#sadly I apparently have NO pictures of this yarn??

[strawberrum]

my favorite handspun ever

for my curious spinners—this is an art bat with colorful silk scraps spun thin, plied with a slightly thick and thin blush pink single for the barber pole effect~

[theweeklybusy]

The week in review

Monday the 27th my aunt and uncle were still here, so it was kind of a work day and kind of a host day. Luckily I was working from home and a handful of higher-ups were out at conferences or on vacation, so few people noticed that I was slow in answering my emails.

I realized that night that the pattern I had been fiddling with started with the wrong measurements. So I painfully unraveled it all back to the foundation row, re-balled the yarn barf, and sadly started over. At this point, if I run into another mistake, I may just have to roll with it because I do not want to un-do this project a second time!

Tuesday 28th was Tiabeanie's final class of level 3 obedience training. We've had her for about 9 months now, and she has really blossomed from the dog that the shelter knew, that the fosters knew, and that we knew when we first got her. She is sweet and smart and sassy, loving and cuddly, and also unfortunately still pretty anxious about being away from me. Having training together has really helped our bond and trust for me to be able to move into things like cutting her nails and giving her baths with less fear and fuss (she still doesn't like them though) and I just know that the next big hurdle will be addressing her separation anxiety.

For now though, I love the training place and am excited to move onto the more fun stuff!

Wednesday the 29 was a full and flexible day! Started with a 2 mile walk around the lake with a friend who is babysitting a greyhound! I wish we had a properly fenced place for her to run because I would love to see her dash about and play with Tiabeanie, but most dog parks don't have the 10 foot high fences recommended for speedsters and leapers like sighthounds. Then home for laundry and chores and after the fur babies had lunch Andrew and I set out to check out the county fair...only to learn at the entrance that no pets were allowed. So with Tiabeanie in the back seat we pivoted to Main Street and just people watched while eating pizza.

When we got home from lunch the power was out (father-in-law is working on the wiring as he preps for re-insulating our attic) so I busied myself with a project that didn't need power - a carding board. Not to be confused with cardboard, this style of fiber prep was the predecessor to todays blending board. I nailed a patch of carding cloth to the underside of my fiber picker to have a more all-in-one multi-use tool, then wrapped some carding cloth around a pair of handles I had connected at the ends for a (very ugly) type of comb to pull over the board. Then I finished carding some of the llama fluff I had washed and picked and now it's ready for spinning. I'm really glad to be done with this project as it is a tool that can help me move forward with so many other projects!

Thursday the 30th was apparently uneventful enough that I took no pictures or really noted what I did during the day. Mostly just remoted in to work and caught up on emails while folks were away.

Friday July 1st however was a big deal. For starters, I forgot it was Friday and missed my therapy call! I had stuff to talk about too so I'll have to make some notes to remember it through to the next appointment. I also was able to log off early from work and pack up some clothes, crafts, and my rig to head over to a friends house for a holiday weekend LAN party!

My rig is much older than everyone else's and programmed for much different tasks. While folks set up their PCs and gaming laptops, I took a select corner of the folding tables in the living room to set up a restored Singer featherweight. Through the whole weekend I listened to people game while sewing a yukata, spinning yarn, and making progress on two crochet projects. I spent two nights at the LAN before burning out hard on all the noise, shuffling around, and children, so I packed up Sunday afternoon, collapsed on the spare bed at home for a nap, then stress ate 2/3 of a pack of Oreos for dinner. Not the best way to end the weekend, but all in all it was pretty fun and it was nice to see so many people and also make a lot of progress on my projects.

[fulldreamsahead]

Cinnamon Melon Soda

Last night I had a dream where I believe all the content I’ve been consuming lately came to a head and exploded into one super dream. I assisted Scrooge McDuck, I chased Mirko down while she was hero-ing, and I hung out with the Mythical Kitcheneers.

I have the whole dream written below: 

So my dream begins in a music venue/bar that has an old west theme. I’m waiting with my partner to watch a concert. Even though this is an indoor venue, everyone has blankets set out to mark their spots as if it was outdoors. Our spot is marked off on the balcony and we’re having a good time with 3 other friends. While we are chatting I find out that my partner purchased all the tickets via our joint account without telling me. I am very upset by this and end up taking my car (the whole group’s only means of transportation) and just driving away with it. I feel some guilt, but karma has it’s way with me as, while I’m trying to get on the freeway, there is some sort of traffic jam and every on ramp is just packed with stalled vehicles. I eventually give up and pull off into a gas station. I’m somewhere in the country because there is little road lighting outside of the highway and this utopia like gas station. I get out of my car to browse the store inside and that’s where I run into Scrooge McDuck.

He is trying to get a handle on “blasted technology” by working as his own social media manager for a charity event that is happening tonight. I ask if he needs help and he explains that there is a tower nearby that is getting historical recognition and he’s holding an event to raise awareness for it because he has some sort of past connection with it. I’m interested in his tale and he goes on to explain that he got the uploading down, but he can’t take a picture to save his life. He then shows me a series of images he took on his phone that are either selfies where he is almost completely out of frame or regular shots that are all motion blurred. I tell him that I am a photographer and offer to help him take the photos as I have nothing else to do (at this point, I’ve forgotten all about the concert mind you). He tells me I’m a right fine lass and I go off with Scrooge. We wander through the back of the convenience store which happens to butt up against a small lodge that is used for small local meetings. Scrooge surprises an assembly of fisherman and they are happy to see him like an old friend. I take pictures of him schmoozing and he always comes over to me to write a tagline about the building’s celebration. After awhile he can tell we’ll get stuck if we stay any longer so we sneak out the back and this is about when Scrooge tells me about Mirko.

