jane brocket

head-turning

 
Yesterday morning, with a feeling of mild sadness, I threw away the amazing frilly-knicker, head-turning gladioli that have been centre-stage in the kitchen for a week - they had created their own space and the table looks so empty now.

Then Phoebe and I went off to Tate Britain and the National Gallery so that she could find some flower, tree, foliage and reflection paintings as part of her summer holiday Art project. It was so interesting to see which works appealed to her, and in fact it turned out that of all the artists we looked at, she liked Monet the best. I suppose Monet is often considered almost a cliche these days, too easy to like, and too predictably appealing. But Phoebe, who is unprejudiced and unjaundiced and who did her best with Constable and the Romantics in the Tate, was immediately animated by Monet in the National and loved his use of colour and the semi-abstract nature of the later paintings. (I don't know what I've been thinking all these years, but I had no idea that his late work was so amazing and pre-dates so much modern abstract art by decades.)

And my head was turned by this exquisite painting of gladioli by Renoir. Why is it that pictures of flowers and gardens are somehow seen as second-rate and less worthy than more serious subjects?(Stanley Spencer called his pictures of flowers and houses and trees 'pot-boilers', yet they are wonderful, and sold and still sell like hot cakes.) These gladioli were, like my own gladioli, quite the highlight of the week.

'Gladioli in a Vase' Pierre-Auguste Renoir c 1874-5

On the same subject, the Impressionist Gardens exhibition in Edinburgh sounds excellent. All the critics who have written about the show are amazed that it has never been done before;  this is what I mean about the fact that it's possible to be too highbrow about flower paintings. Thank goodness the National Galleries of Scotland are prepared to steer the middlebrow, Monet course.

souvenir

 

I don't usually buy souvenirs on holiday - not since I was about eleven, anyway -  but this cake stand, bought from Julie Phipps in Aldeburgh (she has a new shop there as well as the one in Woodbridge) will always make me think of happy times in our favourite seaside town. It's an extravagant, painted metal flowers-and-foliage creation with room for three good-sized plates of cakes and fancies.

 

It's also perfect for the ultimate souvenir cake, the madeleine. These are made to Heston Blumenthal's recipe as we definitely prefer damp, melting madeleines to dusty, dry ones. The only personal memories these cakes hold for me are of French exchanges when I was a teenager and bringing home cellophane-wrapped, supermarket madeleines as souvenirs. But I do remember that those madeleines never did to me what's Proust's madeleines did to him. Nor did they taste anything like these fresh, home-made madeleines.

[The cake stand would also be an excellent way to present the many variations of 'hedgehog' and fridge cake that you so kindly shared on the 'mysterious recipes' post below. They seem to be a universal treat, even if there is no definitive way to make them, and I was fascinated to read all the comments. Thank you.]

faith

 

The triangle of garden where I grow bulbs and, later, annuals is an absolute disaster this summer. My seedlings started off brilliantly but fell victim to too much heat too soon, weekends when I didn't get a chance to transplant them, then rock-hard, bone-dry soil when I finally got round to it. As a result, most were abandoned, thrown away, and a few were shoehorned into the pitifully dry and compacted soil. Many of these died quite quickly, and I decided to let the self-seeding poppies and whatever was in there do as they pleased, so it became something of a wasteland.

But I should have had more faith. Because depsite the neglect, a few giant sunflowers have shot up and I see plenty of bright orange nasturtiums finally creeping about after the rain. And, best of all, each morning this week there have been four or five utterly magnificent morning glories, creased like a newly unfolded linen tablecloth, and the colour of azure blue skies in July. I had put a few MG plants into the triangle very late, and was quite convinced they had withered and/or been eaten by slugs. And yet here they are, reminding me of tall, 'immature' Mariel Hemingway telling the small, 'mature' Woody Allen in Manhattan, to have a little more faith. She means in people, but her advice applies just as much to nature, flowers, and morning glories.

mysterious recipes

 

I often find that a treat made by someone else is an even bigger treat than anything I make. When I was growing up Mrs C, a lovely neighbour who, when I was 13 or 14, lent me Pride and Prejudice when I told her I needed something good to read, and gave me Henri Troyat's brilliant biography of Tolstoy for Christmas one year, used to make a recipe that everyone called 'Tipsy Hedgehog'. It was a kind of chocolate/biscuit fridge cake and she didn't make it very often (ah, those austere times in the 1970s...) but when she idd, there was rejoicing all round. Today, however, I realise that 'Tipsy Hedgehog' is a sort of old English boozy trifle recipe, so the real name of Mrs C's recipe remains a mystery to this day.

