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Taking Time to Live Well
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Photography: Ryland Peters & Small
Shop-bought houmous comes in many flavours. This roasted carrot version is brilliant with savoury pancakes.
Serves 8
500g carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
1 tbsp olive oil
200g chickpeas
1 small garlic clove, crushed
Squeezed juice of 1/2 lemon
3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1⁄4 tsp ground cumin
1 Preheat oven to 180C/Fan 160C/Gas 4 and line a roasting pan with baking parchment.
2 Place the carrots, olive oil, salt, pepper and 1 tbsp of water into the prepared pan, cover with foil and roast for 40 mins until tender. Set aside to cool.
3 Drain the chickpeas, reserving 3 tbsp of their liquid. In a food processor blitz the carrots, chickpeas and reserved liquid, garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, cumin and some salt and pepper until smooth.
4 Serve, spread on the turmeric pancakes you can find in the February issue of The Simple Things, topped with seasonal raw veg, herbs and salad.
Recipe from Modern Pancakes (Ryland Peters & Small).
Book cover: Puffin Books
Losing yourself in a good book is one of life’s great pleasures… rediscovering an old one is pure joy
In our March issue, to celebrate World Book Day, some of The Simple Things’ staff have talked about their favourite childhood books.
We’d love to hear about the books that have stayed with you since childhood, too - why you loved them, whether you have reread them as an adult, and what it was about them that made them so special. Please share your Malory Towers memories, Narnia nostalgia and Roald Dahl reminiscences with us in the comments below.
To whet your appetite, here’s our Blog Editor, Iona Bower’s choice:
The Borrowers
by Mary Norton
Read by Iona Bower (blog editor) aged seven
Who, when they are small, could fail to love a story about little people lording it over big people? I was completely rapt by this tale of tiny folk who lived beneath the kitchen floor, making use of the everyday items of ‘human beans’ and repurposing them: cotton reels to sit on, matchboxes for chests of drawers… to this day I’d still love a living room decorated with giant paper made from sheets of handwritten letters.
The book’s a proper thriller, too; I devoured the second half in more or less one go. It’s also a tale that never ages. Published in 1952, read it now and you’d swear it was an allegory for the current refugee crisis. I’ve read it as an adult, and what struck me was the very complex narrative structure for a children’s book. It has a framed narrative (which I credit for my later obsession with Wuthering Heights). It’s told by someone called ‘Kate’ but you’re never sure if that is her name, and she’s recounting a story by Mrs May, who is in turn recounting
her brother’s story of meeting the borrowers. Still with us? Good. Because the story ends halfway through the book. The rest is mere conjecture.
And that’s what I love about it. You know nothing. It’s a huge leap of faith but no one reads The Borrowers (even the gut-wrenching twist of a last line, which I won’t reveal) and doesn’t ‘just know’ they are real. My son read it at the same age. I knew he’d finished it when he came thundering downstairs demanding: “Are there more Borrowers books? It says in the back that there are. Are the borrowers real? Are they ok?” And I said, “I don’t know. You’d better read the others and decide.” The Borrowers is a book that makes readers. Give that Mary Norton a medal
Photography: Stephanie Graham
The secrets of a good drizzle cake
Lemon drizzle is the nation’s favourite cake apparently (40% named it as their favourite).
This is according to a survey last year by the prosaically named Protein Times, but we won’t quibble. In some ways it’s no surprise.
Lemon drizzle is definitely a crowd-pleaser; there’s just nothing to dislike about it. Dry-fruit deniers and icing detesters have no quarrel with a drizzle, and it’s traditional, too. We note that (new-fangled) Red Velvet cake achieved a meagre 15% in the same survey.
The other good thing about a drizzle (of any flavour) is its simplicity. It’s a good bake for a seasoned cake-maker to impress with as well as a fine place for a beginner baker to start. And with a few semi-pro tips you can achieve a very pleasing result.
So what’s the secret of a great drizzle cake?
If you want your drizzle to really penetrate the cake, use a small skewer to make holes evenly across the top of your cake before drizzling the drizzle. Alternatively you can leave the skewer in the drawer and have the drizzle as more of an ‘icing’ on top.
Always pour the drizzle over while the cake is still warm so that more of the flavour is absorbed.
And don’t remove it from the tin once drizzled until it has completely cooled and set.
Our favourite tip - replace any milk in the recipe with limoncello. It’s what they do in Campania, and they’re never wrong about anything food related.
In our February issue, on sale now, we have a rather lovely looking passion fruit drizzle (pictured above) on our Cake in the House page. The recipe is from The Tin & Traybake Cookbook by Sam Gates (Robinson).
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Image: Thomas Hafeneth/Unsplash
We’re marking National Random Acts of Kindness Day today. We all need to look out for each other. Here are a few little things that can make somebody’s day.
