Arizona (or at least some parts of it) definitely is sounding very appealing to me right about now....
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This pic is looking down into Sedona from Schnebly Hill Rd. This pic doesn't do the red rocks justice as they are a much deeper red.
The mountain way in the background is Mingus Mountain and I live at the base of it. There was still some snow at the top this morning as it tops at around 7,600'. Lots of vineyards and small wineries in the area as well.
The mountain way in the background is Mingus Mountain and I live at the base of it. There was still some snow at the top this morning as it tops at around 7,600'. Lots of vineyards and small wineries in the area as well.
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Just back from the city - a dark, dreary, bleak, cold (but mercifully, dry) afternoon, with charcoal skies grimly threatening assorted disasters.
A break was welcome following almost four hours of online meetings earlier in the day.
Necessary purchases included Jersey milk, Cornish butter, and double cream.
And I popped into the French bakery, and paid them in advance for tomorrow's bread which they shall put aside for me (and noticed their empty shelves; they sell out their stuff early, and their small coffee shop is always full).
Anyway, I treated myself to a (belated) purchase of a 2024 diary (the sort that comes with paper pages), which took the form of a small Moleskine diary, and also bought some of my favourite A5 notebooks made by the excellent Leuchtturm1917 company.
And blood oranges.......
They are now in season.
Shortly before Christmas, I had baulked at the price, but - while their price is still too high, it is no longer outrageous, as it is falling, and besides, I had decided that today was a day - mid January bleakness - that was made for blood oranges; thus, twelve of them made their way into my rucksack.
While I loathe winter, it does have some (small) compensations, such as excellent seasonal citrus fruit. In any case, I love blood oranges, and citrus fruit (grapefruit and lemons were acquired yesterday, as were mangoes and passion fruit) is excellent at the moment.
A break was welcome following almost four hours of online meetings earlier in the day.
Necessary purchases included Jersey milk, Cornish butter, and double cream.
And I popped into the French bakery, and paid them in advance for tomorrow's bread which they shall put aside for me (and noticed their empty shelves; they sell out their stuff early, and their small coffee shop is always full).
Anyway, I treated myself to a (belated) purchase of a 2024 diary (the sort that comes with paper pages), which took the form of a small Moleskine diary, and also bought some of my favourite A5 notebooks made by the excellent Leuchtturm1917 company.
And blood oranges.......
They are now in season.
Shortly before Christmas, I had baulked at the price, but - while their price is still too high, it is no longer outrageous, as it is falling, and besides, I had decided that today was a day - mid January bleakness - that was made for blood oranges; thus, twelve of them made their way into my rucksack.
While I loathe winter, it does have some (small) compensations, such as excellent seasonal citrus fruit. In any case, I love blood oranges, and citrus fruit (grapefruit and lemons were acquired yesterday, as were mangoes and passion fruit) is excellent at the moment.
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Anything shipped by sea is only going to get more expensive. But I suspect these are flown over.
Troubling times, but with out getting political a difficult subject to discuss online.
Well, my Leuchtturm1917 A5 notebooks - which are what I love to write in, the quality of the paper is superb, and they hold fountain pen ink exceedingly well - (and, for that matter, my small, Moleskine 2024 diary) had both increased (rather noticeably) in price since I had last bought either of them, around a year ago.
Actually, very noticeably.
Shipping containers have gone up 80% here. That will trickle down to most things.
Yes, I not only agree, but I have noticed the incessant increase in the price of almost everything, sometimes quite a striking difference to what the price used to be.
Just dropped into my local shop (store); they deliver the FT, my citrus fruit and my organic milk, and I also bought crisps, and some other stuff such as sauerkraut, plenty of bog standard salt (for driveways), and various other products such as sparkling water.
These days, one winces at the bill.
And, today when in the French bakery, I also noticed a very seasonal French treat, the galette des rois (a cake that is traditionally shared on 6th January, the feast of the Epiphany, the Magi, the Three Wise Men/Kings).
