Emergency Cake

Sometimes, when you’ve lived through two successive storms and the wind is getting up for a third wave, there is a need for Emergency Cake.

Today was such a day. As the wind roared around the walls of the caravan and the rain lashed at the windows, I looked outside and declared the weather so foul that it qualified as an Emergency Cake Day.

The key was not to go out to get any ingredients. Far too horrid out there. I would have been swept into a ditch in an instant. Not a good way to go.

So it was rather lucky that I just happened to have a jar of cherry jam and a small punnet of fresh cherries in the fridge, and some cream. I have no idea how that happened. The Seventies were calling me.

As regular readers will know, the oven in the caravan is tiny. One cake in my one square baking tin fills the whole cooking space. It’s a testament to how badly I wanted this that I was prepared to prepare and bake the cake twice (in the same tin) and sandwich them together stickily and unctuously with jam, kirsch, fresh cherries and cream.

And so, dear reader, two hours later both layers were baked. The filling was spread onto the base layer. The top layer was manoeuvred into place. There was much chocolate grating to hide the fissures.

No fancy piping gear here, I’m afraid. This is the Seventies at its most fabulously rustic in cake form.

Any locals fancying a slice had better battle their way to the top of our rain-lashed hill before it all disappears. A pot of tea and an inelegant, squidgy slice of lusciousness awaits.

Good neighbours, first snow and wild skies

I am sitting here in the caravan with my tea watching the rain come down in sheets over the Sound. I love the rain. Seriously.

We have been invited for drinks and supper to a neighbours house. We are taking Cranachan as our contribution, a deceptively innocent sounding blend of raspberries, toasted oatmeal, honey, whisky and cream.

It’s one of my favourite Scottish desserts and should just about make it intact in a wrapped bowl as we totter down the long and winding track off the croft and over to their cottage, wrapped up against the squalls and rain.

We are so lucky with our neighbours. We seem to have found a warm and friendly community here. They pop in with gifts of quinces, strawberry plants or spare fleeces for our vegetable beds. I mean, could you ask for more?

The weather has been wild for the past week. Torrential rain and high winds, gusting to around 50 miles per hour. The caravan rocks and sings as the wind vibrates through the webbing straps holding us down.

We had our first snow on the tops last night. Early, but not unexpected. It’s been very cold.

Time to coorie in with pies, hearty soups, stews and big jumpers.

Soup weather

It all started with a big paper bag of chestnut mushrooms. Perfectly in season, brown, earthy and fresh. Smelling of autumn. That, and a glance out of the caravan window at the rain convinced me that it was definitely soup weather.

Much as I like a bowl of Heinz mushroom soup as a quick, comforting lunch, a homemade soup is really in another league and is well worthwhile the small effort that it takes.

Mushrooms, chopped sweet chestnuts, garlic, fresh parsley and tarragon are the mainstays of this soup. A slosh of cream or creme fraiche finishes it. It’s warming and delicious, and cooks up in less than thirty minutes.

As winter approaches I make soup much more often. There’s usually a pot of soup simmering on the stove most days in this weather. Soups are so versatile, and can be made cheaply from the simplest of ingredients.

Amongst our personal favourites are mushroom and chestnut, fresh chicken, winter vegetable, butternut and sweet potato, leek and potato, Cullen skink and lentil soups. Not having a blender here in the caravan, all of our soups are left “au-naturel” and somehow feel all the more of a meal for that.

Served up with warm cheese scones, or good crusty sourdough bread, soups are definitely the food of autumn.

Picklification Complete

A fellow island crofter generously responded to my plea for small cucumbers to pickle and donated a bag of them.

Salting peacefully awaiting their vinegar bath

Freshly picked from their polytunnel, small and crunchy, there was a definite frisson of excitement as I clutched the bag with barely concealed anticipation and drove home to check the vinegar situation.

There’s something addictive about pickling. Gherkins, or dill pickles, are my very favourite pickle of all time, and something I find hard to buy in the shops locally. This timely donation was therefore all the more meaningful and I was determined to do them justice.

Over the last few days I’ve tenderly washed and patted dry, salted, rinsed and patted dry again these little nuggets of joy. A newborn could not have been more cosseted.

Oh yes

I’ve sterilised jars, prepared my vinegar and crooned over the additions like an alchemist. Enough peppercorns? Too much mustard seed? A few more chilli flakes perhaps? I even picked the last of my dill flowers especially a few days ago, before the rain flattened everything, to add to the jars.

And so they are done. Behold the magnificence of these island grown pickles.

Picklification is now complete.

Caravan food

The caravan has a tiny kitchen, with three working gas burners and a very small electric oven. It’s lack of storage space has meant that we have no room for electrical appliances like mixers or blenders, making everything a manual process when it comes to food preparation . So, meals have to be simple.

But that doesn’t mean that they can’t be good. We’re working hard on the house and croft, and we need sustenance. An army marches on its stomach!

I’ve looked back at some of the meals that we’ve produced in the caravan with our one baking tin and I’m pleased to see that we’ve actually managed OK.