Apparently there is some sort of feud going on between them and that is the reason Scrooge is so invested in drumming up social media. Mirko is on her socials blasting Scrooge for being fake and only setting up his investment in this building now as opposed to her who has always cared. Scrooge gives me his phone while he explains how preposterous this is and I search back through both their accounts to find out Mirko seems to be in the right. A quick search shows Scrooge hasn’t posted anything about the building ever, even in a TBT. While Mirko, on the other hand, has taken many photos of the building over the years, having nabbed a bad guy there. It turns out she was instrumental in getting the building historical status. I try to tell Scrooge that this is not in his favor and he scoffs and says he barely runs an account online and there is so much more to life than posting your adventures. I’m not convinced, but I point out that Mirko is nearby as she is also on her way to the commemoration. Scrooge turns his beak up at the notion and gets a devilish look on his face. He asks that we split up and I go and stall Mirko while he goes on ahead to the ceremony. He says it will make him look better if she is late for something she’s been ‘so invested in.’ I give my concern, but he tells me it’s done and gives me a moped to travel more discreetly than his limo. He still needs more pictures so we agree to meet up at a carnival that is set up in the old town square surrounding the building. He leaves and I take off into the darkness again, this time using social media to track down Mirko.

I run into her several times as I drive the now desolate highway (whatever accident had happened earlier seemed to be cleared up). She’s on rabbit foot and is traveling around doing her heroic acts. I catch glimpses of her, stopping a robber in a getaway car, and almost get to have a conversation with her when she stops a different convenience store mugging. Unfortunately, she is too stubborn to be stopped and only gives me a salute with her fingers to a ‘big fan.’ Distraught, I head to the carnival and meet up with Scrooge. He asks me if I caught up with Mirko and I tell him kind of in a shy manner. He is overjoyed with my success even when I try to tell him I actually didn’t succeed. He doesn’t listen and orders me to take more pictures of him enjoying the carnival and with random people in attendance that seemed excited for the photo op. At the top of a bending slide that’s where I run into Mythical Chef Josh.

I take a picture of Scrooge going down the slide and as I wait for clearance for my turn I sigh. Josh asks me what’s wrong and I spill the whole situation to him. He rolls his eyes and calls the situation a classic unknown rivals trope. I am confused and he says that he thinks he can help. I ask how and he tells me I need to find Trevor at the arcade. I ask what he means and he gently pushes me so I’m set up next for the slide. I shout to wait and he pushes me down the tube. I can hear his voice carry down behind me that he’s always wanted to do that. At the bottom, I find that Scrooge has not waited for me, but I do see a neon sign pointing to the arcade. I sigh and start heading over there because it seems fate has intervened again. I get a text from an unknown number saying it’s Josh and that, after some quick research, they have found that Mirko hates cinnamon, but she is a sucker for melon soda. I am flabbergasted looking at my phone as I enter the arcade building with all its loud chirping machines. I locate Trevor in a pizza party side room and he’s even younger than he is on Mythical Kitchen. He’s about 14 and waves me over saying he got the message from Josh.

He presents me with some cinnamon jellybeans and says I just need to get the melon soda by winning at a game of arcade basketball. I roll my eyes at the event, but me and Trevor work together to get a perfect score of baskets and win the soda. I realize then that I have no idea where Mirko is and don’t know how we can get the soda to her. Trevor says Nicole is on it and staged a fake cry for help and Mirko is already heading this way. I despise the fact that they are lying when real people might need help, but young Trevor doesn’t see the problem. He uses a straw to stuff the cinnamon jellybeans into the mouth of the soda before sealing it up and giving it a gentle shake to help dissolve them. I watch in dismay that the little beans are obviously still floating in the soda and lament that this is never going to work. Trevor hushes me and we hear cries of adoration for Mirko. She enters the room and it’s the first time she’s given me her full attention. I freeze up in sight of her and Trevor spins a yarn about a villain that was stealing from the carnival and stashed his bag of stolen money (this is about when I find out the carnival is a non-profit that is donating its proceeds to the town square’s revival) in the basketball arcade cabinet. Mirko thanks Trevor who swoons and with one kick she busts the cabinet open and there is indeed a bag of money inside that is not its coin dispenser. I drop to my knees at the ridiculousness of the whole thing and wonder if the Mythical Kitcheneers have been stealing from the carnival this whole time. Trevor offers Mirko the melon soda as thanks for her help and she takes it with sparkles in her eyes. I am dumfounded she can’t see the obvious bean matter floating in it and she pops the top off and thanks Trevor. He accidentally tells her he loves her and she busts out laughing before she can take a drink. At that point, I sadly woke up. 

[dcnativegal]

What a weird era we are in

Sadly, I think Sarah Silverman is on to something.

On May 27th, the death toll from covid-19 hit 100,000 Americans:

Planet Earth has 6 million cases as of May 30th.

Seven million on June 7th  

June 15th, we are at 2 million cases USA and 8 million on the planet (by the end of the day)

On May 26th, it was announced that Lake County had its first case. A person who was tested (because we are now testing prior to surgery or procedures like colonoscopies) came up with a positive result, apparently a great surprise to that person, and puncturing the purity of zero-case-Lake-County. I hear that a person who lives with that person has symptoms, so, 2 cases. It begins. Not sure what exactly, but we are now in the First Case and Beyond era of Lake County Covid-19. As of today, there are 6 cases, and the saw mill was shut down because of a positive test result. Remember we have 4 ventilators, a nursing home, and a prison, all in our county. Thank goodness there is no meat packing plant.

