The nicest time

A couple of weekends ago, we had our first houseguests.  My third cousin Courtney (whom I’d never met) and her friend Natalie.  Two of my mother’s sisters, my Aunts Ruth and Iris had six children each and I have countless 2nd and 3rd cousins, mostly on the East coast of the US.

We met them at Salisbury train station (thanks to Facebook I positively ID’d Courtney as the train pulled into the station).  We went to Stonehenge and Avebury and out for a pub lunch on a beautiful, hot summer afternoon.

Stonehenge

Natalie and Courtney

One of the great things about having visitors is the opportunity to explore and discover new things in our own backyard.  The next day, Natalie and Courtney had been online and suggested an outing to the coast via Dartmoor.   First stop was a walk across Dartmoor to Jay’s Grave.

There are many variations on the tale of Jay’s Grave, but the story at the heart of it remains the same. Kitty Jay was a 19th century farm worker who became pregnant and hung herself when her lover disowned her. In those days suicides were buried at crossroads in order to confuse their spirits, so that they couldn’t find their way back to haunt the living. The twist to this legend is that even now, fresh flowers appear on Jays’ Grave every morning, but no one knows who leaves them, even though rumours say they’re left by pixies.  For lots more on Jay’s Grave and all things Dartmoor, visit Tim Sandles’ Legendary Dartmoor.

Jay’s Grave

Along the path to Jay’s Grave, we came across a huge oak chair.

It was built n 2006 by Dartmoor sculptor and woodworker Henry Bruce.  Only locally sourced, hand hewn green oak was used for the 6 metre high chair which was jointed using the old, traditional mortise and tenon joints. The location was chosen because it provided a spot where people could stop and stare at the wide-spreading moorland landscape below.  As with most works of art there is an underlying message and in this case it is one of ambiguity, that being the unattainable. The sculpture can be recognised as a chair but because of its size it is impossible to sit upon it – I want doesn’t get.

But that didn’t stop us from trying -

My little compact camera really washes out the sky when I shoot landscapes.  Here’s a great one Steve took with his Fuji bridge camera.

After Dartmoor, we went to Blackpool Sands, a pebble beach in a lovely bay capped on both ends by a rocky promontory.  After a pretty good lunch of hamburgers and fries in the Venus Cafe, we walked on the beach and scrambled across to the rockpools.  I’d forgotten how much I love to be near the ocean and had the nicest time contemplating the sea and sky, walking along the shoreline and sifting through the pebbles for treasures.

Us

I filled my pockets with stones and feathers .  .  .  .

Solitude

Feast of St. Peter

June 29th is St. Peter’s day and how better to celebrate than with a feast of sea bass and samphire?

First of all, “What the heck is samphire?”

Originally called “sampiere“, a corruption of the French “Saint Pierre” (St Peter), samphire was named for the patron saint of fishermen because it grows in rocky salt-sprayed regions along the sea coast of northern Europe or in its coastal marsh areas.

Marsh samphire ashes were used to make soap and glass (hence its other old English name, “glasswort.”) In the 14th century glassmakers located their workshops near regions where this plant grew, since it was so closely linked to their trade.  The plants were dried, then burnt, and it was the ash, with its high soda content, that went into glass-making.  Samphires of all kinds have long been eaten in England. The leaves were gathered early in the year and pickled or eaten in salads with oil and vinegar.

This was a popular vegetable in Shakespeare’s time:

‘There is a cliff whose high and bending head looks fearfully in the confined deep…….The crows and choughs that wing the midway air scarce so gross as beetles; halfway down hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!’.    – Shakespeare, King Lear

“.  .  .  .  went to the Hoop Tavern, and (by a former agreement) sent for Mr. Chaplin, who with Nicholas Osborne and one Daniel came to us and we drank off two or three quarts of wine, which was very good; the drawing of our wine causing a great quarrel in the house between the two drawers which should draw us the best, which caused a great deal of noise and falling out till the master parted them, and came up to us and did give us a large account of the liberty that he gives his servants, all alike, to draw what wine they will to please his customers; and we did eat above 200 walnuts. About 10 o’clock we broke up and so home, and in my way I called in with them at Mr. Chaplin’s, where Nicholas Osborne did give me a barrel of samphire, and showed me the keys of Mardyke Fort.”     - The Diary of Samuel Pepys – 21 September, 1660

Samphire isn’t really a seaweed, but it does grow in the tidal zone, on muddy, sandy flats, often around estuaries and tidal creeks. It’s a succulent plant of the salicornia species, and looks like a miniature cactus, though without the spines. It has a satisfying crunch (you can eat young samphire raw) and takes on a salty tang from its habitat. As a vegetable, it’s delicious and unique and now, fearsomely trendy.

