Sugar Rush

I was telling Bhrian about my serious sugar consumption over the holiday period. He told me about his healthy diet.

Porridge and fruit for breakfast, lunch is a salad, lean meat, a drizzle of ranch dressing.

Sounds good. What about dinner?

Ah. Dinner. Well, I make about three dinners. Y'know, kids wanting different things.

(He has a lot of kids)

Then, I can't be bothered making myself anything, so I eat bits of everything that the kids are having. And - the leftovers, so maybe dinner is not so good.

I said,

Well. I've been eating industrial amounts of trans fats and sugar. I woke up the other night and my pulse was racing. I think I was having a panic attack.

Fats and sugar are the worst combination. So addictive.

I know. I read a short story once about a morbidly obese man who bought margarine and white sugar and mixed it into a paste and ate that. That makes me feel a tiny bit better about eating four mince pies today.

At this, Bert cuts in.

Four mince pies! You ate four!

I said,

I hope you never have to go to an AA meeting. I can just hear you. Some poor addict would be talking about how much they were drinking and you'd be like - you drink gin straight from the bottle at eight in the morning!

I went on,

They'd kick you out for being so judgy.

I'm not sure if the AA people would do that as I've never actually been to a meeting. Yet.

Then Bhrian told us about a short break he and the family took to Letterkenny after Christmas.

Did you all go? 

Not the eighteen-year-old. He stayed home. The morning we were leaving he was practically pushing us out the door.

Bhrian described the holiday and it sounded idyllic. Lots of long walks on windswept beaches. I said,

I hardly know Letterkenny apart from passing through. But Uncle Vincent used to live there. He worked in a confectionery factory and I remember him telling us that if we only knew what went into sweets we'd never let them pass our lips. I was dying to know the details so pressed him on it and it seems that the vats of sugary stuff were very attractive to all sorts of flying insects and that they'd often end up in the finished product. Didn't put me off sweets one iota.

Bhrian agreed.

Probably made them even tastier. 

Yea. Hygiene is bound to be greatly improved since the 1960s, no more wasps and flies in our chocolate caramels and now they're nowhere near as delicious.

Tomorrow I plan to have porridge and fruit for breakfast and I've already researched bean sprouting. I think there might be some mung beans at the back of the cupboard. They've only been there for about eight years but I'm sure they'll be fine.

Every Picture: Valentine's Day, No Picture

When I left my bed this morning there was a tiny red, glittery heart lying on the floor. Where did it come from? No idea, but an ideal token to press into My Love's palm.

We were asked for dinner to Les and Dawns. Sublime first and second courses then four, FOUR desserts involving intense chocolate and champagne.

Needless to say. this has been a very enjoyable St Valentine's Day. Thank you, Les and  Dawn.

Funky Funk Donkey

I really do hate this time of year. It's dank and gloomy and I have a rotten cold which I caught from Bert and he caught from Evie. Bert's was man-flu but I got the girly version which means I still have to make the dinner.

Thankfully Christmas will soon be over. My heart always lifts after Christmas. My favourite day of the year is Boxing Day because it's 364 whole days to the next one. This year we are going to Norfolk to see baby James and his folks. We are taking the van and, I swear, we could have got flights to New York for the price of it.

Today's achievements? I went out and looked at the polytunnel. I lifted some begonia corms and harvested some kale. Made a chicken pie (frozen pastry) and crispy kale for dinner.

Today's goggle box fix? The last episode of Catastrophe and most recent episode of Fargo. I watch too much TV these days.

Most irritating thing on the news? Donald Trump. As nephew Ryan wrote,

I'm with you Donald, and I also think we should ban the sea until we know more about the rain.

Most heart-warming news item? The donkey that was rescued from the flood.

Happy Donkey Saved From Floodwater Mike is the luckiest donkey in all of Ireland.
Posted by The Huffington Post on Monday, 7 December 2015

Boxing Day Dinners: The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

How good must it be when your older sister is in possession of a pink plastic Peppa Pig recorder that you want and that she will not let you have because she does not want your slabbers on it, and then, when you are at Nellybert's (your grandparents) Boxing Day party, a kind lady (Swisser) gives you a long tubular present wrapped in shiny red paper that looks like it might be a recorder? And your eyes light up with delighted anticipation and your granny helps you unwrap it (quick, quick!) and it is a recorder, a beautiful wooden recorder, all colours, including pink!

