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Every fourth Sunday the whole family, along with the in-laws, gather at our farmhouse for dinner. It is a traditional that goes back eight generations. This Sunday I am expecting 30+ guests so I am making my way across the bridge to the old watermill. The day is going to be very warm but this early on it is still quite cool and I pause to watch the river flow under the bridge. It is always a pleasure to watch the river at this hour of the morning, before the blood and gristle that will be washed into the flow later in the day, adds a pink taint to it.
Inside the mill everything on the main floor is spotlessly clean and well equipped as a massive kitchen. A large generator, which is kept round the back, powers the stoves, blenders, mixers and lighting. Large pots hang on the walls, catching the early morning sunlight, ready to be used for the making of stews and the fillings for the pies. A rack of butchers’ knives has pride of place on the large cutting block ready to tackle the carving of the uncooked meats.
I glance proudly around the kitchen making sure that everything is to hand as required. My husband has already fetched the three carcasses up from the lower level where they have been hung for a week. We are very lucky to have access to a large variety of meats on the farm and this week I have decided to go with pork, lamb and human. Fresh herbs have already been picked, washed, and left on the large stainless steel draining board, alongside a radio which is blaringly loud. First thing I do when I come into the mill is turn the radio down, pointedly ignoring the cries of “Aw mam” from my three daughters, who I swear are all deaf.
The girls have been very busy and have already strained the stock, which we put on to cook down overnight, removing the various bones and vegetables from the liquid. The secret to our good stock is to use fresh bones with a little flesh still on them and plenty of seasoning. As with most of the dishes we serve up, the stock is a combination of the three meats we will be using. The vegetables are discarded along with the smaller bones but the larger bones are kept for the dogs.
The carcases are next to be tackled as cooking the meat to perfection takes some time. The girls help me lift the carcasses onto the block, as I need them, ready to butcher. The larger joints are taken off first to be cooked whole and sliced both for the main course and the evening tea. Then the smaller sections of meat are diced up for the pies.
Most of the offal is salvaged for the dogs but this week I have decided to make pate. It’s very easy to do. Just blend together the cooked pork and human livers with some fromais frais, add a little seasoning and just a touch of chilli powder, and stick it in the fridge to chill.
Another old favourite we are going to serve is black pudding. We combine the fresh blood of all three meats and mix this with cooked barley, onions, cubed fat, oatmeal and flour. It is a real pleasure to get your hands in there and work the mixture to ensure there are no lumps in it before pouring the mixture into the ox-casings. Unfortunately I do not know how to make the ox-casings so I admit to cheating and buy it ready made.
The old grinding equipment is still powered by the water and at the moment it is working at pounding the wheat with several of the thighbones, which we took from the stock, to a fine powder. The addition of the bones to the flour gives the bread, pastry and cakes additional calcium which is always welcome in my book.
By the end of the day I am well pleased with our efforts. All the meats are cooked, the girls have been busy baking a variety of breads and cakes and the pastry is being kept chilled in the fridge ready to top the pies tomorrow.
As I walk back to the farmhouse with my daughters I smile at them proudly, pleased to know that the tradition that was handed down to my sister and myself will be carried on through them.
Many of the in-laws delight in the variety of tastes and textures we produce for their Sunday lunch and they often ask me for my recipes. I always give them out willingly but they always complain that their efforts never taste as good as mine. However, as every good cook knows, you never tell them of the secret ingredient that they devour every fourth Sunday with so much gusto. After all we do not want everyone to know and the in-laws are never ever allowed in the mill.
Inside the mill everything on the main floor is spotlessly clean and well equipped as a massive kitchen. A large generator, which is kept round the back, powers the stoves, blenders, mixers and lighting. Large pots hang on the walls, catching the early morning sunlight, ready to be used for the making of stews and the fillings for the pies. A rack of butchers’ knives has pride of place on the large cutting block ready to tackle the carving of the uncooked meats.
