Cran we fix it? Yes we cran!

That’s what I  recon Bob the Builder says at home in the kitchen when he is contemplating what to do with his leftover Christmas cranberries.

So basically, that was me. I am trying really hard not to waste any food this year. To use it up before it goes off. Mostly, we are pretty good but there is always room for improvement.

So like an episode of Ready Steady Cook where they give you three random ingredients and 10 minutes and tell you to make something out of it, I looked at what we had leftover from Christmas.

One cup frozen cranberries

One orange

Handful of walnuts

Half a pot of plain yogurt

What could I do with it? Make a cake of course! I had a look on google to gain inspiration and found a variety of ideas.

Some had lots of orange juice (three oranges worth)

Some had no oranges (they used milk)

Some used 2 eggs

Some used no eggs

Some used applesauce

Some used a huge amount of oil

Some used a large amount of walnuts (one cup)

Some used no nuts

Some used enough sugar to put you in a diabetic coma

Some were lightly sweetened

So I just fiddled about and combined what I had and made a delicious cake!

Some orange juice and some milk

No eggs (or egg replacer)

Yogurt in place of oil

 Some walnuts

Lightly sweetened

Cranberry orange leftovers cake

Grease an 8x8 pan and preheat oven to 180C/350F

In a bowl combine:

2 cups wholemeal flour (I used wholemeal spelt, if using spelt add an extra 2TB flour), sifted

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

Zest of one orange

½ cup sugar (I used Demerara)

Handful broken walnuts (maybe 1/3  of a cup?)

1 cup frozen cranberries that have been defrosted in the fridge for about an hour

In a separate bowl:

Juice of one orange (about ¼ a cup) and the rest milk to you get one cup of liquid

½ cup plain yogurt

1 tsp vanilla essence

Make sure the walnuts and cranberries are coated in flour so they won’t sink to the bottom of the pan.

Wisk the yogurt into the liquid and add the vanilla and then mix into the dry ingredients. 

Spoon into pan and bake for 35 minutes or so or until a toothpick in the centre comes clean. I like to make some slight finger indents on top so the glaze will puddle in the craters, but that’s just me. 

Glaze:

Half a cup sifted icing sugar

A few sloshes of milk to make a runny glaze

Let cake cool about 15 minutes and then pour glaze on and let it harden. Slice cake into nine squares when cool and eat.

The beauty of the cake is that it is lightly sweet with a bit of tangy, juicy berry inside. It is plenty moist with no oil and  a hint of orange. Try it if you’ve got leftovers at home!

Be the change you wish to see in the world

Gandhi said that. It is a good quote. It is no use sitting around grumbling about the state of things if you don’t do something to change them.

 

But how do you do that?

 

Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.--Arthur Ashe.

 

I like to spend New Year’s Day doing a little of all the things I hope to do in the year. Usually this involves some creative stuff (Yesterday I did some sewing and card making) and some music (I practiced three Welsh tunes on Tallulah the ukulele which prompted Spiderman to casually remark how good it was sounding which just made my heart bloom with joy).  I  cooked delicious food (we had roasted parsnips and carrots for lunch!) and we had black eyed peas with cornbread and kale in the evening for good luck and prosperity in the new year.  We read some books and watched some comedy in the evening as well.

 

Those where all things I did for myself, but what could I do for others?

 

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.--Anne Frank.

 

I heard on New Year’s Eve about an annual event that made my blood run cold. Every year on New Year’s Day the Carmarthenshire Hunt MFHA (Masters of Foxhounds Association) ride their horses and hounds into town for a parade before going out to hunt. While the Hunting Act was introduced in 2004 which banned the hunting of wild mammals such as foxes, deer, hares and mink using dogs in England and Wales, it does not  cover the use of dogs in the process of flushing out wild mammals nor does not affect trail hunting where hounds are trained to follow an artificial scent (usually fox urine).  There is always a worry that the ban will be lifted. Our current Prime Minister David Cameron has said that if the conservatives get into power in the next election that the Hunting Act will be repealed.

 

Basically, there are many ways that they can still participate in blood sports while skirting within the boundaries of the law. Last year a pack of hounds chased a terrified fox onto a main road and tore the fox apart in front of a busload full of horrified commuters; the Carmarthenshire MFHA  deny any knowledge. There is some discussion that it is suspected that some fox hunters are breeding foxes and then releasing them, but there is no overt proof.

