What is it about family? Or, maybe it would fairer to say, what is it about my family?
I often worry that I like other peoples' families a lot more.
I have spent more than a few hours today getting myself into a major funk over my nearest and dearest. I have been in Devon 21 hours.
I think I am a little out of control.
I guess that the dispute over where I'm spending Christmas isn't really helping but that can't be blamed on anyone but Gerard and he's not here to hear it so never mind.
I don't know that I will ever get over being the eldest child. Forging that path; being the first one to break a bone, have a drink, get caught smoking, swear at your parents, get a double bed, move out etc. That's hard work you know. Younger siblings will never understand how much they got away with because someone came before and did it already and made it so, so much easier on the second time round. A little appreciation for my ground work wouldn't go a miss you know.
But there you have it. The truth is that I have no right to expect that from anyone and even if it was acknowledged so what? I wouldn't gain anything or be any better off. It's not as if the younger child doesn't have his or her share of unique and equally frustrating crosses to bear. Always coming second, being the butt of all the jokes, getting locked in wardrobes, never getting to ride in the front, the never-ending comparisons, the older siblings friends, not being able to join in with that brother or sister because you're too young, being left behind when they move out, the hand me downs. Tough life.
If Christmas teaches me anything this year I hope it is tolerance.
I am patient. I can be kind. I have been known to do things I didn't want to just to keep the peace, but tolerant I am not. Not of the adverts on television, not of traffic wardens, not of my family and their very lovable annoyances and especially not of the chips on their shoulders.
But I do have an almost totally intact family, although they are disparate and I don't think I am as grateful for that as I should be.
When I go to church this Christmas Eve I will pray for them and for you and yours. If you're only going to do it once a year - make it count!
21 December 2008
15 December 2008
Mincemeat
Christmas Baking is a strange thing. I spent a few hours this weekend making mincemeat. Everyone I have told about this thought it odd that I should choose to grind my own beef when there is perfectly good packets of the stuff in the supermarkets. What has happened to our generation? Am I the only person I know who used to bake with my mother?
I have one vague memory of making mincemeat with my Mum. I mostly remember the extreme angst that surrounded the baking required for the festive season. There were two very distinct phases of my childhood; the one in which Mum cooked everything, even making her own pizza dough and cheese soufflés (my favourite mother-dish), and the second, in which all unnecessary cooking was abandoned. This included dough and mincemeat, Christmas cake and soufflé. Sadly. I think these periods must have coincided with the year that my father gave my mother a food processor for Christmas. It was the final straw and the poor object was never used except by me to whisk eggs.
For the record mincemeat is a mixture of chopped dried fruit, distilled spirits and spices and suet and although originally it did contain meat, it doesn’t any longer. ‘Mincemeat, and similar variants are found in the UK, Ireland, Brittany, northern Europe, as well as the United States and Canada. It is not to be confused with minced or ground meat.
This whole vein of thought reminds me of the book that Simon gave you “Baking with Jesus” written by that priest who loved the lord through the medium of bread. Maybe he had a point. I am not a believer in any kind of God but I do still hold some fondness for the idea that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday. If you were going to commune with God at this time of year wouldn’t baking be one of the best ways? Besides all we really do at Christmas now is eat. It amazes me that no one I know is baking anything for Christmas. Even if they only believe in better television over the holidays.
This apparently unpopular weekend activity also led me to the resolve of one of the great conundrums that has troubled me often; what is the difference between a currant, a raisin and a sultana?
Here is what I found out:
There are two distinct fruits which are called currants: (1) the dried zante grape; like a raisin which is used in baked goods and (2) a fresh tiny berry related to the gooseberry. Currents are black, red, or white. The black ones are used for preserves, syrups and liqueurs; while the red and white berries are for eating out of hand. They come from Greece.
The sultana is a type of white, seedless grape of Turkish or Iranian origin. It is also the name given to the raisin made from the same grape (!). They are typically larger than the currants made from Zante grapes, but smaller than "normal" raisins. Sultana raisins have a delicate and unique flavor and are especially noted for their sweetness and golden colour.
