Friday, July 24, 2009

Visual Recipe - Refrigerator Chocolate Cake

This recipe was adapted from Al Fresco by Louise Pickford. I got it thanks to my friend Kenneth who learnt how to make it at the Tante Marie Cooking School in San Francisco (as did my friend Don). Thanks for posting the recipe guys!
14oz Bittersweet or Dark chocolate - chopped [see note below]
1/2 Cup unsalted butter
2 1/2 cup graham crackers, crushed coarsely
1/2 cup pine nuts
1/2 cup nuts, coarsely chopped (pecans, walnuts, pistachios, hazelnuts - whatever appeals)
1 Cup unsweetened cocoa
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Don't go cheap on the chocolate guys, it needs to be good quality!

Butter a 9"x3" pan and line the bottom with parchment paper.

Mix the chocolate and the butter together in a double boiler - if you don't have one then use a heatproof bowl over a pan of simmering water.

Once melted, remove from the heat and stir in the remaining ingredients.

Spoon into the prepared pan. Press firmly into the bottom and sides and smooth out the top. Cover and chill.

When ready to serve, unmold on cutting board and shave into thin fingers.As simple as that!

[If you make it with bittersweet chocolate it will have a very very intense rich chocolate taste that is not that sweet. Try pairing it with coffee, or even whipped cream and strawberries. Of course you could always use dark or even semi-sweet chocolate. Experiment!]

Thursday, July 23, 2009

My Life according to Sondheim (again!)

I've already done a similar Meme to this before - you can find that one here.
Because some of the questions are different I thought I'd try it again using the same artist and without repeating any answers!!! So here they are, with the shows they come from listed too.


Using only song titles from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to 10 people you like and include me (presuming I'm someone you like). You can't use the band I used. Try not to repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think! Repost as "my life according to (band name)"

Pick your Artist
Stephen Sondheim (again)


Are you a male or female:
That Dirty Old Man
(from 'A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum')


Describe yourself:
Talent
(from 'Bounce')


How do you feel:
Unworthy of Your Love
(from 'Assassins')


Describe where you currently live:
I Love This Town
(from 'Bounce')


If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
No Place Like London
(from 'Sweeney Todd')


Your favorite form of transportation:
Merrily We Roll Along
(from 'Merrily We Roll Along')


Your best friend?
I"m still Here
(from 'Follies')


You and your best friends are:
Old Friends
(from 'Merrily We Roll Along')


What's the weather like?
Agony
(from 'Into the Woods')


Favorite time of day:
Now
(from 'A Little Night Music')


If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
The Glamorous Life
(from 'A Little Night Music')


Your relationship:
The Best Thing that Ever Happened to Me
(From 'Bounce')


What is life to you:
Opening Doors
(from 'Merrily We Roll Along')


Your fear:
The Hills of Tomorrow
(from 'Merrily We Roll Along')


What is the best advice you have to give:
No One Is Alone
(from 'Into the Woods')


Thought for the Day:
Live, Laugh, Love
(from 'Follies')


How I would like to die:
Later
(from 'A Little Night Music')


My soul's present condition:
Perpetual Anticipation
(from 'A Little Night Music')


My motto:
With So Little To Be Sure Of
(from 'Anyone Can Whistle')

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

The Story of 2nd Clarinet

All was not harmonious in the orchestra rehearsal. The velvet voice of the 2nd clarinet was complaining again.

“Look at this part! I play for 10 measures and then I have 50 measures rest! And look! Look! Over the page, more sections where I have absolutely nothing to play. Just sitting around doing nothing.”

The composer raised his baton and began conducting the piece.

“…and another thing”

said the 2nd clarinet after he had played his opening notes.

“Look at the violins! Scraping away sounding like feral cats in the moonlight – when do they have to rest? Do they have pages of nothing to do but counting so they don’t get lost? Oh no! Not the violins they just play their little strings out all….”

The 2nd clarinet stopped, played a few notes and then continued without missing a beat.

“…all the time. Everyone gets to play more than me, my music is just page after page after page of waiting! Well I’m tired waiting”

He quickly turned over three pages of music to his next entrance and began to play the notes loudly.

The music ground to a lurching halt.

“O.k,” said the Composer. “I think someone in the wind section may have accidentally turned over too many pages. Let’s pick up the piece at letter C”

“Very smart” hissed a flute between notes.

“Now we all have to play this difficult bit again because somebody wanted a solo. You just sit there and count and play nothing!”

“ But it’s not fair, I don’t want to wait any longer.”

An unexpected voice spoke up. “What’s the problem little reedy one” said the bassoon. “Why the squeaky complaining?”

“I’m tired of waiting that’s all. When I joined the orchestra I dreamed of long high notes, intricate solos and heart-rending melodies. The reality is I just sit here counting out measures of silence waiting to play my three notes, and one of them usually comes out wrong because I’m no longer warmed up. How do you manage it Bassoon, you play even fewer notes than I do?”

“Do you really want to know? You might not like my answer.” Said the bassoon in his dark nasally voice.

“Yes I do. At least it will be an answer.”

“Well hear this then clarinet. You are not the most important instrument in this orchestra. It’s not about your playing, or the timpani or the violins. It’s not even about the trumpets – although they seem to act like it is. It’s not about any of us at all.

It’s about the music.

You see your part and complain about the waiting. But the music is going on all around you. O.k. the Composer has decided that this section of the music doesn’t need your special voice. But think about the incredible contrast when you do play again. Your voice at the right time adds to the music in a way that no one else can. Your measures of silence; your choosing to not play, adds as much to the music as when you do play.

You are a part of something so much bigger than yourself little clarinet. And if you decide to sing your part without listening to the others, then the music suffers. The composer has a part only you can play. Your voice is unique and so is the silence that you create when you wait.

Listen to the music all around you. Yes you have to wait for the right time for you to play, but as you wait and count, listen to the music.”

So 2nd clarinet waited and counted and listened to the symphony around him. And at just the right time he added his voice into the beauty.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Being 'PC' - part 1

I've put part 1 in the hope that I'll write a second part later - we'll see.

I've been thinking about Personal Computer Operating Systems recently - yeah kinda geeky I know. My current home computer runs Windows Vista, a system that many people have issues with, but I haven't had any problems so far. I've never even seen the 'blue screen of death' yet, but like all operating systems it does have its occasional quirks.

I'm not a computer person, I've never really tried to alter the operating system in anyway. I know people do it, and I know whenever Microsoft puts out a new version of windows people do upgrade, I've just never been one of those people. I know that my computer is not it's 'Operating System', but I wouldn't know how to work right inside. The operating system is all I know.

I think that's true for most of us as people too. We all have operating systems, or frameworks of behavior. Most of the time we are fairly oblivious to them so long as they are running smoothly. It's when something happens that draws attention to it that we take notice.