Phone someone for a chat
Remember birthdays and don’t just text, send a card
Leave a note, even when you’ve not much to say
Set an extra place at the table for someone on their own
Give a homegrown bag of veg or posy of flowers...
...or simply offer your time and a slice of cake
What would you add? Tell us at over on Facebook or Twitter or in the comments below.
This blog was first published in June 2017 but we’ve shared it again for National Random Acts of Kindness Day.
Gown from onehundredredstars.co.uk
A look at what’s slovenly and what’s sophisticated in this wardrobe hinterland
For an item of clothing that is all about casual relaxation, the dressing gown hasn’t half come in for a lot of criticism over the last few years. From etiquette experts telling us that it’s terribly bad form to come down to breakfast in one when staying with friends to shoppers and school-gate mothers being ‘shamed’ for wearing them out of the house. But they are rather cosy and comfy aren’t they? And a bit glam too. So when is it acceptable to don a dressing gown?
The clue is in the name, really, it’s intended to be put on between getting out of bed and getting dressed (or indeed, getting undressed and getting into bed). But surely it’s possible to stretch that definition a little? If one returns from work on a blustery and difficult day and wants to get into pyjamas before dinner (as 14% of us do according to a 2017 survey by the department store, Liberty) surely a dressing gown over the top is advisable on a chilly winter’s evening?
In fact, far from being a sign of bad breeding, wearing the right sort of of dressing gown may be a sign that one knows what one is about. It’s all down to the right lounge wear at the right time. So here’s a brief rundown.
Dressing gowns
Beginning as ‘banyans’ in the early 18th century, and beloved of terribly posh men both at home and in the office. Banyans were intended to be a comfier, loose-fitting coat for when a formal jacket was too restrictive, and men would stride around the home or the office in silk or satin banyans looking slightly exotic. These days we’d advise you think twice about a banyan, particularly the short, silky kind (imagine the static). If you really must, gentlemen in particular should take care that they are (ahem) securely tied. And also that they aren’t open to the waist, revealing a chest rug. This sort of look should be left to Burt Reynolds, and only Burt Reynolds.
A nice cotton dressing gown in summer, or a deliciously fleecy thick one in winter, with either buttons or a tie fastening though, is a boon on Sunday mornings. And we don’t care what etiquette dictates, it’s the only thing to wear while enjoying toast and marmalade over The Archers omnibus. Do put some clothes on if you pop to the shops, though.
Bath robes
You can of course don a dressing gown after a bath but we think a bath robe, made of towelling, and therefore properly absorbent, is best for a bit of post ablution lounging. A nice fluffy white one gives you the feeling of being in a posh hotel, which is always lovely. If you are in a posh hotel, remember bath robes stay in your room, unless you are going to the spa or pool. They should never be worn to breakfast. And never stowed away in one’s luggage. Buy your own.
Housecoats
At one stage, the terms ‘house coat’ and ‘dressing gown’ were almost interchangeable. Both are lounge wear of a sort, but a housecoat is generally work-related and designed to protect the clothes under it while you’re doing chores. Wear it while polishing the family silver (or even unblocking the sink); this garment is all about practicality.
Lounge wear
From ‘house trousers’ to ‘lounge vests’, there’s a wide range of lounge wear (that is clothes designed specifically for relaxing around the house in) on the market now. The White Company is the purveyor of some of the finest in our opinion. What you want is muted colours, soft fabrics and plenty of elasticated waistbands. Lounge wear items should be beautiful enough to accept unexpected guests in but comfy enough that you could drift off for a nap on the sofa in them at any moment. Think of them as a sort of modern-day smoking jacket, but without the filthy habit.
We would like to make clear that onesies do not count as lounge wear. In fact, they don’t really count as ‘clothes’ at all unless you are under ten. Sorry.
In our February issue’s Miscellany, we’ve picked three of our favourite dressing gowns, including the one pictured above, the Europe Map Gown, £69.95, onehundredstars.co.uk.
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Valentine’s Day might feel a bit yucky and commercial but showing someone you care doesn’t have to involve candlelit twosomes or cheesy cards. Say it with actions instead.
Appreciate – what most people want is to be understood and valued. Making people feel good about themselves is a key element in mindful loving.
Accept – you need to let go of your opinions sometimes. Remember agreeing to disagree is an option!
Listen – put your phone down, stop rummaging through your bag and really give somebody your undivided attention. Everybody deserves to be listened to. Empathise – remember that other people are just as complicated as you are.
Laugh – you can’t be angry, sad or anxious when you’re laughing and it’s the quickest defuser of rows.
Respect – each other’s need for independence as well as togetherness. Try to be perceptive.
Passion – love shouldn’t just be directed at one person. It can be a passion and energy for friends, family, humanity – any of life’s pleasures. Practise it whenever you can.