Last year, once they had re-opened in January, - which is always sometime after sixth of January - I remember that they had stocked this seasonal delight (a few days a week) for the entire month of January, and continued into February; actually, serving galette des rois traditionally comes to an end on Shrove Tuesday.
Tomorrow, I think that I shall treat myself to a slice or two of galette des rois when I collect my French bread.
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Now you’ve got me thinking about pancakes. Not had any of those in 10 years I’m guessing.
Nor I.
Not since Mother was claimed by dementia. She used to make delicious pancakes on Shrove Tuesday, a special treat.
Well, one of the things I had planned to buy today was good quality chocolate biscuits, better still, shortbread biscuits.
Decent Brother reminded me that some stores may wish to get rid of their Christmas stock, and that now is a good time to buy shortbread and (Swiss/German/Austrian) chocolate biscuits, both because January is dismal, and also, because sometimes there will be a reduction in the price of these delights in the weeks after Christmas.
In any case, I paid a visit to a famous old (up-market) deli - founded a little over a century ago - that I knew stocked such things; alas, I had forgotten that the family that had owned it, had sold it in the past few years (just before, or during, or immediately after, the pandemic).
I hadn't been there in ages.
Well, today was a bit of a disappointment; there were no good German (or Austrian, or Swiss) biscuits, and worse, much worse, unforgivably, there was no shortbread.
Their cheese counter - which used to be the best in the region until the cheesemonger opened around twenty years ago - had shrunk, as had what used to be their really good deli meat selection.
Oh, dear.
Well, I do know another place where I should be able to acquire some shortbread - this is perfect shortbread weather.
Enjoy when you eventually track some down. The only biscuits we have are some digestives in the garage. Mrs AFB feeds them to the birds!
Well, Decent Brother also loves shortbread, and this strikes me as a perfect time of year to indulge (if only I can manage to lay hands on some).
Mother, I think, would have liked the galette des rois.
She certainly loved almond croissants, better still almond and chocolate croissants, which she absolutely adored, devouring them with greedy delight, and which we (the carer and/or I) used to buy for her every single week (from the French bakery) right up until the very end.
In fact, any time I am in the French bakery, whenever my eye alights upon the almond croissants, or the almond and chocolate croissants, I find myself smiling.
I thought she was partial to a fruit tart?
Never been a fan of croissants. They are just not my thing. I’d rather a nice bowl of cereal in the morning. Porridge is my preferred this time of year. Although I give Mrs AFB weekends off from making it!
No, that is me.
And siblings, and relatives, and family friends: Everyone used to love Mother's apple tarts, and rhubarb tarts and apple and rhubarb crumbles. Actually, we all did.
Whenever any of us had friends (from school, or university), coming back for dinner, we would ask - request, plead, beseech - her to prepare one of her apple (or rhubarb) tarts or crumbles; and, in fairness, she almost always did so, and they were devoured.
And yes, this is true, she was most partial to apple tarts (above all, the ones she, herself, had baked) before dementia claimed her.
However, with dementia she developed a very sweet tooth (this seems to be one of the symptoms of dementia), and with the sweet tooth came a positive passion for almond croissants, and - better still - almond and chocolate croissants (which I loved that she enjoyed, but personally, find far too sweet).
It even got to the stage where she wouldn't eat her dinner - at all - in the evening if she had so much as spotted the (waiting) croissants for dessert; the carer had to hide the croissants, until Mother had eaten as much of dinner as she was going to eat - sausages and chips, and chicken always went down well; vegetables, a lot less so.
In the early days, we used to try to prepare really healthy and tasty (and organic) stuff; eventually, we realised that it was better just to give her what she actually wanted to eat.
For me, they are an occasional treat, perhaps on a Sunday, once every month (in winter), three months (in summer).
I prefer them plain, and will heat them, then serve them with butter and good quality strawberry or apricot jam, or sometimes, better still, with good quality ham and (melted) cheese, which is what I actually personally prefer.
My dad's also.
My dad always prepared his own, and took charge of us for breakfast and getting us ready for school when we were young kids.