Culture Shock is one such tool for seeing inside yourself. Suddenly your way of thinking and being in the world is no longer 'the norm'.

Grief is another tool. Emotions run riot, methods of containment no longer work and you begin to get a bigger picture that who you are isn't all there is.

Changing our internal operating system is a lot harder than just putting in new disks and typing in a very long key and then watching the bars inch their way across the screen. Like my reluctance to change the operating system on my computer in case something goes wrong many of us are reluctant to change internally. And that would be o.k. but there is one problem.

I think all of our operating systems have bugs and flaws.

Paul talks about this in Romans 7 - I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time.

I am unable to change my own operating system. I cannot 'lift myself up by my own bootstraps'. No matter how hard I pull on them I cannot leave the ground.

So what does help?

The Sunday school answer is 'God', but, like Algebra, if I cannot connect the answer to the question and show the logical steps, then the answer is not helpful. Knowing the answer is not enough. I may know the start and end places for a journey, but without knowing the route and the direction that knowledge cannot help me.

I do know a few things that help me see where my program is running incorrectly however.

1) Other people - again that seems simplistic, but how many of us really have close friends who will lovingly call us on our ways of behavior and thought processes?

2) Regular Maintenance, taking time to 'defrag and debug' - computers need to do this occasionally, how much more do I? Life gets hectic, parts of me get spread all over the place. I don't like to admit it, but I need regular time to re-collect myself. My 'spirit' needs time to catch up with my life. Meditation, Reflection, Stillness are all tools that allow myself to do that.

3) Checking the warning signs - my computer will warn me when it might have come infected. My car will warn me when the tire pressure might be low or the oil need changing. My body will warn me too, if I let it. 'Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired' are all warnings for me, signs that I'm not respecting myself and am in danger of crashing. Whenever I have 'surges' of emotions, I need to stop and see what is behind them - the problem is, when the surge comes it almost causes a system shut down, I don't want to look at what's behind it, I have enough trouble containing it.

One other thing I have learned is that I can get way too attached to my Operating System, bugs and all. God may be trying to 'reprogram' me, but I resist because it's not what I'm used too, it feels 'wrong'. God may want to 'upgrade me from XP to Vista', or even shock horror switch me over to Mac, but I resist.

Just simply typing this, giving voice to my inside reflections is good for me, it's another way I re-collect myself. I think that's one of the reasons I blog. I used to Journal, but I knew that it didn't really matter if what I wrote was coherent because I was the only person who ever read it. Blogging requires me to be coherent on the off chance that someone might actually read all of this...

...so if you've made it to here, thank you...

...knowing you're out there helps me.

Friday, July 17, 2009

How to make decisions!

Need to decide who does something? Here's the perfect method.

I'd heard about this, but never seen the origins before.

Simply awesome!

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Ice cream and Christianity

When I first moved to the U.S. one of the things I came to love was the wide variety of Ice cream flavors. For a while I was seduced by Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream, a variety that at that time had not crossed over to the U.K. market. My current frozen "drug of choice" is Mint Moose Tracks.

There are ice creams I do not like, I am not fond of fruit in my ice cream, so Cherry Garcia doesn't do it for me. I'm also not a fan of coffee in general so any ice cream featuring mocha or cappuccino passes me by.

One thing I'm sure of though, just because I do not like the ice cream does not mean that I claim that it "Isn't real ice cream". Even some of the rather strange Japanese flavors like Fish Ice Cream or Fried Eggplant Ice cream, although they may turn my stomach, are still ice creams.

What is an ice cream? The FDA says the following "Ice cream is defined as a frozen food made from a mixture of dairy products, containing at least 10% milkfat."

I think Christians could learn a lot from ice cream.

There are many different denominations of Christians in the world, I may not agree with what some of them believe, but that doesn't mean they are not "christian", just that they are not my flavor of Christianity.

No matter what flavorings they place in the ice cream - even the scary ones like Squid Ink, so long as the ice cream is frozen dairy product with at least 10% milkfat, they are still Ice Cream.

So what is the bottom line for Christians? The word actually covers a wide range of practices and beliefs. The word's literal meaning is 'Christ Follower'. What are the non-negotiables that if you step outside of them you are no longer a Christian? Who decides what those non-negotiables are?

I grew up with people who claimed that Catholics were not Christian, then I met some catholic Christians and were introduced to some of the great catholic christian writers.

I was taught that to be a Christian meant belief in a 6 day creation and a literal interpretation of scripture...then I met people who didn't believe that, who's spirituality and connection to Jesus put me to shame.

I was taught that to be a Christian you couldn't be a 'practicing homosexual' - then I met some who have only made it through prejudice and rejection because of their deep abiding faith.

Slowly I began to see that my learned interpretation of the bible was not the only interpretation of the bible.

I'm not sure what my 'frozen dairy product and 10% milkfat' of Christianity is any more...as my worldview widens so does my definition.

But I do know this, God's grace is big enough to cover over the gaps.

"In essentials, unity. In non-essentials, liberty. In all things, love."

Saturday, July 11, 2009

40 Inspirational Speeches in 2 Minutes!

Don't turn off the baby monitor

Last weekend I stayed with friends who have a 1 year old son. We had a great time. Some stuff that happened got me thinking. There is something about staying with them that makes me reflective. Last time I stayed with them for a weekend I wrote this.

Not having children of my own, I'd forgotten how much young children cry. It is their primary method of communication. It amazes me how the mother has learned to distinguish the different cries and interpret what they mean - hungry, tired etc. they all sound the same to me!

Night times were especially interesting. We would put Baby down and turn the monitor on and sit in the other room. If he started crying we would generally wait 10 minutes or so and see if it was a 'I'm tired but I don't want to go to sleep really' cry, or if something else was wrong. The parent's had learned that 10 minutes was a good judge for that. If after that time he was still crying someone would go in and see what was wrong.

Of course for that 10 minutes we had to listen to amplified wails coming through the baby monitor...

... we could have created peace and quiet in the house by turning the monitor off, but it would be a false peace. The baby would still be crying, we would just be deaf to that sound. Far better to deal with the 'Problem' of the crying child than the 'Symptom' of the crying.

I think all of us have an 'inner infant' who cries sometimes. We all carry a certain amount of pain from our childhoods that hasn't been resolved, and when something happens that triggers that pain we start to 'cry'. Part of growing up is learning to listen to the cries and interpret them like a mother interprets a child.

Some people live much of their lives blissfully unaware of the crying baby, they've found a way to turn off their baby monitor so they don't have to hear it. Addicts use their addiction of choice, but even non addicts have strategies of avoidance. Alcohol, Sex, Drugs, T.V. Books, Work etc can all be avenues for silencing the crying. And once you start listening, the crying can seem overwhelming at times.