Read More Time to Think by Nancy Kline (Cassell, £11.99) and The Little Book of Love by Tiddy Rowan (Quadrille, £5.99)
This post was first published on Valentines Day 2015.
Photography: RSPB images
Like a confusing song lyric? So do we! Read on to learn more
Let’s take a step back in time. It’s 1989. You’ve been to Woolies for your pick ‘n’ mix and to spend your pocket money. And you’ve bought the single by They Might Be Giants, ‘Make a Little Birdhouse in your Soul’... And after 12 plays, you’re none the wiser as to what the hell this song is all about.
In fact, after 30 years, you’re still none the wiser. To celebrate national bird box week, which starts today, we’re unpicking the mystery for you and helping you make a little birdhouse in your soul.
The first thing you need to know is that this is a story told from the perspective of a nightlight. Yes. A nightlight:
“Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you”
You’re probably a child because the nightlight’s job is to comfort you in the dark, and the nightlight is shaped like a blue canary (apparently this was an Actual Thing). The nightlight is in your bedroom so it’s a bit like a night time friend, glowing over there by the plug socket.
“I'm your only friend
I'm not your only friend
But I'm a little glowing friend
But really I'm not actually your friend
But I am”
So it’s not a ‘real’ friend, but it’s a friend to you in that it lights your bedroom in the dark. But it’s not sure… Or is it sure? Still with us? Hold tight.
Opposite the blue canary is a picture of a lighthouse:
“There's a picture opposite me
Of my primitive ancestry
Which stood on rocky shores
And kept the beaches shipwreck-free
Though I respect that a lot
I'd be fired if that were my job
After killing Jason off
And countless screaming Argonauts”
The little nightlight knows he’d be rubbish at the job of being a lighthouse; but fortunately his job is here, watching over you at night time. He values the role and your friendship so much, in fact, he wants you to make a little birdhouse in your soul for him to live in. Not only that, he also suggests you:
“Leave the nightlight on
Inside the birdhouse in your soul”
… so you’ll be extra cosy, maybe? So you’ll have a warm glow in your heart? So he can live in your soul? Maybe don’t think about this too hard…
There are many and various theories on the meaning of the song, from it being about Greek mythology to being sung by a demon. The song’s writer, John Linnell, however, said: "'Birdhouse In Your Soul' is a song about a night light. That's it. It's written from the perspective of a night light serenading the occupant of its room. The thing is, there are so many syllables in the songs that we had to come up with something to fill the spaces. So it ends up being kind of Gilbert and Sullivany." Illuminating. Almost as illuminating as a night light.
It’s a beautifully weird and weirdly beautiful little song though. There can’t be many songs that made the top 10 that are told from the perspective of a night light. In fact, we’d hazard a guess that this is the only one. Worth making space in your soul for.
And now you’re feeling inspired to make a little birdhouse, and it being National Nest Box week, read our feature in the February issue on birdhouses and make a little birdhouse in your garden, too.
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Photography: Matt Austin
Wrap up, head out, gather up, then hunker down. Walks in winter are a bit special
A good walk can cure many an ill, but a good walk in winter brings with it rosy cheeks, a glow of achievement, and a life-affirming sense of having worked with the elements rather than against them.
We always feel winter walks are best summed up by Ruth Craft in her 1976 children’s book, The Winter Bear:
‘So three set off in the cold, still air
With an apple or two and plenty to wear.’
The three children wander among almost-bare hedgerows spotting ‘bryony vine and old man’s beard’ and eventually light upon a teddy bear, stuck up a tree, which they bring home, dry off, patch up and ‘set him with care on a round, brown cushion in the best armchair.’
It’s a classic winter walk. Well prepped, a well-trodden route, high hopes, a jolly demeanour and treasure at the end. And a roaring fire, too.
In winter, any one of us, setting off with purpose on a walk, has a small swagger of the intrepid explorer about us. You may be more shambling than Shackleton and more Ambridge than Antarctica, but this can still be an heroic expedition.
But it does require a little preparation. So here are our suggestions.
Dress as though your nan chose your outfit. At least one vest, two pairs of socks, waterproof shoes. You’re not covering up, you’re battening down the hatches.
Take a Thermos. A morale-boosting cuppa is just what you need at the top of a frosty hill, or after you’ve got pond water in your shoe. If you have a Thermos full of nice, thick soup you’ve really won at winter walks.
Make a collection. Why do only children get to have ‘nature tables’? We think grown-ups should have a nature table, too. So take a bag with you and pick up anything of interest you find on your walk: a pine cone, a nice acorn, a pebble with a hole in it, and take them home to arrange on your nature table and bring a little of the wild home to your garden.
Leave a surprise, too. Find a little hole in a tree or a niche in a stone wall and leave one of your finds there for someone else to happen upon. A gift to the winter walking community.