I glance proudly around the kitchen making sure that everything is to hand as required. My husband has already fetched the three carcasses up from the lower level where they have been hung for a week. We are very lucky to have access to a large variety of meats on the farm and this week I have decided to go with pork, lamb and human. Fresh herbs have already been picked, washed, and left on the large stainless steel draining board, alongside a radio which is blaringly loud. First thing I do when I come into the mill is turn the radio down, pointedly ignoring the cries of “Aw mam” from my three daughters, who I swear are all deaf.
The girls have been very busy and have already strained the stock, which we put on to cook down overnight, removing the various bones and vegetables from the liquid. The secret to our good stock is to use fresh bones with a little flesh still on them and plenty of seasoning. As with most of the dishes we serve up, the stock is a combination of the three meats we will be using. The vegetables are discarded along with the smaller bones but the larger bones are kept for the dogs.
The carcases are next to be tackled as cooking the meat to perfection takes some time. The girls help me lift the carcasses onto the block, as I need them, ready to butcher. The larger joints are taken off first to be cooked whole and sliced both for the main course and the evening tea. Then the smaller sections of meat are diced up for the pies.
Most of the offal is salvaged for the dogs but this week I have decided to make pate. It’s very easy to do. Just blend together the cooked pork and human livers with some fromais frais, add a little seasoning and just a touch of chilli powder, and stick it in the fridge to chill.
Another old favourite we are going to serve is black pudding. We combine the fresh blood of all three meats and mix this with cooked barley, onions, cubed fat, oatmeal and flour. It is a real pleasure to get your hands in there and work the mixture to ensure there are no lumps in it before pouring the mixture into the ox-casings. Unfortunately I do not know how to make the ox-casings so I admit to cheating and buy it ready made.
The old grinding equipment is still powered by the water and at the moment it is working at pounding the wheat with several of the thighbones, which we took from the stock, to a fine powder. The addition of the bones to the flour gives the bread, pastry and cakes additional calcium which is always welcome in my book.
By the end of the day I am well pleased with our efforts. All the meats are cooked, the girls have been busy baking a variety of breads and cakes and the pastry is being kept chilled in the fridge ready to top the pies tomorrow.
As I walk back to the farmhouse with my daughters I smile at them proudly, pleased to know that the tradition that was handed down to my sister and myself will be carried on through them.
Many of the in-laws delight in the variety of tastes and textures we produce for their Sunday lunch and they often ask me for my recipes. I always give them out willingly but they always complain that their efforts never taste as good as mine. However, as every good cook knows, you never tell them of the secret ingredient that they devour every fourth Sunday with so much gusto. After all we do not want everyone to know and the in-laws are never ever allowed in the mill.
Meka Dragon wrote:
> is that really the way you could make paté? (I'd probably leave the human liver out though.)
It is close enough if you are on a diet and want a low fat alternative without the added fat. Not going to try human liver? Not surprised really unless you use a really young one before it's had a chance to be damaged :)
> There was also one phrase that I felt really jarred the piece, when
> you write "well pleased"
Good point. Although I wrote the story from 'my' perspective and am guilty of using the phrase while interacting with humans.
> is that really the way you could make paté? (I'd probably leave the human liver out though.)
It is close enough if you are on a diet and want a low fat alternative without the added fat. Not going to try human liver? Not surprised really unless you use a really young one before it's had a chance to be damaged :)
> There was also one phrase that I felt really jarred the piece, when
> you write "well pleased"
Good point. Although I wrote the story from 'my' perspective and am guilty of using the phrase while interacting with humans.
I liked this, and whilst the 'matter of fact' way that the story is written is effective, I found myself asking questions about the recipes as I went along - for instance, is that really the way you could make paté? (I'd probably leave the human liver out though.)
Also, at times I thought there was a little too much information. It's a very descriptive piece, and well done in that way, but at times I felt I was being told things I didn't need to know.