As soon as I saw that the Hummingbird Bakery Cookbook had a recipe for Chocolate Fridge Cake Bars, I wanted to make some to see if they were anything like Mrs C's. Now the strange and mysterious thing here was that although our results were gratifyingly similar to those in the book's photo, it was such a completely ridiculous recipe that I had to make drastic changes - and yet theirs and ours look the same.

I'm now wondering which recipe they used , because I'm pretty sure it wasn't the one that was printed in the book. 400g of butter and 800g of broken disgestives are quite gross quantities (we had to chuck the first batch out), and on the second go used about 300g of butter (still a heart-stoppingly large amount) and only around 375-400g of biscuits. We added glace cherries, dried sour cherries, and sultanas (only the last ingredient was in the recipe) and still the bars came out looking identical. The one good thing, though, is that they tasted great, if a little yuckily rich which is OK once in a while, but a bit overfacing in these quantities.

 

Unsurprisingly, we couldn't resist taking photos in the style of the book. But as to what the real recipe for chocolate fridge cake might be (and this is very definitely choc fridge cake/bars, not Rocky Road Bars with marshmallows etc), we are none the wiser. And sadly, Mrs C is no longer around to ask.

Very mysterious.

noticeboard

If this were my noticeboard, here's what would be pinned up on it at the moment:

Pretty pictures: We did a photoshoot this week in one of my very favourite places in the world. The photographer was Christina Wilson who took beautiful photos with the minimum of fuss - and I am thrilled with the results. Christina has a blog full of interesting apercus, ideas and recommendations (she is well travelled and picks up all sorts of gems en route).

Thank you note: Friday was the Festival of Quilts. Thank you to everybody who cam by to say hello, to buy a book, or to tell me they had already bought the book. It was lovely to meet you all. I was very well looked after by Nik on The Cotton Patch stand, and came home with a pot of Nik's fantastic home-made blackcurrant jelly - undoubtedly the best I've ever tasted and a definite for the next batch of no-knead bread.

Business card: At the Festival I made a startling discovery, and I have no idea how I've missed this one before. The Eternal Maker stocks all sorts of amazing fabrics, including a huge number of Japanese designs that I've never found anywhere else in the UK (they are also the UK importer for Kokka fabrics). A trip to Chichester beckons - sooner rather than later as I cannot contain my excitement.

Announcement 1: The Sunday Telegraph has announced its Gardening Against the Odds Award in memory of Elspeth Thompson. Please, if you are someone who gardens against the odds or if you know someone who does, then do consider submitting an entry.

Announcement 2: Elspeth's friend and co-author Ros Badger is running a marvellous-sounding 'Reinventing French Textiles' course at the very marvellous-looking Chateau Dumas this coming October.

Cover of magazine: It has to be said that I have been a little lukewarm about recent issues of the Rowan Knitting and Crochet Magazine (I will never, ever knit a pattern called 'Stockport' - my home town). But the latest Rowan Magazine (48) is breathtakingly lovely, beautifully styled, and made me want to knit immediately. 

Radio listing: I listened to Kathy Burke on Desert Island Discs while drving to the Festival of Quilts, and realised I had been in a different world outside my car for 45 minutes - a bit scary really, as I must have been driving on automatic. Listen to it, it's one of the best.

Holiday addresses and photos: the teenagers have been to Devon, Dorset, Wales, Cornwall and Suffolk. We like our British hols.

 

Sunrise, Swanage Beach, July 2010 ©Phoebe Brocket 2010

Tickets: for Reading Festival (obviously not mine).

AS results: thank goodness those are all over, so let's do it all over again this year with A2s...

Lists: for the new school year (someone will be suitless and shoeless at the beginning of term if he doesn't get himself to the shops v soon...).

