by Krista | Jul 21, 2016 | Winter
My favorite time of day at medieval camps is early morning, especially at Abbey Medieval Festival. The sun casting shadows through the towering trees is sheer magic and never fails to stop me in my tracks and make me so happy to be alive to see such things.
I like getting up before everyone and brewing coffee, trying, yet never succeeding, to be quiet enough in our kitchen tent to keep from waking our friend Sue. Soon she’s up too, cute as a button in her elfin hat, spooning in mounds of freshly ground coffee, getting our cups ready “just so” – decaf for Bear, black for Sue and Vincent, white and one sugar for me – keeping water warm for Adam when he wakes up.
Soon enough the fire is blazing, water boiling, the blissful scent of wood smoke wafting through camp.
It is an exquisite way to start the day.
This year I did three demonstrations: medieval folk medicine, medieval Bedouin food, and medieval cheese-making.
Although I’ve made cheese at home plenty of times, I hadn’t done it over a fire yet, so made sure to practice before the crowds arrived to make sure I had the process down pat.
I hung thick yogurt to drain in cheesecloth and set milk on to heat for a simple fresh cheese just as the sun slipped through the tree branches and turned my cheese-making into a veritable fairyland of light and shadow.
I stirred the milk as it steamed into roiling billows of light, watching for telltale bubbles around the edges before drizzling in homemade cider vinegar, then a bit more. Then the magic happened. Whey separated from curds and I poured it into a cheesecloth-lined basket, letting it drain until nothing but lovely, creamy cheese was left.
I gleefully danced through the smoky sunbeams to Bear – “I made cheese!!!” He laughed and we cheered and I tasted and all was well.
While I’d been making cheese, Sue had made breakfast and we happily noshed on toast and eggs and sausages, topping up our coffees to warm our bones.
After washing up I went for a wander, delighting in the play of light and campfire smoke around the tents of our friends.
Sunlight streamed through the market stall of the Templars where our friend Farina would soon be selling her fragrant packets of spices and ripe oranges for mulled wine.
Sunbeams shimmered through the Viking loom near the camp where my friends Paula and Nikolaj were making breakfast. Paula is an amazing weaver, making gorgeous linen out of the finest of threads.
I love the Viking encampment with its forest atmosphere and the welcoming faces and hugs of so many good friends. I wandered from camp to camp, getting in quick talks between building of fires and stirring of pots as everyone got ready for the first day of Abbey.
With promises of pending visits to make me smile, I headed back to camp.
xo
by Krista | Jul 20, 2016 | Winter
This has been the craziest winter I’ve ever experienced. Last week we were bundled up in every layer we could find, huddled close to the heater, clasping cold fingers around hot drinks. Today I’m barefoot, in a sundress, hair up in a pony tail as I stroll through green grass and turn my face to glorious sunshine.
I’m not complaining one bit.
Today was a rest and potter sort of day. I’m learning to listen to my body when it says, “Whoa, Nelly!” and I’m much the better for it.
So after work this morning I got my journal, a stack of books and magazines, and settled in on the veranda where I could watch birds flitting about, listen to the wind sighing gently through the gum trees, and get my heart quiet and inspired.
It’s such a lovely sitting spot, shady and cool all year round with wonderful views stretching out across the farmyard and out to the treeline of our bush.
We ate simply today, taking time savor delectable things like a perfectly ripe pear, garden fresh greens sauteed with garlic, sultanas, and toasted pine nuts, and, perhaps my favorite, new season mandarins.
There are fruits more exotic than a mandarin orange, but as I sat on a sun-drenched log looking out over green pastures, listening to our lambs chewing grass a few feet away, there was nothing that could’ve pleased me more than my oh-so-fragrant mandarin.
I took a wander around the farm, smiling at the bees buzzing so loudly as they flew from Paulownia blossoms back to their hive, inhaling deeply of the heady poplar sap that fills the air when the sun warms the trees lining our driveway. I called out greetings to our dogs – Luna, Solar, Freja, and Apollo – and chatted with the lambs who followed me on my ramble.
I love days like this, warm, golden days with time to collect armfuls of greens from my gardens, get lost in the latest issue of Victoria magazine, have chats with Bear over cold glasses of homemade orange beer. With so much upheaval in the world, I’m deeply grateful for the peaceful cadence of our life here, a haven where we can grow and heal.
The sun is setting now, and my perch on the veranda has cooled right down. Time to head inside for wine and dinner and the first chapter of a new book.