In news from our household, Miss Valerie, in the wee hours after Memorial Day holiday, managed to move her legs out of the bed to go potty, and put weight on her left leg very wrong. She’s been using a walker ever since: the xray read “sprain.”  Which didn’t slow her down any. Nevertheless, we decided that first day of hobbling that it’s time to move the bedroom from the loft to the first floor; no use tempting fate. Her amazing family, including sister Karen and granddaughter Jessica, moved the bed and dressers, and piled up my yarn, while I was at work. I’ve spent the last two weekends sorting and rearranging my precious stash, and taking pictures of yarn I have too much of, to the delight of my Outback Knitters & Crocheters group. I sell top quality stuff for half price. Noro, Malabrigo, Rowan. I have plenty left. I’m knitting or crocheting on about a dozen projects at once. I may be a yarn hoarder, but I’m also prolific.

While we were dealing with Valerie’s knee, yet another black man was killed by police, this time in Minneapolis. He was apparently inebriated, passed an obviously fake 20 dollar bill to buy cigarettes, and was so drunk he didn’t know which way was up. He resisted arrest, because he was claustrophobic about being put in the back of the police car. He was handcuffed behind his back, and still, he was subdued by a white law enforcement officer named, irony alert, Officer Chauvin, who’s knee stayed on his neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds until he was dead. “I can’t breathe” has been cried out by several dead black men in recent years.

Another hysterical white woman called the police on a black man who was ‘birding’ in Central Park. Watching her on the video, I’m thinking she’s on the Autism Spectrum. In any case, she freaked out when he told her she should put her dog on a leash in that part of the park which is clearly marked for leashed dogs, and she freaked, and he filmed it, knowing the video would protect him. The police came and looked at her funny and didn’t charge anyone with anything. She lost her job and her dog the next day.

The Fact Checker journalism organization has counted 19,127 false claims made by the president. The # 1 lie is that our economy is the best in all of human history:

Covid-19 has revealed that essential working-class jobs don’t have benefits like sick leave, health insurance, or bosses who care more about their workers safety than their stockholder’s dividends. Home health aides and delivery people are essential, and suffer the most in the ‘gig economy’. Spain, Italy, and Sweden all have had a bad time with the coronavirus, but they have safety nets.

Humans swarmed the beaches over Memorial Day weekend. Lake County has six infected patients. Even Sean Hannitty of Fox News said in reaction, at least wear masks!

Covidiots. We are a long way from this:

Since George Floyd was suffocated to death, there have been protests all over the world. His body is being buried in his hometown of Houston on June 8th. A tiny group of Lake County residents will walk peacefully from St. Luke’s to the County Courthouse, and we’ll kneel in silence for almost 9 long minutes.

This was what we posted:

New York Times journalists Wesley Morris wrote:

“The most urgent filmmaking anybody’s doing in this country right now is by black people with camera phones. Their work comprises a ghastly visual mosaic of mistreatment, at best, and whose victims are international symbols of mourning: Eric Garner, Philando Castile, Sandra Bland. Art is not the intent. These videos are the stone truth. Quaking proof of insult, seasick funerals. Livestreamed or uploaded, or suppressed then suspiciously unearthed as found footage. Last week, the archive grew by two, and now the nation’s roiling.”

In my hometown of DC, Trump had prison police tear gas peaceful protestors in Lafayette Square so that he could strut in front of St. John’s Episcopal holding a bible upside down. Bishop Curry and Bishop Budde had fits. Mayor Muriel Bowser painted part of sixteenth street with street-width yellow letters: BLACK LIVES MATTER.

I’m glad Clara hasn’t been down there.

Trump’s polls are plummeting. Here’s what it feels like as he reacts like a tyrant, or a toddler having a tantrum:

On Wednesday, I’ll gather with the ‘social distancing knitters’ on the side of the church, because it is shady and green.

This past Sunday, one of my all-time favorite hymns was sung and I keep replaying the youtube video. And watching the sign language interpreter. It starts at minute 18:30:

https://youtu.be/4En0PK795PM?t=1109

How can the writer of those lyrics have such profound faith, such that “No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that Rock I’m clinging, since Christ is lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?”

I feel so sad. Tears just under the surface. My neuroses have a long-established sturdiness, as does my firmly rooted anxiety disorder.  Combined with the horror of 100,000 American deaths, the horror of a president who is deeply cruel and only good at manipulating his followers as he promotes himself.

I’d like to find an echo in my soul. I find peace in my yarn, and in this loft-home that Valerie and her sons made. And with Valerie, who cheerfully hobbles about, planning her garden and ‘fretting not.’  I pray for our nation, for Valerie’s knee, the well being of my family. I worry about the fires starting at the edge of Tucson where my childrens’ father lives, and the fires that are predicted around here. I knit. I worship. I sing.

[the-coconut-asado]

Crazy for Kiwi Crickets

When it comes to eating out in Fiji, you are only as good as your last success.

 Consistently get it right and the punters will flock. Anything less than excellent and it’s ‘Maaan that place has gone downhill – but the duck soup at Harbour Centre is the Bomb!’ You can’t actually get duck soup at Harbour Centre, but anything with duck in Suva is a sure-fire winner as they are in constant short supply.

 Fiji is always in pursuit of the New Big Thing. That duck soup place I mentioned was actually the New Big Thing once, so was The Guava Café (doorstep griddled toast and Land of the Giant-sized portions); Singh’s burn-your-ring curry house and the Chinese restaurant at Samabula where you got a decent takeaway and a ringside seat at a sailors’ punch up.

 There are some classics that never go out of fashion. The cream buns at Hot Bread Kitchen – the ‘cream’ is actually buttercream and they sell them in sets of six like monkey bread so yeah, good luck with just eating one; Cardo’s Steakhouse in Denarau – they claim their cattle are descendants of Argentine castaways from the 19th century (kind of yarn that could spark a punch up in that Samabula Chinese restaurant, but the steaks ARE consistently good); Friday seafood lunch at Suva Bowling Club (you may not recognise half the seafood on your plate, and that’s a good thing); And, sadly closed now, The Cottage – tucked behind the main drag in Suva, serving the best local Fiji food and only open at lunchtime. And didn’t we all wail when the owner retired and shut up shop after decades of top-quality chow.