Many of the Christian Mystics (and Mystics from other traditions too) write of the need for us to 'Wake Up'. To become aware of our own inner life. Anthony DeMello writes in 'Awareness' "You only change what you understand. What you do not understand and are not aware of, you repress. You don't change. But when you understand it, it changes."

Waking up can really ruin your sleep. I've heard addicts say that 'Alcoholics Anonymous really ruined my drinking'. What they mean is they now have awareness about what is going on with their behavior around alcohol they can't participate in that behavior with the same ignorance anymore, it has been ruined for them. Once you begin to 'wake up' you have to grieve the loss of 'sleep'. Those activities that once worked for you are no longer solutions. Once you know that the baby is crying, turning off the monitor doesn't bring relief, because a part of you is aware of the tears even if you can't hear them.

All of us are on a journey of learning to interpret the crying. It's tiring, exhilarating, exhausting, fulfilling....and I think it's the only way for us to 'grow up'. Sometimes the hardest thing when I'm crying is to be still, listen to my pain, and see what it has to teach me...

But that is the path of healing.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Friday, July 03, 2009

Peter Griffin and Reflections on Prayer

I start this with a warning, this clip may be offensive to some. I don't recommend watching it in front of children. It's from the show Family Guy, so if you don't like the show or think it is something 'Christians' shouldn't watch, then don't watch the clip.

Having given myself a very large 'out', here it is, I found it thought provoking.



I debated for a while about whether to post this, but some thoughts came up for me after seeing it that I wanted to share.

1. Peter Griffin really functions in the show as a kind of 'bumbling everyman' - he is us without the filters of good taste in place. I like the fact that he is able to be himself around Jesus, he doesn't self censor, he asks for what he wants (even when inappropriate). Many of us when we go to church 'put on our Sunday best', it's our way of showing respect. But with the pristine perfect clothes we put on our pristine perfect exterior.


"Everything is right with the world. I don't have problems."

We behave 'holy' around our church friends, and 'normal' around everyone else -I use the word normal loosely as I think everyone is 'normal' until you get to know them :)

As my good friend Sean once wrote in a drama sketch, church is like a group of people with skunks around their necks all spraying perfume and fannning themselves insisting they don't stink.

It's also in some cases the reverse - a competition to show who is the biggest 'sinner' and who has the lowest opinion of themselves, as if somehow the more you hate yourself, the more you love God.

Peter Griffin, with all his crudity and stupidity does not try to be anything other than himself around Jesus, we could learn from him.

2. I do not believe that God is like a 'cosmic coke machine' - we put the coin in, select the beverage of our choice and out it falls. Just because we raise a prayer to heaven does not mean that that prayer is going to be answered how we want it to be. Peter's request is shallow and reveals a lot about him. I do wonder what some of my prayer requests when looked at with the advantage of distance or hindsight say about me?

3. Even though Peter's request is fatuous, he shares it with Jesus. He tells tales of drunken stupidity, he is totally who he is. And what is Jesus response? No judgment. No disparaging. No dismissing. I want the kind of God I can say anything too. For years I carried around a large amount of anger towards God that I was afraid to voice. It ate up my insides. It was a slow process realizing that it was safe for me to be angry at God and to voice my displeasure. this clip reminds me that Jesus listens and loves me even if I am bumbling away inanely or raising my voice in rage.

It's the kind of relationship where you can truly say what is on your heart and mind and still know that you are loved. I want that in my human relationships and in my heavenly relationships too.

Thank you Peter Griffin for the reminder!

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Weight Update and Boardgaming News

It's the first of the month and halfway through the year (well not quite as the second 6 months have more days than the first, but whose counting!)

My goal has been to lose 5lbs a month, so by now I should be down 30lbs.....

...I'm only down 28lbs, and I feel good about that.

June was a tough month, my body seemed to plateau, no matter what I did the weight would not drop. I would exercise and not lose weight, I would starve myself and not lose weight, I would eat small healthy meals and not lose weight.

By the end of last week I was getting desperate and I found my attitude to my body changing. I was beginning to get angry with my body and dislike it because of it 'maliciously derailing my weight loss plans'. Thoughts of punishing it arose in my mind - maybe grounding it or taking away its car keys!

I had a change of heart last Friday. I didn't like how I was viewing myself, so I decided that I needed to love my body again and if doing that meant I didn't make my goal then that was ok.

I stopped fretting and abusing myself and had a nice gentle weekend. I allowed myself 2 cupcakes from Crave, I cooked healthy, but I did allow myself some celebratory Mexican food when one of my fave restaurants finally reopened.

So, I'm 2 lbs short of where I wanted to be right now. I'm gonna keep losing weight anyhow, and 2lbs isn't worth the detriment of my mental health. I've learnt over the years that the Engine of Change does not run on Hate. You cannot despise yourself into being a better person - no matter what messages I heard from the Pulpit in my youth.

Anyway onto the games!

Only 29 games played this month - that's 2 down from May.

I managed 20 different games, and the number one play is:

Snow Tails -We've only begun to scratch the surface of this game. Dog sled racing through the frozen wastelands. I can't wait to play again and add in the trees!

As for the other games, here are selected highlights!

Werewolf - 3 plays of this in June. Mostly moderating again, but it's still fun, esp when you play outside under a full moon!

Because it was my birthday this month I got to pick all the games one Thursday night!

Evo - A competition to see who can evolve their dinosaur species the most before the meteor hits and wipes them off the planet!

Medina - a brain burning abstract game where you are building an ancient city. The game has all wood pieces and looks nice on the table

Ingenious - a fine abstract strategy game from the master Reiner Knizia


It's now 6 months into the year, and the game with the most plays is Dominion. It just won the coveted Spiel de Jahres award, and the expansion has just been released, so I anticipate this game staying up in the top slot for a while!

Friday, June 26, 2009

Worship Snob or Contemplative?

This week a colleague and I were given the opportunity to lead worship for 3000+ people at a conference in San Antonio. I must confess it was nice to treated as special - hotel room (with a view of the Alamo from the window) and conference paid for, ushered backstage, roadies moving the piano and technicians setting up our mikes. We were even able to change the entire backdrop lighting and the visuals on the screen just by a simple request. It was nice to be spoiled.

I also got to experience a number of other worship sessions led in different styles. Some good, some not so much. I remember being in one afternoon session and getting v. confused by the lyrics to one song.

"And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise, on eagle's wings
Before my God fall on my knees,
and rise...I will rise"

We sang this chorus a lot! And we also repeated the phrase 'I will rise' many times. I'm sure it was meaningful for some people, but not for me. I wrote in my notebook during the session "How do you 'rise on eagle's wings' and 'fall on your knees' at the same time? All whilst 'You Rise'? Do eagles have knees???

