POST 10, PART II: WHEN I’M 64...

Now, people, forget dead presidents and princesses – I want you to make a mental note of where you are and what you’re doing at this precise moment... Because (drumroll, please) I am now the proud owner of a Le Creuset casserole dish. I know, I know – truly momentous news, huh? Mum finally caved for the occasion of my, ahem, 29th birthday. Good ole mum. So this is just the motivation I need to brush up my stew-making skills and future-proof my future marriage.

Here’s a lovely stew perfect for the final throes of summer – lamb stew with minty dumplings...

INGREDIENTS
(Serves four)

1kg stewing lamb
1 tbsp vegetable oil
Knob of butter
1/2 an onion, sliced
1 1/2 pints stock (lamb, chicken or vegetable)
2 carrots, thickly sliced
2 large potatoes, cubed
150g frozen peas
Salt and pepper
1 tbsp chopped parsley to serve

100g self-raising flour
50g suet
Pinch of salt
1 tbsp fresh mint, chopped
2 tbsp water

METHOD

1) Brown the meat in the oil and butter (the oil stops the butter burning – I think everyone knows that these days though...) and then add the onion and salt, and cook until softened.

2) Pour in the stock and throw in the carrots and potatoes. Leave to simmer for a good hour and a half over a moderate heat. The lamb should be nice and tender by now.

3) To make the dumpling, sift the flour into a bowl and add the suet, salt and chopped mint. Sprinkle the water over and bring together to make a soft dough, adding a drop or two more water if needed. Form into eight golf-ball sized balls.

4) Plop the dumplings into the stew and cook for a further 20 minutes until the dumplings have puffed up and are almost done. Stir in your frozen peas and cook for another 10 minutes .

5) Season with black pepper and more salt if required and serve.

What we need in this country is another bloody war, I tell you. A proper war, preferably closer to home so it’s not just something on the telly. Now, there are some naysayers who’ll tell you that war is hell and has a tendency to decrease the male population, yadda yadda yadda... But the fact of the matter is my granny had a whale of a time, thanks to Hitler and The Jerries. Not to mention a few American GIs passing through. We like a man in uniform, us girls. Sixty-some-odd years of happy marriage based on your dad yelling that this was one John you wouldn’t be writing a ‘Dear John’ letter to! So I say to those naysayers, keep your hand on your ha’penny like my granny always claimed she did and I’ll mop up the cream of the nation’s heroes come World War III.

See, for all those lads returning home from the horrors of war in search of a hot dinner and an honest bit of ‘how’s yer father’, marriage was the only option. And so if I can’t convince a man that marrying me is marginally more appealing than the past few years spent in a Japanese prisoner of war camp or nuclear wasteland, or similar such treats that England versus Germany ‘take three’ brings, I’m taking you all to hell in the proverbial handcart with me.

The only other solution I’ve come up with for the terminally single is some sort of lottery system that will see us ‘buddy up’ with a fellow OAP, like it or lump it. Because Lord knows our kids aren’t going to take care of us. Not when those hover-boards finally come in.

So lottery it is.

Ouch. You drew Beryl, a demented 93-year-old with a weak bladder who’s gagging to give your life savings away to some gypsy rogue trader come to re-tarmac your drive? Well, tough titties, gramps. Coz I got Harold, a relatively hot 77-year-old who’s gonna have to rub ointment into my ballooning knees, night after night, until he pops his clogs in his sleep. Quietly and conveniently. Leaving me comfortably well off enough to finally take that cruise I’ve always fancied...

I’m erring on the side of option one – war. Because rationing will really help with my fat knees, killing two birds with one stone.

Single women on the world – are you free Friday night? Very probably. Fancy invading Poland with me then?!

My favourite illustration yet by Bex Barrow.

Apologies for the massive dramatic pause between posts, btw. I had the audacity to switch internet service providers, which led to all sorts of fun and games – including no internet for the best part of three weeks – and kinda got me out of the habit of writing these things. But I’m back, back, back now! Hurrah!