Anyway, it’s quite something when the New Big Thing is your sister-in-law’s café. Weta (Coffee) Fiji, the fifth child of Mue and her husband Darran, opened its doors in March this year. 

The café gets its name from a gerbil-sized cricket native to New Zealand. A quick google search and you can watch a film of a weta fighting a foraging pig, so maybe not exotic pet material. 

While the lion’s share of daily sales will always be the coffee (and we returned with bags of beans to London, it’s that good), it’s the food at Weta that’s getting the lion’s share of hype. World Health Organisation apparatchiks would probably advise not have more than one Honey Butter Waffle a month, yet people are spectacularly carb-loading these Weta signature goodies daily on their way to work. Take a look at the picture below and you could so easily join them.

Aside from the waffle-fest, Mue and cousin Cherie (whose aunt founded that other Fiji café classic Bulaccino) have entered into a kind of foodie face-off with each other, competing to see who can come up with the most mouth-watering innovations. The Honey Butter Waffles already give 1-0 to Mue; but ever thought of combining crispy nuggets of bacon with a rich mayonnaise, slathering it on a chicken schnitzel and sandwiching it all in a toasted mini baguette? Then check out their Chicken Baconnaise Panini and Cherie evens the score. How about a teal-green smoothie that tastes fruity and delicious but you don’t know why? Place your order for their Ugly Green Juice  - a joint invention so let’s call it a draw. I assiduously worked my way through most of their menu over two weeks and couldn’t find much that was less than evil genius.

Because this is a family concern, and Mue does a lot of her experimenting in her own kitchen, I got caught up in the whole entrepreneurial swirl when we were there this summer. Watching while Mue, with apparent carelessness cloaking a keen cook’s eye, tossed ingredients for her Marsala Chai muffins into the food processor at 5 in the morning while simultaneously whipping up a vegan version of her waffle mix. Slavishly watching her EPOS app to see if the sales dial had moved to kerching! levels – in short, generally starting to catch the fever of the hospitality business owner. Is Suva ready for Kava Hot Chocolate? (Kava is the ceremonial drink of Fiji with delicate overtones of mud). Apparently yes, and at least 10 people on the first day of sales had a dreamless sleep that night. Another invention marked up to Mue and another profit stream.

Having eaten our body weight in tropical breakfast patisserie, we left Suva for a few days to head to our own New Big Thing on Fiji’s Other Big Island.   

Savusavu is a picturesque town with a bay big enough to host a fistful of yachts and a marina to moor them. Even though it’s popular, the road to Savusavu – which nestled on the South coast of Vanua Levu - is one less travelled compared to the resort islands of Western Viti Levu. It has a reputation as a millionaire’s playground and we were told ‘be careful, you won’t want to come back’ (do people wrongly assume that we are at home in the company of dicks with yachts?). Anyway, they weren’t wrong about the beauty of the place, and I can now tell them a few tales about some unexpected food epiphanies.

The first was thanks to Sarah, the owner of the Gecko Guesthouse. It said in our Airbnb blurb that she would throw in a cooking lesson if we asked nicely. Which we did, and she obliged, if a little reluctantly at first. We spent one chilled-out evening learning her techniques for snake bean and bitter gourd curries (be sparing rather than slavish with your spices), a-ma-zing fish madras (although we can’t get fresh walu in the West, swordfish would be a decent substitute) and clever hack for cooking rice (err, use an electric rice maker).

However, the piece de resistance of Savusavu is a ‘dive’ (my friend Ije’s word when he saw the Insta post) called Arun’s Hidden Taste of Paradise. 

The name felt a bit at odds with its appearance, which is a little grubby and dishevelled, but don’t be fooled. The clue is in the word ‘hidden’ because if you make it through their mesh-covered door you will taste cassava chips which are meltingly creamy on the inside and quadruple-cooked crispy on the outside and, hands down, the best butter chicken I have eaten in my life. The eponymous Arun, both owner and cook, seemed frankly scared when I asked for a photo, so I didn’t push on asking for the recipe – but kept the flavour profile running around in my head for the rest of the trip.

Obsessed as I was, I hunted down ingredients lists for butter chicken on my bookshelves and I think I have found a pretty good match in Vivek Singh, who based his Cinnamon Club classic on a 1950’s recipe from the Moti Mahal in Old Delhi. But then I saw a recipe for a curry pie in last month’s Delicious Magazine and had the brainwave to make this pie with the butter chicken. And while you might have to make the trip to Suva to get Mue’s original and best Honey Butter Waffles TM, I have slightly adapted her Chai Latte and Choc Chip Muffins  and Ugly Green juice here.

So raise your Ugly-Green juice-filled glass to New Big Things. And watch out for the next one - the launch of Mue and Darran’s Writers Lodge guesthouse with Kava Bar and Weta Café later this Autumn.

You can follow them on @wetafiji. 

 Butter Chicken Pie

You can just make this butter chicken straight with pilau rice and all the trimmings, but turning it into a pie takes it to the next level. This pastry is super short and crispy, thanks to a mix of butter and lard. Don’t be put off by the long list of ingredients or the processes. It’s dead easy over a lazy Sunday and the flavours are so worth it. Serves 4.