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Apple crumble was something I used to like as a kid (home made) with custard. We used to have rhubarb crumble too, but I was less keen. It was always very stringy and bitter.
My Dad was always at work well before we got up as kids. I think he used to leave around 4 am. My Mum used to leave around 7:30. So breakfast was a help yourself set up.
When we got married Mrs AFB used to bring me breakfast in bed, but these days I go for a run first thing so breakfast is somewhat later after I’ve showered. Mrs AFB makes porridge for me whilst I shower Monday to Friday before I go to work.
Weekends or days off I tend do just have regular cereal.
My friend whose father passed on Christmas Day was not eating much at the end. His last meal was fishfingers which (at the end) was apparently his favourite.
Like you they looked after him at home right until the end. Very dedicated.
Have you ever tried beer bread? It's on my mind as we baked some last night with stew.
Yes, yum, was everyone's reaction.
Always.
Not the way Mother made it.
Her rhubarb crumble (or tart) was both soft, and sort of sweet'n'sour in taste (which I loved).
As far as I can remember, I think that she used to add a little liquid, (a few tablespoons of water), plus some brown sugar to the rhubarb.
And, she (before her decline) loved rhubarb, and gooseberries; I used to buy her homemade gooseberry jam from the market, (and homemade blackcurrant jam) which she used to love, before she fell ill.
Dad got us going, but we always prepared our own breakfast; I remember having been taught how to boil eggs (and, strangely, how to prepare coffee) by the time I was six or seven years old.
As a kid, Decent Brother used to like a sickly sweet marmalade - one that was almost a jelly.
As an adult, nowadays, he always prepares porridge, (on week-days, week-ends are different) just as Mrs AFB does for you, and has proper, nice and bitter, marmalade.
Same as Decent Brother.
I never much liked cereals, as - even as a child - I found them too sweet, but did develop a taste for muesli in my teens.
Mother always used to ensure (in the weekly shop) that everyone had what they wanted for breakfast, though we prepared it ourselves from the very beginning, overseen, (and directed, as small kids) by my father; muesli (and bitter marmalade) - and eggs and coffee - for me, Weetabix and toast and tea for Other Brother, sickly sweet marmalade and tea and toast for Decent Brother, dad bought his own porridge, brown bread for toast - nobody ate white - and so on.
Wow.
Mother loved fish fingers in her latter days, as well; preferably with roast potatoes (which she adored).
In an ideal world, that is how it should be, and it is wonderful that they wanted to do that and were able to do that.
Now, we were very fortunate that we had the carer, - we couldn't have done this without her, the care needs were too great - and also, that we were able to afford this quality of care. And we were privileged that we were able to look after her - properly - at home right until the very end.
She would have hated - she often had said so - the idea of a one of those awful homes, and none of us wanted that for her, and we were all agreed to care for her, to take care of her, for as long as it was possible at home.
Thankfully, we had the carer, - who was beyond brilliant, and who was with us for six years - without whom that quality of care would not have been possible.
Thus, right to the end, Mother was in her own home, - a place which she knew and loved - where she was comfortable and content, warm and cosy and fed, and, above all, felt safe, a place where she was surrounded by the people whom she loved and who loved her, and was not in any way frightened, or distressed or upset, which would have been awful especially at a time when she was no longer in a position where she was able to articulate, or express, her needs.
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Bread that has been baked with beer?
If it is what I think it is, it is delicious.
Anyway, I've had some in Belgium, where their beer and breweries are brilliant (it was amazing), and a friend (once I had told her about this), did add beer to the bread she baked, and it was lovely.
I first had it after my wife went to a Tastefully Simple party. She brought home a box of "ingredients" that all you do is add 1 12oz beer to and mix. Then pour it into a buttered bread pan (preferably ceramic), drizzle some melted butter over the top and bake.
The beer contains both the liquid and yeast.
Since the TS stuff was like $14/box for 3 loaves, she looked online and found several recipes for it. Some even use Sprite and Cranberry juice for holiday breads.
