Blossom: Day Four, Pastry Hasty

I plead the Use-It-Up Clause

Thursday 4 Frocktober

Outfit

• Work uniform (at work)
• Crocheted cardigan, headscarf, pinny (at home)
• Crocheted cardigan, tweed jacket, great Hepburn trousers, beret, gloves, nice shoes, lipstick, touch of powder, matchy purse, earrings, pearls (for the doctor)

 Menu

• Breakfast - same as yesterday: egg, fruit, boiled coffee, yaysers
• Lunch - leftovers. Mock leftovers.
• Afternoon tea - fruit, cuppa tea
• Dinner - pasties, veg, pickles, gin
• After dinner - Horlicks

Mood

• Something ... full.

Definitely full of something.

It is day four and I am feeling the first signs of strain. Thing the first: every morning I put my coffee pot on the stove and look at my Nespresso, which is right there. The boiled coffee is fine, I guess, but ... the Nespresso is right there.

Right. There.

Thing the second, it would be nice if it were not my patriotic duty to look nice all the time. I got home this afternoon and took off my uniform and put on some comfy clothes and had my leftover lunch - yes I still really love Mock Chicken - and then I had a doctor's appointment so I had to put on a nice tweed jacket and some lipstick and some nice shoes and a hat and some gloves and a matching purse and go out. In the 21st century I would have brushed my hair and made sure there were no stains on my cardigan.

In all fairness, though, I felt rather good about myself when I was out and about.

Okay. So. Cuisine. Tomorrow night I will be doing something very 1940s, and going out for dinner with The Girls (my beautiful mother and sisters).

In the forties, in the UK and Australia, people went out to eat a lot. Why? Because cafe and restaurant food was Off-Ration. That doesn't mean it was any better than you could manage at home, but it does mean NO COUPONS were spent in the manufacture of this meal. Which means more coupons for later. Such as when you have visitors and would like to impress them with the quality of your mutton stew, and not just give them a bowl of skilly (Grated carrot and oatmeal soup. No, I'm really not joking.)

Tomorrow night I'm going Out and having a FISH SUPPER swelpmigod, and I plan to have a little glass of wine too. And the poor Captain will be left all alone at home to fend for himself.

So this evening I decided to make something nice that the Captain could eat tomorrow when he is left all to himself and I am out on the town eating fish and wearing a wonderful hat. Some nice little pastries that are equally good hot or cold; they freeze well and keep well and are actually quite nutritious.

 Here we go.

Blossom's Savoury Mince/Pasties

First, round up the Usual Suspects.

The Usual Suspects. Yup, yup. Onion, potatoes, ooh that's a swede ... and carrots. It's possible I'm getting a bit tired of carrots.

A bit tired of carrots.

You will also need some minced meat. I am using sheep.

Baaaah.

Chop everything finely, fry in small quantity of oil, brown everything, ... blah blah ... you know the drill.

Oh, look. It's brown.

Now the interesting part. See, I would usually suggest adding stock (and by stock, I mean ...) but due to some unforseen lack of cognitive operation, I forgot to buy any more.

That's okay. There is a war on, and we can't guarantee getting luxury goods like Oxo whenever we feel like it. We have to Make Do.

So I did. I added a tin of tomatoes, some water and my latest Miracle Ingredient ...

WHAAAAAAAH!

If I live to 150 I will probably never get tired of Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce. This is what angels put on their sausage rolls.

Let it all stew away and absorb the flavours of the yummy yummy Miracle Ingredient.

In the meantime, get your flour, shortening, eggs, marble pastry board, rolling pin ...

HA! WHO AM I KIDDING? This, I'm afraid, is what I used.

Look: I know. I'm quite capable of making my own, I learned how when I was a child back in the (cough-cough)ies. But I've been working at the factory and it's been a long day, and back in 1936 I made this stuff and gave it to Scott to take to the Antarctic, and he didn't like it, and it was there, and it's 25% reduced fat (so embarrassing) and it's been a long day and ...

I needed to Use It Up. I plead the Use-It-Up clause.

Okay, let's just get past this. You let it thaw out mostly, and you cut out circles, and you dob a spoonful of your lovely fragrant savoury mince in the middle.

Like so.

You set your oven at 200 degrees C and brush the edges of your pastry with beaten egg or milk. Then you do that amazingly clever thing that Cornish housewives do with their pasties: you know, the twist-and-flick.

Or, like me, you say to yourself: Hey. It's been a long day. I'm wearing an apron and lipstick. This is pastry. Enough is enough. I'm just going to make the things close up.

I had intended to fold each one artistically into a flattering likeness of Prime Minister Churchill. Then I thought: yeah, or I could just have some gin. Mr Churchill, I think, would have approved of my decision.

Poke a hole in each pasty to let steam out and brush the pastry with beaten egg to make it nice and shiny. The pop it in the oven for about 25 minutes or unti the pasties are golden brown.

They smell lovely.

Serve hot with pickles and vegetables, or cold with mustard and salad.

The lovely thing about these is that they are very filling, taste delicious and are equally nice hot and cold. They are perfect with the World's Best Condiments ...

Everything made by Wilkin & Sons is like heaven. I speak truth.

... And they freeze beautifully, so feel free to hand some to Scott and ask him to take them along on his next expedition for you.

These pasties are especially nice for when a loving wife (me) goes out on the town with her mother and sisters, and leaves the poor Captain to fend for himself after a long hard day of working at ... wherever he works, doing whatever he does (he doesn't seem to be allowed to say much about it ...)

The Captain, tired after a long hard day of doing ... whatever he does.

Tomorrow night the weary Captain can fling down his briefcase, unbuckle his belt, fill his pipe and gesture for his faithful dog to bring his slippers, his plate of pasties, some French mustard, and pop the kettle on. And I will feel justified in putting on my best hat, having a Fish Supper and laughing with my family, knowing that he at least can have a pleasant supper.

Frock you later.

Blossom