The sudden clash of the images of Eagles and falling on knees with the main theme of 'I will rise' bothered me, as did the reverse sentence for no apparent reason - normally you would say "fall on my knees before my God", I cannot see any apparent reason this line has been reversed out of normal English, it isn't to make a rhyme which is the most common reason.*

The song, and the entire worship set bothered me.

It bothers me that it bothered me.

I've always been opinionated about worship and music writing. It used to be that I always had to be using the latest songs sung by the most up-to-date people. Here I was at the conference complaining to a friend that 'we haven't sung a single hymn'! I used to judge a worship experience by what I 'felt'. Now I'm overly judgemental about what I think could be emotional manipulation by the worship leader.

The worship I feel drawn too these days is more cerebral. It is quiet and reflective. I no longer mistake an 'emotional high brought on by hyped music' for the 'presence of God.'

I would rather just sit still with God. It feels like the companionship of a couple who have been together so long they can just together, they don't need to talk, and in fact sometimes talking gets in the way.

Even after all these years, my prejudices about worship still sometimes get in the way of my worshiping.




*I believe there is a craft to Lyric Writing, Composing and Worship Leading in the same way there is to painting. An artist must learn color, perspective, brush stroke, composition etc. Sadly, the 'craft' of music and worship leading seems to be fallen by the wayside -ignored or considered irrelevant. Worship leaders, please, at least learn to play the songs in a key that the majority of the congregation can sing it in, there is no point in you leading them if they can't follow!

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Together in Electric Dreams

One of my favorite movies from the 80s was Electric Dreams. It's the familiar love story:

  • Man buys computer,
  • Man accidentally pours champagne in the computer transforming it into artifical intelligence
  • Computer falls in love with the cello playing blond upstairs.
  • Man falls in love with woman too.
  • Chaos ensues
  • Computer commits suicide and writes a hit love song!

It's a plot we've seen numerous times :)

For years this movie has been unavailable on DVD, it has an awesome soundtrack that was recorded before the rights for the music were included in the soundtrack contract. It has just been released on DVD in the U.K. so hopefully a U.S. release isn't far behind - or I'll just purchase it the next time I'm in England.

Here's the scene where Edgar (the computer) first here's Madeline playing Cello and decides to take a break from working on his earthquake proof brick (don't ask), and play along.



And here's the touching end to the movie...probably the cheesiest computer death scene ever filmed - and with a twist, Edgar takes over all the Media in the U.S. to broadcast his final love song to Madeline.



They don't make movies like this anymore!

Friday, June 19, 2009

Peter - the Funeral Singer

Today is the second anniversary of Mom's death.

Last year all I could think of was roses.

This year is different.

In the past 2 weeks I've done the music at 2 different funerals. It might seem strange, but I think I 'enjoy' playing for funerals more than I do weddings. I feel like I am helping the grief process when I play for a funeral, singing and playing music that is meaningful to the family. Even if I am just playing instrumental music before the service, I try and craft the music I make into wordless prayers of comfort.

At my Mom's funeral, the local Church of England minister went to great pains to tell us how he had met with Mom before she died and enquired into the eternal state of her soul and how he knew she was ready to die and be with Jesus.

At my Dad's funeral, the humanist 'minister' told a brief biography of Dad's life. His passions and achievements. There was no mention of God* because dad was an Atheist and had left strict guidelines for his service.

It seems strange, but Dad's funeral was more comforting to me than Mom's.

I didn't want to hear that Mom was 'safe in the bosom of Jesus' - I knew that, but that knowledge did not comfort the vacuum caused by her death. Dad's service was far more helpful. The Humanist simply acknowledged that death is horrible. He didn't attempt to minimize our grief by telling us that we should feel glad because 'dad was in a better place' - because to a humanist that better place did not exist. I worry what the Church of England Minister would have said had he conducted Dad's service. If we assume that telling the Bereaved that their loved one being with Jesus is the best source of comfort, what do we tell them when our theologies say that they are not with Jesus?

Funerals are not for the dead but for the living. For me, assurances or platitudes about the final destination of the Departed were not helpful. Neither was people telling me that 'They understood how I feel' or 'Time heals all wounds'. I needed people simply to sit with me in silence and tell me that 'Life sucks sometimes'.

A well played instrumental can offer as much comfort as a carefully constructed Eulogy, and sometimes, it offers more.



*Dad was very specific at not having any mention of God at his service - he had actually threatened to disinherit any of us if we gave him a 'Christian Burial'. Then again, dad used to joke about disinheritance a lot!

So we're sitting in the Crematorium and we're at the final part of the service just before the Dismissal. This particular Crematorium had an electric curtain that moved across to obscure the coffin and signify the end. As the curtain began to move, an organist (who we didn't even know was there!) began to play to cover up the whirr of the motor.

What was originally a deeply sad, final moment in the service suddenly turned into my brother and I stifling giggles and desperately praying that Mom would not realize what the organist was playing - 'Seek Ye First the Kingdom of God'!!!!

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

When Passions Collide

If you read my blog for more than 3 minutes you will generally notice that I really enjoy boardgames.



If you know me, you'll also know that I enjoy performing and composing musicals too.


Well today was doubly a good day.

A musical about a board game!!!!

I saw the original national tour of this show back in the 90s. It exists in many different incarnations, most of them with some flaws or other, but Tim Rice (who wrote the book and lyrics ) claims that this new version is the one crafted the way he's always imagined it.

I've tried many times to post the trailer for the show, but for some reason I can't get the html code to make it work. If you are curious...and you should be, you can see it here.

It features Adam Pascal from 'Rent', Idina Menzel from 'Rent' and 'Wicked' and Josh Groban from...well, err.....I can't really think of any show he's been in, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt this time :)

Now all I need is a board game about Stephen Sondheim musicals and I will have all my bases covered.....

Well there is always this.....

...but I'm not a fan of A.L.W.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Spiritual Times Tables

I remember learning all my Multiplications tables as a child. I could recite them all by rote from a fairly young age. In fact I knew the 'What' long before I knew the 'Why'. As I got older I learned exactly how 6 x 7 and 42 were connected, but for a while it was just a fact I had memorized, no different from knowing the points of the compass or the states of the U.S.

Yesterday in church we were reciting the Apostle's Creed and my mind was wandering. Like the Multiplication tables, the Apostle's Creed is something I know by heart, so my mind was not particularly engaged. I caught myself saying a line wrong simply because I wasn't paying attention.

I declared confidently from the choir loft that 'I believe in.....the communion of sinners'.

My first thought was hoping that the choir mike was not on because I didn't want my mistake being amplified, I wondered whether I could substitute the omitted word into the next line instead '......the forgiveness of saints'.

The word Communion is a polyvalent word - one with many meanings.

