written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label crumbs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crumbs. Show all posts

Tuesday, 21 July 2020

Flour - Fred, the Flour Dredger

I hated Cookery at school. Nothing ever worked out for me. The shortcake made that morning, of which I was so proud, arrived home as a mass of crumbs in my tin. I came last in my Third Year exam because I’d forgotten my very necessary egg. On another occasion I was ridiculed by the horrid Domestic Science teacher for my choice of crumble – banana. It was the only fruit available to me and at least I’d made an effort.  It worked and tasted fine with custard. Looking back, I don’t think she, or any of my teachers, was aware that my mother was terminally ill and I was looking after myself and the family when my grandmother couldn’t be there. Perhaps, she might have been more kind to me had she known. When the ‘O’ Level options were announced, she geared me towards needlework, not that I needed any help with my choice.  If I learnt anything about cookery at school, it was the importance of a flour dredger. It was the one thing I was going to have when I had my own kitchen.  Many years passed before that happened and a flour dredger wasn’t included.

From somewhere along the years I’ve mastered enough cookery skills to feed myself properly when I lived alone and raise my family on a well-balanced diet and some home-baked treats,  Christmas cake, birthday cake, biscuits, flapjack and bread. There’s usually something tempting by the bread bin.

As Covid 19 hit, a national shortage of all important things happened overnight. It wasn’t just toilet rolls and domestic cleaning items with the basic food stuffs, flour became impossible to find.  I was in Dumfries & Galloway as lockdown commenced and found an abundance of various flours in Kirkcudbright’s Co-op. I bought one packet of bread flour and one packet of plain flour to bring home. We came back into self-isolation, relying on shopping deliveries or family members picking things up for us. I told everyone to look for flour and buy me any sort, also baking powder, which had vanished from stock lists everywhere. Flapjack became the usual home bake as porridge oats and syrup were still easily available. I even blitzed some oats to make a flour suitable for melt-in-the-mouth oaty cookies. They were so successful, that I’d like to believe the nasty Domestic Science ma’am would have a tiny word of praise.  She will be quite old by now, possibly shaking her flour dredger in the next world.

I have lots of flour now, of all types, even some organic rye flour, ideal for making almond shortcake, according to the blurb on the packet. I had to try out the recipe and it is delicious, as my disappearing waistline can confirm.

Ah, flour dredger, a Fred one from Homepride. I’ll put it on my birthday list.


My poem,  Flour Shortage

And on the Home Baking aisle, shelves are bare,
Devoid of flour that's usu'lly there.
No bread flour, no self-raising, no plain,
Not even that fancy rye or whole grain.
The entire selection is out of stock
Because too many people ran amok
Filling their trolleys with endless supplies
Of bread and milk and beans and frozen pies.
And flour.

I brought some home from Scotland, back in March.
Some plain and some wholemeal flour, low starch.
I bake a lot and I like my own bread
Otherwise, Hovis is perfect, instead.
I use up my flour then need some more,
I'm shopping on-line like never before.
No rice, no pasta, no cheese? Human greed
Means there's no provision for what I need,
No flour.

Pamela Winning 2020


Thanks for reading, keep baking and keep safe, Pam x



Tuesday, 10 April 2018

Cake - Baked With Love


“This morning I resolved to bake

A Mary Berry drizzle cake.

Down your way the sun may sizzle,

Round here there is heavy drizzle.”
 
                                                         Pam Ayres, from Twitter

 

We have eaten the last crumbs of my home made Simnel cake. It lasted surprisingly long, for any cake in our house, but we were also working our way through an abundant supply of hot cross buns. They were on special offer of two packs for half price or something like that and we couldn’t resist. The thing is, there are only the two of us living here and a limited time to eat them. Actually, no one else in the family likes anything with fruit in, so we weren’t obliged to share. For visiting family, I made some plain buns with icing on top, which my grandchildren call ‘Nanna cake’ and enjoy devouring.

My Nanna Hetty made the best currant cake I’ve ever known. She had it in a tin in her yellow kitchen and always gave me a piece after I’d eaten all my tea. She passed away when I was eight. My memories of her are precious. I loved spending school holidays at her bungalow and she enjoyed looking after me. My currant buns are good, but not a patch on her delicious recipe.

We were so lucky to have the generous gift of a perfect wedding cake. Three tiers of dark, rich fruit cake baked and decorated by my friend’s mother.  It was a beautiful work of art and tasted divine.

Last year, on the run up to Hallowe’en, I was given some home-grown pumpkins and looked for something to make instead of pumpkin pie and pumpkin soup. I discovered a recipe for pumpkin loaf, a sweet, dessert bread which was equally good plain or buttered and with or without dried fruit.

Home-made cake is the best. I have made Victoria Sponge birthday cakes for my children and now I make them for my grandchildren. I tell them that I put lots of love into the mixture to make them extra special. I hope I’m also baking happy memories, like my Nanna Hetty did.
 
I found this poem,

 
Cakes in the Staffroom by Brian Moses

 
Nothing gets teachers more excited
than cakes in the staffroom at break time.
Nothing gets them more delighted
than the sight of plates
piled high with jammy doughnuts
or chocolate cake

It’s an absolute stampede
as the word gets round quickly,

And it’s “Oooh” these are really delicious
and “Aaah” these doughnuts are ace.

And you hear them say, “I really shouldn’t”
or “Just a tiny bit, I’m on a diet.”

Really, it’s the only time they’re quiet
when they’re cramming cakes into their mouths,
when they’re wearing a creamy moustache
or the jam squirts out like blood,
or they’re licking chocolate
from their fingers.

You can tell when they’ve been scoffing,
they get lazy in literacy,
sleepy in silent reading,
nonsensical in numeracy,
look guilty in assembly.

But nothing gets teachers more excited
than cakes in the staffroom at break time,
unless of course,
it’s wine in the staffroom at lunchtime!

 
© 2005, Brian Moses


 
Thanks for reading, Pam x