Say a cheery hello to everyone you meet. Even if you never say hello to anyone you pass usually. Bonus point if a really good dog runs up to you and licks your waxed jacket.
Have a plan. A hilltop to conquer, a wood to explore. You don’t need to follow a specific path but it helps to have something in mind so you can say: “Right, we’ve done what we came to do. Time to go home.”
Have somewhere to escape to and hunker down at the end. Ideally this should be a pub with a log fire, but your living room will do just fine as long as the kettle is ready to go on and you’ve got a nice cake in the tin.
In our February issue, we interviewed Emma Mitchell, author of Making Winter and, more recently, The Wild Remedy (Michael O’Mara books). Emma (follow her at @silverpebble2) documents her winter walks in beautiful ‘wreaths’ which she photographs, like the one pictured above.
And suddenly, a stroll out in the cold feels like a project we all want in on.
Buy the February issue to read all about The Wild Remedy and for the details of our reader offer on the book. For more winter walk inspiration, visit The National Trust’s Winter Walks page.
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Photography: Guy Foreman
First records, like first loves, stay with you, no matter how embarrassing they were
‘What was the first record you bought?’ It’s a question that tells you so much about a person: their age, where in the country they grew up, their (sometimes questionable) taste… It’s a revealing ask.
The Simple Things’ Guy Foreman took us on a trip down Memory Lane in our ‘What I Treasure’ feature in the February issue (on sale now) and told us about his much-treasured record collection, and by the time he’d finished writing it we were all eagerly sharing stories of our first record purchases. So we thought we’d share a few of them with you, too.
Here, some of the staff of The Simple Things bare their (De La) Souls and more. Like Jarvis Cocker, do you remember the first time?
“I bought my first single from HMV in Enfield when I was about eight or nine. Nik Kershaw, 'I won't let the sun go down on me' (7-inch). The importance of 'buying something' definitely overshadowed the importance of which single it was. I can still see the sleeve - it was pale blue with a cutout of heart-throb Nik on the cover. With that hair style, he was quite hard to cut out, I'd imagine.”
Kate Pettifer, Chief Sub
“Mine was Shakin Stevens ‘Shaky’ album. My brother bought it me for Christmas. I remember begging him to tell me what my present was and he kept giving me clues – he said it was black and round and plastic. I couldn’t guess and was so excited when I opened it and saw Shaky on the cover in his pink jacket. I played in on my parents’ record player whenever I had the opportunity. My brother was seven years older than me so Shaky was definitely not his bag but I remember he was very good about pretending to enjoy ‘Green Door’ on replay.”
Rebecca Frank, Commissioning Editor
“Mine was the single 'Especially For You' by Kylie and Jason. I believe I was nine and on holiday in Cornwall. The shop was probably an Our Price. There was no record player in the holiday cottage and I didn't have a record player of my own anyway so when I got home, if I wanted to play it I had to ask my parents' permission to use theirs before putting it on and standing awkwardly in front of their record player, listening for the two or three minutes required, then putting it back in its sleeve and taking it back to my room. The long winter evenings in Surrey just flew by.”
Iona Bower, Blog Editor
“It was 1998. I was seven and the shop was Sydney Scarborough in Hull. This weekend’s treat was going into town with my Grandma to buy a single I wanted. Only problem was….. I didn’t actually know what it was called… only a brief line or two of the song. The guy working there played me more or less every song in the top 40 to see if it jogged my memory. When we got to the end he gave me an ultimatum. “That’s your lot… you’re going to have to sing it for me.” Knowing this was my only chance to get the single I wanted I took a breath and let out in a hushed but rhythmic tone: “Pretty Fly for a white guy.” He took off down one of the aisles and came back holding a single… Placed the headphones back on my head and popped the disc into the player. I grinned and shimmied along. My grandma handed over the money and I left proudly clutching my first single: The Offspring’s ‘Pretty Fly For A White Guy’. Much to my parent’s horror.”
Oliva O’Connor, Subscription Manager
“The first record I bought with my own money was Blondie – ‘Parallel Lines’. I’ve still got it and it’s still a great album. Ace cover with beyond-cool Debbie Harry and those boys all lined up behind her. It was released in 1978 (I’m sure I didn’t get it when it first came out or anything so it was probably the following year when I was 11). I went to Bostock Records in the Pack Horse Centre in Huddersfield. They had album-sized square carrier bags with their logo on the side – a proper badge of honour to be carrying one round of a Saturday afternoon. It was the only place to buy records in town apart from upstairs at WH Smith’s, which was where your mum went. I remember feeling like I was practically a teenager for being so grown-up and owning a record that wasn’t ABBA or Boney M that had been bought for me. With hindsight this was probably the most hip I ever got.”