 

Even if the Carmarthenshire MFHA do not hunt foxes outright, they do still trail hunt with fox urine, rabbit hunt, rat hunt, hunt hares that have been shot and use dogs to flush birds of prey. While they are all legal, I do not consider them to be moral. They say on their website that they do the trail running to “keep the traditions and practices alive” which to that I say tradition does not make it right. Traditionally we have had slaves and women did not have the right to vote. These were traditions and practices we used to believe were good, but no longer do. Cruelty is NOT a sport.

 

When I heard on New Year’s Eve that this parade of cruelty was going to take place in my town and that the League Against Cruel Sports and West Wales Animal Aid would be there in protest I knew I had to go. God was calling to my heart and telling me this was what He was asking of me.

 

So I designed a poster and laminated it (for fear of Welsh rain) and prayed that it would be peaceful and that I could make a difference.

 

On New Year’s Day I went out to meet the other protestors. I had no idea what to expect. Mostly I listened. I heard all about ways that the hunt is declining and needs to hire hunters from other counties to boost their numbers for these parades. I learned to look for violations that we could report to the police. There was a man from the RSPCA there who observed the horses and hounds for signs of abuse or neglect ( a few years ago several of the hounds were seen to be mange-y looking and scabby and rib thin.).

 

Here is a link from the local paper to a photo gallery from the day showing both the hunters and the protesters. You can see me clearly in several shots due to my bright pink coat and grey hat. I am standing on the far left. http://www.carmarthenjournal.co.uk/pictures/PICTURES-View-photo-gallery-Carmarthenshire-Hunt/pictures-25793608-detail/pictures.html

 

The order of the day was that the horse riders would ride in on their horses wearing their red jackets after stopping off at local pubs for a drink. They arrive in Guildhall Square to cheering crowds before going out for a hunt. They arrived to great fanfare as we protestors who numbered around twenty stood on the steps. The horses and riders all crowded in front of us  and the hounds ran feely through the crowd and between the protestors. The horses were nervous and some riders could not control them and they skittered into each other. The dogs running between their legs did not help. Our worries that the riders had been drinking too much to safely “manage their vehicle” (if a horse counts as a vehicle) were confirmed when a woman bearing a tray of wine glasses was weaving in and out of the horses to offer the riders a tipple when a horse reared and knocked her over and the glasses all shattered on the pavement. We were upset as there was broken glass that could easily cut the tender feet of dogs or nearby children.  Can a horse get glass lodged in a hoof? I didn’t want to find out.  A policeman came and quickly swept the glass up. We shouted at them for using real glass around animals--a health and safety issue. They shouted at us saying “ You think we MEANT for that to happen?”

 

There was lots of shouting. We shouted BOOOOO when crowds were cheering. I did not want to hurl abuse, the Quaker in me would not let me. But I did shout SHAME! and CRUELTY IS NOT A SPORT! because I firmly believe that blood sports are wrong. Someone shouted “There are two arseholes on a horse, one on the horse and the other sitting  on top of the horse!” which made me laugh, but I did not want to name call. I wanted to pray for everyone.

 

The hunting of innocent animals for sport is cruel. The desire to harm another living being for fun is not fun for anyone. I think the saddest thing for me was that there were several really young children riders who were probably on their first hunt. Later in the day, when they made a kill, the blood of the innocent animal would be rubbed on their faces as initiation. Because it is tradition.

 

The riders trotted off and the protesters discussed ways they were going to report them for violations that we had photographed them doing (we also tried to film them doing something that we know to be illegal but we were continually blocked by their men who kept stepping in front of our cameras) and then wearily said, “See you next year.”

 

I don’t know if being there helped. I don’t know what impact it may have. But I know I needed to be there, to make a stand for something I feel is truly wrong. I know I will now actively pray for them, to soften their hearts, but also to keep my heart from hatred as well. Because hatred is a hot coal that burns you as you prepare to hurl it at someone else.

 

Do you want to know who you are? Don’t ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.--Thomas Jefferson.       

 

So this year in 2015, I hope to act more to change the world for good. What will you do?

Ode to a Parsnip

I have a new favourite vegetable. Move over tender-stem broccoli. Step aside curly kale. Make room for the humble parsnip.

I used to think I *hated* parsnips. They are such a British thing with people going on and on about how lovely they are along side their roast dinners. So I consulted Doctor Google and found a recipe for curried bramley apple and parsnip soup. It sounds good doesn’t it? We bought some really large parsnips from the market and tried it.

