Tag: caravan living

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Storms and silence

It’s been a while since my last blog post.

The weeks have rustled into full blown autumn here on the island. The hedgerows are full of berries, the heather is fading, and as I often do at the turn of the season, I’m filled with silence and a degree of sadness.

I don’t know why I feel often feel low as autumn approaches. I’m really not mourning summer, but maybe the combination of house build delays, the prospect of another winter in the caravan -which we hadn’t expected- and being a menopausal woman have all conspired to bring my mood down more than normal at this change of the season.

The storms have started, with two weeks of solid rain and wind lashing the croft. I’ve not wanted to leave the caravan. I’ve cooked, baked, read books and cleaned, but apart from that I’ve really not had the energy to do much and haven’t wanted to see people.

I’m looking forward to the screed arriving at some point over the next few weeks for the floor now that we have completed the underfloor heating pipe installation, connection and testing. We are getting there, just very slowly. Our hopes to be in the house by the end of the year are no longer viable and it’s now looking more like summer next year before it will be ready for us to move in. We will survive.

Rainbow over the sound

As with all things, there is often a silver lining. Storms here mean rainbows. Several each day. Small bursts of colour in the washed windows in the grey to remind us that nature and the seasons are full of wonder and magic.

I will try and get out more. Walking is said to be better than Prozac, best friend in France tells me. She has also recommended taking vitamin D and Magnesium.

And there are always pies, which magically lift a mood. Bake more of them.

Pear tart with frangipan

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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.

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Sweet picklin’

There’s something very primal and satisfying about preserving food that you’ve grown yourself. Crazily so. It must be somewhere buried deep in RNA, and it seems to be triggered by the first wisps of autumn or the smell of woodsmoke.

The sweet days of summer are still with us but I can already sense the onset of autumn with my harvests.

Even though there were just a few handfuls of shallots and onions from the croft that could be used it somehow felt important to mark this, our first ever crop, by preserving them.

Small Shallots being prepared

I’ve been pickling onions for years, but have never really settled on a recipe that I love. This year, watching the storm roll in across the mountains of the mainland from the comfort of the caravan, I browsed through the few preserving books that I have here and created a blend of spices that I think may work well for us.

Pickling is a bit of a time consuming exercise at times. The onions have to be harvested, dried off, then peeled and trimmed.

Onions in sea salt overnight

Salting them is supposed to keep them crisp once preserved, so into a bowl with lots of coarse sea salt overnight they went. Nobody wants soggy pickles .

This morning they were rinsed and dried ready for next stage.

Spiced vinegar being prepared

The vinegar that I’ve used is white wine vinegar rather than the usual malt vinegar that seems to be traditional in UK kitchens. It has a 6% acidity count, slightly higher than malt or distilled vinegar. It’s been sweetened with sugar and spiced with black peppercorns, coriander seeds, mustard seeds, chilli flakes and bay leaves.

All my kilner and preserving jars are still in storage so I’ve had to make do with sterilised, recycled jars. They seem to have worked well.

Recycled jars

A kind neighbour has offered me ridge cucumbers to pickle and I’m scheduled to pick them up next week. I’ve kept some dill and dill flowers back ready for this moment…

May you savour the remaining sweet days of summer, and sweet picklin’ to you all.

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Peachy galette

I’m not the most organised of cooks. I often get a sweet craving come over me and I’ll be tempted to make a dessert, but will have to improvise with what I have in the cupboard or fridge.

Our restricted storage capacity in the caravan fridge is probably what’s keeping me alive and avoiding a massively early death through my over-consumption of sweet things.

Because if I had all possible ingredients to hand I’d probably make a dessert every evening. Which is not good. Note to self: the pantry you’re building may not be such a good idea for the remains of your waistline… Fill it with beans and pickles, woman, if you value your life…

As the clock ticked around to about 4pm today I started thinking about supper, and I really fancied something sweet.

I found a punnet of rather hard peaches and a roll of ready made puff pastry lurking in a dark recess of the fridge. They were behind the bags of kale and chard, which glowed with health and reproachment. I also just happened to have a tub of mascarpone left over from some previous excess. I could make a peach galette!

Peach galette. No judging please..

In the UK, and especially here in Scotland, we don’t have the tradition of peach pies that I often see in the United States. Peaches are a rather exotic, imported fruit here (which I am determined to grow in my polytunnel one day. We must be independent in good fruit. But I digress).

A galette is a rather pretentious name for a slab of pastry, crimped up around the edges of creamy mascarpone egg custard and a pile of sugared, sliced peaches. It sounds so much more exotic than it actually is. It’s raggedy and rustic and delicious.

I couldn’t be bothered with forming a proper pie today anyway. Rough edges and random piles of fruit seemed like a perfect idea. I can do piling and sugaring, I thought.

Nay problem.

The remains..

And so I did. And so we followed a healthy stir fry with a crusty, cinnamon scented, custardy, sweet peach galette.

It gladdened the heart. Which compensates for the expansion of the waistline, I’m almost sure…

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Summer eating

This is the season for eating from the croft, and the fresh produce is now coming in with abundance, even from the handful of small grow beds that we have. We are enjoying lettuce, kale, new potatoes, purple sprouting broccoli, chard, onions, peas and fresh herbs.

I’m being challenged to find new ways of serving this bounty, as we can’t store or freeze any produce this season.

This is whipped feta with roasted beetroot, toasted almonds, orange zest, chopped mint and parsley.