Lisa Sykes, Editor
We’d love to hear your memories of your first records, too. Do share them with us in the comments below. And when you pick up your Feburary issue to read all about Guy’s treasured vinyl, don’t miss our regular feature ‘analogue’ which this month is all about vinyl, as we visit Relics, a vintage audio and record shop in Bristol.
Your Simple Things needs YOU!
What I Treasure is our series in which readers tell us about something that matters most to them. From dusty cookbooks to treasured letters, we’ve seen all sorts of prized possessions. Tell us about yours in 500 words by emailing thesimplethings@icebergpress.co.uk and you could see your ‘treasure’ gracing our pages.
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Photography: Cristian Barnett
Don’t think of your sourdough starter as a recipe. Think of it as a pet…
Who knew that people give their sourdough starters names? Oh OK, you did then. We had no idea! But now we do we just can’t stop thinking of excellent monikers for them.
Overused it may be but Clint Yeastwood still brings a smile to our faces. And if you want a celebrity starter there’s definitely a rich seam to be tapped. How about Bread Dibnah, or Sheena Yeaston? Matthew Breaderick, Crustin Hoffman or Dough Berrick? Philip Loafyield? Too tenuous?... Yes, ok we’ll leave it there.
You could of course choose something more ‘under the radar’. Bubbles, perhaps. Or Gloopy-Lou.
Or simply go oblique. On one sourdough forum a user explained “Mine is called Eve. She started all this trouble after all.” Another says firmly that she never considered naming hers. Fair enough: “I love my starters, they are my boys, like children, I talk to them and I'm proud of them. I miss them when I away. But I have never wanted to give them names.” We’re lost for words now, frankly.
In some ways it’s no surprise people feel they need to name their starters. They become like one of the family in many ways, needing regular feeding, plenty of love and attention. A bit like a very low-maintenance pet.
But look after it you must, so we asked Luc Martin, sourdough expert and owner of Pig and Rye Sourdough Bakery, Breakfast and Lunchroom in Tllburg, The Netherlands.
“The best way to look after a starter is feed it every day. At the bakery we use 3-10kg a day and the few hundred grams that’s left gets mixed with fresh flour and water to be used the next day. Our starter is wholegrain rye based, I’ve kept it alive for over ten years but I don’t believe the age of the starter has any effect on the finished bread.”
He has this advice for newbies to the world of sourdough starters: “For a home baker keeping a starter alive is trickier because you don’t necessarily bake every day. The best thing to do is keep the starter alive in a small quantity, like 150g total, then every day bin 100g and refresh with 50g flour 50g water. There are tricks like storing in the fridge, or keeping the starter hydration lower, both will slow fermentation and extend time between feedings but if you make a mistake you can end up killing the starter.” And that would be a sad day indeed. Keep it simple then, folks.
And what does a sourdough guru call his starter? “Mine has no name I’m afraid, but if I did name it it would probably be Blueberry which is how it smells when it’s ready to bake with.”
In our February issue we have a feature on overnight bakes that will make good use of your starters, keep you busy on a Saturday night before bed, and give you a warm glow of smug satisfaction (and a lovely loaf to boot) on Sunday morning. We have recipes by Rachel de Thample for sweet loaves, crumpets, an oat loaf and even apple and cardamom buns. But we especially enjoyed the recipe for this crusty overnight baguette. We strongly recommend you have a go yourself this weekend. And let us know what you named your sourdough starter, too, so we can give Philip Seemore Loafman the credit, too. Here’s one of our February issue recipes to get your started (see what we did there).
Breakfast baguettes
Baguettes are a great way to get into bread-making. They’re easy to make and super satisfying to see (and eat!) the results. Especially great with salted butter and jam.
Makes 4 small or 2 large sticks
250g active sourdough starter*, or 5g instant yeast
325ml water
1 ¾ tsp sea salt
500g strong white bread flour
1 Mix everything together to form a dough. Give it a good knead until it’s nice and stretchy. Cover with a damp cloth and let rise at room temperature for 8–12 hours, or until doubled in size.
2 Punch down and shape into 2 really long or 4 shorter rectangles – flatten and roll into a baguette shape, tapering and tucking the ends in.
3 Lightly oil a large baking sheet – or two, if needed. Dust with semolina or flour. Arrange the baguettes on the prepared baking sheets, leaving a little room around them so they can rise. Cover with floured plastic and allow to rise for 1½–2 hours or until almost doubled in size.
4 Make diagonal slashes across each loaf using a sharp knife or razor blade. Bake at 220C/Fan 200C/ Gas 8 for about 15–20 mins or until well browned. Spray with water before baking, then 5 mins and 10 mins into the cooking time.
Cook’s note To activate your sourdough starter, remove from the fridge. Feed 2–4 tbsp of starter with 150g strong white bread flour, plus 150ml water. Whisk or stir until well mixed. Cover loosely with a lid or a clean cloth. Let it ferment in a warmish place for 8–12 hours.