 Ingredients:

For the butter chicken:

800g boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into bite-sized pieces

One red chilli and some coriander leaves

1 large red pepper, seeded and cut into strips

For the marinade: 

120g Greek yoghurt

5 garlic cloves, grated or crushed

1 inch piece  of ginger, peeled and grated

1 tbsp sunflower oil

Juice of 1 large lemon

Kosher salt and pepper to taste

3 tsp chilli powder

1 tsp ground cumin

½ tsp garam masala

½ tsp turmeric

For the sauce:

8-10 tomatoes

1 in piece of ginger, half grated and half chopped finely

4 garlic cloves, grated or crushed

4 green cardamom pods, 2 cloves, 1 bay leaf

2 tsp chilli powder

80g salted butter, diced

2 green chillies, split lengthwise but still joined at the stem

80ml single cream

A few dried fenugreek leaves

1tsp garam masala

1 tbsp. sugar

For the spiced butter:

1 Tbsp. ghee

1 tsp black mustard seeds

1 tsp. crushed chillies

For the pastry:

230g plain flour

1 tsp kosher salt

65g salted butter, and 50g lard, both chilled and cubed

4tsp. soured cream

1 tbsp. apple cider vinegar( or use white wine vinegar as a substitute)

4 tsp. water

1 egg., beaten

3 tbsp. lime pickle (I like Pataks)

2 tbsp. sugar

How to make:

First marinate the chicken. Mix all marinade ingredients, stir in the chicken, cover and pop in the fridge for at least 2 hours, or preferably overnight.

 Heat the oven to 220C/ Gas 9. Spread the chicken pieces out in one layer on a large baking tray, leaving a margin on the side to say out the strips of red pepper, tossed in a tsp. olive oil. Cook for 15-20 mins, turning the pieces halfway through so that they cook evenly. Remove from the oven and set aside while you make the sauce.

 Slice the tomatoes in half and put in a large saute pan with 125 ml water, grated ginger, garlic, cardamom, cloves and bay leaf. Simmer, covered for about 25 mins until the tomatoes are mushy (the aroma from this simmer will already be driving you wild with desire). Remove the whole spices, add the chilli powder and simmer for a further 10 mins (Vivek likes to push the tomatoes through a sieve and just use the resultant puree, but I prefer my sauce to be a bit more rugged, a little less refined).

 Add the chicken pieces and the red pepper slices and all their juices and give it a good stir. Slowly stir in the butter, a couple of cubes at a time, and simmer for about 8 minutes until the chicken is cooked through. Add the chopped ginger, chillies and cream and simmer for a minute or two longer. Stir in 1 tsp.kosher salt, crumble in the fenugreek leaves and the garam masala. Adjust the seasoning if necessary then add the sugar.

 In a separate small pan, warm up all the ingredients for the spiced butter until the seeds start to pop. At this stage you can serve the Butter Chicken with the spiced butter spooned over the top, but if progressing with the pie (which I urge you to do) , then set both the chicken and the spiced butter to one side.

Now make the pastry (you can also make this ahead and chill, just bring back to room temperature before rolling out). Combine the flour , salt and a generous grind of black pepper in a food processor. Add the butter and lard and blitz until it has the texture of fine breadcrumbs. In a separate bowl, mix the soured cream, vinegar and water then add to the flour and butter mix and just blitz until the mixture starts to come together (don’t overwork it). Turn out onto a floured surface and bring together into a smooth ball. Wrap in cling film then chill for at least 30 mins.

Heat the oven to 200C/ Gas 6. Brush the rim of your pie dish with the beaten egg, then fill the dish with the butter chicken and drizzle the spiced butter all over the surface. Roll out the pastry in a circle big enough to cover the pie dish, then lay over the top of the dish, crimping the edges to seal and trim off any surplus pastry to neaten the edges. Cut a small cross in the middle to let the steam out during cooking and make some pastry leaves with any pastry offcuts.

Brush all over with the rest of the egg glaze then pop in the fridge for 10 minutes.During that 10 minutes, make the lime pickle glaze by mixing the pickle with 2 tbsp. boiling water and the sugar. Set aside.

Bake the pie for 40 mins then brush all over with the lime pickle glaze and bake for 15 mins more. Serve garnished with the chilli (dipped in a little oil to make it glisten) and a few coriander leaves.

 Mue’s Chai Latte Choc Chip Muffins (and some variations)

When I asked Mue for the recipe she had to quantify her instincts on ingredients, (and thanks for leaving out the eggs first time round missus) but the results were judged by those who ate them as ‘the best they have ever had’. I have slightly adjusted the recipe, using chai latte mix instead of masala chai and used my favourite buttermilk instead of sour cream. (makes 12 generous muffins)

Ingredients:

3.5 cups flour (about 350g) plain flour

3 tbsp. baking powder

1 tbsp chai latte powder

Pinch kosher salt

125g butter, melted

200g sugar

2 tbsp. Coconut oil, melted

2 tsp vanilla

2 cups buttermilk and maybe a tbsp of milk

2 eggs

1 50g packet of chocolate chips plus a few extra for serving

For the streusel topping: 

20g plain flour

10g sugar

10g butter

1 tsp. Chai latte powder

How to make

Heat the oven to 220C/ Gas 7-8. Line a 12 cup muffin tin with muffin holders (I like the tulip-shaped ones in the photo). 

In a large bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, sugar, chai latte powder and salt. In separate bowl mix the melted, cooled butter and coconut oil with the beaten eggs, Buttermilk, splash of milk (1 tbsp) and the vanilla paste. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix with a wooden spoon until a thick, gloopy consistency. Add a little more milk if the mix is too stiff. You want it not quite falling off your spoon. Then fold in the chocolate chips. 

In a third bowl, rub the butter into the flour until you have fine breadcrumbs then mix in the sugar and chai latte. 

Fill the muffin cups evenly (about 2 tbsp. Mix per cup), then top with the streusel and pop in the oven, turning the heat down immediately to 180C/ Gas 5. Bake for 30 mins until a skewer comes out clean from the centre, then remove from the oven and dot each muffin with a few more chocolate chips cool and serve. 

