Monday 13 February 2012

Taking things literally...


I rang my youngest sister yesterday – I ring them both from time to time, it’s good to chat and there’s usually a reason too. We shared our opinions on our respective days and I managed all of this whilst carrying out the beginning steps to Jam-Roly-Poly. This morning I texted her so she could call me back (as a penniless author-in-waiting, I have had to go to Pay-As-You-Go and calls cost 25p a minute). She did, eventually (though as I pointed out, if those had been my death throes she would have missed my final words), and her first question was, “Have you fallen out with me?” No, I told her, although had I died I might have thought differently. But this wasn’t her point – she was worried about the night before, and had spent the night worrying about what she could have done.
            “That may be true,” I pointed out, “But, to be fair, you did say you were calling me back later – so if anything, I should be worried.”
            Anyway seemingly – at some point towards the end of our conversation last night (when, in fact, I was approaching the trickier parts of Jam-Roly-Poly construction), I interjected with the words, “I don’t know why I’ve rung you.” and here in lies the dilemma; whilst my sister thinks the words show that I was fed-up with her and don’t know why I bothered to call, I believe that the words were simply recognition of the fact that I really didn’t know why I’d called. Much like when you get to the top of the stairs and find you haven’t a clue why you’re there so you nip to the loo instead, usually to remember – once you are back downstairs and seated comfortably – exactly what you had wanted and it wasn’t a toilet trip. Perhaps her different interpretation is just a sign of her immense youth as compared with my seniority? Or perhaps she has a problem with taking things too literally? Like this guy?

            Anyway, my youngest sister spent the evening worrying about what she could have done to upset me. Or rather, she spent about 15 minutes and then forgot, along with forgetting to call me back, until this morning, when she got my text.
            And the Jam-Roly-Poly was perfect. I share below.
I pinched the pic - mine looked better but I didn't have my camera
Recipe: Jam-Roly-Poly & Custard
Inspired by: My Dad
Ingredients:
For the Jam-Roly-Poly
50g Shredded Suet
50g Salted Butter (cold & cut into cubes)
250g Self-Raising Flour (don’t worry if you’ve none in, add a couple of teaspoons of baking powder to plain)
150ml milk
1 teaspoon vanilla paste or seeds from 1 pod
A few dessert spoons of your favourite jam (don’t scrimp)
For the Custard
Milk (as much as you think)
Egg yolk (1 per two or poss. three people)
A good teaspoon of corn flour per yolk (heaped if you want your custard thick)
A couple of dessert spoons of sugar per yolk
Vanilla paste (if you want vanilla custard)
Here’s What I Do: (You can do all of this in a mixer if you like.) First prepare the roly-poly, rub the butter into the flour until it resembles bread-crumbs, it helps if the butter’s really cold so if you’ve got warm hands consider popping it in the freezer for a minute or two after you’ve chopped it. Next add the shredded suet, give it a few mixes but not too much and then start adding your 150ml of milk, whilst mixing to bring together (if you’re working by hand a palette knife can help at this stage). Pour the milk steadily, your dough is going to be pretty wet but like all baking you might not need every last drop of milk. Don’t over work the dough, you’re certainly going to want to do the last bit by hand if you’re working in a mixer.
            Turn your dough onto a floured surface, at this stage if you think the dough is too wet then flour generously so that it can be worked back into the dough. You need to roll the dough into a rectangle and, as you’re rolling it, it wants to be around 5 or 6mm thick (no more). Spread generously with jam, leaving a 1cm border all round (otherwise your jam will just ooze everywhere) and roll from one of the shorter ends. You need to try and pinch the ends together and you may use a little milk to help do this. Now wrap loosely in greaseproof and then in foil. Remember to fold the edges with a double fold, leaving expansion room. Put the parcel on a baking tray.
            Turn your oven to Gas Mark 4 and boil a kettle of water. Put a roasting tin in the bottom of the oven, when warm half fill the tin with boiling water, slide your roly-poly onto the shelf above and bake for an hour (this does depend on oven accuracy). Have a little peep in the top of the parcel to check the pudding is cooked (mine needed an extra 10 minutes last night), and re-wrap and leave to rest for 5 minutes before serving.
            I like to make the custard in advance then reheat it, so I do this as soon as I’ve put the pudding in. Custard is dead easy to make but very personal so you may want it less sweet (or more sweet) or without the vanilla. Same with the corn flour, you need to mess around with the thickness depending on whether you want thick or thin custard.
            Make a paste with the egg yolk, sugar and corn flour – use really good free-range eggs so your custard will be a lovely colour. Warm your milk in a pan along with the vanilla seeds (if using), just as it begins to boil pour it onto the paste stirring all the time. Now pour this back into the pan whilst re-heating, don’t stop stirring for a second. As it comes back to the boil it will thicken nicely. That’s it. Lovely custard and not a packet of Birds in sight.

