'ONE OF THE VERY NICEST THINGS ABOUT LIFE IS THE WAY WE MUST REGULARLY STOP WHATEVER IT IS WE ARE DOING AND DEVOTE OUR ATTENTION TO EATING'

Luciano Pavarotti




READING:

Bombay - or Mumbai as we are now supposed to call it - is a huge city with a vast population nearly half of whom live in slums. The Space Between Us by Thrity Umrigar is set in Bombay and the two women who are the central characters epitomise the contradictions to be found there.

Sera Dubash is a Parsi widow who lives in a spacious, modern appartment. Bhima is her servant, for over 20 years she has worked for Sera and her family, cleaning their home, shopping at the market, preparing food, and although neither of them would ever acknowledge it, a bond of trust and a sort of friendship has grown between them.

Despite her comfortable life, Sera has had a difficult married life with an unpredictably violent husband and the mother-in-law from hell. Since her husband's death her adored daughter and charming son-in-law have moved in with her and she is beginning to enjoy life.

Bhima on the other hand lives a life that is almost unimaginable for anyone living in the west. She has a room nearby which she shares with her teenaged granddaughter Maya, for whom she would sacrifice everything she has. Maya is attending college and Bhima hopes that her education will enable them to escape the slums, where they have little privacy, no running water, and have to share the most primitive of communal latrines. But something happens to Maya which puts a strain on Bhima, and eventually it reaches a crisis point which fractures the relationship between herself and Sera.

The lives of the two women are told in flashback and the reader slowly becomes aware of the events that have formed their lives into what they are today, what divides them and what brings them together. Sera and Bhima are both strong in their different ways, but it seems that even in modern India the accidents of birth, class and cultural traditions still shape a woman's life more than anything else.

A really interesting and absorbing book which was both informative about contemporary Indian life and a moving story of two individuals.

Rated 5*



RANTING:

I thought we were supposed to be in the middle of the worst economic recession known to man; banks are collapsing, house sales are stagnant, the unemployment rate is rising rapidly and the news media are lambasting us with doom and gloom, local councils are warning us that rates will have to rise and services will have to be cut.

And in the midst of all this, how does Leicestershire County Council decide to spend £6000 of rate payers' money?
Fitting sophisticated Satellite Navigation Systems to 14 of the council's lawnmowers.

I'll just repeat that.
They have spent six thousand pounds fitting Sat Navs to fourteen lawnmowers.

I know, I know, you couldn't make it up.

Apparently the council employees who use the lawnmowers to keep the parks, fields, road verges and other public open spaces trim and tidy have been complaining that they might get lost in the long grass.
Have they been cutting the grass or smoking it?

I have steam coming out of my ears....I think I should go and lie down until I have become calm again.




RECIPE:

The Scotch Egg has got a reputation for being one of the worst examples of take-away fast food which is such a shame as a proper Scotch Egg is perfect for picnics, padkos, and packed lunches. There is no comparison between a home made Scotch Egg and the horrible, orange-crumbed travesties that are produced commercially and which can be found in the chiller cabinets of supermarkets, motorway service shops, not to mention cafés and pubs up and down the land.

Nobody seems to know where the name comes from, but Fortnum & Mason's,
the Queen's grocers in Piccadilly claim to have invented them in 1851. Maybe they did, but I suspect that the recipe had been around for quite a while, probably in Scotland, and so F&M called them Scottish Eggs. Anyway, whatever their history, they are a doddle to make and apart from vegetarians everyone seems to like them, particularly children.

You can add any number of things to the sausage meat to change the flavours. I've had SEs with crumbled Stilton or finely diced black pudding added to the mix, not to mention chili and herbs. The one thing you MUST have is good ingredients; top-quality sausage meat (or buy the best available sausages and slip the skins off), fresh free-range eggs, and proper toasted breadcrumbs are all essential. Although they are usually made with hen's eggs, you can also make dinky little ones for canapes if you use quail eggs. Serve them hot with homemade tomato sauce and mashed potato, or cold with chutney and salad

SCOTCH EGGS
Makes 4 large ones

5 large free-range eggs (4 for the SEs and one for coating)
450g good quality sausage meat
3 spring onions
1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley
1 heaped teaspoon finely chopped herb of your choice ( chives, thyme or sage)
A good pinch of ground mace
3 tablespoons plain flour
Salt and pepper
Dry breadcrumbs for coating
Sunflower oil for frying

Put four of the eggs into a saucepan, cover with cold water and bring to the boil, then simmer for exactly 9 minutes. Remove the eggs and plunge into cold water.

Finely chop the spring onions, and add them to the sausage meat together with the chopped herbs, mace and some salt and pepper. Use your hands to mix everything together really well then divide the mixture into four and make into patties.
Put the flour onto a plate and season with salt and pepper.
Break the remaining egg onto a plate and beat lightly with a fork.
Tip a good quantity of breadcrumbs onto a plate and spread out.

Shell the eggs and roll each one in the seasoned flour then wrap a patty of sausage meat round it, stretching it and pinching any gaps together so that the egg is evenly covered. Then roll it in the beaten egg and finally roll it in the breadcrumbs pressing them on gently so that it is completely covered.

Put about 5 cms of the oil in a deep casserole or saucepan and heat until a small piece of bread goes brown within a minute of being dropped in it. Carefully add the SEs and fry in the hot oil for about 6-7 minutes, turning them often until they are evenly brown.
Remove from the oil and drain on kitchen paper towel.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MADIBA!
Nelson Mandela is 90 years old today.