Variations

For Blueberry muffins, omit the chai latte powder and choc chips and stir in 3 oz fresh blueberries into the muffin mix. Bake as before. 

For Apple, Pecan and Golden Syrup muffins. Melt 2 tbsp golden syrup with the butter and coconut oil, then add all the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients as before. Fold in 1 grated apple and 50g coarsely chopped pecans into the muffin mix then bake as before. Dot each muffin with a few more chopped pecans when out of the oven and before they cool. 

Mue and Cherie’s Ugly Green Juice

This is the colour of verdigris but tastes delightful. Just shut your eyes and drink (or colour match with your nail polish, like here). 

Ingredients: 

½ cup frozen strawberries

2 tsp acai berry powder or lingonberry powder

2 tsp Splenda or Stevia sweetener

4 tsp. Spirulina

1-2 Cups nut milk (try to get a nice think consistency, so start with 1 cup and add more to taste

How to Make

Put all your ingredients into a blender, blitz till smooth and serve. 

It’s that simple.

[nevillelongsbottom]

draco/charlie for the @hprarepairnet​ and @slytherdornet​ summer vacation challenge!

god, does draco hate summer: sweltering heat that’s inescapable as it lashes on the back of his neck, the sweat that coats him like a pig, the sheer and brutal lack of air conditioning in the united kingdom…

when he’s in his twenties and comfortably sitting, bored, on his money, he decides fuck it: he’s getting out of here, he’s going to bloody australia or some sort

but, money or no, he’s sadly not immune to flight cancellation and, tantrum or no, they’re not going to somehow un-cancel the flight especially for him 

grumbling, he flings himself down at a table in a coffee shop; it, too, has no good graces and no free tables, so he sits around a large one and tries staunchly to ignore the fucking backpacker drinking some green tea while reading some magazine in a language draco doesn’t recognise

“sydney?” he asks sympathetically

draco nods; the guy snorts and has an annoyingly loud sip of his tea. “i’ve been travelling for ages, now, and yet i can’t even remember the last time one of my flights wasn’t delayed”

“it’s fucking ridiculous,” draco complains, wishing he’d chartered a private jet or the like instead of being foolish enough to use the same disgusting public transport as everyone else

“i feel you,” the man says, “and for the next flight to be tomorrow - god, i just can’t sleep in airports, can you?”

draco suddenly feels self-conscious that he’s never had the occasion to, and so just shakes his head silently

“well, how about we stick together, then?” the man says, obnoxiously cheery for someone having to wait the night for their next flight. “it’s got to be better than waiting on your own”

draco is not sure he agrees, but nods anyway, and this is how he meets and is dragged into the web of excitable backpacker, charlie weasley, who’s had stamps in his passport from nearly every country in the world and taken a picture of a landmark in each one, too

“you know where was really nice? budapest - i really should go back”: these are the kind of things charlie says, and though draco would usually be piss-bored, charlie is an experienced yarn-spinner; he tells wild, exaggerated tales with hand gestures and wide eyes and accents and impressions and vivid descriptions and, despite himself, draco rather enjoys them

he should’ve done the same, really: charlie skims by doing work here and there (and by being the world’s only specialist in a species of butterfly, apparently), but draco could’ve been living a multinational schengen high life with restaurant meals and important company

though charlie’s low-budget exploits always sound more fun than the same old tuxedo dinners 

“so, where are you from, then?” charlie asks when they’re finally out of steam and tucked under coats and spare blankets on fucking brick hard airport seating 

draco pauses

“you don’t have to tell me,” charlie shrugs. “sorry. i was just curious”

“it’s just uncomfortable,” draco murmurs

“that’s okay”

and lo and bloody behold, they’re seated next to each other on the plane; charlie’s the beneficiary of a free first-class upgrade and draco just rolls his eyes when he sees the ginger buzz cut and heavy boots bouncing up the aisle

but, really, he’s happy to see charlie again: he’s sweet, and handsome, and a fountain of travel-related knowledge

“where are you staying?” draco asks at dinner, sipping with prat-like glee at a little plastic cup of rosé as charlie gulps down his orange juice

“oh, dunno. wherever’s free”

it takes a moment to pluck up the courage, but draco’s draco: he’s tried to pick up royalty before, a cheap fucking backpacker shouldn’t be a problem, and yet it almost is

“stay with me,” he says simply, because pulling any tricks on charlie would just be pointless 

he looks over, and quirks his eyebrows

“sorry if it isn’t and if my brain’s fried from the lack of sleep, but was that some kind of proposition?”

draco shrugs. “i like you. i’ve never travelled before; i think we have a lot to offer each other”

charlie drums on his table, and grins. “why not, i’ve never been with a rich boy before”

ah, draco fucking knew charlie could spot him a mile off

“how long are you staying in australia?” draco asks at the baggage carousel, wondering how many eternities will have passed before he ever sees his luggage again

“until i decide to leave”

draco winds his arm in charlie’s, keeping a perfect poker face even though all he wants to do is grin. “i don’t suppose you’d mind some company, would you?”

charlie hums. “course not, especially when they’re as cute as you”

and the best part isn’t even the refreshing chill in the air, or the puff of charlie’s jacket, or the taxi to the hotel:

it’s charlie

because he outlasts australia, and then new zealand, and when october rolls around and summer’s over and draco could really head back now-

he’s on a plane to hungary with an obscene amount of visitor’s guides, his hand linked with the stupid backpacker’s, grinning wildly and very obscenely

[waldenweave]

This past weekend was full of unexpected things. I did not know there were going to be house guests, but breakfast out was really nice! We went to a local café on a farm down the road from us. The building is a strawbale construction, a simple design, with rustic decor. The food is tasty and plentiful. And the owners know my friends (of course). During the course of chatting with the owners, I happened to look out one of the side windows and noticed a walnut tree laden with nuts, so at an appropriate moment in the conversation, I changed topics and asked about their tree. Would it be possible to collect some of the walnuts I had seen on the ground? I wanted to make a dye. Of course! was the answer. The one tree I had seen turned out to be part of four trees. I was given a small paper bag and after we’d finished, I went outside and around the corner to the walnuts. And lo! there I saw so many walnuts. In fact, I’d never seen so many walnuts, and I wanted all of them. However, not knowing how many I’d actually need to making dye, I happily filled my paper bag and asked if I could come back if I needed more. The owners were more than happy to oblige. I can come get as many as I like. Woohoo!

