Mizmoe

I have been thinking about my cat today, mainly as she died yesterday after 18 years of happy life. She was evil, bad tempered and at times quite nasty. Why did I love her? She had “guts” and I admire that in anything, particularly the female of the species.

The funniest memory was when Geraldine (our hampster and very much like Kypa in temperament) was exercising in her roller ball, Kypa approached the ball with a view to disposing of said smelly rodent. The hampster looked at Kypa and rolled the ball aggressively towards her, the cat backed off and ended up jumping onto the sofa after being chased around the room for several minutes, with me laughing. Kypa did not like being laughed at.

Kypa loved to kill anything smaller than herself, particularly spiders. In our last house in the UK, we had a “colony” of very large hairy spiders that were very aggressive. Kypa chased one, it ended with myself, daughter and Kipper all stood on the sofa seeking refuge after being chased around the living room by the spider. Kypa never bothered a spider again.

We found Kypa on 23 August 1990 after our first visit to Cala D´or, with her sister Pepe. They bother had cat flu, had been abandoned. Kypa approached and though I loved her from the first, my favourite was Pepe, she was so pretty and feminine. She fitted onto my hand, but I backed off when she arched her back and hissed, allowing my daughter to pick her up. This attitude to me continued throughout her life. She loved my father and daughter much more than me. Pepe wasn´t as strong as Kypa and died of the cat flu, the vet managed to save Kypa but said she would not live long and would always be thin. He was right on the latter.

My doctors were horrified when I arrived at the Oncology Department for my final treatment to see a couple of long scratches on my arm, red and sore. When I explained that my cat had scratched me they insisted on treating said wound. It healed, no ill effects, but I understand it could have been nasty. Better to be born lucky than rich!

She gave me many years of happy memories, too numerous to mention and for that I will always be grateful to her.

Comfort food at its best, but I don´t have a recipe for the one we had a couple of days ago. My daughter´s Cuban boyfriend thought it was fantastic. He doesn´t eat much, but had “seconds”. Success, oh yes.

She put in good quality minced beef, onions, garlic, courgette, aubergine, carrot, tomato and plus a couple of the lovely stock cubes sold here in Spain, topped with potatoes sprinkled with some lovely Spanish cheese and slices of fresh tomato. Beef browned in olive oil, all vegetables chopped up very small, sweat with a little olive oil, added to beef along with a little stock, I think - tomato frito to taste - plus some Paprika. It was fantastic, when we have the time we will write down the recipe, but I have to say it wasn´t a traditional Cottage pie. I love my daughter´s cooking, she always makes everything taste so special.

It has been suggested she retakes her hygiene qualifications but here in Spain, sort out some recipes and open up a Tapas Bar but in the current economic climate we do - of course - need to take care as many bars have “gone down” recently.

Even as a child she was interested in the ingredients in our food and their affect on our health, particularly the use of salt and sugar, plus the “fats” issue and what is good for you, what not so good.

I remember her being horrified at the amount of salt my mother put into potatoes being cooked to “mash”, when Mum left the kitchen, she drained off the water, boiled some more and put them back on to cook. Mum did not notice the difference and we haven´t told her.

She normally looks for alternative flavourings for our food (rather than salt and salty stock), ie spices, herbs and so on and we are looking forward to settling somewhere and growing fresh vegetables (organic or as near as possible to being organic). She has just bought some lovely tomato plants, so lovely freshly picked and eaten with a salad

My father was based in India and Africa during the second world war, he got into the habit of using lots of salt, in fact said many times “you can´t get too much salt”, adding more salt to Mum´s cooking. Of course, you can and often do. When I was a child he haemorraged and nearly died, it was only the expertise of one Irish nurse and the doctors who managed to save him. Prior to being ill, he often put salt into water and drank it, how … well goodness knows, but I don´t fancy salty water, no … not at all. He did change, but Mum still used far too much salt … IMHO.

I love white onion soup, these are the closest recipes to the soup my mother served, though her´s did not have cream, just milk and stock, I think in equal quantities and I don´t think Mum ever used mace. I think when I fancy this soup again, I will try different herbs and a little olive oil rather than all that butter.