And finally, raisins are dried grapes. They are produced in many regions of the world, such as the United States, Australia, Chile, Argentina, Mexico, Greece, Turkey, India, Iran, Pakistan, China, Afghanistan, Togo, and Jamaica, as well as South Africa and Southern and Eastern Europe.
Does it not strike you as amazing that we have developed three separate ingredients all made from the same thing (in varying degrees) and that all three of them are vital in the making of mincemeat?
I consider it my Christmas miracle.
I have one vague memory of making mincemeat with my Mum. I mostly remember the extreme angst that surrounded the baking required for the festive season. There were two very distinct phases of my childhood; the one in which Mum cooked everything, even making her own pizza dough and cheese soufflés (my favourite mother-dish), and the second, in which all unnecessary cooking was abandoned. This included dough and mincemeat, Christmas cake and soufflé. Sadly. I think these periods must have coincided with the year that my father gave my mother a food processor for Christmas. It was the final straw and the poor object was never used except by me to whisk eggs.
For the record mincemeat is a mixture of chopped dried fruit, distilled spirits and spices and suet and although originally it did contain meat, it doesn’t any longer. ‘Mincemeat, and similar variants are found in the UK, Ireland, Brittany, northern Europe, as well as the United States and Canada. It is not to be confused with minced or ground meat.
This whole vein of thought reminds me of the book that Simon gave you “Baking with Jesus” written by that priest who loved the lord through the medium of bread. Maybe he had a point. I am not a believer in any kind of God but I do still hold some fondness for the idea that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday. If you were going to commune with God at this time of year wouldn’t baking be one of the best ways? Besides all we really do at Christmas now is eat. It amazes me that no one I know is baking anything for Christmas. Even if they only believe in better television over the holidays.
This apparently unpopular weekend activity also led me to the resolve of one of the great conundrums that has troubled me often; what is the difference between a currant, a raisin and a sultana?
Here is what I found out:
There are two distinct fruits which are called currants: (1) the dried zante grape; like a raisin which is used in baked goods and (2) a fresh tiny berry related to the gooseberry. Currents are black, red, or white. The black ones are used for preserves, syrups and liqueurs; while the red and white berries are for eating out of hand. They come from Greece.
The sultana is a type of white, seedless grape of Turkish or Iranian origin. It is also the name given to the raisin made from the same grape (!). They are typically larger than the currants made from Zante grapes, but smaller than "normal" raisins. Sultana raisins have a delicate and unique flavor and are especially noted for their sweetness and golden colour.
And finally, raisins are dried grapes. They are produced in many regions of the world, such as the United States, Australia, Chile, Argentina, Mexico, Greece, Turkey, India, Iran, Pakistan, China, Afghanistan, Togo, and Jamaica, as well as South Africa and Southern and Eastern Europe.
Does it not strike you as amazing that we have developed three separate ingredients all made from the same thing (in varying degrees) and that all three of them are vital in the making of mincemeat?
I consider it my Christmas miracle.
8 December 2008
My life as you know it . . .
So much has transpired since my last blog. It’s that fantastic season where so many things do happen. Most of the year I don’t do anything! This weekend I have managed to cram in works drinks and dinner, a trip to London to see lovely Jeni and visit St. Paul’s and a day out to Hever Castle!
Really there should be a ‘Other People’s Children Part II’ (this time it’s personal) Because it was personal. To sum it up very quickly . . . Youngest Child did not go to school on the Monday and so Oldest Child and I could not go into Brighton in the evening to enjoy the delights of the pier. Oldest Child did not go to college on the Friday and so, really, was also in trouble. As much as any one else’s kid can be in trouble with someone who is not its parent (or legal guardian) and has no authority. Where is that line? Anyone know? It is a tangled web.
Anyway, on the last day of child sitting my mother came to see me – the children were left alone on their last night and seemed ok. They went to school the following morning and I cleaned house and left to take my mother to the airport thinking all was well. That evening, alone at home with a bottle of wine (such a relief after a week of no alone time and no drinking) their mother (not mine) rings me in tears explaining that thy have attacked one another and that blood has been drawn. Youngest Child tried to kick Oldest Child down the stairs and Oldest Child responded by kicking her in the face (accidently) and splitting her lip.