You can even gather it yourself, so if you’re visiting the coast in the coming weeks, you should look out for it. Simply pinch out or snip off the tops of the plants, leaving the more fibrous stems in the ground; that way, not only will you have less washing and trimming to do, there’s also a fair chance that what you’ve left in the mud will continue to grow.

I bought both samphire and sea bass from the fishmonger ‘Fishes’ in the St. Thomas precinct in Exeter.

Probably Definitely the best!

Caught this morning in Looe, Cornwall

Sea bass fillets with tomato and olive oil

• 2 large ripe tomatoes
• 6 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
• 2 cloves garlic, crushed
• 2 tbsp parsley, finely chopped
• 1 tsp dried chilli flakes, or a chopped fresh chilli
• Half a glass of white wine or dry white vermouth
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 2 fillets of sea bass

Place the tomatoes in a bowl of boiling water and leave for about 10 seconds. Drain, then slip off the skins, cut the tomatoes in half and scoop out the seeds. Dice the flesh into pea-sized pieces.

Heat the oil in a wide, shallow pan, and add the garlic, parsley and chilli. Cook for two minutes, then add the tomato and cook for another two minutes. Add the wine, raise the heat and bubble for two minutes. Season with salt and pepper, lower the heat, and lay the sea bass fillets, skin side up, in the pan. Cover and cook for five minutes.

Serve the fillets, skin side down, with the sauce poured over them.

Steamed Samphire

• 300g samphire, tough stalks trimmed leaving the tender sprigs
• A knob of unsalted butter
• Juice of ¼ a lemon
• Freshly ground black pepper

Rinse the samphire in plenty of water as it is very salty. Steam it for 3-5 minutes until just tender and hot. Toss the samphire in a bowl with the butter, lemon juice and freshly ground black pepper. Serve or keep warm until ready to serve.

This was a very speedy meal to prepare.  I boiled some new potatoes and at the last minute decided to make some aÏoli sauce. The recipes I looked at were for a garlic-infused made from scratch mayonnaise, so I decided to hack this together using Hellman’s.

Quick aÏoli sauce

• Pinch of saffron threads
• 1 tablespoon boiling water
• ½ cup/115 grams Hellman’s mayonnaise
• 1-2 cloves garlic, mashed through a press

Pour the water over the saffron.  Let stand for about 5 minutes.  Stir in the mayonnaise and garlic.  That’s all there is to it!

Dreamscape

Perfectly Flawed

Once upon a time, a long time ago. there was a king in Ireland.  Ireland had lots of small kingdoms in those days, and this king’s kingdom was one among many.  Both king and kingdom were quite ordinary and nobody paid much attention to either of them

But one day, the king received a huge beautiful diamond from a relative who had died.  It was the largest diamond anyone had ever seen.  It dazzled everyone.  The other kings began to pay attention to him for if he had a diamond like this he must be special.  The people, too, came from far and wide to see the diamond.  The king had it on constant display in a glass box so that all who wished could come to see and admire it.  Of course, armed guards kept a constant vigil.  Both king and kingdom prospered, and the king attributed all his good fortune to the diamond.

One day a nervous guard asked to see him.  The guard was visibly shaken.  He told the king the terrible news:  the diamond had developed a flaw!  A crack right down the middle!  The king was horrified and ran to the glass box to see for himself.  It was true,  the diamond was now flawed terribly.

He called on all the jewellers in the land to ask their advice.  They gave him only bad news.  The flaw was so deep, they said, that if they were to try to sand it down, they would grind it to practically nothing, and if they tried to split it into two still substantial stones, it might easily shatter into a million fragments.

As the king pondered these terrible options, an old jeweller who had arrived late came to him and said, “If you will give me a week with that stone, I think I can fix it.”  The king didn’t believe him at first because the other jewellers were so sure it couldn’t be fixed, but the old man was insistent.  Finally the king relented, but he said he couldn’t let the diamond out of his castle.  The old man said that would be alright.  He could work there and the guards could stand outside the room where he was working.