Recipe 1

1/4 cup unsalted butter
3 generous cups of finely chopped white onions
2 sticks of celery, washed and finely chopped
4 cups of vegetable stock (or chicken)
A blade of mace and bay leaf (in a muslin bag)
3/4 cup wholefat or semi skimmed milk
1/4 cup plain flour
2/3 cup of single cream
Sea salt and white pepper to taste
Herby croutons, if you like them

Sweat the onions and celery for about 5 minutes in melted butter (best not to brown for this soup). Or try half butter and half olive oil
Add the stock, mace and bay leaf, stir and gently bring up to boiling point, cover, reduce the heat and simmer gently until the vegetables are tender (I like sage with onions, but don´t know whether it would work with this soup)
Remove the muslin bag, leave the soup to cool, then blitz to a puree
At this point, add seasoning to taste
Blend the flour with the milk and slowly whisk into the soup
Return the pan to a gentle heat and bring up to a boil, stirring constantly
Reduce the heat and simmer gently for 5 minutes
Taste and adjust seasoning, if necessary
Stir in the cream and reheat gently before serving, do not allow the soup to boil
Serve with herby croutons, or if you like cheese on toast, mini cheesy toasts grilled, float on the top of the soup

Recipe 2

2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 lb white onions, thinly sliced
2 cloves
2 rounded tbsp plain flour
1 pinch freshly grated nutmeg
A bay leaf
1 litre chicken or vegetable stock
300 ml milk
Salt and white pepper
150 ml single cream
3 tbsp grated cheshire cheese

Melt the butter in a saucepan, add the onions and cloves, sweat until they begin to soften, but do not allow them to brown
Sprinkle over the flour and mix well, cook - while stirring - for about 1 minute then add the nutmeg, the bay leaf and stock
Continue stirring while bringing it up the a boil
Simmer until the onions are softened, remove from the heat then gradually stir in milk
Continue stirring while the soup comes up to the boil, remove from the heat and take out the cloves and bay leaf
Serve as is, or liquidise if you like a smooth soup, add the cream and gently reheat (or do the cheffy thing and drizzle the cream onto the soup after you have served it into bowls)
Serve with grated cheese or cheesy toasts or croutons

I mentioned to my daughter that I need to say goodbye to Andre and asked her how I could do this without visiting his grave which isn´t possible as he has returned to his homeland. (I still have difficulty admitting to myself that it isn´t Andre that is returning home, but his body as he has gone).

She said to write to him, so here goes.

Dear Andre

I miss you and even two months on cannot come to terms with the fact that I have lost my “adopted” son. I loved you from the first, when you entered a room it came alive. You charmed all who were privileged to know you, and I was privileged to call you a friend.

I hope if there is a God, and as you know I am not into this higher deity stuff and afterlife, that you are reunited with your mother and the son that you lost.

From us both, all our love and best wishes across the divide.

Mizmoe

I have loved horses since a child, one of my happy childhood memories was my father taking to see the pit ponies on their annual holiday from the mines in August - they were beautiful.

I wanted to learn how to ride but for some reason never asked permission. When I left college just before my 17th birthday, I booked riding lessons at a local centre, I loved it and had lots of fun over the next three years. My tutor had a lovely pony stallion, kind and easy to ride. I think they would call him “bomb proof” today.

I was on holiday from work (we had two weeks set holiday per year, in August). I went out on a long hack and whilst out the weather deteriorated, when it started to thunder neither of us were frightened but started to make our way home anyway as the rain was quite heavy. Toby was meandering along on a long rein when - two miles out - lightning struck a tree about one hundred or so yards ahead, what was left of the tree was burning, debris scattered over the road, the only reaction from my horse was a snort and he stopped. A few kind words and a pat, he walked on, albeit at the other side of the lane - there was no other way back to the stables.

This was my second brush with lightning, but somehow it paled into insignificance two years later. We had been married maybe four/five months when my husband was talking to friends in the garden at the rear of their home, they all froze in terror as what looked like a ball of fire was travelling at high speed towards them, too fast for them to get out of the way, luckily at the last minute it changed direction hitting a nearby house - fortunately empty, otherwise I would have been a very young widow.

When I was 9 years old my parents decided I should have private swimming lessons, this followed three months of weekly visits to the pool, the nearest I came to actually going in the water was dipping my toes in for a couple of seconds. I hated the feel of the water on my skin and found it uncomfortably cold.

I finally took the plunge and learned how to swim, using an inflatable ring. I was so frightened of the water that many months later I was swimming quite well - still wearing an uninflated ring! The family version of events is that I finally gained confidence after my sister left it on the bus, accidentally of course.

My recollection differs. I accompanied my sister to a swimming club one Sunday morning, as usual I stood at the pool side unwilling to go into the cold uninviting water. In frustration one of the lifeguards threw me in, I never looked back! Sister did actually leave the ring on the bus on the same day.

The following July I gave a swimming demonstration at the senior school in our village. One year later I won the first of my school championships and captained my team, I retained the title until I left at 14 to go to College for 2 years. I swam for my local team, and won the breaststoke championship cup until I stopped swimming at the age of 16, when I was considered to be “too old”.

Many years ago my father grew some spaghetti marrow, quite a new thing really. We baked the marrow in the oven until tender, cut it in half lengthways, scooped out the seeds then removed the “spaghetti” strands with two forks. This was served with a simple buttery sauce and it was delicious. Amazing how the simplest of dishes lives on in your memory, in this case for 50 years! Fresh veggies out of the garden cannot be beaten for taste and goodness.