Tastefully Simple Beer Bread
Make a quick and easy loaf of beer bread with just four ingredients: self-rising flour, sugar, butter, and, of course, beer!
We prefer using Michelob Ultra but some people like using a more stout beer.
Well, not quite twenty years ago, in Belgium, (actually, in an ancient and archaic pub somewhere down a small side street off from the Main Square - Market Square - in Bruges), on an EU trip, I was served bread to go with my steak, salad and frites, and beer.I first had it after my wife went to a Tastefully Simple party. She brought home a box of "ingredients" that all you do is add 1 12oz beer to and mix. Then pour it into a buttered bread pan (preferably ceramic), drizzle some melted butter over the top and bake.
The beer contains both the liquid and yeast.
Since the TS stuff was like $14/box for 3 loaves, she looked online and found several recipes for it. Some even use Sprite and Cranberry juice for holiday breads.
Tastefully Simple Beer Bread
Make a quick and easy loaf of beer bread with just four ingredients: self-rising flour, sugar, butter, and, of course, beer!www.allrecipes.com
We prefer using Michelob Ultra but some people like using a more stout beer.
The bread was superlative, - seriously superlative, I was stunned - and I asked the staff about it, following a paean of praise; by way of reply, (and explanation), they simply said that it was beer bread, - a concept completely unknown to me until then - and I will admit that my understanding of what can be considered to be, or, defined as, bread, underwent an utter transformation that evening.
Any chance of getting a fève when buying by the slice? Or does one have to buy the whole thing to have a chance at good fortune in the new year?
Now, that, I do not know, and cannot say.
Last year, irrespective of how many slices of galette des rois I had purchased over the period of the five, or six, weeks that it was available, somehow, the fève inexplicably eluded me.
Tomorrow, I shall treat myself to two slices.
And, then, we shall see.....
Tradition decrees that there is one (fève) per galette des rois.
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My electric blanket is on, my wine glass is pleasantly full, and the phone (my almost antique Apple iPhone SE) for some strange, inexplicable, reason has been exceedingly busy this evening with texts and calls, necessitating responses.
I won't quite say that I am talked out, but some of the (relatively) small number of people whom I hold in high esteem, or high regard, seem to have wished to chat (at length) this evening, including two chaps with whom I have worked (closely) abroad, one, a relatively senior retired police officer, a police superintendent, the other, a retired Army officer (a Lieut-Col); they know each other, but they know me better, or, rather, I know them better - we had all worked closely together (seconded by our govt to work with the EU), for the best part of two years in a country in central Asia that is the very definition of a dysfunctional state.
I suppose those sort of extremely intense (conflict) conditions do engender the (perhaps unexpected but not unwelcome) development of surprisingly close friendships and relationships.
You share stuff - and live through experiences - that nobody else who knows you can possibly begin to understand.
And I will also say that ever since then, those two chaps "have had my back", and I have had theirs, personally and professionally. They are male, and I am a woman, they have security backgrounds, mine is political - political briefing, advice & analysis, - but, a decade later, we still share an extraordinarily close bond.
My former student - the best student I ever taught - (whose son is autistic, @Apple fanboy knows of her) also tried to contact me a few times - and tried to phone and text this evening - text sufficed - as I was busy on the phone (this is almost unprecedented).
It is late.
I'll text her tomorrow, and arrange a time to phone or Skype her.
I won't quite say that I am talked out, but some of the (relatively) small number of people whom I hold in high esteem, or high regard, seem to have wished to chat (at length) this evening, including two chaps with whom I have worked (closely) abroad, one, a relatively senior retired police officer, a police superintendent, the other, a retired Army officer (a Lieut-Col); they know each other, but they know me better, or, rather, I know them better - we had all worked closely together (seconded by our govt to work with the EU), for the best part of two years in a country in central Asia that is the very definition of a dysfunctional state.
I suppose those sort of extremely intense (conflict) conditions do engender the (perhaps unexpected but not unwelcome) development of surprisingly close friendships and relationships.
You share stuff - and live through experiences - that nobody else who knows you can possibly begin to understand.
