The Soup Meister

I love soup, any soup, providing it doesn’t come out of a tin.  The soup meister is in full swing at this time of year, trying to use all the excess vegetables coming out of the garden.  Last week it was courgette soup, this week it’s going to be Paul’s speciality - tomato soup.  Although the big tomatoes are only just starting to show a tinge of red, the smaller tomatoes are ripening now at a rapid rate. 

Paul tips all the tomatoes into a large pan, chucks in a few onions and garlic cloves, maybe a red chilli or two, fresh basil, olive oil, a dash of balsamic vinegar and roasts it all for about 45 minutes.  When cool it all goes through a food mill and voila – a rich tomato sauce.  This is then mixed with some vegetable stock to make a really tasty, smooth tomato soup.  

Sometimes things don't go exactly to plan...

 

A Summer's Day

A lovely summer's day, not too hot, not too cold.  Just right. A cycle ride this morning, lunch on the terrace, reading my book this afternoon.  I feel like stretching my legs now, why don't you join me for a wander around the garden...

A young aubergine developing - I love the black shininess.

The grapes are doing well this year.   They will ripen into a red eating variety.

 My 'folly'.  I liked the long vista this shot offered.

Campanula - a wild plant stolen from the woods.

Owl - courtesy of B&Q with a big price tag of £2.00.  I always like to bring a 'house present' out here each year.

The wisteria continues to flower throughout the summer.

"Do you fancy going to the spa tomorrow?"
"The one at Ax-les-Thermes?
"No, the one in Villefranche."
"There isn't a spa in Villefranche."
"Well I mean the Vival shop or the Spar shop, whatever. We need some more milk ."

No Ordinary Red Barrow

This is no ordinary wheelbarrow.  This is a relic of the infamous Heytesbury Red Barrow Display Team.  Twenty years ago it was a plain black wheelbarrow.  It was in 1995 that a group of  ordinary middle aged men in the village disappeared each evening with their trusty barrows.  I thought it was something to do with garden allotments  It remained a mystery until the day of the village school fete when they made their grand entrance as the Red Barrow Display Team.  The village had never seen such a spectacle before.  All the wheelbarrows had been painted bright red with yellow handles and plywood wings attached.  The formation ‘flying’ was impeccable, with near mid air collisions, jumps, and impressive turns.  This was all performed to Battle of Britain music and a hilarious commentary.

Earlier today I used the wheelbarrow to take a load of garden detritus up to the woods.  The wings are no more.  I wonder how many other faded red barrows with yellow handles are lurking in sheds and gardens in rural Wiltshire.

Scrubber

Today I have been scrubbing steps.  When all is said and done, my life isn’t just about lounging in the sunshine.  I don’t do it very often but the bats roosting above the entrance door had made an unholy mess.  

While I was on my hands and knees scrubbing away I was reminded of my grandmother, Alice.  She went into service at a young age at the big house in the village and was employed as a house maid until she married my grandfather who was a groom on the estate.  Cleanliness was next to godliness in my gran’s house, she was always cleaning. Her week followed a strict routine - Monday was wash day, Wednesday was dedicated to baking,  Friday shopping, church twice on Sunday, and she never left the house without her hat and gloves.  Everything in the house was highly polished, even the apples in the fruit bowl.  She never owned a washing machine, vacuum cleaner, or refrigerator.

On Mondays Gran would light the copper in her small kitchen and the smell of soapy, steamy washing would pervade the house. I remember helping to wind the big wrought iron mangle with huge wooden rollers as she fed in the wet washing. After being mangled the sheets used to be so tightly squeezed between the rollers that they used to come out from between the rollers almost horizontal and as stiff as a board.

I am so grateful for all my modern labour saving gadgets that give me time to play, enjoy life and have leisurely afternoons watching the Tour de France.

Experimenting with Beetroot

We plant a lot of beetroot in the potager. It’s a good grower and I love its versatility.  You can boil it, roast it, or grate it raw for salads.  (Young beetroot leaves are great in salads too.) It’s a very healthy food although if you eat too much it turns your pee pink which can be a tad disconcerting for the unaware.

Today I am doing some experimental baking.  Beetroot muffins and a beetroot and chocolate cake.  It will be messy and I shall no doubt end up with very pink hands.  Hopefully I will end up with some edible delights to accompany our coffee breaks.  Watch this space.

This is the easy part, pulling the beetroots out of the ground.

Distracted by a bumblebee on the lavender.

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Grating the beetroot - lovely and messy. 

Beetroot Muffins

Beetroot and Chocolate Cake

The chocolate cake is wonderfully rich and moist, the beetroot muffins are quite pleasant but disappointingly un-pink.  I have separated the cake into batches and put most of it in the freezer.  Not very sophisticated baking but I'm looking forward to my coffee time tomorrow.