1. (often initial capital letter) Also called Holy Communion. Ecclesiastical.
a. The act of receiving the Eucharistic elements.
b. The elements of the Eucharist.
c. The celebration of the Eucharist.
d. The antiphon sung at a Eucharistic service.

2. a group of persons having a common religious faith; a religious denomination: Anglican communion.

3. Association; fellowship.

4. Interchange or sharing of thoughts or emotions; intimate communication: communion with nature.

5. The act of sharing, or holding in common; participation.

6. The state of things so held.

I have experienced the 'Community of Saints' and the 'Community of Sinners'. There is a commonality in knowing that everyone else is as much of a ratbag as you are. Acknowledging everyone's flaws means that I don't place any person on a pedestal. It is also easier for me to be open about my mistakes when I realize that I'm not the only sinner in the world.

There is a commonality in the 'Communion of Saints' as well. In its traditional meaning it refers to a mystical bonding between the Living and the Dead in a confirmed hope and love. But due to the Polyvalent (my word for the day) nature of the word 'Communion', it makes me think of acknowledging everyone's goodness. It means that I don't place anyone beneath me. I see the goldeness in every human being, I acknowledge that everyone bears the fingerprint of God.

'...the forgiveness of Saints' swapped with '...the forgiveness of Sinners' also produces some interesting material for reflection.

I find it very easy to call myself a 'sinner'- so much so that I tend to frequently diminish my own goodness. Wearing the name 'saint' is a lot harder. It feels like it comes with many expectations. Ascribing it to myself feels prideful and presumptuous.

Like Schrodinger's famous cat I exist in two states simultaneously. I am a Saintly Sinner and a Sinning Saint.

All this reflection from misquoting a creed, imagine how much reflection I could get from living it!

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Salt to Taste?

I've been thinking a lot about Salt this week.

I posted a story from my childhood about Salt here .

As you can probably guess, the impetus for my salt fixation comes from a famous passage I read in Sacred Space Tuesday morning. I read it in a different translation to usual, the Message.

"Let me tell you why you are here. You're here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You've lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage."

"Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a light stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven."

Salt, when used properly is a flavor enhancer, it makes the natural flavors of the food shine through. A dish that is over salted is not a pleasure on the palate. I would rather consume bland, under seasoned food, than something that has been covered in salt.

I like the way that Eugene Peterson (translator of the Message) says we are here to '..bring out the God flavors of the earth'. Some Christians seem to live as if their purpose was to make the world as 'salty' as possible. Anything or anyone that doesn't fit in with their definition of Christianity tends to get 'a-salted'. Everything and everyone has to look and taste the same.

A bland dish can be improved, but it's difficult to save a dish that has been over salted. I think of friends of mine who were so offended by encounters with Christians that were zealous in prosyletizing their flavor of Christianity, that they rejected all forms.

Now I know that the Medium is not always the Message, but how we say things is as important as what we say.

Nobody wants a mouthful of salt

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

Salt - A story from my childhood.

(Taken from Old Peter's Russian Tales- by Arthur Ransome)

Once upon a time there were three brothers, and their father was a great merchant who sent his ships far over the sea, and traded here and there in countries the names of which I, being an old man, can never rightly call to mind. Well, the names of the two elder brothers do not matter, but the youngest was called Ivan the Ninny, because he was always playing and never working; and if there was a silly thing to do, why, off he went and did it. And so, when the brothers grew up, the father sent the two elder ones off, each in a fine ship laden with gold and jewels, and rings and bracelets, and laces and silks, and sticks with little bits of silver hammered into their handles, and spoons with patterns of blue and red, and everything else you can think of that costs too much to buy. But he made Ivan the Ninny stay at home, and did not give him a ship at all. Ivan saw his brothers go sailing off over the sea on a summer morning, to make their fortunes and come back rich men; and then, for the first time in his life, he wanted to work and do something useful. He went to his father and kissed his hand, and he kissed the hand of his little old mother, and he begged his father to give him a ship so that he could try his fortune like his brothers.

"But you have never done a wise thing in your life, and no one could count all the silly things you've done if he spent a hundred days in counting," said his father.

"True," said Ivan; "but now I am going to be wise, and sail the sea and come back with something in my pockets to show that I am not a ninny any longer. Give me just a little ship, father mine--just a little ship for myself."

"Give him a little ship," said the mother. "He may not be a ninny after all."

"Very well," said his father. "I will give him a little ship; but I am not going to waste good roubles by giving him a rich cargo."

"Give me any cargo you like," said Ivan.So his father gave him a little ship, a little old ship, and a cargo of rags and scraps and things that were not fit for anything but to be thrown away. And he gave him a crew of ancient old sailor men who were past work; and Ivan went on board and sailed away at sunset, like the ninny he was. And the feeble, ancient, old sailor men pulled up the ragged, dirty sails, and away they went over the sea to learn what fortune, good or bad, God had in mind for a crew of old men with a ninny for a master.

The fourth day after they set sail there came a great wind over the sea. The feeble old men did the best they could with the ship; but the old, torn sails tore from the masts, and the wind did what it pleased,and threw the little ship on an unknown island away in the middle of the sea. Then the wind dropped, and left the little ship on the beach, and Ivan the Ninny and his ancient old men, like good Russians, praising God that they were still alive.

"Well, children," said Ivan, for he knew how to talk to sailors, "do you stay here and mend the sails, and make new ones out of the rags we carry as cargo, while I go inland and see if there is anything that could be of use to us."

So the ancient old sailor men sat on deck with their legs crossed, and made sails out of rags, of torn scraps of old brocades, of soiled embroidered shawls, of all the rubbish that they had with them for a cargo. You never saw such sails.

The tide came up and floated the ship, and they threw out anchors at bow and stern, and sat there in the sunlight, making sails and patching them and talking of the days when they were young. All this while Ivan the Ninny went walking off into the island.

Now in the middle of that island was a high mountain, a high mountain it was, and so white that when he came near it Ivan the Ninny began thinking of sheepskin coats, although it was midsummer and the sun was hot in the sky. The trees were green round about, but there was nothing growing on the mountain at all. It was just a great white mountain piled up into the sky in the middle of a green island. Ivan walked a little way up the white slopes of the mountain, and then,because he felt thirsty, he thought he would let a little snow melt in his mouth. He took some in his fingers and stuffed it in. Quickly enough it came out again, I can tell you, for the mountain was not made of snow but of good Russian salt.

Ivan the Ninny did not stop to think twice. The salt was so clean and shone so brightly in the sunlight. He just turned round and ran back to the shore, and called out to his ancient old sailor men and told them to empty everything they had on board over into the sea. Over it all went, rags and tags and rotten timbers, till the little ship was as empty as a soup bowl after supper. And then those ancient old men were set to work carrying salt from the mountain and taking it on board the little ship, and stowing it away below deck till there was not room for another grain. Ivan the Ninny would have liked to take the whole mountain, but there was not room in the little ship. And for that the ancient old sailor men thanked God, because their backs ached and their old legs were weak, and they said they would have died if they had had to carry any more.

