Sunday 30 December 2018

Post-Christmas

It happened to me - I couldn't help but get caught up in the build up this year, and having a child made Christmas seem a bit more special. We don't have a regular Christmas tradition really and spent a week in Cullercoats, a seaside village just outside Newcastle which meant we could spend some time to ourselves enjoying the area and also in close proximity to family and friends. This line of coast has beautiful, sweeping beaches and the mild (for winter at least), sunny weather meant we managed to squeeze in a few trips to the beach. The long line of large Edwardian houses facing the sea glow with Christmas trees and people fill the beaches for leisurely walks. A number of people were out swimming or surfing, and boxing day saw a huge crowd take the traditional dip.

However, as is often the case, the trip was not quite the relaxing holiday we imagined. Our week was soon filled with family visits and the odd meet up with some friends. Seeing different family and friends in succession like that is not to be underestimated - both myself and my partner were pretty exhausted by the end. There were many lovely reconnections within it all, but also a more melencholly awareness of changes and shifts. I guess it was a week full of intensity. I'm left wondering why we put so much pressure on ourselves at that time of year, but living far away from family makes it difficult to see and keep up with people more frequently. Perhaps having a focus for catching up with family once a year has a purpose in the sense that it acts as a sort of barometer for relationships to be worked on the following year - who needs a little more of our attention; where a closer connection has formed that needs nurturing.

The morning of our last day before the drive back to Glasgow we were walking along the sand of the small bay at Cullercoats. Three women and a man in their 60s were swimming in swimming costumes only, apart from the man who was in a wet suit. We watched them in awe as they emerged one at a time, slowly walking out of the water, bodies taut and red.

Shoes and socks came off as if I had no control over it and finally I had the sea and sand beneath my bare feet. The North Sea is always freezing, and the muscles in my feet contorted and seemed to send waves throughout my body. I ran and ran and ran through the shallow waves: nothing quite beats the feeling of running freely through sea and sand at full pelt. Ula was ecstatic with glee and of course finally got to do what she had been dying to all week, and joined me, before soon declaring it was "Daddy's turn". The tonic we all needed at the end of our holiday.














Wednesday 19 December 2018

Scotch Scallops

Around a month ago, on a slightly better day in the midst of a rotten bug, and feeling like plain, simple comfort food, I had a go at making Scotch Scallops. I had never heard of them before but the last time I visited my Grandma in Newcastle (originally from Lancashire) she described what her own mother used to make. All she could say is that she finely sliced potato, fried it in a little butter with some onion, topped up with water then covered and cooked on the hob for about an hour. Were they nice? I asked. "Delicious" was the answer. She also said she tried cooking them herself and they never tasted quite as good (as seems to always be the case I think).

I told my Glaswegian friend I was going to make Scotch Scallops that evening. I'm still not sure she is convinced I knew what I was talking about. "From the sea?" She insists again. I explain that in Yorkshire - and it seems Lancashire too - the name scallops is applied to a sort of fried potato. Our local chip shop as a child sold scallops for 17p, and you got two steamy batter discs with hot mashed potato inside, dripping of course then in salt, vinegar and tomato sauce.

I do some investigating online into Scotch Scallops and find a small number of threads on various local Lancashire forums, with titles that reminisce over the good old days. "Ooooo, who remembers..." and such like. There seems to be, even just within Lancashire, quite a variety of fried potato recipes, some referring to Scotch Scallops. There is variety within this too - some add bacon, others add mince. Some use stock in place of water, others like to brown off the final dish under the grill.

I like the inventiveness of older recipes, and how people were often so creative with such simple ingredients, making the most of what they had. We get an organic fruit and veg box delivery and it is seasonal, so at the moment there's lots of winter veg: onions, potatoes, carrots, parsnips, celeriac etc. I am having to be quite creative myself trying to find the best dishes that suit these ingredients.

So here it is - my go at making Scotch Scallops. I had no quantities to go on, and I wanted to make it as close to the version my Grandma made as I could. I found a recipe that sounded pretty much the same - but then still no quantities. What ratio of onion to potato I wonder? And I still wasn't sure on what the final consistency should be like. In the end I decided on:

Equal parts of onion to potato (as we had lots of onions that needed using up). The onion roughly chopped and the potato thinly sliced (skin left on the potato - probably not traditional but more nutritious and how we tend to cook potatoes these days.)
Fry the onion in a knob of butter in a wide saucepan before adding the potatoes. Add enough water to just cover, lid on and cook on a low heat for an hour. I had to top up the pan with a little more water fairly regularly. Add salt and pepper.

The final result was delicious. The potato almost completely broke down in my version, so it was more like a silky, oniony, thinner  mashed potato. I also added the slightly browned bits that stuck to the pan. We had it with veggie sausages and some greens. Here's some pictures:



A week or so after this meal, I asked my mum if she knew about Scotch Scallops, and if Grandma ever cooked them for her. Apparently they had them all the time (and she thought they were delicious, even if my Grandma doubted they were as good!).

I haven't forgotten another meal passed down the generations - I still want to give "mock crab" a go GB, when I firm up the recipe with you again. 


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