And I will also say that ever since then, those two chaps "have had my back", and I have had theirs, personally and professionally. They are male, and I am a woman, they have security backgrounds, mine is political - political briefing, advice & analysis, - but, a decade later, we still share an extraordinarily close bond.
My former student - the best student I ever taught - (whose son is autistic, @Apple fanboy knows of her) also tried to contact me a few times - and tried to phone and text this evening - text sufficed - as I was busy on the phone (this is almost unprecedented).
It is late.
I'll text her tomorrow, and arrange a time to phone or Skype her.
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I rarely talk to people on the phone these days. It’s literally only 5 people outside of work.
Mrs AFB (when I’m at work in the office)
My Dad, my Mum and two friends. Although to be fair one of my friends has moved to an area with terrible network coverage, so it’s quite difficult to talk now.
I can spend a few hours on the phone (well MS Teams) each day at work. I’ve usually had enough by then.
Back from the city, where I visited the library (a few books awaited me), and the farmers' market, - a very depleted farmers' market, with most of the stalls still absent, not much for sale, and only a few individuals strolling around.
There, it transpired that the meat stall (and the chap I had given the order to, by phone on Wednesday was equally annoyed, as he had carefully written out the order) had made a mess of my order, removing the bone in the shin beef in the bone.
Now, the whole point of that cut is the bone, which is what actually gives a stew, or casserole, with shin beef - when cooked slowly for a very long time (five, or six, or seven hours) - its amazing flavour, and texture.
So, no shin beef this week; they did have pork belly ready for me (another cut that one must order in advance), and I contented myself with a few chicken thighs (skin and bone attached, as that is where the flavour lies), as well.
One of my vegetable stalls had run out of fresh greens, and aubergines (eggplant) by the time I arrived; supply chains have not been fully restored. Thus, tomatoes, herbs, and cooking apples comprised my purchases.
I also bought oranges, and already have some blood oranges, and treated myself to some freshly squeezed juice at one stand, a blend of beetroot, orange, pineapple, apple, tumeric and ginger, the sort of drink that is not only delicious but leaves you feeling horribly healthy and almost smug with virtue, as well.
In the olive oil stall, (today was their first day back, as it was for the meat and fish stalls), they had forgotten to bring their card machine; I didn't have cash, so they shrugged, and said that I can settle up with them when I am next in the market.
The French bakery had my bread bagged and ready, and - having eyed them yesterday - I requested two slices of delicious galette des rois, which were added to my bag, one of which has already been consumed with my afternoon coffee upon my arrival home.
There, it transpired that the meat stall (and the chap I had given the order to, by phone on Wednesday was equally annoyed, as he had carefully written out the order) had made a mess of my order, removing the bone in the shin beef in the bone.
Now, the whole point of that cut is the bone, which is what actually gives a stew, or casserole, with shin beef - when cooked slowly for a very long time (five, or six, or seven hours) - its amazing flavour, and texture.
So, no shin beef this week; they did have pork belly ready for me (another cut that one must order in advance), and I contented myself with a few chicken thighs (skin and bone attached, as that is where the flavour lies), as well.
One of my vegetable stalls had run out of fresh greens, and aubergines (eggplant) by the time I arrived; supply chains have not been fully restored. Thus, tomatoes, herbs, and cooking apples comprised my purchases.
I also bought oranges, and already have some blood oranges, and treated myself to some freshly squeezed juice at one stand, a blend of beetroot, orange, pineapple, apple, tumeric and ginger, the sort of drink that is not only delicious but leaves you feeling horribly healthy and almost smug with virtue, as well.
In the olive oil stall, (today was their first day back, as it was for the meat and fish stalls), they had forgotten to bring their card machine; I didn't have cash, so they shrugged, and said that I can settle up with them when I am next in the market.
The French bakery had my bread bagged and ready, and - having eyed them yesterday - I requested two slices of delicious galette des rois, which were added to my bag, one of which has already been consumed with my afternoon coffee upon my arrival home.