The eagle-eyed amongst you will notice that we seem to be heavy on the sweet treats! No apologies for that. It’s true to say that this build is being fuelled by cake…

Bakewell tart
Sourdough from the Mallaig bakery with homemade houmous
Strawberry slab cake
Lunch butties with crispy chicken
Turkish bean salad
Chocolate cake
Teatime flapjacks
Cheese and chive scones
Local rope grown mussels
Lentil, garlic & veg soup
Pear pancakes with Greek Yoghurt & Honey
Soy marinated sesame salmon
Cranachan
Lentil dhal
Baklava
Thai salmon ready for baking
Local langoustines
Breakfast of champions

Seafood feast

I love living on this island. The waters around it are cold and clean, and the seafood fished in its waters can’t be beaten.

Kind neighbours alerted us to the fact that we could buy rope grown mussels fresh from a small mussel farm a few villages away some weeks back. I’ve always loved shellfish, but these were a revelation. Small and sweet.

This morning we got a text from them again to say that fresh langoustine would be landed today, and would we like some? Would we ever!

They arrived as the sun was setting, with a carrier bag holding two kilos of live langoustine. For less money than a tiny bowl of these, should you even be able to get them, in London..

When we opened the bag I have to say that my heart quailed a bit. They were very alive…snapping their pincers and looking very angry. Quite rightly so. Thankfully husband is made of sterner stuff and he stepped in and cooked and prepared them for us.

Supper tonight was a feast. Simply cooked and dipped in garlic and coriander butter, they were sweet and succulent. I’ve never had fresher or tasted better.

I suspect most of these make their way abroad usually, but with Covid meaning that hotels and restaurants are closed, the local fishermen are offering them to locals.

Definitely our gain.

The barter economy

There’s something very nourishing about an exchange that doesn’t involve money and something very warming about the generosity of a local community.

Here on the island, our neighbours are generous and giving. We’ve received gifts of home made oatcakes, snowdrops, daffodil bulbs, chocolate, locally made candles, wine and other small gifts since we arrived. It’s touching and heartwarming whenever this happens.

Lockdown here can be difficult for people, especially when shopping involves icy roads and long distances, so I often text a few neighbours before we set out for the supermarket to check whether we can pick anything up for them.

On the last occasion we picked up a few low value items for a neighbour and were given a bottle of wine in exchange! Such a lovely gesture.

Today, friends from a few villages away have dropped off (socially distanced) a homemade curry in a huge le crueset pot, a delicious looking Murghi, and as I couldn’t have them leave empty handed, I baked them a lemon drizzle cake.

The ties of community are strong here. Even whist we are all apart, generosity thrives. I love that.

Snow on the croft

We awoke this morning to a white blanket of snow over everything again. The temperatures had fallen overnight and it had snowed for several hours.

Getting up and started is the hardest thing when it’s cold like this.

Breakfast was taken by the fire with both of us wrapped up in a blanket, bobble hats and fingerless gloves until the fire gradually warmed the room.

We watched as the light changed constantly around us, the skies moving from thunderous grey to bright blue and back again as the storm fronts raced across the sky.

The snow is properly deep now, and the access track to the croft is icy and compacted and probably impassable for the moment, unless it was an emergency.

This would of course happen as I was about to replenish food stores with my regular shop, but we have plenty of stores, and bread flour and yeast to make rolls. The small oven here would struggle with a big loaf but it manages rolls and smaller breads just fine.

I’ve been baking every day, and making soup, curries and stews to make sure that we stay warm.

I know that this would send some people absolutely stir crazy, but I quite like it. It’s quiet and cosy. We have the work on the house, our books, cooking and seed planning and planting to keep us busy.

Contentment.

Atholl Brose

It’s that time of year again. I’ve made homemade Atholl Brose.

A wee glass of this in the evening to warm us up is a necessity, I think.

Whisky, honey, oats and cream. Lasts for a week in the fridge – if you can make it last that long 😊.

Recipe here for anyone that fancies giving it a go. Note I only use a half bottle of whisky, just a blended one too, and it’s delicious.

https://foodanddrink.scotsman.com/drink/how-to-make-your-very-own-atholl-brose/

Wintering

It snowed last night.

When we awoke it was to sleet and snow pounding the roof and windows of the caravan, and it had settled on the hills. The morning was very cold. It took all of our willpower to leave the warmth of our bed and stagger through to the kitchen to make hot coffee.

We ate breakfast watching the snow swirl around the caravan, and both decided it might not be a bad idea to head out to do our weekly food shop now in case it got any worse.

We already have food stocks of oatmeal, pasta, tinned goods and flour, even within the very limited storage capacity we have within the static. I think it’s just prudent to keep long-life food available in case roads become impassable or we got ill. You never know. And whilst the weather is doing this it just reinforces the stocking up instinct further.

Whilst husband is working in the house filling gaps between the SIP panels in our desire to have the house as close to passive house standards as possible, I’m doing most of the food preparation. It’s just what we can both best do to contribute to pushing this build forward at this point in time.

Food has become reduced to simple homemade soups, curries, stews and occasional bakes. Tonight, for example, I’m making a cottage pie. Yesterday was bean and vegetable soup. Nothing fancy, just home made food that fills us up and is filled with nourishing ingredients.

I’m also making Athol Brose this evening. A small, sweet, creamy whisky based treat that we’ll take a glass of before bed each night.

Absolutely essential preparation for wintering in my book. 😊