Blech………it was so gross we poured the whole soup down the sink and went out and bought chips from the chippy. Seriously. This has become a famous story that is guaranteed to make British people laugh.

But recently, we met some friends at the local vegetarian café for a “Christmas dinner” special. You got nutroast, gravy, roast potatoes and caramelised parsnips and carrots.

Oh….my….days. They were good. So good. Indescribably good. But they only gave you a few.

I wanted more. I went on a mission. I really read upon the parsnip and discovered a few things.

1) the younger and smaller they are the sweeter they are

2) the older and bigger they are means they can contain a woody core that is unpleasant to eat. Aha! This is where we went wrong with the parsnip soup! I forgot to cut out the woody core!

I also learned how to make them like we ate them at the Waverly Café. Heat your oven to 220C/425F and preheat your pan. Slice your parsnips and carrots into baton shapes (cutting out the woody core if necessary and then add 1 Tablespoon of oil and pour veg into the hot pan (hear that sizzle!) and roast in a hot oven until brown and caramelised (20-25 minutes stirring half way) and then drizzle on a tablespoon of maple syrup and cook for 2 minutes longer. Don’t overcrowd the pan or they’ll steam and not brown.

Wowza.

As you saw we had them twice recently and are having them again this week. I cannot stop thinking about them.

So here are some facts about the humble parsnip.

It is a root vegetable related to the carrot and parsley.

It was used a sweetener before the arrival of cane sugar in Europe.

It is high in vitamins and minerals, especially potassium.

The leaves and foliage can cause a skin rash similar to poison ivy.

  One night I could not stop dreaming about them and in my sleep composed a song to show my love of the parsnip. So here it is.

To the tune of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy (AKA the hymn Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee) 

Parsnip, parsnip you’re so lovely

Like a carrot only white.

You taste so delicious roasted

I could eat you every night.

Humble parsnip

How I love you

You’re so healthy

And so sweet.

Potassium just like bananas

And vitamins B and C.

So there it is. How sweet.

Bountiful

The dictionary defines the word Bountiful as :

Large in quantities, abundant or plentiful

 That is how I feel about food. There is a bounty of amazing, delicious healthy whole foods out there to eat. I am obsessed with food. I love to plan meals and cook them, I dream about them and then eat them. I am a foodie.

I wasn’t always this way. As I child I lived on spaghetti-o’s and in college I ate nothing but Belgian waffles and sugar puff sandwiches. Seriously. It is no wonder I had so many health problems and mood swings.

Becoming vegetarian and then vegan put me on a path of wellness--mind, body and spirit--that I never dreamed possible. Yes, I am vegan because I care about the suffering of all living creatures, but also because a whole foods, plant based diet has been scientifically proven to be the healthiest diet not just ON the planet, but FOR the planet. It is the environmental choice as well. What’s not to love?

I have often had people say I could never go veg as I would have to give up so many things. Okay, I can count on one hand (meat, dairy, eggs, honey, animal parts for clothing like leather, fur, wool or silk) that I have given up but the amount of foods that I have embraced is…well…..bountiful.

Some people ask me, “But what do you….eat?” Like they can’t think of what other foods are out there beyond meat, dairy and eggs. When I was in hospital having the horrible hysterectomy, the dietician asked me about my diet. She was so hesitant as she was thinking must eat…..I dunno…..leaves and twigs that she didn’t know what to plan for me. So I said,

“Um….fruits, vegetables, whole grains, beans and lentils, mushrooms, nuts and sometimes tofu.”  She seemed so surprised and relieved like, “Hey! Those are real foods! I have heard of real foods! Those are good foods!”   She talked to me for ages after that about what a healthy diet it was and she had never actually met anyone who ate like that.

Seriously?

I often get the most sympathy around the holidays where people think because we eat a plant based whole food diet we can’t enjoy a delicious holiday meal. Because it’s not a holiday without turkey, right? I will be the first to say that once turkey was my favourite meat. I looked forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas and only ever ate the turkey and the white yeast rolls.

No wonder I was so constipated as a child.

But now, turkey doesn’t look like a meal, it looks like the body of an animal who was bred to get so fat so quickly it could barely walk. It doesn’t look like food anymore. It looks like death.

So what did we eat? Well…..we started with amazing food on Christmas Eve and ate our way to Boxing Day.

Christmas Eve:

Savoury Chestnut and mushroom risotto with roasted parsnips and carrots in a maple syrup glaze.

