One of my (sadly very few) followers on Twitter is MrsSew&Sew, a wacky little blog that pretends to be “reporting from the home front during World War II”. From the little personal information on the site I gather that Mrs Sew&Sew spends some time (in real time, I think) coming up with ways to save money “and make the most of our rations and other scarce resources. We’ve got to – there’s a war on, after all!”
“I’ve heard there’s some kind of problem with the banks in 2009,” she says on the blog, “so maybe some of these ideas will come in handy there too. Do let me know if you have any great ideas I can pass onto my neighbours. Or even if they’re not relevant in my time, let me know anyway, and I’ll pass them back to all the lovely people in your time.”
Mrs Sew&Sew’s blogs and tweets are purely fictional but based on factual information from the London Imperial War Museum which sponsors the site. It’s amazing that the wartime mentality is so relevant now. Who would have thought?

The tweets are a bit silly and fun – “Just back from the air raid shelter – it’s important to have provisions ready: candles, matches, blanket and warm clothes” – but the nostalgic information on the blog is as relevant today as it was then. I particularly like the Make Do and Mend section and think I’ll steal the line for a future Notebook campaign. Stay tuned. Have a look at the blog. It’s great. www.sewx2.blogspot.com.

Another couple of blogs I’ve tuned into and that run along the same themes are The Paupered Chef and 30 Bucks A Week. The latter is an attempt to “document spending $30 a week on groceries for two people living in Brooklyn, New York (yes, $15 each). While we’re trying to squeeze all of our weekly home-cooked meals with that $30, we still go out to eat once in a while. New York City has too many amazing restaurants to cut ourselves off completely. It’s still unclear what we’ll do about cooking for dinner parties…
“All the meals featured here are 100% vegetarian, though they will often feature eggs and dairy. We like our cookbooks, but often make some crazy concoctions with whatever we have on hand.”
I’ve always thought that food is quite reasonably priced in New York (depending on where you go) but 30 bucks a week? It’s an interesting journey these two are on and they actually show the dockets as proof. As you can imagine, the blog features some fairly inventive vegetarian dishes. www.thirtyaweek.wordpress.com.

The Paupered Chef was started in 2006 by two blokes in their tiny Manhattan apartment “when we knew only a little about cooking but were forced into the kitchen to save money”.
“The blog has been sustained since the beginning by relentless curiosity and the pursuit of pleasure. From cheese-making to curing pig jowls in the living room, to the perfect technique for cooking hamburgers - no project is too absurd or misguided. If you can make it homemade, we’re willing to try it.”
Since they started the blog the boys have gone their separate ways – Nick has gotten married and moved to Chicago and Blake lives in Estonia with his fiancée – but they still update regularly with interesting food and travel posts. Definitely worth a look.  www.thepauperedchef.com

P.S. While I think of it here’s a handy little hint that I learned from my mum about how to make the perfect potato mash: add your butter to the milk and heat until quite hot (but not boiling). Add to potatoes and whip until smooth and creamy. Delicious.

As promised in my story on marinades in July’s Notebook: here is a very basic recipe for Sauerbraten (sour roast) from my grandmother’s 1956 edition of  Die Deutsche Kuche (The German Kitchen).

As you can see from the pictures here, the book is rather well-used and well-thumbed. Dirty, actually, and definitely showing its age. And there are also pages that are ripped, scribbled on and scrunched up by my much younger self. I don’t remember doing it but I really wish I hadn’t.

I refer to the book quite a lot, especially if I want to make something from my mum or oma’s favourites. I know it’s probably easier to do a google search (no translating involved) but there’s something seriously special about returning to this book, knowing my oma’s DNA is embedded deeply in its pages. Also, the illustrations really make me laugh.

They are stereotypically German (just look at the one of the frau with sleeves rolled up making dough). There are also some seriously non-PC ones of poor animals running from farmers with shotguns, knives and other instruments of death. Now that’s something you wouldn’t see now.

And, as for the reason for making something called a sour roast, it’s not just for the piquancy of the vinegar and juniper berries. It’s all about tenderising cheaper cuts of meat and preserving – and slow cooking which is very much all the rage right now. Time to dust off the old crock pot.

