Lazy Holidays

Thursday looked like being the best day of the Easter Holiday, so The Hobbit and I made an expedition to Netley by public transport, intending to walk from Netley to the (PINK!) Warsash Ferry then walk up the river to a cafe for lunch. Of course, we took the Interesting Route through the Royal Victoria Country Park, past the old Military Hospital site, traversed a swamp, followed some overgrown railway tracks and somehow ended up in the village centre at Hamble-le-Rice. The marina was very picturesque despite the squally weather, so we lingered and went for lunch in The Bugle instead of persevering to Warsash. The Bugle turns out to be not just any-old-pub: the lunch we had was gorgeous (Hobbit had roast breast of duck confit with creamy cabbage and chestnuts, garlic mash and prune jus and I had roast chicken breast with colcannon and green beans), albeit stacked in odd Jenga-like structures.

Today I decided it was about time that I started learning how to bake my own bread. The idea of messing about with Saccharomyces cerevisiae seemed *almost* like tissue culture, so I thought I should be good at that part at least. Dough is Problematic Stuff, however. After almost pulling a stomach muscle with an hour of paranoid kneading, I just threw the damn stuff in a bowl to rise. AND GOOD GOD IT DID. A bit of punching, another rise and a ride in the oven and these babies resulted:






I am well impressed, though not as impressed as the Hobbit was, after having heard me swearing for about an hour solid prior to the baking stage. It's all gone now, of course.

Lazy Holidays

Thursday looked like being the best day of the Easter Holiday, so The Hobbit and I made an expedition to Netley by public transport, intending to walk from Netley to the (PINK!) Warsash Ferry then walk up the river to a cafe for lunch. Of course, we took the Interesting Route through the Royal Victoria Country Park, past the old Military Hospital site, traversed a swamp, followed some overgrown railway tracks and somehow ended up in the village centre at Hamble-le-Rice. The marina was very picturesque despite the squally weather, so we lingered and went for lunch in The Bugle instead of persevering to Warsash. The Bugle turns out to be not just any-old-pub: the lunch we had was gorgeous (Hobbit had roast breast of duck confit with creamy cabbage and chestnuts, garlic mash and prune jus and I had roast chicken breast with colcannon and green beans), albeit stacked in odd Jenga-like structures.

Today I decided it was about time that I started learning how to bake my own bread. The idea of messing about with Saccharomyces cerevisiae seemed *almost* like tissue culture, so I thought I should be good at that part at least. Dough is Problematic Stuff, however. After almost pulling a stomach muscle with an hour of paranoid kneading, I just threw the damn stuff in a bowl to rise. AND GOOD GOD IT DID. A bit of punching, another rise and a ride in the oven and these babies resulted:






I am well impressed, though not as impressed as the Hobbit was, after having heard me swearing for about an hour solid prior to the baking stage. It's all gone now, of course.