Christmas Day:

 Nutroast made from black beans and walnuts, golden crispy roast potatoes, tangy orange cranberry sauce and peas. Oh and gravy. Lots of gravy.

I love the juxtaposition of green peas and red cranberry sauce. It looks so festive.

Boxing Day:

Left over nutroast, a huge portion of roasted parsnips and carrots in a maple syrup glaze, fluffy mashed potatoes and leftover gravy and cranberry sauce.

For pudding we had the Choc Chunk Cookie Pie from Including Cake‘s blog: http://www.includingcake.com/recipes/?recipe_id=6029970  (you may need to scroll down to see the recipe) I didn’t manage to get a picture but since it was made with chocolate and hazelnuts it was like eating a nutella cookie. Yum.

My crap photography do not do justice to the deliciousness of these meals. They were amazing. Plus I discovered that I am in love with parsnips.

My childhood self would have laughed her socks off to think that should would later actually dream about vegetables. I actually dreamed about roasted parsnips so much that I ended up composing a love song to the parsnip in my dreams.

Seriously.

But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to hear it.

RIP Lily Rose

As I mentioned in the last post, our beloved Lily Rose has shuffled off this mortal coil and gone to that great web in the sky.

She was named after the John Singer Sargent painting Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose.

It has hit me particularly hard as she was our first. Not our actual first, Spiderman had Shirley when we met and later we had Charlotte, but our first in the UK. Our first “rescued” spider. Our first “second hand” spider. 

We weren’t looking. We didn’t plan it. It just happened. Spiderman was walking through town and saw a notice on a shop window. A Lasiodora Parahybana, the Salmon Pink Bird Eater, one of the three largest species in the world. They can grow to have a leg span in excess of 10 inches (25 cm) and so need larger space to live. There was a photo of her, all burgundy with pink highlights, and she was so beautiful. Just perfect.

We fell in head over heels love. How could you not? This lovely creature was so obviously one of God’s most beautiful and graceful handiworks.

We went in to enquire and she was being sold by a woman named Sue who was having financial trouble and needed to sell her as she could no longer take care of her.  She was heartbroken because she had raised her from a spiderling, when she was no bigger than your thumbnail and now was as big a as a man’s hand. We had to have her.

She was our first. She was our big girl. She was often everyone’s favourite due to her size and grace.

It just sort of snowballed from there. We picked up a few more rescued spiders when Sue could no longer afford to keep them and we picked up a few more new ones down the line. At one time we had eight. In the last few years we lost Pirouette and Tibia.

Now we have five.

I think maybe we secretly knew it was coming. She hasn’t been the same since the move. She had looked old and shrunken. It was like the tank dwarfed her--something that never happened before. She always has such…presence….I don’t know. She just seemed to “own” the space like a model “owns” the catwalk. Lately, she seemed lost.

She had stopped eating and her colour had dulled and darkened. Her knees had gone all scabby. These are all signs that a healthy spider is going to moult and then emerge from shedding her skin like a butterfly, bigger with new and glorious colours.

It never happened.

She was increasingly sitting in the corner on the heat mat looking frail. She wasn’t cruising the glass walls of her tank anymore or (thankfully) trying to hang upside down from the mesh roof and breaking a fang like she did one other time. Naughty girl. 

On Christmas eve we were giving all the girls the gift of an extra cricket and that’s when we found her.

Sitting still on her heat mat. Too still. We didn’t want it to be true.

She didn’t respond to drops of water or gentle blowing nor to a very gentle poke with a paintbrush.

She was gone.

And she ponged. So it probably had happened the night before and the heat mat had made the smell worse. Poor Lily Rose.

She was approximately fourteen years old and we had had her for over six years. That’s a good life for a spider.

But I am so sorry that it happened at Christmas.

We buried her on Christmas day in the soft earth under a thorny rose bush. We sang Jesus Loves Me as that is the law for pet funerals (at least in my family).

But it hurts. More than Tibia and Pirouette. Maybe because it was Christmas or maybe because she was so big and majestic. Maybe because she was the first.

Oh the lovely Lily Rose, we will miss you. Your tank will be cleaned and our second biggest Blanche Dubois (who has legs like Cyd Charisse) will move in. Will it ever feel like hers and not yours?

Probably. She needs the space. She will unfurl like a flag and we will be surprised at how big and beautiful she really is.

But she won’t be you.

Go in peace my big girl. We loved having you as part as our family.