(Sadly, I did not get a picture of the trees.)

I counted them – about 60. But I had to toss a few that ended up being full of worms.

I must say, black walnuts smell delightful. The hulls have a sort of earthy citrusy fragrance that makes me so happy. I can’t quite adequately explain it.

The hulls will also stain your hands brown like crazy. We got home, and I put the rest of my day’s plans aside for a few hours so I could peel the hulls from the nuts – the hulls are used for making dye. The shells are too, but if I’m going to use the shells, I want to save the nutmeats, so I spent time separating everything into two buckets.

Nuts in the left bucket. Hulls in the right.

Most of the instructions I found online made it seem like getting the nut out of the hull was really hard and that I needed to drive over them, whack them with the claw of a hammer, or find a mallet and whack them until they yielded the nut. None of that was necessary. I got a steak knife and just ran the blade around each walnut, neatly dividing the hull into two hemispheres. Then a twist released one hemisphere, and if it didn’t, then one more cut to divide a hemisphere in two did the trick. It was a bit reminiscent of pitting all those peaches I canned a while ago.

So, the staining. Because black walnut hulls have so much tannin in them, they stain things pretty permanently – the tannin is the mordant. Cloth, skin, any natural fiber…brown. All the sources I found online told me to wear heavy rubber gloves. I didn’t have any, but I did have some disposable food service gloves at hand.

Yeah. So, all this brown? Still got through, and my forefinger and thumb are a bit brown.

I got them all hulled! But what to do with them then? Most instructions say to simmer them for an hour or so, but I do not want to have an accident in the house and stain the kitchen. It is not my kitchen after all. So, I’m trying what I think is a far more likely historical recipe (even though I have no proof at all): I’m soaking the hulls in that bucket in water for a couple of weeks. Then I’ll strain everything and maybe might see if I can find an outdoor cooking arrangement so I can simmer it and kill any mold that might have formed. Or not. Maybe I’ll put some in quart sized mason jars for later.

This dye is also apparently an excellent wood stain! I loves me a multitasking thing I can make! So, after a little experimentation with some wood scraps and some research, I may do any final prep and put some in jars for my woodworking friends. (And I am filing this knowledge away for later when I want to build bookcases for whatever house I end up with!)

I’ve got a couple of white skeins of two ply yarn I’ve spun – one skein I really have to run through the wheel again to give it some extra twist. And I have so much more white (Down breeds blend) that could be dyed with local black walnut dye handmade by me. The dyeing process itself is apparently super easy. You simply put the yarn or cloth in the dye and leave it there until it’s brown. If simmering it, I think you simmer for something like 30 mins to 1 hour. I will likely try just soaking it for a day and see what happens. (I do have to look into some sort of outdoor cooking equipment, though…)

I was also thinking of dyeing some bamboo rayon yarn and/or cotton yarn for weaving cloth or towels or something. Because why not?

But, don’t you need more walnuts for dyeing all that stuff? I hear you ask. It turns out, everyone seems to agree that you only need 12-15 walnuts per gallon of water. For just the hulls. So I have 4 gallons of the stuff. That’s a LOT of dye. Even 2 gallons is a lot if some of the water is supposed to be lost in cooking it. I am planning on also getting the shells, which apparently yield a darker brown. (Of course, that may not work, but I will try.)

I filled up the bucket with the hulls with water. I’ve set it in the garage with a piece of wood on top to soak for a while. The bucket with the nuts got filled with water, and I started scrubbing the remaining hull gunk off. I had read that the gunk could rot and mold and make a mess, but most importantly, it would dye your hands dark brown. I don’t feel like walking around with dark brown hands and having to explain that I have been playing with dye everywhere I go, so I elected to scrub. The two floaters were thrown away – I suspect if they float, there’s probably a problem with them.

I got about half scrubbed before I ran out of time and energy. So I drained out the water, put a tiny bit in so the ones that were left were only barely covered, and set those in the garage too to wait until I have some time to resume scrubbing. I’m hoping the soak will help to soften up the remaining gunk.

The real work to this project is going to be actually cracking the nuts. A quick read about black walnuts online seems to show that I’ll need to use a vice as a regular nut cracker will not do it at all. Woo.

Excuse the messy counter – my first attempt at waffle production!

I also found an as-yet-unused, brand-new-in-the-box, three-year-old electric waffle iron in the house! Of course I tried making waffles. This is the first time I’ve tried making waffles. It was an adventure.

I thought I’d double the recipe, because ultimately, I wanted waffles in the freezer that could be toasted in the toaster for near-instant waffle goodness. But then I accidentally put in twice the amount of butter for a doubled recipe, which meant I either had to throw everything away and start over, or end up with a quadrupled recipe. I went for the quadrupaling.

We have a LOT of waffles in the freezer. The house guests tried the waffles the next morning in the toaster, and declared them delicious. Successful experiment! I think the recipe needs tweaking – it needs a little sugar, and the optional cornmeal actually sounds good, so I might try that. And they were a little dense, probably because I didn’t whisk the egg whites nearly has much as the recipe said I ought, so maybe I’ll try that next, but with some cream of tartar to help things along a bit. So many tweaks. Or I could try another recipe.

