ias

Strike through means that they haven't made it to the Grand Final.

250g broad beans, skins removed
250g peas
2 x 410g tins butter beans, drained and rinsed
1 or 2 courgettes, thinly sliced
2 tbsp chopped thyme

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1/2 tbsp white wine vinegar
1/4 tsp Dijon mustard
1/4 tsp sugar

1 log fresh goats cheese

1. Cook the broad beans and peas in boiling, unsalted water for 2-3
   minutes or until tender. Drain and refresh under running cold water.
   Mix together in a bowl with the butter beans.


2. Stir-fry the courgettes in 2 tbsp of the olive oil for five minutes, tip into
   the bean mixture and season well with salt and pepper. Add the
   thyme leaves.


3. Whisk the remaining olive oil, white wine vinegar, Dijon mustard and
   sugar together, and season with salt and pepper. Mix into the bean
   salad along with the crumbled cheese. Pile into a serving bowl
   and chill until required.

Salads/Vegetables

Cold plates

Breads & pastas

Desserts

Other recent hits on the food front include:

Polenta and game stew: we had four pheasant breasts in the freezer which we wanted to use, and this was the answer. Adapted and scaled down brillantly. I initally thought there would be leftovers but Alex and Cory went at it with gusto (as did the adults) so there was none.

Parmesan biscuits: I made these as a savoury snack for Halloween at the Nursery (along with small oranges decorated with cucumber to make pumpkin lanterns). Going to make this at Christmas (but not bat shaped!).

So the Eurovision Song Contest was last night and we had a party. It was rather short notice as we only decided to host a party a couple of weeks ago), and we decided at even shorter nice (during the first semi-final) that we would try and have a foodstuff or a dish from every country in the final.

And we managed it, except for Romania who we forgot about. It was rather difficult to find dishes that weren't generic Scandanavian, Austro-Hungarian or Ottoman Empire and we ended up with a few dishes which weren't so far removed from other things we're very familiar with. So for the record, this is what we had on the table:

Armenia - PAKLAVA (baklava)
Austria - smoked cheese
Azerbaijan - Shuyudlu suzme (strained full fat yoghurt w dill and garlic) *
Belarus - pickled cucumber and honey
Denmark - Danish Blue
Finland - Finn Crisp (crispbreads)
France - various cheeses, baguette, wine
Germany - Black Forest gateaux *, peppered salami, garlic sausage, smoked cheese
Greece - olives
Hungary - paprika salami
Iceland - prawns
Italy - Taleggio, fizzy wine
Malta - fig and prickly pear liqueurs
Montenegro - quince paste
Netherlands - Gouda with cumin
Norway - goats cheese, marinated salmon
Poland - Polish ham, Polish style rye bread, bisson vodka
Russia - blinis, sour cream and caviar, vodka San Marino - torta tre Monti *
Slovenia - Bled cream cake *
Spain - fig and almond cake
Sweden - crispbreads, gravlax
Switzerland - Emmental
UK - table water biscuits, Stilton, strawberries, various homemade, cake bites
Ukraine - mini chicken kievs (two of which were annexed to Russia)

Those marked * I make, the rest we bought. It turned out to be a very good spread and something I think we should repeat in future years.

As to the contest, Austria was a popular winner round our's, although personally I would have liked to see Iceland do better and I was astounded that France's jolly little ditty on the angst of the consumer society and the unbearable lightness of being, focused through the desire to have a decent 'tache, didn't do better.

Yesterday the Spouse and I took the day off work, abandoned the kids to school and nursery and went to Chichester to see Frank Langella as King Lear in the Minevra Theatre. This was, I'm rather ashamed to say, the first time I'd ever seen Lear in any sort of performance, nor had I read it thus many aspects of the story were new to me. I knew the basic premise of the play, it was a traegy so I expected some deaths at the end, but many of the twists and turns on the way I had no idea about.

