The Cottage Smallholder

Danny’s face fell ten years ago when John Coe stepped proudly into the cottage with a carrier bag bursting with home grown beetroot. Later he admitted that he hated beetroot. He imagined that beetroot had to be transmogrified to that vinegary stuff in jars. I made him beetroot soup and he loved it so much Read More »

My mother and stepfather were both talented amateur watercolour artists. They rented a chalet in the Swiss Engadine for a month each summer when we were growing up. They spent their days painting. I used to refurbish Henrietta’s wardrobe. She was my rag doll. Much loved and a great model for my creations. Later I Read More »

“How is the packing going and when are you actually leaving?” Good friends are leaving tomorrow for three weeks of sun sand and sea. We are going to get intimate with their cat, rabbits, fish and chickens. “I decided not to pack marmalade even though I had a jar kept for our holiday. But we’re Read More »

Gradually Danny and I are eating more whole grain bread. It does taste good, is better fuel and doesn’t have one dashing to the car to search for a forgotten bar of chocolate mid morning. But sometimes there’s nothing like a crusty white loaf for breakfast. We woke to an empty bread bin this morning.  Read More »

Our cottage was owned by basket weavers until 25 years ago. Mr and Mrs D lived the simple life. They kept pigs and chickens and grew their own vegetables. I am told that they made their own wine and welcomed the village children to visit as they had none of their own. Sometimes I work Read More »

I love pasta. Danny was so so for years. When we visit Italy I am keen to sample as many of their sauces and starters as possible – looking for secrets and hints for the ultimate pasta sauce recipe. Danny sticks to steaks and puds. “They’re the same price and I love steak.” Danny is Chief Read More »

“That’s what your little one will look like when she grows up.” S pointed to a couple of pretty Wyandotte hens in their run. Last week I didn’t think that Dixie Chick would ever grow up. The month old chick was ill and clearly struggling. Initially I noticed that she was shrieking and pointing her Read More »

The no knead spelt bread that I mentioned last week was finally finished today. It was eaten for four days by me and Danny joined me for the last two days. So with six breakfasts and lunches the loaf achieved a good innings. I sliced it ultra fine (3mm) as this loaf could be aptly Read More »

In 1990, at the start of the boom, I was living in London and working in a small photo library in the East End. This was way beyond the City (the square mile of London’s East End that is the financial centre). Here there were quiet residential streets and parking spaces. I wasn’t happy in this job as my dyslexia Read More »

I decided to try a different sort of fish pie. One that was easy on the fish but tasty enough to satisfy. My mum is addicted to Waitrose Spinach Mornay. If I incorporated spinach in a creamy sauce, our 325g of cod and the last two guinea fowl eggs of the season, I might be able Read More »