I was so excited to try our first baby beets from the croft that I made this dish up specifically to try them. It’s adapted from one that I found that uses goats cheese.

Scooped up with oat biscuits, it was a light nibble to eat before a main meal with friends, but would easily make a lunch on its own. This will become a summer staple, I think, and I’ve resolved to definitely grow more beetroots next year!

Young onions from the croft

Tonight, kale and purple sprouting broccoli from the croft were the central vegetables in our meal. They were lightly sautéed with garlic, sesame, spring onions, lime, a bit of leftover chicken, and noodles.

Uncle Bert’s kale

Lots of potatoes… cold potato salad, fried potatoes, garlic potatoes, mash here we come!

3kg potatoes dug up this morning
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Sudden Profusion

It’s all growing well in our raised bed experiment. Except the leeks, which are spindly little pencils so far.

I will be patient.

I’m mainly delighted and surprised by the profusion. It seems to have come all of a sudden. We’re cropping lettuces, potatoes, kale, sorrel, purple sprouting brocolli, chives, parsley, dill, mint, and rocket.

The beets, shallots and onions look nearly ready. The garlic is coming along, and the mammoth red cabbage leaves are starting to turn in. The parsnips are growing, as are the carrots.

It’s the rain, long hours of daylight and mild temperatures. Suddenly everything is leaping up as if wanting to make up for the slow, cold start of our late spring.

First crop of potatoes
Kale, beetroots, red-veined sorrel, onions
Peas
Parsnips
Endive and carrots
Uncle Bert’s kale
Purple sprouting broccoli

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Chunky living

One of the things that having no kitchen tools here in the caravan has meant is that we don’t “process” any foods. This simply means that nothing we eat is smooth. Everything is chunky.

For example, when I make a vegetable soup, which I often used to blend to a silky puree with a stick blender or food processor, I now leave it au naturel. I’ve got quite attached to real chunks of vegetables in my soup rather than a blended uniformity.

Hummus

The same is true for hummus. I often make this by hand because it’s cheaper and I think much more delicious than shop bought. I can control exactly what goes into it. I add tahini, lemon zest, garlic, fresh parsley and good olive oil.

However, I’ve been used to zapping it up in the food processor to the usual smooth slurry we’re all used to seeing in the deli counter tubs.

Now I’m having to hand-crush chickpeas with a fork, an undertaking not for the faint hearted or weak of thumb. It creates a rustic, very chunky hummus, which was a bit of a shock to the system to start with, but which I actually now prefer.

So, once we are in the house, with a real kitchen with appliances once again, I shall remember these learnings.

We will keep to our chunky living. Life isn’t all smooth. We may as well enjoy it whilst we still have our own teeth 😊.

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Hot, hot, hot

The weather here on the island has been very hot over the past week. The caravan has suddenly transformed from fridge to oven..

The temperature gauge inside recorded 26 degrees centigrade yesterday, and that’s uncomfortably warm for us. Especially when opening windows to try and catch a breeze results in swarms of midges coming in off the croft…reminder to self, we must get some midge netting fitted to the windows.

The seedlings however are loving it. Uncle Bert’s Kale is growing madly, the potato plants are all greening up nicely and I have my first bean on my borlotti bean plant!

It was too hot to cook indoors yesterday and we were too tired to summon up a BBQ, so we headed down to Camuscross early to try and get a table for a cold drink and some supper. It’s so good to be able to do that again now that lockdown has eased.

There are worse places to be on a hot June evening… This time last year we were in London… I know where I’d rather be.

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We have warmth!

Ha ha! Happy faces! The sun has returned! The air and the soil have warmed up and as I speak we have blue skies and a soft, warm breeze.

It will be the midges soon, but I’m hoping that being at the top of a hill with more wind than most that we’ll escape the worst of them. We’re prepared, just in case – I’ve bought midge hats and nets so that if we do get bombarded we have a fighting chance of avoiding being eaten alive whilst we run back to the caravan.

Impromptu BBQ

We had an impromptu barbecue last night to celebrate the lovely evening. These shots were taken at about 7pm. As the sun dipped behind the hill at the back of the croft at around 10pm it started to get colder, and we wrapped up in blankets and added a bit more wood to the fire.

The birds are singing, the sun is shining, and husband has thrown open all the doors and windows in the house whilst he is working so that it cools down.

I don’t want to count my chickens, but it seems like summer has come at last…

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Small steps back to normality

Our lives here on the croft are by nature pretty quiet. We spend our days mostly working on the house build or the land, only going out to do food shopping or to collect building or garden supplies.

As things start to open up here in Scotland again after a year of lockdown, however, we are seeing a slow return towards normality.

We managed a lovely lunch at a local restaurant with friends last Sunday. Although the venue wasn’t able to serve wine with the meal as we were eating indoors (which regulations don’t permit) it was still lovely to have food cooked for us and to have good company whilst we ate.

This weekend we also attended a market in Armadale Castle’s grounds. The locals were out in force to support it, and it was fun to browse the stalls and to sit down and have a coffee and catchup blether with friends.

We didn’t need, or buy, much. A loaf of artisan corn bread and some delicious pear frangipane tarts from the Isle of Skye Baking Co. and a few chive plants from Hamish’s plant stall, but really it was all about the meeting up with friends and neighbours after months of isolating in our cottages and crofts.

Small steps back to normality. There are further easing of restrictions over the coming month. We’re so looking forward to seeing the kids once we’re able to. They still haven’t seen the croft due to lockdown, and we haven’t been with them since last summer. Soon now.