*For instructions on how to make a sourdough starter visit thesimplethings/blog/sourdoughstarter.
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Photography: Catherine Frawley
Please enjoy our back page chalkboard message and a seasonal haiku
Our ‘Cheer’ issue has reminded us of all the reasons why we love winter. We’ve been celebrating the dark evenings by hunkering down, gathering friends and lighting fires. Having an excuse to stay at home and cook, relax and hibernate a bit is a very good reason to enjoy the cold weather.
Here’s a January haiku in homage to all that. Do have a go at your own and leave it in the comments below. We send a lovely book to the author of our favourite each month.
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Photography: Andy Sewell
In this very special The Simple Things ‘Gathering’ we share some ideas for celebrating the ‘the lightening of the year’, Viking style. Gather your closest com-raiders to mark the depths of winter with ‘a great shout of anger at the darkness’.
Fancy a few (thousand) friends round for a simple (read: mostly booze) supper? January’s the time to celebrate like a Viking. In Shetland, they celebrate Up Helly Aa, or ‘the lightening of the year’ by getting quite angry with the darkness and lighting, feasting and revelling to really show the dark who’s boss.
Light a few (hundred) fires, get in some (tons) of good food and a few (gallons of) drinks and let the good times roll. And the good news is, if you don’t survive, at least you won’t have to deal with any of those greasy baking trays you left to soak in the morning! Here’s all you need to know to throw a gathering like a true Viking:
Carriages at… whenever, really
Don’t embarrass yourself by suggesting a departure time. A few days should cover it but if you’re doing a proper celebration we recommend you set aside 12 days and nights. If you’re expected in the office, we’d suggest you book the full three weeks off. You’ll probably need it for clearing up. If you don’t have an understanding boss, simply set the venue on fire as you leave (yes, even if it’s your house) and turn up to work with the faint smell of woodsmoke and ale about you. Job done.
Don’t expect RSVPs
Just cater for a crowd. Expect folk to BYOB too. They’re Vikings, not heathens, after all. You can rely on no one turning up empty-handed. You probably can’t rely on them not drinking the place dry, however
With food, go big or go home
Forget previous beliefs about a nice ‘centrepiece’. Just slaughter every animal in sight and roast it or boil it, and stick it all out. Vikings don’t really do ‘amuse bouches’ so just sling it all on the table: stews, meats, platters of roasted veg, breads, cheeses etc… Think of it as a ‘sharing platter’ style… with little emphasis on the sharing and more on the ‘melee’ aspect.
What about tipples?
Think more ‘topple’ than ‘tipple’. You’ll be expected to serve meads, beers, ales and some fruit wines (for the ladies, perhaps). Don’t worry about glass hire. Flagons will suffice. The key with booze is quantity over quality. Be prepared for toasts. A LOT OF TOASTS.
But might my guests be doing Dry January?
No. No they won’t.
Should I consider a playlist?
A bit of Scandi Death Metal should do it. Your actual choices of artist, however, aren’t nearly as important as the ear-splitting volume at which music is delivered. Try our January Playlist if you’re stuck for ideas. And turn it up to 11.
After dinner games?
Put Trivial Pursuit away. You shall not be needing it. If you’re lucky your guests will settle for a nice game of Viking Chess or a ‘poetry-off’. But remember, it’s not about how you play the game, it’s about WINNING. If you’re unlucky, the games could be a little more, erm, brutal… One-on-one tug-of-wars known as ‘toga-honk’ are popular, as are weight-lifting, sword-fighting and even a rather jolly ‘swimming contest’ in which opponents are held underwater for as long possible. Festive!
Should I expect a thank-you note?
Thank yous are not generally directed to the host, more to the Gods. Have a few sacrifices on standby in case you have need of pleasing the Gods for fair weather or a good harvest, for example. A few birds and animals should do it and keep the chaps up there (or down below) happy.
In our January issue, we are celebrating Up Helly Aa, a Viking-style feast celebrated on the last Tuesday in January in Shetland We have an extract from Shetland: Cooking on the Edge of the World by James Morton of Bake Off fame and his father Tom (Quadrille), which includes a recipe for an Up Helly Aa Hangover Mulled Ale. The issue is in shops now.
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Photography: Kirstie Young
Greens that are more than just good for you
Beloved of Crackerjack fans and often associated with, at best, peasant stews and, at worst, crash diets with dubious side-effects, cabbage might not strike you as a vegetable with much spark.
But you would be wrong. Cabbage has a long association with magic and mystery. As well as being really incredibly good for us, cabbage has some intriguing healing properties, too.