SAUERBRATEN

1kg beef silverside
salt and pepper
60g speck, cut into small cubes
1 onion
250ml marinade (recipe below)
250ml water or stock

For the marinade:
3 litres water
250ml red wine vinegar
1 bay leaf
12 whole black peppercorns
12 juniper berries
1 onion, sliced
1 parsnip, sliced
½ stick of celery, sliced

Combine all ingredients for marinade and simmer on medium heat for 15 minutes. When cool, pour over beef (seasoned with salt and pepper) and marinate, covered, in fridge for two days. Turn occasionally.
When meat has finished marinating, pierce flesh and push in the small pieces of speck. Add meat and remaining ingredients to baking dish and roast for two hours. Turn occasionally and baste meat with liquid.
When meat is cooked, remove and set aside. Strain the marinade and place in saucepan over medium heat and reduce until thickened. Add flour to thicken if necessary.
Slice beef and serve with sauce.

I am at war with the snails in our garden. They are nasty little destroyers, especially of fragile new plantings and yet I can’t bear to squash them. No way. I read recently that you could ward them off with used, ground coffee. I duly made a pot and sprinkled the remains into the soil with some newly planted oregano, thyme and mint and, bingo, the snails have vanished. And, despite the current Arctic conditions, the herbs are thriving… and in one piece.

The many pots of violets I planted a few weeks ago are also going gangbusters. From small seedlings they quickly developed a healthy dark green foliage and two weeks ago, just in time for an afternoon birthday party, they popped their perfect purple heads out and have been delighting us ever since. I love to see their pretty faces from my kitchen window when I get up in the mornings and while many people find this cold depressing, I love nothing more than the trees in their near nakedness, especially the crepe myrtle directly outside the window. Its leaves may be mottled and yellow but they are utterly beautiful from where I’m standing.

P.S. The future of the 50 dwarf agapanthus I ordered online (see previous post) and planted a few weeks back hangs in the balance. They’re not exactly dead but they’re not exactly growing either. Who knew that if you plant them as seedlings they need to go in during late winter, early spring. Clearly I didn’t so they went in during the last days of autumn. And the box hedge has lots of brown bits which is even more distressing because I can’t imagine it’ll look so hot with lots of holes. Apparently this could be caused by lack of sunlight (check), lack of food (check) and/or cat/dog wee. Given our ongoing battle with the neighbourhood cats and their love of (spraying) our house I’m betting it’s number three.

Great.

Have you ever tried on a pair of jeans that were a little snug but you bought them anyway in the belief that you’ll fit into them if you just lose a couple of kilos? Of course you have. Hasn’t everyone? I have such a pair sitting in my wardrobe – brand new Levis and they’ve been languishing there for so long they’re probably considered vintage.

Anyway, having run out of jeans I like and not inclined to go jeans shopping at the moment (except for an internet order from the US which I suspect will end in tears) I decided on a little research to see if there is a way to stretch jeans that don’t fit. Let me preface this by saying the jeans in question did not fit full stop. I couldn’t do them up (apparently the couple of kilos I needed to lose in the first place have turned into considerably more). So in the “How To Stretch Jeans” section of Google came the following advice:

1. Start by putting your jeans through a regular wash cycle on cold. This will remove any excess dye as well as prepare them for stretching.
2. Remove the jeans from the washer and hold in front of you.
3. Insert your forearm into the waist of the jeans, your elbow on one side and your fist on the other. Pull the jeans from one side to the other by stretching your arm and then bending again at the elbow. (This sounds easier than it really is so I ended up sticking my foot on the waistband and pulling the jeans on each side.)
4. To add even more stretch, insert an object into the waist of your jeans to keep the jeans stretching. A textbook works well, but if your jeans need more width, you can also use a plank of wood cut to the correct size. It may seem extreme to cut a plank just for jeans, but you can use this over and over on any jeans you have. Another way of doing this is to pull the waist over the back of a chair, so that it hugs the chair and the chair back stretches the waist. If you do it this way, you can leave the jeans there to dry, maximizing the stretch. (A textbook? How small is the author of this report? I really don’t recommend this unless you’re a size nothing… in which case you probably don’t need to stretch your jeans.)
5. Let your jeans dry naturally by hanging them to dry on a line or a drying rack. If you are really pressed for time, you can tumble them in a dryer on low heat, but be careful to put them on the lowest setting.
6. To stretch more before wearing, hold one end of the waist of the jeans in one hand and pull with your other. You may also insert your foot into the waist of the jeans on one end and pull with your hand on the other. Just be careful not to overextend the fabric with this technique (or rub the hell out of your hands which is what I did. Hello, handcream).