Then they hoisted up the new sails they had patched together out of the rags and scraps of shawls and old brocades, and they sailed away once more over the blue sea. And the wind stood fair, and they sailed before it, and the ancient old sailors rested their backs, and told old tales, and took turn and turn about at the rudder.And after many days' sailing they came to a town, with towers and churches and painted roofs, all set on the side of a hill that sloped down into the sea. At the foot of the hill was a quiet harbour, and they sailed in there and moored the ship and hauled down their patchwork sails.

Ivan the Ninny went ashore, and took with him a little bag of clean white salt to show what kind of goods he had for sale, and he asked his way to the palace of the Tzar of that town. He came to the palace,and went in and bowed to the ground before the Tzar.

"Who are you?" says the Tzar.

"I, great lord, am a Russian merchant, and here in a bag is some of my merchandise, and I beg your leave to trade with your subjects in this town."

"Let me see what is in the bag," says the Tzar.

Ivan the Ninny took a handful from the bag and showed it to the Tzar.

"What is it?" says the Tzar.

"Good Russian salt," says Ivan the Ninny.

Now in that country they had never heard of salt, and the Tzar looked at the salt, and he looked at Ivan and he laughed.

"Why, this," says he, "is nothing but white dust, and that we can pick up for nothing. The men of my town have no need to trade with you. You must be a ninny."

Ivan grew very red, for he knew what his father used to call him. He was ashamed to say anything. So he bowed to the ground, and went away out of the palace.But when he was outside he thought to himself,

"I wonder what sort of salt they use in these parts if they do not know good Russian salt when they see it. I will go to the kitchen."

So he went round to the back door of the palace, and put his head into the kitchen, and said,

"I am very tired. May I sit down here and rest a little while?"

"Come in," says one of the cooks. "But you must sit just there, and not put even your little finger in the way of us; for we are the Tzar's cooks, and we are in the middle of making ready his dinner."

And the cook put a stool in a corner out of the way, and Ivan slipped in round the door, and sat down in the corner and looked about him.There were seven cooks at least, boiling and baking, and stewing and toasting, and roasting and frying. And as for scullions, they were as thick as cockroaches, dozens of them, running to and fro, tumbling over each other, and helping the cooks. Ivan the Ninny sat on his stool, with his legs tucked under him and the bag of salt on his knees. He watched the cooks and the scullions,but he did not see them put anything in the dishes which he thought could take the place of salt. No; the meat was without salt, the kasha was without salt, and there was no salt in the potatoes. Ivan nearly turned sick at the thought of the tastelessness of all that food.

There came the moment when all the cooks and scullions ran out of the kitchen to fetch the silver platters on which to lay the dishes. Ivan slipped down from his stool, and running from stove to stove, from saucepan to frying pan, he dropped a pinch of salt, just what was wanted, no more no less, in everyone of the dishes. Then he ran back to the stool in the corner, and sat there, and watched the dishes being put on the silver platters and carried off in gold-embroidered napkins to be the dinner of the Tzar. The Tzar sat at table and took his first spoonful of soup.

"The soup is very good to-day," says he, and he finishes the soup to the last drop.

"I've never known the soup so good," says the Tzaritza, and she finishes hers.

"This is the best soup I ever tasted," says the Princess, and down goes hers, and she, you know, was the prettiest princess who ever had dinner in this world.

It was the same with the kasha and the same with the meat. The Tzar and the Tzaritza and the Princess wondered why they had never had so good a dinner in all their lives before.

"Call the cooks," says the Tzar. And they called the cooks, and the cooks all came in, and bowed to the ground, and stood in a row before the Tzar.

"What did you put in the dishes to-day that you never put before?"says the Tzar.

"We put nothing unusual, your greatness," say the cooks, and bowed to the ground again.

"Then why do the dishes taste better?"

"We do not know, your greatness," say the cooks.

"Call the scullions," says the Tzar.

And the scullions were called,and they too bowed to the ground, and stood in a row before the Tzar.

"What was done in the kitchen to-day that has not been done there before?" says the Tzar.

"Nothing, your greatness," say all the scullions except one. And that one scullion bowed again, and kept on bowing, and then he said,

"Please, your greatness, please, great lord, there is usually none in the kitchen but ourselves; but to-day there was a young Russian merchant, who sat on a stool in the corner and said he wastired."

"Call the merchant," says the Tzar.

So they brought in Ivan the Ninny, and he bowed before the Tzar, and stood there with his little bag of salt in his hand.

"Did you do anything to my dinner?" says the Tzar.

"I did, your greatness," says Ivan."What did you do?"

"I put a pinch of Russian salt in every dish."

"That white dust?" says the Tzar.

"Nothing but that."

"Have you got any more of it?"

"I have a little ship in the harbour laden with nothing else," says Ivan.

"It is the most wonderful dust in the world," says the Tzar, "

and I will buy every grain of it you have. What do you want for it?"

Ivan the Ninny scratched his head and thought. He thought that if the Tzar liked it as much as all that it must be worth a fair price, so he said,

"We will put the salt into bags, and for every bag of salt you must give me three bags of the same weight--one of gold, one of silver, and one of precious stones. Cheaper than that, your greatness, I could not possibly sell."

"Agreed," says the Tzar. "And a cheap price, too, for a dust so full of magic that it makes dull dishes tasty, and tasty dishes so good that there is no looking away from them."

So all the day long, and far into the night, the ancient old sailor men bent their backs under sacks of salt, and bent them again under sacks of gold and silver and precious stones. When all the salt had been put in the Tzar's treasury--yes, with twenty soldiers guarding it with great swords shining in the moonlight--and when the little ship was loaded with riches, so that even the deck was piled high with precious stones, the ancient old men lay down among the jewels and slept till morning, when Ivan the Ninny went to bid good-bye to the Tzar.

"And whither shall you sail now?" asked the Tzar.

"I shall sail away to Russia in my little ship," says Ivan.

And the Princess, who was very beautiful, said, "A little Russianship?"

"Yes," says Ivan.

"I have never seen a Russian ship," says the Princess, and she begs her father to let her go to the harbour with her nurses and maids, to see the little Russian ship before Ivan set sail. She came with Ivan to the harbour, and the ancient old sailor men took them on board.She ran all over the ship, looking now at this and now at that, and Ivan told her the names of everything--deck, mast, and rudder."May I see the sails?" she asked. And the ancient old men hoisted the ragged sails, and the wind filled the sails and tugged."Why doesn't the ship move when the sails are up?" asked the Princess.

