Domesticali

Evening meanderings

Scenes from my evening walk to share with you today.

At the moment I feel very grateful to be living in our village - fewer people, plenty of access to open spaces and a solid sense of community. They all help a little bit in the desire that I'm sure we all feel for security. To feel rooted and stable.

 
But today I had to head further out to go to the supermarket. A couple of our neighbours are isolating, so at least I could feel useful by picking up some supplies  for them. But I wasn't too cheerful about going. Which is unusual for me - usually grocery shopping is one of my favourite chores. I love pushing the trolley up and down the aisles. Sometimes I have a list, but often I just go with a vague plan or decide to see what is on special and make it up from there. And in recent years, I have become a very frequent shopper. Daily.

Not these days though -  today, I had a battle plan of a list. With alternatives in case of necessary substitutions. Treading a delicate line between store cupboard and fresh, with a mind to fridge real estate. Meals planned to include softer and leafier soonest, and heartier and rootier for later on. It has been aeons since I tried to do a shop to last us a week. And that trolley was HEAVY, but I made it.

And scuttling home on eerily empty roads, I exhaled as I came back into the village. Home. Safe. The world feels very big out there.

 

Comforts of the kitchen

If you asked me where in the house I am happiest, the answer would always be in the kitchen - it's my lair, my domain, where I can be king of all I survey. And it is also the place I go to soothe myself - not by eating necessarily, but by letting the gentle rhythms of chop, heat, stir, rinse soothe whatever it is that troubles me. And the things I cook are a gift to those I feed - an expression of love. I know you are revising and it sucks, so I made you cookies. You are sick? I have chicken soup. Can't wake up in the morning - perhaps a pan au chocolat will make it less painful. It stands to reason that I am planning to put in a lot of kitchen time over the next few weeks - palliative care for me and emotional nourishment for the rest of the household. And the medicine seems to be going down well - since the days of enforced lockdown, I've noticed that everyone is happy to linger a bit longer at the table.

And the food gives us something to talk about - not only our enjoyment of it, but the stories behind it or the power it has to transport us to another place. Take Ajvar, for instance. We first came across it in Croatia - as an accompaniment to grilled meats and cevapi (a kind of sausage thing). Hubby was a big fan. We brought a jar home with us and when it was gone, I happened to encounter it in the supermarket (though this one is Macedonian, not Croatian and spelled differently).

He finished the jar the other day though, and I don't suppose Ajvar is high on the list of anybody's essential items restock list. And going to the supermarket feels like today's equivalent of base jumping, so instead I looked up a recipe on line (well several actually and then went off piste with some hybrid of my own) and went to my happy place.

It turns out to be a simple mix of roasted aubergine, peppers, chilli, garlic, salt oil and vinegar. A bit of roasting, some peeling, de-seeding and food processing and there it was. Homemade Ajvar. I even sterilised and re-used the original jar. And my batch is flipping delicious.

We are going to have it with lamb steaks tonight and chickpea mash. And whatever green veg might still be lurking in the fridge. I've heeded all the lockdown warnings and have not been out to the shops, so we are making do with what we have. But we have Ajvar, and memories of Croatia to look forward to.

What's on your dinner table tonight?

Extraordinary times

The thing about extraordinary times is so often, the days within them have an air of ordinariness. And so I find it during this Coronavirus event. As a family, we have been hunkered down for about a week now. Not in full isolation, but lying very low. Having my chicks in the nest is a relief - the last couple of days before the younger one's school shut was a battle of conscience. Sending him felt so wrong, but it's his GCSE year so not sending him also felt reckless. It was a relief when they finally pulled the plug.

And life at home now? It's good - home feels like our safe space and I am weirdly enjoying all the small, everyday tasks that keep it running smoothly. Usually in my head home is the launchpad for the real world outside where all the exciting things happen. I'm always rushing through things at home to move on to the stuff 'out there'. But now that out there isn't where any of us particularly want to be, I am happy with the domestic. Bathrooms have been deep cleaned, gardening is happening, time in the kitchen has provided soothing entertainment. And we are learning new skills - I can hear the boys next door in the kitchen where Mark is proving a dab hand with the hair clippers. 

And I am staying away from too much news and instead, back here at the blog. When I first began blogging, fourteen years ago (fourteen!), it was because I was spending an awful lot of time at home with very small children. Blogging wasn't so much a window on the world, as me running my own, homemade flag up the flagpole, with a slightly desperate call of Helloooooooo, I'm here, do you see me?

So it is perhaps not surprising that now, spending a lot of time at home with adult sized children, that the blog calls to me again. As a place to talk, and not least as a place to bear witness to the small, ordinary days within these extraordinary times.