Notes from a domestic environment
Oct. 27th, 2013 02:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceI made a sort of chicken/mushroom/spinach quiche last night, which was notable mostly for being the first time I've pretty much improvised such a thing: from ingredients to methods to timings, the only bit that came out of a recipe was the tablespoon of cider vinegar that went into the pastry (apparently it inhibits the development of the gluten: which seemed to work, 'cos it was a nice short crumbly crust; tho' this will not prevent me from trying the use-a-shotglass-of-vodka-next-time method, where the evaporation of the alcohol is said to have the same effect).
What really deserves noting, though, is that I rolled out the pastry - on my nice new marble pastry slab, yay Laurie! - with a wine bottle, as I have done for lo these thirty years.
It was only this morning in the dark time that I remembered, we do actually have a rolling pin in this establishment. Hunh.
I slept badly, and so late (so late, indeed, that m'wife had to feed the poor starving fuzzbutts; but then, as they've all taken to sleeping her side of the bed/sitting on her lap/hanging out in her study, this seems entirely fair to me*); and today I am mostly working in the garden. Where I have just raked two heaped buckets of my own compost into the vegetable bed, while barely making a dent in the sedimentary layers of compost accumulated in the nether regions of the compost bin. I should probably turn the whole pile, let some air in, let the bacteria (and worms and woodlice) thrive; but I'd need to shift a pile of decaying sods first, and, y'know. Bad back, going to England, etc. Maybe I'll leave it. Or maybe I'll do it now. Dunno. I have a field full of fava beans to plant, another bed to dig over. But I do like making compost, I'm much better at that than growing veg...
*Is alienation of affection still a crime?
What really deserves noting, though, is that I rolled out the pastry - on my nice new marble pastry slab, yay Laurie! - with a wine bottle, as I have done for lo these thirty years.
It was only this morning in the dark time that I remembered, we do actually have a rolling pin in this establishment. Hunh.
I slept badly, and so late (so late, indeed, that m'wife had to feed the poor starving fuzzbutts; but then, as they've all taken to sleeping her side of the bed/sitting on her lap/hanging out in her study, this seems entirely fair to me*); and today I am mostly working in the garden. Where I have just raked two heaped buckets of my own compost into the vegetable bed, while barely making a dent in the sedimentary layers of compost accumulated in the nether regions of the compost bin. I should probably turn the whole pile, let some air in, let the bacteria (and worms and woodlice) thrive; but I'd need to shift a pile of decaying sods first, and, y'know. Bad back, going to England, etc. Maybe I'll leave it. Or maybe I'll do it now. Dunno. I have a field full of fava beans to plant, another bed to dig over. But I do like making compost, I'm much better at that than growing veg...
*Is alienation of affection still a crime?