Permission

… to come aboard skipper?

He might be regretting replying in the affirmative, though I had thought the lower ratings might just be piped aboard when the Captain was present.  Maybe he saw how much luggage they brought and feared a voyage to some far and distant land, instead of a day’s jolly doon the watter.

Mind you he didn’t do too badly from the deal, with the decks being swabbed until near worn through, and, more importantly, his nearest and dearest not turned into a vomitarium.  And he witnessed the first ever albatross on the Clyde Coast since Gene Saracen’s hole-in-one at The Postage Stamp back in 1973.  Some of us are old enough to remember it well.  It might have been an eagle, the Saracen one that is.

Oh yes, The Urchins have taken to the ocean waves, and dragged their parents with them.  We survived.  Sundry ferries plied their trade from shore to shore, and we managed to miss them all.  Squalls chased their way up the estuary, on both shores, yet we stayed dry.  Clouds hid the hills from view, yet the sun shone.

And when the sun shines on eryngium it thrives.  And so it was with novices at the tiller of Sea Holly.  From the north shore at Rhu we tacked our way (see, getting cocky and technical now), down to Kip, south and west, against the wind, through the lumpy bits, without even getting prickly.

The rain bounced through the night, wind was forecast, heaps of it.  Stomachs churned at the thought.  But again the day was kind, and the weather gave the lubbers a wide berth.  And so back to Rhu, wind astern.

The pride of the Clyde, the old Waverley paddled by, blades churning, brave souls on deck waving.  There might be a picture of that one to come.

That was great, will we still be in time for swimming club?

And we still had time for fishing, though Boy Urchin had his first experience of watching absolutely nothing take an interest in his hook.  And Girl Urchin scrubbed again, finding a gene that must have skipped a generation.  Maybe one day she’ll iron.

Anyway, that albatross.  We all saw it.  Swooping past, feathers ruffled, eyes on the waters below.  Big bill, black-tipped feathers, yellowish head clear for all to see.  Related to boobies, it says on the wiki-tin.  Of course it was a gannet, and it wasn’t an Urchin who called it otherwise.  More a howler than a booby, but my lips are sealed.

Twelve hours earlier I wasn’t even thinking of going along, after another day of fast following a night of, well you really don’t want to know.  But the ante-dote for stomach gremlins and hernias, for reactions to medication, has been found, alive and well on the waters of the Clyde.  Take one bouncy boat ride, then get yourself a haggis supper.  It soaks up everything that rumbles down below.  Might need another one tonight, for the remedy doesn’t seem to last long.

But huge thanks all round to Favourite Uncle, and to the star of the weekend, Sea Holly.  Even managed to pinch the skipper’s picture.  But there’s new crew in training, and they’re off school for at least another six weeks with little to tempt them away from their bad habits.  What a blast.  Maybe auntie will come along too…

 

Here comes summer

There have been a few false dawns; the solstice has been and gone.  But those signs of spring are turning slowly into summertime.  It has been the finest of mornings, still and calm under a sky unblemished in the early hours.  There is blossom, and flower buds opening all around.  Wee beasties are feeding.  And above the skylarks are in full song.

It is a rare day; one to be savoured.  Sadly the wheels won’t be turning, time being precious amongst other commitments, but The Grasshopper will be out again soon.  That was the plan but the school holidays are upon us, little over 24 hours away.  Where has the year gone?

In the fields outside the buttercups are dancing, caressed by the slightest movement in the air.  It is a yellow year.  And the laburnum is joining in, at last.

Poppies are beginning to appear.

Soon the wild geraniums will provide a purple carpet, and a feast for the bees.  The first flower has just opened.

But for now the bees are content with the cornflowers.

Whilst the slugs prefer the white ones.

These are the nights when I have to stay up late, if only to wait until the chickens are abed, ready to be locked up.  I was reading, by natural light, well before four of the clock, and heard them again, calling to be let loose.  They had to wait.  The dark hours are short.

I wandered the garden listening to the songs all around.  There is a copy of Simon Barnes’ Bird Watching With Your Eyes Closed by the desk.  And more work to be done.  I know the skylark, heard but not seen, but between him and the chickens it is all just song.  Delightful yes, but one day I’ll see them all, with my eyes closed.

The sun and the blue and the yellow may not last.  The petals could be ripped from the stems by the end of the week.  But we’ll enjoy it all today.  The end of the week, that’s another story…

The Orange Bowl

A little bit of variety in the soup pot this week.  For a start there’s neither garlic nor spices.  But is should still be packed with flavour.  It’s another from Yotam Ottolenghi, this one from the website rather than the volume on the shelf.

For his Pumpkin, Saffron & Orange soup, with caramelised pumpkin seeds, you will need:

2 tbsp. olive oil; large onion, finely diced; 550g pumpkin, in 2cm cubes; 2 medium carrots, thinly sliced; 1 tsp saffron threads; 1 litre veg stock; 2 tsp grated orange zest; 6 tbsp crème fraiche; salt and white pepper.

And for the pumpkin seeds:

1 tbsp sunflower oil; 60g pumpkin seeds; 1 tbsp syrup, golden or maple; 1/2 tbsp soft brown sugar; 1/2 tsp salt; pinch ground black pepper; generous pinch cayenne pepper.

Firstly the seed topping.  Preheat oven to 180/gas 4.  Line a small tray with greaseproof paper and brush with sunflower oil.  Put the pumpkin seeds in a bowl with all other ingredients, mix and spread over the tray.  Bake for 12-15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until golden.  Set aside to cool.

Then the soup.  Saute the onion, seasoned, in a heavy-based pan, stirring.  Reduce heat and cook for 10-12 mins until soft and golden, but not dark.

Add the pumpkin, carrot and saffron, pour in stock and bring to boil.  Lower heat, cover and simmer for 15 mins until pumpkin and carrots are almost tender.  Add the orange zest and simmer for five more minutes.  When vegetables thoroughly cooked blitz with hand blender, not too smooth.  Season to taste.

Serve in shallow bowls with a dollop of crème fraiche  and a sprinkling of caramelised seeds.

Dead easy.  Local variations  – butternut squash rather than pumpkin at this time of year; and maple syrup of course; extra pepper, plus red pepper flakes on removing from heat.  So soup without spices this week, and just a plain crunchy brown loaf to dip in too.  Bland?  Not a chance.

And those caramelised seeds?  I need to hide them from picky fingers, just to be sure there are some left for the soup.  As you give the cream a swirl through the soup, so the caramel begins to melt, the seeds remaining crunchy.  It’s one to make again.