There is a happy ending to this story in that the jeans now fit. And not only do they fit they’re actually a little loose around the waist. Hallelujah.

Which brings me to the Bolognese. In my ongoing search for the perfect Bolognese sauce I read about a method which is far more labour intensive than your standard sauce and which ended in it being quite salty (quite a lot of beef stock reduction and prosciutto will do that). So salty it was bordering on inedible which did not please me after hours in the kitchen. More research on google (what did we do without it?) resulted in another good tip.

If you’ve over-salted a dish just peel a couple of potatoes, pop them in and finish cooking. Remove the potatoes before serving. And, yes, it worked.

Two great hints in one weekend. Brilliant.

Warning: “Resizing” your jeans could lead to a serious case of denial and how much Bolognese you really can eat. Best punish yourself with some heavy-duty morning training (brrrr…. It is freezing at the moment) and a tuna salad for lunch.

Some things just don’t go together: oil and water, Brad and Jen, children and chillies and chocolate and thyme. Dinner at home last Friday for friends with their young daughter Lulu and my 25-year-old niece Danielle visiting from Adelaide, was a case in point.

I had the day off and planned an afternoon of cooking and baking. The day was exquisite – autumn at its best – and was marred only by an electrical fault that took the electrician and his apprentice six hours and $750 to repair. Apron on and experimental chef’s hat on, I decided to try some recipes I’d not cooked before (the first rule of what not to do when entertaining) and set about making meatballs with tagliatelle and a chocolate and thyme cake for dessert.

Now you wouldn’t think meatballs would take all that long but once I’d chopped all the herbs and onions and garlic, made breadcrumbs from bread which had to be dried out in the sun because the oven wasn’t working because the electrician had turned off the power, well, it seemed to take an eternity. The chocolate cake (600g of dark Lindt later!) processes went seamlessly enough and I even managed not to curdle the chocolate and butter mixture, something I’m always afraid of doing since I seem to manage it most times. I did baulk a little at the addition of the dried thyme to the mix but, hey, I’ll try anything once.

I’d cooked the meatballs on purpose because it’s food that children love, even if this recipe was a little more gourmet than most. The addition of half a teaspoon of dried chilli flakes worried me not at all because I didn’t realise children can apparently spot a chilli at a thousand paces. We vigorously denied any such thing had gone into the mix (“just a bit of pepper, dear”) but I think she twigged, which made it all the more admirable that she ate the whole ball (they were big).

I’m sure the poor monkey thought it would all be worth it with the promise of a big piece of chocolate cake, until she tasted it, screwed up her nose in disgust and opted for an old Easter egg with Smarties. My niece soldiered on valiantly through gritted teeth (hard to do when you’re eating) and the adults were divided: some claiming it was wonderful and “earthy” and one saying it was just awful. Thanks.

I’m undecided but don’t care because I’ll never make it again.

I’ve never been a trendsetter – or even an early adaptor as the forecasters call it – so I’m always surprised and delighted when I latch onto something that isn’t well and truly over. My problem is that when I do discover something I love, I tend to become obsessively addicted (such as footless tights, which I’m finding impossible to give up) and end up buying numerous versions of the same thing (cushions, white antique jugs and tent dresses spring to mind).

So, anyway, I was leafing through one of my very favourite French home decorating mags the other day and what do I see? A blackboard fridge. Yes, the whole finish is blackboard and it even has a dinky little tray to hold your chalk. You may remember I talked about painting my fridge with blackboard paint in a previous post. Naturally disaster ensued because of lack of primer and I, bored by the board, just let it be. Turns out this was the best thing I could have done because I gave it one more shot (writing on it) and it worked and has ever since. Just goes to show you don’t really need to follow instructions to the letter. Or at all, really.
Anyway, said board has become incredibly useful in the kitchen. Not only can I just jot down when we run out of something in my best school teacher handwriting, I also get to play out all my childish writing-on-the-blackboard fantasies. There’s also something quite satisfying about cleaning the board and I’m sure that harks back to school, too. Ah, the smell of chalk dust.

I strongly recommend it. Everyone’s doing it and everywhere. On walls, on cupboards, ceilings (have only seen this in a French restaurant and wouldn’t recommend it for your kitchen). Also, in kids’ bedrooms, but that could get a bit messy.

I’m the only one allowed to write on it in my household. And only white chalk is allowed. Another obsession.