READING:

When I read on the Orange Prize short list that The Voluptuous Delights of Peanut Butter and Jam by Lauren Liebenberg was set in Rhodesia in the late 1970s, I knew I had to read it. Books set in central Africa are few and far between, and as I spent all my early childhood there I try to read anything and everything that is published.

The book is narrated by Nyree O’Callohan who is almost nine years old; she lives on a farm in the Vumba Mountains (to the east of Rhodesia, near the Moçambique border) which has been in her family for three generations. The Rhodesian ‘Bush War’ is on-going and Nyree’s father comes and goes as he is is mostly away with the ‘Troopies’ (Rhodesian armed forces) fighting the ‘Terrs’.

Nyree, her six year old sister Cia, her mother and her paternal grandfather, Oupa, remain on the farm together with the farm workers, domestic servants and all their families. The whole farm is surrounded, as most Rhodesian farms were in those days, by high security fences to protect them from the ‘Terrs’, and the fence is the boundary of the girls’ world.

In term time, they attend a small local school for children from all the farms in the area, but during the holidays they can roam freely all over the farm, hunting for fairies, observing Sangoma rituals, watching Chongololos curling up when poked with a stick, feeding ants to ant-lions, putting chameleons on to brightly coloured rugs to see if they will turn scarlet or orange, and generally enjoying all the pleasures of a bush childhood.

One day Ronin, the 14 year old illegitimate son of a great-uncle arrives to live with them, and their lives slowly begin to change. Ronin is a nasty bit of work, the two girls dislike him and are wary of him, and with good reason as he is sneaky and spiteful hiding and breaking their toys whilst sucking up to their mother and Oupa. Oupa is a difficult old man, constantly bemoaning the fact that his son only has daughters to inherit the farm, he is an unreconstructed racist of the worst sort; never-the-less, he sees through Ronin and his wily ways and acts as a buffer between him and the girls until his age and dwindling mental abilities make him a problem himself.

Slowly the Bush War comes to an end as does the family’s time on the farm, and with a dark twist to their lives, and violent birth pangs, Zimbabwe is born.

It is not a happy tale, but it does accurately convey the time and place. The descriptions of the flora and fauna of Rhodesia are beautifully written, and reading the book there were moments when I was really emotional remembering my own childhood in the bush. Liebenberg uses very authentic language and has her characters use the terms ‘munt’, ‘Afs’, ‘kaffirs’ etc just as some white Rhodesians would have done at the time - which could offend some readers, however I thought it added to the very real way she creates the atmosphere of those times. The book also made me think long and hard about what ALL the people of Zimbabwe have lost in the past 25 years, and that too made me feel like weeping.

Rated 5*

RANTING:

Whilst parking my car the other day I noticed a 'rough-sleeper' lying on cardboard with some clothing rolled up under his head as a pillow. Next to him was a tiny pile of his belongings. He had chosen to sleep (mid-afternoon on a hot sunny day) at the top of a flight of four or five steps leading to the padlocked entrance doors of a disused office block. On the pavement next to me as I parked were two teenage girls in school uniform (I think I know which school they attend), both neatly dressed and chatting away non-stop as teenage girls are wont to do. Suddenly, to my amazement, one of the girls broke off the conversation and tiptoed up the steps to the rough sleeper, picked up his packet of cigarettes, and tiptoed back down to join her friend. I leant through my car window and yelled at them whereupon they scarpered. Little b*tches.
It all happened so quickly that I couldn't get out of the car fast enough to chase them.
What kind of person steals from a down-and-out? Those girls had mobile phones and were sporting smart shoes, why would they even consider stealing from someone who had so little? Not of course that they should steal from anyone, rich or poor, but this really was the lowest of the low. What word describes girls like that?
It ages me to say this, but I can't imagine it happening when I was young.




RECIPE:

If you have to provide food for a picnic, this recipe, given to me years ago by my sister, is absolutely ideal. It slices into wedges that can be held in the hand, no need for cutlery, and tastes wonderful with salads if the sun is shining, or with a mug of hot soup if it is cold and wet. Perfect padkos. You can play around with the herbs you use, and with the number of spring onions; the only thing to watch is that you don't over bake it, as it can dry out somewhat. I made it recently for a picnic lunch with my DD's soon-to-be in-laws; lying on the grass by the River Cam, accompanied by a glass of chilled Chablis, it went down a treat.

LELO’S COLD CHICKEN PIE

1 quantity shortcrust pastry made with 350g flour/125g shortening

1kg raw chicken meat – I use a mixture of breast and thigh
500g good quality sausage meat
1 teaspoon mace
6 spring onions
Rind and juice of ½ lemon
1 teaspoon fresh thyme
1 tablespoon fresh sage – chopped small
2 tablespoons cream
Salt & Pepper

Beaten egg to glaze

Pre-heat oven to 200°C

Line a 9in pie dish with half the pastry.

Cut the chicken meat into strips and sprinkle with the mace and salt and pepper – set aside.

In a food processor whiz together the sausagemeat, herbs, spring onions, lemon rind, half the lemon juice and the cream.

Fill the pie with a layer of the sausage mix, then a layer of chicken, layer of sausage mix etc alternating and ending with a layer of the sausage mix. Sprinkle each chicken layer with some of the remaining lemon juice. Dome up well.

Cover with the remaining pastry, seal and crimp the edges of the pie, cut a hole in the centre of the lid, and glaze with beaten egg.

Bake at 200°C for 30 minutes, then lower the oven temperature to 170°C and bake for a further 1 - 1¼ hours until golden brown.

Allow to go completely cold before cutting and serving.