanging planter

* Love this forest-on-a-cake!

* Plant your herbs in old teacups and milk jugs

* Stunning art made out of petals and leaves

* The right plant for your home

* Invites you in: urban jungle in Antwerp

Strange magic

It was just a simple, one-block walk to get coffee. But today, with the sun searing the back of my neck and the light a strange kind of summer thickness, and me the only person in the whole street, it felt eerie. Hot, still, silent, and eerie. That first summer at the beginning of The Virgin Suicides kind of eerie. I walked on, past the grass and the houses and the oak trees and old wrought-iron fences and one sleeping cat, to buy my coffee.

My footsteps, the only sound on the street.

A dry wind flirted with the oak leaves on the grass median strip, and stung my eyes until I felt the tears pool. Hot and golden and quiet, this day, and it should have been beautiful but it felt like somebody was about to discover Cecelia in the bath.

This is the point where Strange Magic by ELO starts playing in your head.

Things learned and loved on Tuesday

 

Learned: I couldn't save the world but I could make someone's world better

Loved: Oona Ristola photography

Learned: a recipe for fig, ricotta and honey toast. Yum!

Loved: green and growing homes

Learned: why our children need to read

Loved: knitted comfort food

Learned: three surprising decorating tips

Loved: this book-themed hotel

Learned: how to put together a cheese plate

Loved: the chance to get my paws on a note pad from the Great Northern Hotel, Twin Peaks

Learned: little baby pumpkins make really sweet (and not at all scary) table decorations at Halloween, even if it isn't autumn or Thanksgiving

How about you? What have you learned and loved lately?

Morning at mine: pictures + proverbs

Lessons learned lately:

The first cup of tea of the morning is the best cup of tea of the year

One mango can make a whole house smell like Christmas

Sugar is harder to give up than Facebook

Clean house makes happy heart

Spring starts when the flowers bloom

Two children napping at the same time is a rare and precious jewel

Halloween inspiration board (friendly ghosts and purring cats)

I know, I know, but I really love Halloween. On my street, it is such a community event. Crowds of small children, dressed to the nines in the most adorable costumes, carry their little jack ‘o lantern buckets along the footpath. The braver, older ones traipse up to front doors and knock with hope in their hearts, while the smaller, more timid ones stand and shuffle their feet and wait to see what happens next…

We don’t really trick-or-treat on my street, we just treat. There’s an unspoken rule that if a house has decorations out the front or if the front door is open, it’s ok to knock. Otherwise, the kids just pass on by.

By the time Halloween rolls around it’s daylight saving in these here parts, so it’s almost like a giant summer street party. We meet neighbours we’ve passed at the shops and never spoken to before. Our children shyly make new friends. Often, trick-or-treating ends in impromptu barbecues and picnics and drinks all along the grassy island that divides our street. Honestly, Halloween is the best.

I’m completely comfortable with cherry-picking the things I like about Halloween, and ditching the things I don’t. I don’t like horror, I don’t like gore. I like my ghosts friendly and my black cats purring, you know? And I’m ok with that.

And so, bearing that in mind, here’s what I’ve pinned to my (imaginary) Halloween inspiration board, so far.

* I really wish somebody would invite me to a tortured artist Halloween party (who would you go as?)

* These marshmallow spider’s web cupcake toppings look more tasty than spooky

* Still on the subject of cupcakes (why not!), these printable monster cupcake holders are adorable

* Edible glow-in-the-dark secret messages! Ok, ok, these ones are on cupcakes TOO, but you could also put them on biscuits. Or something.

* A big handful of All Hallows Eve confetti

* And finally, this luna lamp is just about the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It's part of a crowd funding campaign that's on right now, so act fast if you want to get your hands on one

Welcome, spring

Pastel-perfect blossoms from the tree behind the wall and across the laneway are floating into our garden and carpeting the grass in pink confetti.

The children are shedding layers, leaving trails of socks and stockings and cardigans throughout the house as they cast off the long, long winter and turn their faces to the warm and welcome sun.

The urge to clean and cleanse is irresistible. Last week a toy cull, clothing next. Floors and benches and table-tops shine.

I pick a posy of geraniums and pineapple sage and something purple that I can't remember, and they spill out of a fat, old teapot, brightening the table while we eat outside.

We discover Ralph has grown out of another hat. Last year's sun-hat, pulled out of winter storage this weekend, sits comically and ineffectually atop his beautiful, big noggin.

Tiny poppy seedlings are pushing their way up through the soil in our garden. “Little baby plants!” breathes Scout in awe. “Be very, very gentle.”

Welcome, spring. This year, I've made my peace with you.

Image credits: Alexandru Tudorache, licensed for unconditional use under Creative Commons

Getting neighbourly

A group in Switzerland has come up with a simple and rather lovely way to use your humble letterbox to build community.

But it’s not through the writing and sending of letters, it’s about sharing, and involves (gulp!) actual face-to-face contact.

You know the old saying about popping into someone’s place to borrow a cup of milk? When I was growing up, we really did that. We knew all the neighbours in our little suburban cul de sac, and they knew us. When someone new moved into the street, we would bake them a cake or pick them some lemons and we’d knock on the door with our gift, to say welcome. And if someone in the street needed to borrow something and someone else in the street had it, no problem!

Relying on that kind of old-fashioned community spirit, a group called Pumpipumpe has designed a series of stickers depicting household items that we don’t necessarily use every day: things like lawnmowers and blenders and fondue sets.

The simple idea is that if you have one of these items and might be willing to lend them to a neighbour, you put a sticker on your letterbox.

They say, “That is how you can stand up for a reasonable, sustainable way to use consumer goods in your own neighbourhood, build a local network, get to know your neighbours better and buy less all together!”

The project is deliberately low-tech. They could have built an app, or a website, designed for sharing. But Pumpipumpe is about bringing back neighbourhood: walking around the streets where you live, and still having to physically knock on the door of your neighbour, say hello, and say “yes please I’d like to borrow that bike pump.”

Likewise, they say, they leave it up to the community how they will manage or reimburse each share.

“Do you want a deposit, in order be sure to get your jigsaw back? Maybe you and your neighbour will in the end share your expenses for a common newspaper subscription? Or will you offer your neighbour a piece of the delicious cake you made with his cake tin? Please do individually discuss the ideal conditions with the people you share your things with. Pumpipumpe promotes the sharing (not renting for money) of personal belongings, so please use these generous offers of your local neighbours respectfully. Good sharing to everyone!!”

The scheme started in Switzerland and that’s where it's strongest, but is now spreading across Europe, and at last count was making use of 7290 letterboxes for the purpose of sharing and community. The Pumpipumpe people have created an online map that shows where items might be available to borrow, to save you having to roam the streets for days, searching for a sewing machine.

I’d love to see this in Australia! Wouldn’t you? We’d just need a small group of us to make it work. Like say maybe 10 friends who all live in the same city start it off, putting out their stickers and letting each other know, and then they each tell the other people they know, and hopefully it spreads from there.

Stickers are available to buy online at pumpipumpe.ch.

Cute, super-daggy video explaining it all here:

Images are all official Pumpipumpe media images, owned by Meteor Collectif.