Where is your favorite sitting place at home? xo
by Krista | Jul 18, 2016 | Winter
Once a month I plan a few days of hibernation to rest and restore.
I let Bear know ahead of time and often he joins in, spending a weekend watching movies, reading books, and taking naps. We plan food that’s easy to reheat, give our animals extra feed and water, and cancel any chores and plans so we can really, truly rest.
We never regret it.
This weekend was that time again, and the weather obliged by clouding over, dripping rain, and making our little world very cozy indeed.
It’s been a lovely few days with very low expectations and much enjoyment.
We’ve slept in, had leisurely meals and favorite snacks, shared cuppas and good chats, watched the rain and the wild ducks that just moved in.
Taking this monthly break never fails to restore us, giving us a chance to think through our days and plans and adjust where necessary, providing time to reconnect and just enjoy each others company without the pressure of projects and deadlines. It does us much good.
We always try to make it special with the food we eat.
This time we had fried chicken and roast beef and this lovely Russian pashka.
Pashka is a pressed cheese pudding made with fresh ricotta and dried fruit. It takes a few days to make, but is worth every bit of the wait.
I start with homemade ricotta that I drain overnight before stirring in heavy cream, softened butter, sour cream, sugar, bush lemon zest, orange flower water, vanilla, and dried fruit. Then I put the whole lot in a colander or mold lined with damp cheesecloth, set a weight on top, and leave it in the fridge to drain a further 2-3 days until it is firm and beautiful.
Although it is full of rich dairy products, pashka is remarkably light thanks to the citrus notes that brighten and lift. My friend Rachel told me she makes hers orange zest, lemon zest, ground almonds, and dried cherries drenched in amaretto. Oh my goodness. Cannot wait to add boozy cherries to my next batch.
What food would you choose for a hibernation weekend? xo
Russian Pashka
Ingredients:
1 ½ cups ricotta cheese
¼ cup butter, softened
¾ cup fine white sugar
2 tsp orange flower water
1 tsp vanilla extract
½ cup heavy whipping cream
¼ cup sour cream or crème fraiche
2 egg yolks
¼ cup raisins or other dried fruit
1 tsp orange or lemon zest
2 lengths of cheesecloth/butter muslin.
Directions:
1. Place ricotta cheese in first length of cheesecloth (butter muslin), tie, and hang to drain overnight.
2. Next day, remove cheese from cloth and place in medim mixing bowl. Add butter, sugar, orange flower water, and vanilla, and beat until smooth. Set aside.
3. In large mixing bowl whip heavy cream until soft peaks form, then stir in cheese mixture, sour cream, and egg yolks and whisk until smooth and fluffy.
4. Stir in dried fruit and zest until smooth.
5. Dampen second length of cheesecloth (butter muslin) and line mold with drain hole or colander with it. Spoon cheese mixture into cheesecloth (butter muslin) and smooth. Fold cheesecloth (butter muslin) over mixture and place mold/colander over shallow dish. Top with an upturned saucer and place 1-2 pound weight on top. Set in refrigerator 2-3 days until well-drained and firm to touch.
6. On day three, open cheesecloth (butter muslin) and carefully turn out pashka onto a serving plate. Garnish with fruit, nuts, or edible flowers and serve cold.
by Krista | Jul 16, 2016 | Winter
It’s wildly windy this morning, blustery gusts shrieking through the trees and rattling our house. The sky is dark and brooding and I’m so glad to be bundled up inside with hot cinnamon raisin scones and a big mug of coffee.
Work is done for the week and I’m looking forward to cozying in for a few days at home with new books to read, unseen episodes of Midsomer Murders to watch, and comfort food to eat.
It’s been a week of pleasant projects, slipped in between naps and work, finding ways to use harvested items from my garden like horseradish and dill, and collected items like these gorgeous blood limes.
As I debated how to use these beauties, I finally settled on a blood lime marmalade which I hoped would showcase the luscious red color and vibrant flavor.
It turned out delectably, a rich red with mouth-puckeringly tart sweetness, lovely slathered over hot buttered scones or spooned onto wedges of sharp cheddar or creamy Camembert.
Scones and marmalade were such a nice way to start our stormy weekend.
Now it’s time to add a few more layers to my pjs and settle in for a movie marathon with Bear.