Shocked was I. Although it does beg the question . . . what the hell did I do to them?
Since then it seems that things have settled down and all the Christmas decorations are up and the maybe-we’ll-all-make-it-through-this-without-killing-each-other smiles are firmly in place. Ahhh, families at Christmas! Not that I’ll see mine this year so it will be an interesting experiment in other people’s families at Christmas!
Then there should probably be a ‘My Boyfriend Is Moving to the Middle East’ update. He is not. He did not get that job. And, although I have always known myself to be emotionally imbalanced, I did feel genuine regret/sadness for him and think that given that this is the millionth knock back that he’s doing very well. We had a lovely weekend together so my opinion is slightly weighted at the moment.
I would like to mention at this point that it is my Christmas party next week and that even if there are stacks of glamorous helium balloons this year that I have no one to drunkenly bring them home to. And that it still feels like not so long ago that we went to France and that actually it’s a whole year. Those lovely Kays catalogue shots . . . whatever did become of them?
I have a meeting in London this afternoon and then hopefully I’ll get home early enough to clean the bathroom and the kitchen and force myself to the gym. Although going to the gym is not working out well for me at the moment. I just can’t motivate my arse off the sofa. And it’s becoming a sizable arse these days! One of G’s friends has been quoted as saying “Hasn’t she filled out?” Need I say more?!
Loving you long time. Wishing I hadn’t left my car parked on the park – bloody traffic wardens (and Australian towing people) should all be shot. Hoping you find the Christmas spirit soon. Missing you like hell. x
Really there should be a ‘Other People’s Children Part II’ (this time it’s personal) Because it was personal. To sum it up very quickly . . . Youngest Child did not go to school on the Monday and so Oldest Child and I could not go into Brighton in the evening to enjoy the delights of the pier. Oldest Child did not go to college on the Friday and so, really, was also in trouble. As much as any one else’s kid can be in trouble with someone who is not its parent (or legal guardian) and has no authority. Where is that line? Anyone know? It is a tangled web.
Anyway, on the last day of child sitting my mother came to see me – the children were left alone on their last night and seemed ok. They went to school the following morning and I cleaned house and left to take my mother to the airport thinking all was well. That evening, alone at home with a bottle of wine (such a relief after a week of no alone time and no drinking) their mother (not mine) rings me in tears explaining that thy have attacked one another and that blood has been drawn. Youngest Child tried to kick Oldest Child down the stairs and Oldest Child responded by kicking her in the face (accidently) and splitting her lip.
Shocked was I. Although it does beg the question . . . what the hell did I do to them?
Since then it seems that things have settled down and all the Christmas decorations are up and the maybe-we’ll-all-make-it-through-this-without-killing-each-other smiles are firmly in place. Ahhh, families at Christmas! Not that I’ll see mine this year so it will be an interesting experiment in other people’s families at Christmas!
Then there should probably be a ‘My Boyfriend Is Moving to the Middle East’ update. He is not. He did not get that job. And, although I have always known myself to be emotionally imbalanced, I did feel genuine regret/sadness for him and think that given that this is the millionth knock back that he’s doing very well. We had a lovely weekend together so my opinion is slightly weighted at the moment.
I would like to mention at this point that it is my Christmas party next week and that even if there are stacks of glamorous helium balloons this year that I have no one to drunkenly bring them home to. And that it still feels like not so long ago that we went to France and that actually it’s a whole year. Those lovely Kays catalogue shots . . . whatever did become of them?
I have a meeting in London this afternoon and then hopefully I’ll get home early enough to clean the bathroom and the kitchen and force myself to the gym. Although going to the gym is not working out well for me at the moment. I just can’t motivate my arse off the sofa. And it’s becoming a sizable arse these days! One of G’s friends has been quoted as saying “Hasn’t she filled out?” Need I say more?!
Loving you long time. Wishing I hadn’t left my car parked on the park – bloody traffic wardens (and Australian towing people) should all be shot. Hoping you find the Christmas spirit soon. Missing you like hell. x
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