In weaving news, I have a crazy idea involving 60/2 silk and some very fine baby alpaca and an overshot pattern. First, I want to make myself something beautiful, but it occurred to me that I could sell one, and the pricetag would be fairly high – this would be a very time-consuming project with excellent and expensive materials. The bulk of the cost would reflect the labor involved. I wonder if I could sell one or two (or three?), because then I could buy a cello. It looks like that experiment has been successful enough that I’m close to outgrowing the cello I rent. Do you guys have any thoughts on this? Advice? Suggestions? Is this an idea worth pursuing?

(I can rent a viola da gamba, it turns out, and it is affordable. I kind of hope that I don’t love it as much as I think I will, because there are almost not enough hours in the day for adequate practice…)

  This past weekend was full of unexpected things. I did not know there were going to be house guests, but breakfast out was really nice!

[naturalhairgoddessus-blog]

My Hair Story

Hey Guys! 

Remi HERE! Welcome to the Page!!! I refuse to call it my page because I honestly made this page for other women, like myself who are natural and are looking for ways to communicate or interact. Basically this is you guys blog too. YAAAAAAY 

Anyway, today I wanted to share the start of my journey with being Natural. My story isn’t interesting but I wanted to talk about how it started and how being natural changed my life. Also, I am going to post other stories by women of how they started and why, so stay tune. 

Okay, so I went back to being natural almost 7 yrs. ago (I say that because I believe when we’re born or in general, we are natural. But after that, we make the decision of putting relaxers in our hair. Basically retracting from our natural roots from Africa.)  This is a picture of my hair before I went back to being natural: 

I was receiving relaxers at that time since I was 4yrs. of age. I use to love the loooooooong process of doing relaxers, my mother was always the one doing them because she did not trust beauticians for the life of her (which I cannot blame her because I had a bad experience with them) that basically was our bounding time with each other. From mixing the chemicals to burning my edges off, FUN TIMES. Anyway, towards me getting older and basically a teenage, I was looking for change. I loved my hair, but TBH I could not stand relaxers anymore. The look was basically the same and the routine became boring and I was looking for something different and versatile. 

Crazy thing is the same week I was experiencing this feeling, I had a conversation with my mom about hair. Apparently, My sister and her were also feeling the same way I was about relaxers. My mom was telling me how she decided that maybe it was time for a change for everyone (referring to her and my sister). My mom talked to her best friend (Who is natural and actually at one point made her own natural products from scratch.) about going back natural, at first I did not know much about it at the time except for one of my really good friend’s were going through the process also. At first I was scared of doing it and really did not know how to feel about it but I also felt like: change is always good and my mom did say if I wasn’t feeling it, I could go back. So I said F-U-C-K IT, why not (Didn’t say it out loud, my mom would slap the crap out of me, IDK why I spelled it anyway. SORRY MOM)  

Anyway, so I decided to take a step into one of the best decisions of my life and practice the natural lifestyle. At first, I didn’t know what to do, the whole transitioning process of it was literally the hardest part. From deciding what kind of protective styles that work for me (Braids, Locs, Yarn Locks, Marley Twist, Two Strand Twist, etc. etc. etc.) to what products to use (Shea Moisture, Olive Oil, Cantu, etc.) I didn’t know what the hell to do tbh! After I dyed my hair (the first time) when it was time to style it, I was so confused on what to do. Some of my friends were supportive of my decision, others were confused about why I was even doing it and talked shit about it (My curl pattern was trash when I first started) so my hair was looking crazy and I started questioning why the hell I even do this: 

I honestly wanted to ask my mom: WTF is this? This wasn’t what I signed up for or agreed to. After 4 months being in this stage, I was very insecure about my hair. For years, I was known for having long hair and now I was in the confused state and asking my go to question when things are too hard, difficult, or too much: what is life? 

But one day, I was talking to my friends and come to find out most of them were starting down the same path of confusion and anger I was: TRANSITIONING! Seeing my friends feel the same way I was feeling kind of made me feel better. 

We’re basically in this together. (*Cues High School Musical music*) what also brighten my mood was how many styles my hair is basically open to now, more than it was relaxed. My first protective/hairstyle was Bantu Knots. (Shown here in the pic below): 

(Why was I smiling so hard? Because that is the first and last time my Bantu Knots came out perfect, since than NOPE!) 

Next style was: Box Braids - they only lasted for about 1 month (I usually keep my protective styles for at least 2-3 months depending on the style, while co-washing, keeping it moisturized and refreshing them when needed but they were too heavy for me):

(Last year in High School, I was too happy to graduate and go to college! HAHAHA lol where’s the re-do button?) 

Another style that I did was a simple up-do that worked really well with my outfit for my last homecoming: 

After that the styles kept coming. After that was: Marley Twist, Sew ins, Crochet Braids, Buns, Locs (Faux and Yarn), YOU BASICALLY NAME IT. After awhile, I started to see growth in my hair and personality. I became more confident in my own skin and loved my hair the way it was. Sure from time to time, I feel like doing the big chop (BUT sadly I do not have the head shape for it and plus I probably be pissed if I did cut it) and other days I walk around with my afro like I’m Cold: 

 I receive more compliments now than I did when I had my hair relaxed. Compliments went from the usual and simple: “Your Hair is Long” to “Your Curl Pattern is Goals, That Style Looks Good on You, etc.” I’m feeling myself more now than I did back than. I honestly enjoy this lifestyle, I feel like it chose me and I chose it. 

That’s basically my hair story you guys. Nothing special, just got tired and bored one day and decided a change needed to happen. I hope you guys enjoyed this story. Thanks for reading. 

This is a recent pic of me after a twist out:

-REMZ