What are you looking forward to most this weekend? xo
Blood Lime Marmalade
Ingredients:
500 g blood limes
water to cover by one inch
500 g white sugar
Directions:
1. Thinly slice blood limes and place in stainless steel pan. Cover with water by one inch. Cover pan and bring to boil over medium heat, lower heat and simmer 1 to 1.5 hours until blood limes are tender. Check regularly to make sure mixture doesn’t burn.
2. Warm sugar in low oven or in pan over low heat. Stir into hot blood lime mixture, return to boil over medium heat and boil rapidly for five minutes.
3. Remove from heat. Skim foam off top and leave to sit five minutes.
4. Pour immediately into sterilized jars, seal tightly, turn upside down on cutting board, and leave overnight for jars to seal.
by Krista | Jul 15, 2016 | Winter
It is dark and cold, quiet and cozy as Bear and I hunker down in our little house keeping warm and recovering from a pernicious flu bug we picked up on our travels. The weather has been perfect for recovery, cocooning us in clouds and rain and solitude, giving us time for long naps and big bowls of soup.
I still go out to my gardens once a day, rugged up against biting winter winds and drenching drizzle. There’s always an abundance of greens – rainbow chard, mustard, mizuna, radicchio, and others – and this week I dug up enormous sweet potatoes, long, pale sticks of horseradish, and picked fat pods of sugar snap peas off a verdant tangle of vines.
I have a soft spot for horseradish. It makes me think of Danish smørrebrød – open-faced sandwiches made of thin, dense rye bread spread with a creamy, peppery horseradish sauce and piled high with curled slices of rare roast beef. Swoon.
In the past I’ve used pre-made horseradish sauce, but when my friend Oma gave me sprouted cuttings of horseradish root to plant, I was determined to make my own from start to finish.
It was finally ready this week and I dug it up with great anticipation, brushing off clinging bits of our lovely black soil. I trimmed off the sprouted bits and put them in water to root and plant again, then washed and peeled the horseradish root.
NOTE: Fresh horseradish is potent stuff that will quickly set your eyes and nose running if you aren’t careful, so be sure to cut it in a well-ventilated area.
I cut it into thin slices then popped it in the food processor with a few spoonfuls of Meyer lemon and blitzed it until it was finely chopped.
I chopped scallions and picked fresh dill from my garden – is there anything so lusciously fragrant?! – and added them to the mix.
Normally horseradish cream sauce is made with sour cream or yogurt, but I didn’t have either on hand so I used cottage cheese instead. It worked a treat and was lusciously creamy. Since it doesn’t have quite the tang that the others have, I added more lemon juice and it turned out beautifully.
Bear isn’t a diehard fan of horseradish like I am, but he obliged me by taste-testing and to his surprise he liked it. His eyes lit up and he declared that it would be an excellent accompaniment to beef or gamier meat like goat or lamb.
Tonight we’re having it for dinner with roast beef, dilled carrots, and boiled potatoes topped with one of my favorite Danish sauces – white with lashings of chopped fresh parsley.
Now it’s time for another nap as the roast cooks. I’ve got new books from the library calling my name.
Have you read anything good lately? xo
Horseradish Cream Sauce
Ingredients:
½ cup finely chopped horseradish
2-3 Tbsp lemon juice
2 cups sour cream, plain yogurt, or cottage cheese
2 scallions, sliced
¼ cup fresh dill, chopped fine
salt and pepper to taste
Directions:
Combine everything in food processor and blitz until smooth and creamy.
Soon enough the fire is blazing, water boiling, the blissful scent of wood smoke wafting through camp.
This year I did three demonstrations: medieval folk medicine, medieval Bedouin food, and medieval cheese-making.
I stirred the milk as it steamed into roiling billows of light, watching for telltale bubbles around the edges before drizzling in homemade cider vinegar, then a bit more. Then the magic happened. Whey separated from curds and I poured it into a cheesecloth-lined basket, letting it drain until nothing but lovely, creamy cheese was left.
I gleefully danced through the smoky sunbeams to Bear – “I made cheese!!!” He laughed and we cheered and I tasted and all was well.
While I’d been making cheese, Sue had made breakfast and we happily noshed on toast and eggs and sausages, topping up our coffees to warm our bones.
Sunlight streamed through the market stall of the Templars where our friend Farina would soon be selling her fragrant packets of spices and ripe oranges for mulled wine.
Sunbeams shimmered through the Viking loom near the camp where my friends Paula and Nikolaj were making breakfast. Paula is an amazing weaver, making gorgeous linen out of the finest of threads.
With promises of pending visits to make me smile, I headed back to camp.