Sunday 5 February 2012

I Love Swinging...


I do, I admitted it to Rob one afternoon in Tesco – to approving nods from other shoppers. I especially like it when I get to the bumps but I believe this makes Rob feel sick. And also he says I shouldn’t talk about it in public – apparently people can get the wrong idea.
            I don’t think I’m alone in saying that there are few better delights than going to the local park and enjoying the feeling of lightness and giddiness that rapidly takes over when you get on a swing and swing. I learnt from a young age, thanks to a wonderful Dad who was great at physics, how to propel myself backwards and forwards with nothing but the use of my legs and no need for a ‘pusher’ in sight. I had to learn this because my Grandad (a keen bowler) would take me to the park on our fortnightly visits and leave me at the swings whilst he went and partook in a game of bowls. Yes I was only four and yes he was out of sight but nothing ever went wrong and I had a fabulous time. And learned to swing. And learned to be brave, have initiative and think for myself. And countless other skills that are sadly being forgotten as today’s youngsters are chaperoned everywhere, cushioned from falls and haven’t even heard of the bumps never mind tried jumping off when one reaches them.
            Anyway, one of the best things about nieces is being able to take them to the park so that I can enjoy the delights of (almost) weightlessness. Sadly, as my nieces have grown and progressed to the big swings and, since most parks are equipped with only two of the big swings, I do now have to wait my turn on the swing but I still get to enjoy the moment at least a couple of times a month. And my sister gets sick as she watches my dizzying heights and hopes that her lovely daughters won’t ever learn how to be just so skilled at the art of propelling oneself upwards and outwards on two pieces of chain and a plank of rubber.
            I can get to the bumps (the point where you leave the seat and your arms and the chain make a kind of snapping motion) in seconds and, according to my ever optimistic and equally competitive elder niece, so can she – but actually I am going higher, faster and better than she. And she doesn’t know how to access my blog so she can’t argue.
            But there are things I can no longer do – my teenage years were spent on a whole range of parks seemingly trying to beat the laws of gravity by propelling oneself and one’s friends in a multitude of ways. I’ve jumped off roundabouts as they speed round at 30mph and flown 100s of metres through the air as I let go of the swing right at the top of the bumps and I never so much as stubbed a toe. But can I do it now? No. Instead my knuckles whiten as I secure my grip on the swing and I can’t even manage to get the roundabout travelling so fast never mind let go of it.
            And thinking of things I can’t do – my niece spent 30 minutes trying to teach me how to knee-skid last week and the most I can manage is some kind of feeble, half-hearted affair on one knee. If I were planning to propose to someone (it is a leap-year) then I guess it could be useful but, as it is, I just look like some kind of scaredy-cat-chicken who daren’t give-in to the slide. Peter Kay can do it (and he’s got to weigh a bit more than me) and Bruce Springsteen isn't afraid; so if they can cope without damaging their kneecaps what is holding me back? Surely I’m not turning into a Grown-Up?