Lovely Scraps!

"Shall I throw these leftovers out, or put them in the fridge and throw them out tomorrow?" - words my silver-haired old mother used to say all the time when clearing away after a meal. Wrong, mum! There's always some way in which this stuff can be recycled, in an alimentary way of course. Even cabbage. You just have to be hungry enough.

Note that this is not quite the same thing as an 'Eilish tea', invented by my wife (Eilish) who just sticks the contents of the fridge on the table when out of culinary inspiration. Or my own variant of this, which is to stir fry everything first.

Endless possibilities here. Four roast spuds, cabbage, some Irish stew, a lump of stuffing, itself salvage from some soda farls and pancakes left over from a fry, some tomatoes and mushrooms (same fry), sweetcorn from the grand-daughter's half-eaten lunch, and a smidgeon of gravy.

I think just bung it all on a large pizza plate, and heat in the oven.

Yum!

The Lie-In

I got my first paper round in my teens in the mid-60s, which at times involved warming my hands up by running COLD water over them, hot water being too painful. I don't remember any lovely spring or summer mornings, just grey winter light, dustings of snow, and the stares of owls settling down for the day. I was Le Grand Meaulnes. Ever since then, and possibly before, I have been an early riser, even at weekends, on holidays, or after wild nights out. The morning switch over from BBC World Service to Radio Four was the piper at the gates of dawn, while the late Shipping Forecast marked the knitting up of the ravell’d sleeve of care.

But no longer. I am freed from the chains of labour, and the Gods o'erwhelm my eye-lids with a flood of sleep...all the long night, the morning and the noon. No longer waking to a pressing catalogue of activities which gather like harsh voiced birds of ill-omen, I can now watch my thoughts roaming the sunlit plains and gathering at the quiet waterholes

There a few disadvantages, and many benefits to this development. More sleep means less time awake and therefore fewer opportunities to make a fool of oneself or ruin the day of others. It is always daylight when you rise, even in the depths of winter. Insomnia has no fears, just get up, make a cup of tea, and take it back to bed, and wait for the Gods to do their work again. This feeds into the concept of segmented sleep, which holds that mankind naturally wakes after a first sleep of four hours or so, has a time of activity, then sleeps again. And it turns out that most of the aforementioned pressing activities aren't really that pressing at all.

The only downside I can think of is that there is no longer time to fit in elevenses.

A typical Sunday morning.

Mince Pies - For Men!

Another 'To Hell With Pastry' post! Why bother with all that nonsense when you can blast this kind of thing out nae bother. Here followeth a pictorial guide...

Mix up some pizza dough.

Knead and let sit for a bit.

Make a long thin dough snake.

Roll it out.

Keep rolling it out.

Spread mincemeat over it (mincemeat just lies about the kitchen in tubs).

Start rolling it up.

Fast 'n' bulbous, the mincemeat snake!

Chop it up into segments.

Put segments on tray and bake...

...'til ready.

YUM!