Potato Gnocchi

Two weeks back Fi & I came into possession of a giant sack of taters.  Generally speaking, we don't eat many potatoes, so our repertory of tried & true ways of cooking & eating them isn't exactly vast.  Beyond roast potatoes & baked potatoes, & maybe the occasional skillet of home-fries, neither of us has much experience.  Needless to say, it wasn't long before we found ourselves with a bucketload of on-the-verge-of-sprouting spuds & no way to deal with them.  Fi, ever the resourceful one in a time of crisis, suggested we try to make some gnocchi.

The gnocchi recipe (ours came from Martha Stewart's Cooking School) is pretty similar to pasta from scratch, the only real difference being the addition of riced potatoes to the flour & egg. After the dough's together, it's simply a matter of rolling it out & cutting the little bite-sized pillows of starchy goodness.

That process is pretty labor-intensive.  Each piece is individually shaped, & by the time I'd finished rolling the last one off the fork, I was definitely bored.  From start to finish, the dish (including a simple tomato sauce) took just shy of 2 hours to prepare.  Not exactly fast food, I know, but the gnocchi were really, really delicious & made for a light, but satisfying alternative to traditional pasta. I'd definitely recommend if you've got the time. 

This side of Worcester

Last weekend Fi & I were invited up to her friend Tas's family house outside of Worcester.  We arrived late Saturday evening, in time for dinner but not much else.  Sunday morning, the weather was fairly nice, so we all got up and took a walk around.

As you can see, they have a very, very nice place.  That's a conservatory to the side, which we'd call a sunroom or something like that in the US.  Check out the blue sky, a real rarity this side of the Atlantic!

Their house from the side.  Out back, Tas's parents keep a few different vegetable gardens, as well as a greenhouse and a chicken coop.

Fi loves the chickens.

Tas's mom told us they each lay one egg per day on average.  Hearing about an abundant egg supply made me a little jealous.  Maybe we need to get some chickens.  Tas's mom also has a horse, which she stables up the road from their house.

Since the weather was so pretty, she suggested we all take a walk alongside her while she exercised the horse.

Our walk took us past Hawford Dovecote, a 16th century building for housing doves.  I'd never seen one of these before.

Outside of that, the weekend was pretty tame, so I don't have too many pictures to show for it.  The wildflowers here are starting to bloom, though, so I snapped a few pix of those in Tas's family lawn.  I can't identify them all yet, but I hope to learn in time.  Enjoy!

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.

Last weekend we celebrated Fi's birthday with her family in London.  As I've remarked before, the ladies have a tradition of afternoon tea at fancy hotels.  This time they'd booked at Apsleys, the Lanesborough, in Knightsbridge, which was, as Tania says, very acceptable.  It's really awkward trying to photodocument these experiences without coming off like an obnoxious American tourist.  That being said, here are the few pix I was able to sneak in:

And one of the birthday-girl.  Happy Birthday ;-)

In the Bleak Midwinter

Last Saturday evening a few hours' worth of snow fell on Oxford, blanketing most of the town, which doesn't happen too often here.  Temps have been fairly cold over the past week or two, hovering around freezing, so most of the snow stuck around long enough for Fi & me to take a walk around & see the wintry sights on Sunday.

Our walk took us past the office first, then back through Jericho to the canal. Looking out onto the water from the bridge, you can see the top's frozen over.

The sheet of ice can't have been thicker than an inch, but that was plenty to support the weight of the neighborhood ducks, who were waddling up and down the canal like business as usual.

From there we rambled on to Port Meadow, hoping to get a glimpse of some pristine snow before half of Oxford had trodden all over it.
 

The English do love a good walk, though, so there were footprints everywhere by the time we arrived.

I once heard someone say that all walks in the country end up at the pub, so that's where we headed. 

By then, most of the well-traveled paths had become pretty sloshy, so our feet were all but soaked.  Luckily, we knew of someplace nearby with a fire..

As luck would have it, they also served delicious beer.

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday in February.

Creamy, Dreamy Lemon Souffle

Feliz Dos Mil Doce

It's been just over a week now since I got back to Oxford, & I've more or less re-acclimated.  I was disappointed, though, to step off the plane into a balmy 60 or so degrees.  Not exactly January temps, far as I'd expect anyhow, & the weather over the next few days continued to be disappointingly mild.  I suppose I'm fondest of England in the winter, & I prefer my winter weather chilly.  Luckily, Friday came through in the clutch with a substantial drop into the single digits C, falling below freezing overnight.  Looking out the window this morning, I saw rows of frost-covered rooftops in every direction, so here's hoping Mr. Chill sticks around for a spell. Here are a few pictures around the neighborhood to celebrate the blue sky (a rare treat in England).

 Cheers to a great 2012 in the United Kingdom!

Bandera Gun Club

Every time I'm back home in TX for a visit, my brother-in-law Alan & I drive out to Bandera to shoot guns (& drink beer).  This year, even with all the Christmas hubbub at my parents' house, Mr. Stacer & I managed to find a time to sneak away & indulge in our tradition.  We shoot at the Bandera Gun Club, a no-frills, good-old-boy's establishment that's light on rules & just a short hop away from Arkey Blue's Silver Dollar.

Alan's quite the gun collector, which usually makes for an exciting surprise, finding out which few he's pulled from the shelves for our excursion.  This year's winners: a Smith & Wesson 9mm handgun & a Thompson Contender.

Those of you unfamiliar with the Thompson may recognize it as Lance Henriksen's weapon of choice in the Jean-Claude Van Damme classic, Hard Target.

This year, the gun club was particularly busy on the day we chose to visit, so we had to share our enclave with a couple of other dudes, a young boy & his grandfather.  Watching the two of them, grandpa schooling his grandson, brought a smile to my face & made it much easier to wait for my turn to shoot.

At one point, after a bit of small talk about the guns we'd brought, he confided in us that he wanted to make sure his grandchildren grew up shooting guns.  It reminded me of a quote I once came across in Walden:

We cannot but pity the boy who has never fired a gun; 

he is no more humane, while his education has been sadly neglected.

I keep a copy of it pinned to the wall on my desk at work, because it reminds me of growing up in the south.

God bless Texas.