There was also one phrase that I felt really jarred the piece, when you write "well pleased" it doesn't seem to fit into the vioce that has been used until that point.
Also, at times I thought there was a little too much information. It's a very descriptive piece, and well done in that way, but at times I felt I was being told things I didn't need to know.
There was also one phrase that I felt really jarred the piece, when you write "well pleased" it doesn't seem to fit into the vioce that has been used until that point.
Yum. My compliments to the chef.
Eyeball trifle, sir?
Don't mind if I do.
Eyeball trifle, sir?
Don't mind if I do.
I read that very quickly too - has a nice pace to it, that trotted along nicely. I do love these stories, where the abnormal blends so steathily with the normal.
Nice.
Nice.
Yeh, I know. I got a 5 book boxset (400 + pages each) on Saturday and had it finshed by the next Thursday. It is intensely annoying sometimes and I can't seem to read slower, I have to limit myself to so many chapters a day.
Crumbs, you read that while I was tidying up the paragraphs. That was fast:D
Another story!
You cannibalsitic inbred redneck you!
Anyhoo, you took me by shock with the "lamb and human" bit. Neat stuff!
You cannibalsitic inbred redneck you!
Anyhoo, you took me by shock with the "lamb and human" bit. Neat stuff!
Every fourth Sunday the whole family, along with the in-laws, gather at our farmhouse for dinner. It is a traditional that goes back eight generations. This Sunday I am expecting 30+ guests so I am making my way across the bridge to the old watermill. The day is going to be very warm but this early on it is still quite cool and I pause to watch the river flow under the bridge. It is always a pleasure to watch the river at this hour of the morning, before the blood and gristle that will be washed into the flow later in the day, adds a pink taint to it.
Inside the mill everything on the main floor is spotlessly clean and well equipped as a massive kitchen. A large generator, which is kept round the back, powers the stoves, blenders, mixers and lighting. Large pots hang on the walls, catching the early morning sunlight, ready to be used for the making of stews and the fillings for the pies. A rack of butchers’ knives has pride of place on the large cutting block ready to tackle the carving of the uncooked meats.
I glance proudly around the kitchen making sure that everything is to hand as required. My husband has already fetched the three carcasses up from the lower level where they have been hung for a week. We are very lucky to have access to a large variety of meats on the farm and this week I have decided to go with pork, lamb and human. Fresh herbs have already been picked, washed, and left on the large stainless steel draining board, alongside a radio which is blaringly loud. First thing I do when I come into the mill is turn the radio down, pointedly ignoring the cries of “Aw mam” from my three daughters, who I swear are all deaf.
The girls have been very busy and have already strained the stock, which we put on to cook down overnight, removing the various bones and vegetables from the liquid. The secret to our good stock is to use fresh bones with a little flesh still on them and plenty of seasoning. As with most of the dishes we serve up, the stock is a combination of the three meats we will be using. The vegetables are discarded along with the smaller bones but the larger bones are kept for the dogs.
The carcases are next to be tackled as cooking the meat to perfection takes some time. The girls help me lift the carcasses onto the block, as I need them, ready to butcher. The larger joints are taken off first to be cooked whole and sliced both for the main course and the evening tea. Then the smaller sections of meat are diced up for the pies.
Most of the offal is salvaged for the dogs but this week I have decided to make pate. It’s very easy to do. Just blend together the cooked pork and human livers with some fromais frais, add a little seasoning and just a touch of chilli powder, and stick it in the fridge to chill.
Another old favourite we are going to serve is black pudding. We combine the fresh blood of all three meats and mix this with cooked barley, onions, cubed fat, oatmeal and flour. It is a real pleasure to get your hands in there and work the mixture to ensure there are no lumps in it before pouring the mixture into the ox-casings. Unfortunately I do not know how to make the ox-casings so I admit to cheating and buy it ready made.