The king, having no better solution, agreed to let the old man work.  For a week he and the guards hovered about, hearing scratching and gentle pounding and grinding.  They wondered what he was doing and what would happen of the old man was tricking them.

Finally, the week was up and the old man came out of the room.  King and guards rushed in to see the man’s work, and the king burst into tears of joy!  It was better!  The old man had carved a perfect rose on top of the diamond, and the crack that ran down inside now was the stem of the rose.

When the Irish tell this story, they say that this is the way God heals us. He takes our deepest flaw and turns it – and us – into something beautiful.

Buffalo Gals

Blog-wise, I’m on a time delay of several weeks.  I was going to publish my French Onion soup recipe from the end of May, but it’s been too hot to turn the oven on, let alone even think about tucking into a steaming hot bowl of beef and wine-infused broth, teeming with carmelized onions and topped with rounds of garlic toasts slathered with melted Gruyere.  So I’ll save that one for a rainy day.

Instead, here’s the perfect summer recipe. Caprese salad is a Neapolitan dish from the island of Capri.  It can be served as a meal on its own, as an appetizer or a side dish, or over pasta.  Simple to make, lovely to look at and good to eat!  Use only the best ingredients.

Mozzarella is a generic term for several kinds of originally Italian cheeses that are made using spinning and then cutting (hence the name; the Italian verb mozzare means “to cut”).  Buffalo have been populating the once-waterlogged regions south of Rome (Lazio, Caserta) and south of Naples (Campania) since the 6th century. With their large hooves, these strong animals were used to plough muddy southern-Italian terrain for centuries, but the first record of mozzarella was found in the writings of 12th-century monks.

According to the Mozzarella di Bufala Campagna DOP website, the experts are still out to lunch on the origins  of the water buffalo in Italy.  The most likely hypothesis is that Norman kings, c. 1000, brought them into southern Italy from Sicily, where they had been introduced by the Arabs.  However, others (who shall remain nameless) believe that the buffalo originated in Italy, a theory based on fossils found in the Roman countryside (can you say ‘Uomo di Piltdown’?), as well as results of recent studies that appear to demonstrate that Italian buffalos have a different phylogeny than Indian buffalos.

Import or indigenous?  The debate continues, but foodies the world over (and this reporter) all concur that the best darned mozzarella cheese is still made from buffalo milk.

xxxxxxxBuffalo Gals

Fresh mozzarella cheese balls are sold in a brine, whey or water solution which helps them retain hydration and shape. It is smooth, mild, and slightly sweet/sour with a distinct milk flavour. The texture is creamy and much softer than mass-processed mozzarella.  Mozzarella di buffala is made from the milk of domesticated water buffalo.  Fior di latte mozzarella is made from cow’s milk.

Bruschetta con Insalata Caprese

• Fresh vine-ripened tomatoes, sliced
• Fresh mozzarella, mozzarella di buffala or fior di latte, sliced
• Fresh basil leaves, torn
• Extra virgin olive oil
• Balsamic vinegar
• Freshly ground pepper and salt
• Crusty Italian or French bread
• Garlic cloves

To prepare the salad

Attractively arrange the sliced tomatoes and cheese on a platter.  Scatter with the basil leaves and season with pepper and salt.  Drizzle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

To prepare the bruschetta

Bruschetta is grilled bread rubbed with garlic and topped with extra-virgin olive oil, salt and pepper.  In Italian, bruschetta is pronounced /bru-ske-ta/, though in English-speaking countries it is commonly pronounced as /bru-she-ta/. The noun “bruschetta” is from the verb in the Roman dialect “bruscare,” meaning “to roast over coals.” Following a semantic shift, some Americans now use the word bruschetta to refer to the topping instead of the dish.

Preheat the oven to 425°F/190°C, or build a coal fire.  Slice the bread into ¾” rounds and toast for about 5 minutes, or until crispy and lightly browned.  Rub each side with half a clove of garlic and drizzle with some olive oil.

To serve

Arrange 3 or 4 bruschette on a serving plate and top with some of the salad.

Buon appetite!*

*A little inside joke with Mr. Coxon.  Bristol, takeaway pizza, Mickey Rooney . . . . Aaah, sweet memories.

Two White Horses

Two white horses

in a summerlush meadow,

the longest day is gone.