Truly Scrumptious

Heh. So my friend Simon phoned this morning (yay phones! people talk to you! who knew?) and came round ten minutes later, and away we went with bags'n'buckets, to commit scrumping. He had seen, he thought, a tree loaded down with yellow plums, that nobody was picking...

When we eventually refound it, it turned out to be apples of a curious shape, but perfectly nice; and in the hunt we had discovered a dead industrial estate full of pears and apples and rowanberries, so yup. My dining-room floor is currently covered with scrumped fruit and interested cats (no, not going to eat any, but it all smells nice, apparently). And I shall make apple chutney and pear chutney and rowanberry jelly, and people better watch out for I shall come bearing gifts, and we all know what that leads to...

Fudz, glorious fudz

Okay. The rowanberries have been simmered in a little water 'til soft, and are now dripping out their glorious juices through a muslin jelly-bag into a welcoming bowl. I will leave them to do that all night, and see what I'm left with in the morning.

Damn. I had meant to photograph the process, from panful of berries to ultimate jelly; but I forgot. Hey-ho.

Meanwhile, I have made a cucumber-and-mint raita flavoured with mustard seeds and avocado oil (oh, and a little cayenne: even my raita is spicy). I have made a curry paste and a garam masala from first principles; I have marinated pork in chilli and turmeric and salt and black vinegar. I have boiled rice. I shall go now and assemble the raw ingredients into a simmering curry, with a view to eating in an hour or so. Chortle.

These things are how we amuse ourselves, on a day off. Except that it's kind of what I get up to on a working day as well, bar the going-out-and-scrumping thing. How do I ever find the time to write?