I think that the sight of Evie's thrilled face, when she got that recorder, was one of the best moments of our Boxing Day party. And Swisser didn’t even know she wanted one! What an inspired choice.

Miss Martha got a harmonica which delighted her.

This was the best Boxing Day in years. The food turned out well, a traditional turkey and ham dinner, with curried lamb for those who preferred it and a choice of five desserts. I made all the food myself except for the two very delicious ice-creams which were created by Zoe and Martha.

Tirimasu, Pear and Ginger Tart, Fruit Trifle, Vanilla Ice Cream, Chocolate & Whiskey Ice Cream

But as successful Boxing Day dinners do not make as entertaining a read as the disasters, I offer this for your reading pleasure,  

The 2011 Boxing Day Disaster

It has taken me a while to be able to share this story. I must warn you in advance that it is a very sad story and that you will probably cry. This is the story of Nelly's Boxing Day Dinner Disaster.

My day began at 6am Why so early? I wanted to get a handle on my day and a start made on my enormous 22 pound Black Norfolk Turkey, a gift from Clint.

By 10:30am the turkey was thoroughly cooked, in fact it was a tad over-cooked. I was a little dismayed but Bert said, never to worry, sliced in gravy, nobody would notice a thing. Still I was embarrassed to see it sitting there all black skin and singed legs so I got Bert to slice it up and I tucked it away out of sight.

All was under control – desserts ready, most vegetables prepped, a nice pork roast sizzling away in the slow cooker. I just had some stuffing to prepare. At 2pm the pork was succulent and only needed a quick blast in the oven to make the crackling. This was a method I was quite confident about as I'd cooked pork in the slow cooker at least a dozen times.

I put the oven on to high and left it for thirty minutes. To tell the truth I got involved with other tasks. Suddenly I remembered I needed to put the pork in for a blast of heat so transferred it to a roasting tin. Over to the oven, door open....

Oh dear God! There were my turkey slices, burned, dried out, totally fucked. I was so distraught I dropped the pork whereupon it fell on the floor and disintegrated. See! I said you would cry. I certainly did.

What Happened Next?

I saw Bert coming across the yard carrying a bucket of logs. I ran to the door. I sobbed,

Bert! Come in! Something terrible has happened!

He took one look at my anguished face, dropped the logs and ran in. I believe he thought I had discovered his mother lying dead. Little did he know it was far worse than that.

Then What Happened?

I had hysterics.

Then What Happened?

I stopped crying and went to collect Hannah and her friends. On the way in I started howling again thinking of that noble turkey who had lived and died in vain. I gathered up my guests who. I believe, were rather apprehensive about their evening's entertainment.

Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch

Zoe and family arrived and measures were discussed as to how dinner could be salvaged. With the help of my lovely guests we saved the day. There was enough meat underneath the burned turkey and above the splattered pork to feed us all. Second helpings were in short supply but thankfully there were lots of desserts.

Last Year's Boxing Day Dinner

I seem to remember that there was also some sort of disaster at the 2010 Boxing Day dinner. I don't recall what it was about but it culminated in me running out and sobbing in the polytunnel and when I allowed myself to be persuaded back into the house the guests had eaten all the food. Ah well. I dare say it served me right for being such an hysterical bitch.

Next Year's Boxing Day Dinner

If God spares us things will be very different in 2012. There will be no more trying to serve two kinds of potatoes, three kinds of vegetables, stuffing, turkey and other festive meats to a party of a dozen or more, all at the same time and without a warming oven or enough chairs. Next year I'm going to go for a Polish-Irish feast. There will be thirteen dishes, desserts, casseroles, fishy things, pickled cabbage, mixed vegetables, turkey, pork, soup, flans, salads etc. Many of these dishes will have been prepared in advance. There will be a stack of napkins, plates and cutlery. There will be glasses and at least three bottles of vodka. There will be crackers. Because this year I forgot to put the bloody crackers out. Ah well. Next year.