The Minevera was set in about a 270 round formation. The set was minimal (the main prop being the throne borrowing the the RNT) but very textural (cobbles, wood, stone, tiles). As we were row D, it was rather up front and personal. The cast were, as you would expect, rather good. Harry Melling played a youthful fool, bringing a hint of the autistic spectrum into his charcterisation. In particular I thought Lauren O'Niell as Regan, Max Bennet as Edmund and Steven Pacey as Kent were superb, although that's not to say the rest of the cast weren't also strong performers. Langella himself brought me to tears in his final scenes. Although ocassionally in his earlier hurumphings were reminscent of his Nixon, his thinderous temper filled the small theatre and his later descent into senility was truly pathethic.

The only bum note in the whole production was Isabella Laughland as Cordelia. playing a corpse was not a stretch for her, but apprently playing Cordelia as anything other than a pious plank was. Cordelia should have bite and the courage of her convictions, instead her monologues were flat, colourless and, at times, barely audible. It may have been a very off-day for her (given she's won outstanding newcomer awards) but only showed anything like promise when acting directly with Langella, as if he could pull a performance out of her.

All in all 'though, a production I would happily sit through again. It's off to Broklyn once it is finished at Chichester.

Poor old Aunitie is having a packed week, celebrating/commemorating the centenary of Benjamin Britten's birth and the fifith anniversaries of C.S.Lewis's death, JFK's assassination (all 22nd November) and the first airing of Doctor Who (23rd November). I wouldn't have liked to have chaired those scheduling meetings...

Today he got grabbing your hand and walking off to get you to follow him (or, if he couldn't reach my hand, dragging my shirt tails). He also realised that if I couldn't see what he was gesticulating towards, he had to grab my hand and pull me to where he was so I could see what he could see.

He's also got a few more words that I didn't notice before. Gat for cat (nextdoor's have been visiting and C. was remarkable gentle at stroking them tonight)

There's a definite autumnal feel in the air today and I really should get around to recording this summer, Cory's first, before I forget so expect to see a flurry of back-dated posts over the next couple of days as I finally get around to writing the half-formed posts I have in my head.

However today, the day I woke up to hear that Murray had won his first grand Slam, I am feeling rather tired and a bit too wired after my morning coffee in the staff room. It is my second week back at work and I'm not as organised this week as I was last. We really need to have one day at the weekend to get organised for the week: catch up on laundry, cook a big meal from which we can do quick leftover dishes during the week, make packed lunches for as far ahead as we can etc etc. We didn't this weekend as Saturday we were at the Paralympics and Sunday we caught up on sleep and then went to the heritage Open Day at Townhill Park, so we are running to catch-up at the moment. I also managed to spring out of bed last week at 6.30 whereas so far this week getting up by 7.30 has been a struggle due to late nights and a cold-ridden baby.

So, Murray has finally won a Grand Slam after getting gold at the Olympics. It had been a transformative summer for Murray's relationship with the British, and in particular English, public. It seemed to me that many English people just didn't get this particular taciturn Scot in much the way they didn't get another taciturn Scot, Gordon Brown. As the offspring of a long line of taciturn, male Scots I was more than aware that there was passion in Murray but it took his gracious, humourous and emotional speech on Centre Court after he lost Wimbledon to get many people, not to mention the media, to realise that just because you don't wear your heart on your sleeve, doesn't mean you don't have a heart. His tearful thanks to the British people was heart-wrenching. Likewise is rather awed reaction to having finally won a Grand Slam this morning, and a wry apology for not appearing as happy on the outside as he was on the inside, should further endear him to the great British public.

So, Sports Personality of the Year. As if we didn't need to make the choice any harder. Gold medalist and the first British male Grand Slam winner for 76 years: in any other year Murray would be a shoe-in.

Just filled in the Home Office's consultation on marriage equality.

It only took a few minutes and you can bet that the Christian Right have mobilised their forces to fill it in, so please, please, if you are a UK citizen and believe that everyone should be able to get married, fill in the consultation.

The consultation ends on 14th June so to avoid a Theresa May/European Court of Human Rights date cock up, do it this evening!