Crochet chart: a Fine Cell Work-style crossing-off of crochet hexagons. 17 made, 48 to go...  

last of all?

 

I remember reading in 2007 that Amy Karol thought she must be the last person to try the (2006) New York Times No-Knead Bread recipe. I knew then that she probably wasn't as I wanted to have a go, but I didn't really mean to wait until 2010 to do so. Which must make me one of the last, if not the last, to make this incredibly simple and disproportionately good bread.

 

I used strong/bread flour, left the 'dough' (more like a starter, really) for 18 hours and cooked it in a deep Le Creuset pot at 240C. I wasn't convinced it would turn out well as the second rise was very slow (more than 2 hours), but in fact the loaf was just as good as everyone who has been making it since 2006 says it is. It has an amazing crust and a chewy, open crumb which has more than a hint of crumpet to it, and it makes marvellous toast. I might be later than ever to this party, but I'm making up for lost time by baking it again; I have another batch sitting for 22 hours this time.

 

There's no need to rush with this bread.

can she crochet a cherry pie?

 

A couple of years ago I bought a few balls Anny Blatt Cachemir'Anny yarn merely because I couldn't resist the colour which reminded me of pastry made with butter but very different to your usual beige or ecru or camel. When partnered with equally mouth-watering but more acidic, fruity colours of cherries, redcurrants, raspberries, strawberries it made me think of a fruit pie. This cushion cover could have been a cherry pie but I didn't have enough cerise pink to keep to a two-colour scheme, so I made it more a summer fruit pie.

 

Complete with crimped edge, just like the real thing.

 

To amuse myself further while crocheting, I had a different running order of colours for each side. But the fact is that I really like this Erika Knight pattern and don't get bored with it. It's amazing how quickly the circles grow, and I love the fact that crochet is so easy to finish that you have a covered cushion in no time.

The juicy fruit yarns are all Biggan Design merino wool. Unfortunately, it looks as though the Cachmir'Anny yarn has been discontinued. The pattern is from Essential Crochet but I used DK wool and a 4mm hook.

festival of quilts

 

I shall be on the Cotton Patch stand (A24) at the Festival of Quilts this Friday, 20th August, from 12 to 1pm and from 3.30pm to 4.30pm.  Do come and say hello if you are passing. I'll be signing copies of my book, meeting quilters, talking about my quilts (there will be few on display on the stand), drinking tea, chatting, and shopping. A few of my favourite things, in fact. 

[One of the many piles that have accumulated round the house during the summer as we have very little storage space in the house. Very nice to look at and they even make me look forward to cold winter days. For a split second.]

golden brown

 
  

As someone who loves deep, pure, bright colours, it still surprises me that I like the golden brown and pearly greys of Suffolk so much. Much as I'd like one day to get to Mexico and Guatemala and Jamaica and Morocco for the searing sunshine and colours, in the meantime I'm quite content with visits to diffuse, bleached, weather-beaten Aldeburgh. The minute I arrive my mind empties - perhaps in response to the vast openness of the place.

Our week there with two teenagers consisted of watching the plain view from our first floor living room change throughout the day, reading, reading, reading, eating, drinking and walking. Plus some swimming, a few games of boules (with a set of cheap and cheerful water-filled plastic balls which looked very Blackpool kiss-me-quick next to our neighbours' sleek French metal set), and frisbee on the beach.

I caught a few true golden brown moments; the best were watching the teenagers on the beach, a long walk on the wonderfully strange and shingly Orford Ness, and finding sea kale, yellow horned poppy, teasels, sea lavender, sea campion and thrift after buying a copy of Flowers of the Seaside (1954) in the second-hand bookshop in Aldebrugh in an attempt to train myself to spot them. It's amazing what you can find in the vast apparent emptiness of shingle once you know what you are looking for.

Another joy of going back to the same place year after year is seeing what has changed, and this year the new highlight was the fact that the Cragg Sisters Tea Room on the High Street is in new hands, very capable cake-baking hands at that, and well worth a visit or three.

if...

 

...Andy Goldsworthy made cakes

and played on Aldeburgh beach

 

 with pebbles and debris

 

 he would have been very welcome to join us this past week.