Having gazed at the sky yesterday for https://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2011/12/10/6-word-saturday-12/
the first thing that met my eyes this morning was this:
Last Sunday I mentioned that I would have to make mince pies for my sewing ladies on Monday. I have been making pastry for more than sixty years, so it was a shock to my pride to discover that things could go wrong. Ever since acquiring a Kenwood mixer umpteen years ago, I have made pastry in that, with never a problem. But I’ve been watching too much Masterchef on television, and decided to do the job properly, with a heap of flour on the table, the addition of a pinch of salt and a tablespoon of caster sugar, a couple of egg yolks, and about half a pound of soft squishy butter and then get my hands sticky rubbing to a fine breadcrumbs consistency.
So far so good. Balled together as best I could, the bunch of crumbs was wrapped in a cloth and put in the fridge to rest while I ‘doctored’ a jar of Robertson’s mincemeat with cinnamon, chopped apple and almonds and a goodly dollop of Cointreau.
To battle: the rested dough went on strike and refused to be rolled out, so I bunged it in the freezer for another hour. I got on with making some tiny meringues with the two egg whites, piping them in whorls onto a baking sheet and drying them out gently in a coolish oven.
The morning was getting away from me – I was still in my flour-bespeckled nightie and Jock would be home for lunch any minute, grumpy as all get out if he wasn’t fed straightaway (low blood sugar). So I had another go at rolling out, swore a lot, scrunched the paste willy nilly into the bun tins, prodding it angrily with my fingers to come up the sides. So much for “a light hand with pastry”. The scrummy mincemeat was spooned in, a small ball of paste flattened into some semblance of a circle for the top of each pie, and I heaved a sigh of relief as I bunged the trays into the oven. After a perfunctory shower, I was dressed by the time Jock walked in, but the kitchen looked as though a bomb had hit it, so lunch was delayed and eaten in silence. – too much washing up for a couple of dozen small mince pies. However, the result could have been a lot worse and the taste was gorgeous! As for the meringues – filled with a cream made from mascarpone, icing sugar and melted chocolate, they were delicious. No picture – they were eaten too quickly.
I’m sure there will be some less fraught stories at http://isawsunday.blogspot.com/