Apparently Cato himself advised eating cabbage soaked in vinegar ahead of an evening of heavy drinking: “If you wish, at a dinner party, to drink a good deal and to dine freely, before the feast eat as much raw cabbage and vinegar as you wish, and likewise, after you have feasted, eat about five leaves,” he advised. “It will make you as if you had eaten nothing and you shall drink as much as you please.” Sounds like a more risky enterprise than a dose of milk thistle and a Berocca the morning after but if it’s good enough for Roman statesmen it’s good enough for us.
Caesar’s armies allegedly carried cabbage with them on the march to dress wounds. We imagine it doesn’t have the stick of an Elastoplast but it’s much more manly, somehow.
And indeed modern studies bear out this theory with cabbages being shown to have antibacterial and anti-inflammatory properties. Large savoy cabbage leaves have been used by many a breastfeeding mother to ease the symptoms of engorgement, by placing them in the cup of a brassiere. It’s said the effects are strengthened by putting the leaves in the fridge first, though Caesar never confirmed that to our knowledge.
If that hasn’t convinced you that cabbage is the king of the veg patch, we urge you to read Lia Leendertz’s feature on cabbage in our January issue: Today, Tomorrow, To Keep, in which she shares cabbage recipes for today’s supper, something to look forward to tomorrow and another idea for a cabbagey treat to put away. We’ve tried the sauerkraut and can confirm it is a game changer. The issue is in the shops now.
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Photography: Anna Batchelor
Give spring a little nudge and add colour to your home with a bit of simple paper floristry
If spring flowers can’t come soon enough for you, why not lead the way with some pretty paper versions? In our February issue, we have some easy-to-follow instructions on how to make paper bluebells and cherry blossoms taken from The Paper Florist: Create and Display Stunning Paper Flowers by Suzi McLaughlin (Kyle Books, out 25 February). They’re really simple; all you need are a few basic craft bits and the templates here. Just click to download the PDF templates, print them off and you’ll soon be adept at paper floristry yourself. And not an oasis in sight!
You can find all the instructions on p118 of our February ‘Soothe’ issue. But if you’re itching to get started now, why not try our project for paper lily of the valley on our blog?
Photography: Ben Nason
Pretty white paper flowers that are pretty simple to shape
You will need:
Template (click to print out the PDF from our blog)
Crepe paper in different shades of cream and white
Thin wire
Green floral tape
Green paper
Small sharp scissors
1 Cut crepe paper in the shape of the template.
2 Roll it, using a finger to roll the paper around into the shape of a bell, twist the paper at the top and wrap a piece of wire around it to give it a stem.
3 Make 5 or 6 bells before you attach them all to one long piece of wire, one after the other. Wrap floral tape around the wire.
4 Cut leaves out of green paper and attach them to the wire, then once again cover the wire with the floral tape.
5 Keep on going until you have a whole bouquet.
Adapted from Paper Poetry by Helene and Simone Bendix (Kyle Books). Photography: Ben Nason.
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Photography: Cristian Barnett
Rachel de Thample explains how to make your own sourdough starter
In our February issue we have a feature on ‘wake-up bakes’, that is loaves, cakes, crumpets and baguettes that can be started on a Saturday evening and left overnight to give you fresh bread for Sunday breakfast. The sourdough recipes require what’s called a starter, and you can learn how to make one here. You can find all of the full recipes starting on p38 of the February issue. Take your marks, get set, start your starters!
Simple sourdough starter
Simply mix 100g strong white bread flour with 100g filtered or mineral water (measure it on a digital scale for best results). Loosely cover with a cloth. Set at room temperature in a dark place and leave to ferment for 1 day. If the starter has yet to produce lots of little bubbles across the top, indicating that it is active, add an additional 100g strong white bread flour and 100g filtered or mineral water. Mix well and continue this exercise each day, topping up the starter, until it’s risen slightly and has a good number of little bubbles formed at the top. Once you have your starter activated, you can make sourdough loaves, crumpets and more… If your starter is getting off to a slow start, try adding a piece of dried fruit such as a dried apricot or prune to the mix, a 5cm piece of rhubarb and/or 1 tbsp natural yogurt or kefir, to help feed it.
Dark rye sourdough starter
Rye flour is more absorbent than white flour, so you use slightly more water to get a rye starter going.
Day 1: Add 50ml filtered or mineral water to 2 tbsp rye flour. Stir to make a smooth paste. Cover with a cloth and leave at room temperature (about 20C) away from direct sunlight for 24 hours.
Days 2–4: Repeat the process above. By Day 4 you should start to see some bubbles.
Day 5: Stir in 100g rye flour and 200ml filtered or mineral water.
Day 6: By now your rye sourdough starter or leaven should be active and have developed a fruity smell. Double the quantity of batter using 100g rye flour and 200ml filtered or mineral water.
Day 7: Your starter is ready to make your first batch of bread. Store the starter in the fridge for up to 1 month between bakes. Before making a loaf of bread, take the starter out 12 hours before and feed it with 100g flour and 200ml filter or mineral water to reactive it.