2 tbsp olive oil
1 cup yellow Zucchinis, diced
1 cup small broccoli florets
1 1/2 cups young snow peas
1 cup petit pois
4 young and tender asparagus spears, sliced
8 button mushrooms, sliced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1/3 cup pine nuts
1/3 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley (leaves only)
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan or Pecorino
6 tbsp butter
1 cup double cream
1/3 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
2 Marmande tomatoes, skinned deseeded and diced
Sea salt and black pepper - to taste
Garnish - Parmesan shavings

Steam or lightly boil the zucchini, broccoli, snow peas, petit pois, asparagus and mushrooms for about 3 minutes, immediately rinse under cold running water, leave to drain

Meanwhile, heat a tablespoon of oil in a large frying pan set over a medium heat, add the garlic and pine nuts, while stirring cook until the pine nuts start to turn brown, this will take about 2 minutes

Add the remaining oil followed by the vegetables, parsley and seasoning - to taste. Cook for about 2 minutes

Add the “courgette pasta” to the sauce, stir in the Parmesan, butter, cream and basil, heat thoroughly, toss gently then scatter over the tomatoes and Parmesan shavings, serve immediately with crusty Spanish or French bread

I remember my first experience of pasta, Ian (then my brother in law) made it and it was fantastic as he was a natural cook, he made an excellent lemon drizzle cake, the best I had ever tasted until my daughter made one a couple of years ago. This dish has similar ingredients, but Ian’s had been adapted to include some British ingredients, ie Cheddar Cheese, the much maligned “Spam”, bacon bits, thin sausages that had been cooked and skinned, then roughly chopped and condensed tomato soup. When I made the dish I used chopped plum tomatoes instead of the soup. It wasn’t quite as tasty though. Perhaps there was an unknown ingredient in there somewhere.

125 grams macaroni
1 tbsp olive oil
1 clove garlic, crushed
4 salad onions, finely sliced
60 grams Morel mushrooms, quartered
1 tinned red pepper, diced
90 grams dolcelatte, roughly crumbled
2 tbsp single cream
1 tbsp freshly chopped flat leaf parsley
Sea salt and black pepper
1 egg, beaten
50 grams mozzarella cheese, sliced or torn

Preheat the oven to 200° Celsius
Cook the pasta following instructions
While the pasta is cooking, heat the oil in a large saucepan and gently cook the onion, mushrooms and pepper until softened, towards the end add the garlic and stir to combine
Stir in the crumbled dolcelatte, cream, parsley and seasoning, to taste
Add the egg and drained pasta shapes, stir to combine then spoon into a lightly buttered or oiled ovenproof dish
Arrange the mozzarella cheese over the top
Place in a preheated oven for 20 minutes or until a light golden brown
Serve with a tomato and basil salad and crusty bread

Two weeks tomorrow we will be moving to a small village near the coast of Murcia. The urbanization is quite new, built in the Spanish style with a mix of nationalities. Equidistant from Aguilas and Calabardina, this area boasts a number of blue flag beaches, plus some that are quite remote and not frequented by tourists, for instance a beach set aside for nudists. Not my cup of tea, body not up to being “shown off” in public but even when younger I could never see the attraction.

To disgress, many years ago the family were on holiday at Barmston Beach in Yorkshire, again a beautiful beach with a lovely long stretch of sand quite popular with “bird watchers” and there were many beautiful birds in the vicinity!

The first morning we ventured onto the sands, as we walked along the beach I noticed a number of people with binoculars and asked what type of bird they were interested in, for some reason they laughed, I admit to being a little annoyed at their reaction thinking them rude, however, when we ventured onto the beach, I quickly understood why as part of the beach had been set aside for people who liked to return to nature!

On returning to the caravan I explained to Dad that we had seen two men walking along the beach, one wearing a sweater, the second a watch! Dad understood immediately, as usual we had to explain to Mum exactly why a man wearing a watch and one wearing a sweater was unusual, Mum commented that it was a “bit nippy” and he would need a sweater to keep him warm! In the end I said “Mum, that was all they were wearing”. At last she understood, she then had a “dicky fit”, whittering on about their grand daughter being too young for “that sort of thing” whereas my daughter thought it funny, after all she wasn’t that young! To be blunt, neither had a lot to boast about.

For several years I have been looking for a supply of brittle liquorice and finally found something that looks about right from Liquorice World

Brittle Liquorice helped me stop smoking - I was having a medical prior to starting a new job, the doctor found a minor heart problem and bluntly said “if you don’t stop smoking now you will not reach your 29th birthday. I was 28, it was mid June and my birthday is at the beginning of December”. I never smoked another cigarette.