Dripping wedges & Elizabeth David

Tonight, buoyed on by my reading about animal fats a la Sally Fallon et al, I made potato and pumpkin wedges in dripping. I used pumpkin as well as I opened the fat looking bag of spuds and found only three left. Anyway I usually chop up spuds and other root veges and toss them in olive oil, put them on the roasting dish and put them in the oven on 200 (celsius) until they taste good. Tonight I put the dripping in the oven while I chopped the veges and then tossed the veges into the liquid fat.

They tasted divine. I need to buy and keep dripping for just this purpose. Much tastier than the olive oil version. And better still, if we have peak oil a la the apocalypts, beef dripping is a local food (I got mine from Jonesy the butcher, who I still love). I don't think it is possible to grow olives in a bog.

Today my trademe parcel arrived. It is Writing at the Kitchen Table by Artemis Cooper, a biography of Elizabeth David, a woman who was famous in my mind from reading English food writers long before I read any of David's writing. Most usefully, someone was selling their copy last Friday night when Brighid was ill and FH was at the pub and I longed for something to celebrate the end of term.

I am in love with Elizabeth David. Fantastic passion and headstrongness. I admire passion and headstrongness, though I struggle with the genetic gifts of my children despite all logic. All that wonderful stuff about the power of food to make English people dream of another place, another food, the romance of food. I could analyse how an element of this thinking has informed the passion for Nourishing Traditions style food, because there is that most definitely, all those ex-vegans delighting in rich food again, but perhaps another night.More pictures from this morning. Truly we are badness. That healthy monstrosity above is gunnera, which is noxious and which has taken over the front rose garden which was never anyone's plan and which I have done nothing but sigh over for months, now has a huge seed head on it. One which I need to carefully cut off and put in a bag and seal.
This is the compost heap corner. Some people wax lyrical over onion weed (savvy herbalist bloggers I might add, no one round Wetville that I have met) and if I were one, I should indeed be in the land of plenty. It does look pretty though. The little raised bed to the front with alyssum and calendula now has asparagus as well. I truly hope slugs don't like asparagus. Indeed the lawn has not been mowed for a long time. No matter how long it gets, I never mow it. When it doesn't rain and he is not at work, Favourite Handyman mows it, but those two pre-c0nditions have not been met for such a long time.
Borage. Self-seeded and making the drainpipe and corner of the lean-to both pretty and attractive to bees.
See those kale (or what is left of them)? 'bout eight slugs from them this morning. I'm holding out before I make the last kale supper of spring. To the left, more calendula. The back left has a kale plant gone to seed and toppled over. The back right has rhubarb. In the foreground, many seeds have failed to emerge, failed to flourish, failed to survive the slug onslaught. I tried again with some carrot seed this morning before it got entirely too wet to be outside. Despite the rain, I weeded some more and found huge snails hidden in the silverbeet. The chooks loved them which is my only consolation.


Walking Liberty said…
Love to hear kitchen tales and recipes that include 'dripping'. Here in 'also wet' Seattle, humble 'dripping' is just now making a respectable comeback. I'll have to use it next time I roast root veggies for company.
Thanks for your comment WL. I would like to link in more to other bloggers growing food in wet areas. Sometimes I think we should try rice!
lus said…
Hi Sandra,

I'm loving all the garden photos and write ups. Here in the dry we have no onionweed, but I guess that is just as well ;-)

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