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Yes you were my first love, and first love never, ever dies.
DJ: Clare Gogerty Illustration: Anneliese Klos
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Photography: Andrew Montgomery
In praise of the stickiest, sweetest sweet of all
You’d be hard pushed to find a sweeter ‘sweet’ than a treacle tart. So sweet it’s rhyming slang for ‘sweetheart’ and with the ability to make your molars ache just looking at it and enough sugar in it to fell a cart horse, it’s little wonder it looms large in our collective childhood consciousness (it’s probably still looming large in our collective bloodstreams, too).
So redolent is this pud with memories of cosy, carefree days, and wide-eyed pure childish gluttony, it’s made its way into many a children’s book and film, too.
Treacle Tart is as Enid Blyton as lashings of ginger beer and for many of us Blyton was our first literary encounter with the rib-sticking open-topped tart. What picnic, after all, would be complete without a sweet and impressive centrepiece perched in the middle of a field on a red-checked tablecloth and surrounded by grubby knees and ankle socks?
It also appeared, memorably, as bait for the children The Child Catcher lured to his caged van in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang with the cry “Cherry pie, cream puffs, ice cream… and TREACLE TART!” The children swiftly forget all advice administered thus far by Truly Scrumptious. “Treacle tart! Ice cream! And all free!” Jeremy gasps, as they both bowl headlong through the door and into The Child Catcher’s cage. And who can blame them?
But, more recently, treacle tart has become particularly known as the dessert of choice for one very famous fictional boy. It’s Harry Potter’s most loved pudding. Early in the first book we see a medley of desserts magically appear in front of the new pupils and witness Harry quickly snaffling a treacle tart. It’s apparently a favourite in the wizarding world, but Potter is particularly partial. In fact, in a much later book, under a love spell which smells to the bewitched individual of their favourite thing, Harry’s nose detects “treacle tart and the woody scent of broomstick handle”. Mmmmmm…
So if a wizard cannot resist a treacle tart, really what hope have we muggles? It’s certainly a favourite among children but we think adults should indulge themselves more often too.
To that effect, our January issue’s Cake in the House recipe is for a Treacle Tart with Thyme and Orange. The issue is in the shops now, should you care to make it. The recipe is from one of our favourite new cookbooks, Time: A Year and a Day in the Kitchen by Gill Meller (Quadrille). Once you’ve made it, do send us a photo of your tarts in the comments below (once you have made it to a standing position again). Treacle tart should really be eaten, prone, on the sofa, preferably in front of a roaring fire, so there’s really no rush. You just take your time, treacle.
Illustration: Joe Snow
Bring birds to your garden in time for the Big Garden Birdwatch
January marks 40 years of the RSPB’s Big Garden Bird Watch. It all began in 1979 with a modest plan to provide something to occupy the society’s junior membership. But when Biddy Baxter gave it a mention on Blue Peter, the society was flooded with 34,000 requests to join in. And The Big Garden Birdwatch has been ruffling feathers ever since.
This year’s Big Garden Birdwatch takes place from 26-28 January. You can sign up for your free pack to join in here. Then all you need is a free morning, a view of your outside space, a large pot of tea and a bit of cake (we recommend seedcake if you’re really getting into the spirit of the thing) and an identifier for your garden birds. We’ve printed a nifty identifier for some of the most common garden birds in our January issue, which is on sale now (or buy a copy here). You can thank us later.
In the meantime, here’s a simple way to make a bird feeder to encourage more feathery fellas to your garden in preparation for the big day.
A pine cone makes a great natural base for a bird feeder, with an open structure that’s just the thing for stuffing full of nutritious and delicious titbits for our feathered friends during harsh, wintry weather
How to make your feeder
1 Collect medium to large pine cones. Don’t worry if they’re tightly closed – just bring them indoors for a few days or pop in the oven to encourage ‘blooming’.
2 Attach string to the tip of the pine cone, ready for hanging up.
3 Spread a layer of peanut butter, fat or suet over the cone, pressing in between the scales so it’s entirely covered. Place a mix of birdseed on a tray and roll the pine cone until well coated. Go for a general mix to encourage a variety of garden birds or choose something more specific to attract a particular species – niger seed, for example, is a favourite for goldfinches and greenfinches while peanuts are the snack of choice for blue tits, great tits and siskins.
4 Hang in a secluded part of the garden, near the shelter of a hedge or shrub to provide birds with a quick safe haven nearby if they need it.
5 Replenish once supply is depleted.
We celebrate slowing down, enjoying what you have, making the most of where you live, enjoying the company of of friends and family, and feeding them well. We like to grow some of our own vegetables, visit local markets, rummage for vintage finds, and decorate our home with the plunder. We love being outdoors and enjoy the satisfaction that comes with a job well done.