The old grinding equipment is still powered by the water and at the moment it is working at pounding the wheat with several of the thighbones, which we took from the stock, to a fine powder. The addition of the bones to the flour gives the bread, pastry and cakes additional calcium which is always welcome in my book.
By the end of the day I am well pleased with our efforts. All the meats are cooked, the girls have been busy baking a variety of breads and cakes and the pastry is being kept chilled in the fridge ready to top the pies tomorrow.
As I walk back to the farmhouse with my daughters I smile at them proudly, pleased to know that the tradition that was handed down to my sister and myself will be carried on through them.
Many of the in-laws delight in the variety of tastes and textures we produce for their Sunday lunch and they often ask me for my recipes. I always give them out willingly but they always complain that their efforts never taste as good as mine. However, as every good cook knows, you never tell them of the secret ingredient that they devour every fourth Sunday with so much gusto. After all we do not want everyone to know and the in-laws are never ever allowed in the mill.
Inside the mill everything on the main floor is spotlessly clean and well equipped as a massive kitchen. A large generator, which is kept round the back, powers the stoves, blenders, mixers and lighting. Large pots hang on the walls, catching the early morning sunlight, ready to be used for the making of stews and the fillings for the pies. A rack of butchers’ knives has pride of place on the large cutting block ready to tackle the carving of the uncooked meats.
I glance proudly around the kitchen making sure that everything is to hand as required. My husband has already fetched the three carcasses up from the lower level where they have been hung for a week. We are very lucky to have access to a large variety of meats on the farm and this week I have decided to go with pork, lamb and human. Fresh herbs have already been picked, washed, and left on the large stainless steel draining board, alongside a radio which is blaringly loud. First thing I do when I come into the mill is turn the radio down, pointedly ignoring the cries of “Aw mam” from my three daughters, who I swear are all deaf.
The girls have been very busy and have already strained the stock, which we put on to cook down overnight, removing the various bones and vegetables from the liquid. The secret to our good stock is to use fresh bones with a little flesh still on them and plenty of seasoning. As with most of the dishes we serve up, the stock is a combination of the three meats we will be using. The vegetables are discarded along with the smaller bones but the larger bones are kept for the dogs.
The carcases are next to be tackled as cooking the meat to perfection takes some time. The girls help me lift the carcasses onto the block, as I need them, ready to butcher. The larger joints are taken off first to be cooked whole and sliced both for the main course and the evening tea. Then the smaller sections of meat are diced up for the pies.
Most of the offal is salvaged for the dogs but this week I have decided to make pate. It’s very easy to do. Just blend together the cooked pork and human livers with some fromais frais, add a little seasoning and just a touch of chilli powder, and stick it in the fridge to chill.
Another old favourite we are going to serve is black pudding. We combine the fresh blood of all three meats and mix this with cooked barley, onions, cubed fat, oatmeal and flour. It is a real pleasure to get your hands in there and work the mixture to ensure there are no lumps in it before pouring the mixture into the ox-casings. Unfortunately I do not know how to make the ox-casings so I admit to cheating and buy it ready made.
The old grinding equipment is still powered by the water and at the moment it is working at pounding the wheat with several of the thighbones, which we took from the stock, to a fine powder. The addition of the bones to the flour gives the bread, pastry and cakes additional calcium which is always welcome in my book.
By the end of the day I am well pleased with our efforts. All the meats are cooked, the girls have been busy baking a variety of breads and cakes and the pastry is being kept chilled in the fridge ready to top the pies tomorrow.
As I walk back to the farmhouse with my daughters I smile at them proudly, pleased to know that the tradition that was handed down to my sister and myself will be carried on through them.
Many of the in-laws delight in the variety of tastes and textures we produce for their Sunday lunch and they often ask me for my recipes. I always give them out willingly but they always complain that their efforts never taste as good as mine. However, as every good cook knows, you never tell them of the secret ingredient that they devour every fourth Sunday with so much gusto. After all we do not want everyone to know and the in-laws are never ever allowed in the mill.