POST 4, PART II: A FATAL CASE OF MAN FLU

So, my cheese and chive bread rolls... This isn’t so much a ‘recipe’ as a flavour combination – just adapt any bread roll recipe and throw in some cheese and chives. That’s what I did. Oh, and I use a bread machine so have no words of wisdom on how to successfully hand bake something. (Kinda makes you wonder why you’d bother to read this, doesn’t it?!)

I do, however, have some words of wisdom about bread machines... After several years experimenting with mine, I have discovered that the secret to baking decent bread in the damn thing is to just accept it as a glorified dough hook and cook in the oven instead. Seriously – just use the dough/pizza setting and be done with it.

INGREDIENTS

600g strong white bread flour
20g butter, cut into cubes
315ml water, room temperature
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp skimmed milk powder
1 1/2 tsp dried yeast
1 tsp white pepper
2 to 3 tbsp chives, chopped
100g strong cheddar cheese, grated (plus extra for topping)
1 egg, beaten

1) Preheat the oven to 200 degrees.

2) Dump everything bar the egg inside your misjudged kitchen purchase and set it to go on the dough/pizza programme for a 750g loaf. Some machines have a seed and nut dispenser, which releases extra ingredients midway through the mix so you could put your cheese and chives in there, but I really don’t think it makes a difference for ‘soft’ ingredients and don’t bother myself. I also tend to keep an eye on the mixing as sometimes it needs a dash more water and a bit of a poke round the sides where the flour gets stuck to help it along. When it’s all incorporated leave it to do its thing.

3) When the programme is complete, turn the dough out onto a floured surface and divide into eight. Gently roll them into balls and arrange on a baking tray. Word to the wise here – invest in some of this magic non-stick baking tray liner from Lakeland. It is a-mazing! I was forever chipping these rolls off the tray because of the cheese-content until I discovered this stuff. Everything just lifts straight off and it’s washable too, so lasts for ages. I resent having to oil baking trays because of the extra calories and fat, so never put enough on to make it truly non-stick, plus I don’t like the taste and texture of using loads of flour or semolina. I command you to buy it!

4) Brush the rolls with the beaten egg and sprinkle with some extra cheese. Pop them in the oven for 20 to 30 minutes. Don’t hold me to oven temperatures and times, by the way – I think it’s always best to monitor and adjust whatever you’re cooking as only you know your oven and its quirks.

5) These rolls are best served fresh and still warm. If you do freeze some, do warm them through first to freshen them up – with the cheese and without all those lovely preservatives and improvers in longer-lasting loaves, the texture can just be a bit dense when they’re cold is all.

Ed feebly finished his soup and roll, admitting – amid much prompting from myself – that he felt a bit better. Bless. He then promptly fell asleep. Confident that I’d cured him, I tended to the duvet and pillows for the umpteenth time (why do we women feel compelled to do that?!) and went to bed contemplating what a fucking awesome wife I would make someone someday...

Only to be woken a few hours later by him coughing. And I mean coughing. And coughing and coughing and coughing... If he had hacked up a shoe it wouldn’t have surprised me. Yes, his snotty nose had escalated into full-blown man flu. And, having fed him cheese and butter (dairy products only make you more mucusy – trust me, I’m a lifelong hay fever sufferer and dairy fan), I only had myself to blame for his deteriorating condition.

I tried my best to nurse him through the next day, really I did. But, sleep deprived and starting to feel pretty ropey myself, the novelty had well and truly worn off. Because, Christ, sick people are so surly and disagreeable, especially those of the male persuasion! I’ve decided that sick people have no business burdening themselves on anybody but their mother. So when I caught man flu – aka the common cold – come Monday, it was she who came to my aid (and cooked me chicken stew and dumplings, incidentally – gotta love my mum!).

Not Ed. No. Having made a full recovery, he’d buggered off back to work. But not before he’d polished off the last of the juice and drugs, the bastard. And did he return that night, as promised, with replacement provisions? Did he heck! Not that I wanted him by my bedside, mopping my brow, mind. But it’s the principal of thing... So you can add being an inconsiderate prick to the crumpled tissues thing. Our relationship never really recovered.

Thanks to superwoman Bex for the illustration!