"The anchor holds her," said Ivan.

"Please let me see the anchor," says the Princess.

"Haul up the anchor, my children, and show it to the Princess," says Ivan to the ancient old sailormen.

And the old men hauled up the anchor, and showed it to the Princess; and she said it was a very good little anchor. But, of course, as soon as the anchor was up the ship began to move. One of the ancient old men bent over the tiller, and, with a fair wind behind her, the little ship slipped out of the harbour and away to the blue sea. When the Princess looked round, thinking it was time to go home, the little ship was far from land, and away in the distance she could only see the gold towers of her father's palace, glittering like pin points in the sunlight. Her nurses and maids wrung their hands and made an outcry, and the Princess sat down on a heap of jewels, and put a handkerchief to her eyes, and cried and cried and cried.

Ivan the Ninny took her hands and comforted her, and told her of the wonders of the sea that he would show her, and the wonders of the land. And she looked up at him while he talked, and his eyes were kind and hers were sweet; and the end of it was that they were both very well content, and agreed to have a marriage feast as soon as the little ship should bring them to the home of Ivan's father. Merry was that voyage. All day long Ivan and the Princess sat on deck and said sweet things to each other, and at twilight they sang songs, and drank tea, and told stories. As for the nurses and maids, the Princess told them to be glad; and so they danced and clapped their hands, and ran about the ship, and teased the ancient old sailor men.

When they had been sailing many days, the Princess was looking out over the sea, and she cried out to Ivan,

"See, over there, far away,are two big ships with white sails, not like our sails of brocade and bits of silk."

Ivan looked, shading his eyes with his hands."Why, those are the ships of my elder brothers," said he. "We shall all sail home together."

And he made the ancient old sailor men give a hail in their cracked old voices. And the brothers heard them, and came on board to greet Ivan and his bride. And when they saw that she was a Tzar's daughter, and that the very decks were heaped with precious stones, because there was no room below, they said one thing to Ivan and something else to each other.

To Ivan they said, "Thanks be to God, He has given you good trading."

But to each other, "How can this be?" says one. "Ivan the Ninny bringing back such a cargo, while we in our fine ships have only a bag or two of gold."

"And what is Ivan the Ninny doing with a princess?" says the other.

And they ground their teeth, and waited their time, and came up suddenly, when Ivan was alone in the twilight, and picked him up by his head and his heels, and hove him overboard into the dark blue sea.

Not one of the old men had seen them, and the Princess was not on deck. In the morning they said that Ivan the Ninny must have walked overboard in his sleep. And they drew lots. The eldest brother took the Princess, and the second brother took the little ship laden with gold and silver and precious stones. And so the brothers sailed home very well content. But the Princess sat and wept all day long, looking down into the blue water. The elder brother could not comfort her, and the second brother did not try. And the ancient old sailor men muttered in their beards, and were sorry, and prayed to God to give rest to Ivan's soul; for although he had been a ninny, and although he had made them carry a lot of salt and other things, yet they loved him,because he knew how to talk to ancient old sailor men.

But Ivan was not dead. As soon as he splashed into the water, he crammed his fur hat a little tighter on his head, and began swimming in the sea. He swam about until the sun rose, and then, not far away, he saw a floating timber log, and he swam to the log, and got astride of it, and thanked God. And he sat there on the log in the middle of the sea, twiddling his thumbs for want of something to do.

There was a strong current in the sea that carried him along, and at last, after floating for many days without ever a bite for his teeth or a drop for his gullet, his feet touched land. Now that was at night, and he left the log and walked up out of the sea, and lay down on the shore and waited for morning.

When the sun rose he stood up, and saw that he was on a bare island,and he saw nothing at all on the island except a huge house as big as a mountain; and as he was looking at the house the great door creaked with a noise like that of a hurricane among the pine forests, and opened; and a giant came walking out, and came to the shore, and stood there, looking down at Ivan.

"What are you doing here, little one?" says the giant.

Ivan told him the whole story, just as I have told it to you. The giant listened to the very end, pulling at his monstrous whiskers.Then he said,

"Listen, little one. I know more of the story than you,for I can tell you that to-morrow morning your eldest brother is going to marry your Princess. But there is no need for you to take on about it. If you want to be there, I will carry you and set you down before the house in time for the wedding. And a fine wedding it is like to be, for your father thinks well of those brothers of yours bringing back all those precious stones, and silver and gold enough to buy a kingdom."

And with that he picked up Ivan the Ninny and set him on his great shoulders, and set off striding through the sea.

He went so fast that the wind of his going blew off Ivan's hat.

"Stop a moment," shouts Ivan; "my hat has blown off."

"We can't turn back for that," says the giant; "we have already left your hat five hundred versts behind us."

And he rushed on, splashing through the sea. The sea was up to his armpits. He rushed on, and the sea was up to his waist. He rushed on, and before the sun had climbed to the top of the blue sky he was splashing up out of the sea with the water about his ankles. He lifted Ivan from his shoulders and set him on the ground.

"Now," says he, "little man, off you run, and you'll be in time for the feast. But don't you dare to boast about riding on my shoulders. If you open your mouth about that you'll smart for it, if I have to come ten thousand thousand versts."

Ivan the Ninny thanked the giant for carrying him through the sea, promised that he would not boast, and then ran off to his father's house. Long before he got there he heard the musicians in the courtyard playing as if they wanted to wear out their instruments before night. The wedding feast had begun, and when Ivan ran in, there, at the high board, was sitting the Princess, and beside her his eldest brother. And there were his father and mother, his second brother, and all the guests. And everyone of them was as merry as could be, except the Princess, and she was as white as the salt he had sold to her father.

Suddenly the blood flushed into her cheeks. She saw Ivan in the doorway. Up she jumped at the high board, and cried out,

"There, there is my true love, and not this man who sits beside me at the table."

"What is this?" says Ivan's father, and in a few minutes knew the whole story. He turned the two elder brothers out of doors, gave their ships to Ivan, married him to the Princess, and made him his heir. And the wedding feast began again, and they sent for the ancient old sailor men to take part in it. And the ancient old sailor men wept with joy when they saw Ivan and the Princess, like two sweet pigeons, sitting side by side; yes, and they lifted their flagons with their old shaking hands, and cheered with their old cracked voices, and poured the wine down their dry old throats. There was wine enough and to spare, beer too, and mead--enough to drown a herd of cattle.

And as the guests drank and grew merry and proud they set to boasting. This one bragged of his riches, that one of his wife. Another boasted of his cunning, another of his new house, another of his strength, and this one was angry because they would not let him show how he could lift the table on one hand. They all drank Ivan's health, and he drank theirs, and in the end he could not bear to listen to their proud boasts.

"That's all very well," says he, "but I am the only man in the world who rode on the shoulders of a giant to come to his wedding feast."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before there were a tremendous trampling and a roar of a great wind. The house shook with the footsteps of the giant as he strode up. The giant bent down over the courtyard and looked in at the feast.

"Little man, little man," says he, "you promised not to boast of me. I told you what would come if you did, and here you are and have boasted already."

"Forgive me," says Ivan; "it was the drink that boasted, not I."

"What sort of drink is it that knows how to boast?" says the giant.

"You shall taste it," says Ivan.

And he made his ancient old sailormen roll a great barrel of wine into the yard, more than enough for a hundred men, and after that a barrel of beer that was as big, and then a barrel of mead that was no smaller.

"Try the taste of that," says Ivan the Ninny.

Well, the giant did not wait to be asked twice. He lifted the barrel of wine as if it had been a little glass, and emptied it down his throat. He lifted the barrel of beer as if it had been an acorn, and emptied it after the wine. Then he lifted the barrel of mead as if ithad been a very small pea, and swallowed every drop of mead that was in it. And after that he began stamping about and breaking things.

Houses fell to pieces this way and that, and trees were swept flat like grass. Every step the giant took was followed by the crash of breaking timbers. Then suddenly he fell flat on his back and slept.

For three days and nights he slept without waking. At last he opened his eyes.

"Just look about you," says Ivan, "and see the damage that you'vedone."

"And did that little drop of drink make me do all that?" says the giant.

"Well, well, I can well understand that a drink like that can do a bit of bragging. And after that," says he, looking at the wrecks of houses, and all the broken things scattered about--"after that,"says he, "you can boast of me for a thousand years, and I'll have nothing against you."

And he tugged at his great whiskers, and wrinkled his eyes, and went striding off into the sea.

That is the story about salt, and how it made a rich man of Ivan the Ninny, and besides, gave him the prettiest wife in the world, and she a Tzar's daughter.

Monday, June 08, 2009

Speedy Hot Dessert - Nectarine and Blueberry Galette

I am in love with Nigella Lawson.

I was browsing through one of her many cookbooks last night, Nigella Express, (am I the only one who reads cookbooks for fun?) and I came across this dessert recipe that I already had the majority of the ingredients for, so I thought I'd try it.

This is for all of you who think a hot dessert as well as a main course is beyond you!

Nectarine and Blueberry Galette

Nigella describes a Galette as ...a fancy way of saying "This is a pie, but don't get your hopes up." I would say do get your hopes up, for it is simple and tasty as any pie, served as is or with vanilla ice cream.

1 sheet of store bought all-butter puff pastry
1 1/2 tablespoons apricot jelly
1 1/2 tablespoon whipping cream
1 small nectarine, cut into 12 segments
2/3 cup of blueberries
1 1/2 teaspoons light brown sugar


(Yes I know the pic shows 2 nectarines, I thought I'd need both, but I was mistaken)

The puff pastry will be in the frozen food section - I normally buy Pepperidge Farm.

Buy this the day before. Take it out of the package and separate the two pieces. Wrap them both in saran wrap and put one in the fridge to defrost and the other in the freezer for later use.

1. Put the oven rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 450F

2. Unfold and lay the puff pastry on a baking sheet lined with baking parchment or a silpat (I love my silpat). Using a sharp knife score a frame around the edge of the pastry about 3/4 inch in.

3. In a small bowl mix together the apricot jelly and cream and then paint or spread this onto the pastry within the frame.

3. Arrange the fruit on top and sprinkle with with the brown sugar before baking in the oven for 10-15 minutes (keep an eye on it after 10, and when the pastry is nice and brown take it out!)

The only tricky stages are a) Scoring the square so that you cut the top layer of the pastry without cutting all the way through, not that it would be a disaster if you do, and b) Slicing the nectarine. The riper the nectarine the easier that will be - see the instructions here.

I must confess I rather hacked my nectarine to pieces as it wasn't really ripe enough, but once it's all cooked you can't tell the difference!

Absolutely delicious!!!
One other thing, if you are using a silpat, make sure you slide it off onto a board before cutting it. You don't want to cut on the silpat because if you do it will stop working!

Saturday, June 06, 2009

Pigs in Blankets for Grown Ups?

It's visual recipe time again - this post it's Pork Wellington. A dish that sounds and looks impressive but is really easy to make. This recipe comes from the Food Network, courtesy of Alton Brown.

1 whole egg
1 tablespoon water
1-oz dried apple rings (don't buy them, you can make them here)
1 whole pork tenderloin, around 1lb but normally they are tough to find that small
3oz thinly sliced prosciutto ham
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon fresh thyme
All purpose flour
1 sheet of puff pastry, thawed completely
1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard



1. Place the rack in the bottom third of the oven and preheat to 400F


2. Whisk the egg and water in a small bowl and set aside. Using kitchen scissors cut the dried apple rings up to the size of a medium dice.


3. Trim the pork tenderloin of any excess fat and sliver skin (if you don't remove the sliver skin the tenderloin will curve while cooking). If needed slice the tenderloin down the middle lengthwise, creating 2 separate pieces. Lay the tenderloin pieces next to each other head to tail, so when laid back together they are the same size at the ends.


4. Lay out a 12x 16 piece of parchment on the counter and arrange the prosciutto in the center overlapping them enough to create a solid layer that is as long as the tenderloin. Place another piece of parchment on top and using a rolling pin, press the prosciutto together to help it adhere to one another. Remove the parchment and the sprinkle the prosciutto with the salt, pepper and thyme.




















5. Set the tenderloin in the middle of the prosciutto. Spread the dried apples in between the two pieces of tenderloin and then then push them back together with the apples held between them.
6. Using the parchment paper to assist wrap the prosciutto around the tenderloin to completely enclose in a package.


7. Sprinkle the counter with flour, and roll out the pastry to approximately 12 x 14 inches. Spread the mustard thinly in the center of the pastry and lay the prosciutto wrapped tenderloin in the center of the pastry on top of the mustard.
8. Fold the puff pastry up and over the tenderloin, then roll completely to enclose, brushing the edges with the egg wash in order to seal. Turn the tenderloin over so the side of the tenderloin with the double thickness of pastry is underneath. Pinch the ends to seal.


9. Brush the entire pastry with egg wash. Place the tenderloin on a parchment lined sheet pan and bake for 25-30 minutes or until the pork reaches an internal temperature of 140F (I suggest using an oven thermometer to keep track - esp, if you have a really cool one like mine.)
10. Remove the tenderloin from the oven, transfer to a cooling rack and let rest for 10 minutes before slicing and serving. (While it rests the internal temperature will continue to rise another 20F and the juices will get partially absorbed. Don't omit this resting time or you will get undercooked pork!)