Milk & Manolos

So here I am, all Spring Cleaned and ready for whatever 2008 may throw at me. The decorations are down, the filofax reloaded, the house cleared of yet another years worth of detritus and the hangover bullet sucessfully dodged.

The latter is thanks to my well stocked Cath Kidson First Aid Kit - ready for any emergency. As you can imagine, it misses dreadfully the heady days of unexplained drinking injuries, the most severe being a small stab wound to my palm whilst attempting to remove a stubborn avacado stone 3 glasses of wine down.

My hangover cure is simple - 2 Beroccas and a sachet of the magical hydrator Diaoralyte. All that’s then needed is a clean glass, cold Evian and a minute or two to knock this heady concoction back and regain one’s composure. Easy Street.

So come on 2008 - whatcha got for me ?

Today I’m fighting a cold.  It’s Karma I’m sure.  Having risen on Christmas day to find the Husband coughing and spluttering my frustration had only just begun.  The Husband is near perfect, I’m lucky like that.  The problem with someone who is so damn fine is that when you finally find that little thing that annoys you, it REALLY annoys you.  And here it was on Christmas day.  Me, the Munchkin, the Husband and his sneeze.  It ain’t just any sneeze. This is some sort of cough sneeze.  Not only loud, but frequent.  I’m ashamed to say that I can tolerate 3, or thereabouts, and then that’s it. I want him, his loudness, not to mention the germs he so audible spreads away from me until his normal demeanour  is regained.  

So here I am, 4 days later, being slapped with a big dose of Karmic fun.  My nose is tickling, my voice deepening (a sure sign that it’s time to re-record my answer-phone message), it’s time for drastic action.  This Honey ain’t gonna fall too.  Much to the Husbands joy, I was taught many years ago by an old Italian friend that garlic can help fight the lurgy.  It took me a while to try, the notion of eating a whole clove of un-cooked garlic not particularly appealing.  Now ?  Pah, I do two in one go.  I’m not saying I’m particularly pleasant company afterwards but it helps keep the bi-annual cold away.  So much so that until recently, I hadn’t hand one for two years. With it’s anti-viral not to mention immune boosting properties, our smelly little friend can help stop a cold in it’s tracks.

Now all you’ve got to do is get in down your throat.  Far easier said than done.  I make a tiny amount of salad dressing, a particular favourite of mine.  Mustard, sugar, olive oil, balsamic and two crushed cloves of the white stuff.  Mix it up and think of England as you spoon in down, avoiding the tongue.  Sounds mad I know, but it really does work. 

I’ve turned into such an old woman. Glancing through my window this morning (while keeping fully abreast of the neighbours goings on) I was mortified to find them filthy beyond belief. Dropping everything at once, and reaching for my plastic pale and jiffy I set about giving them the spruce they deserved.

Having tried many a formula in the past, I’ve settled for the best glass cleaning method I know, begrudingly taught by an overweight Home Economics teacher to a me, a definiant and disinterested teen.

Cheap and simple - just they way I like it. All you need is a bucket with warm soapy water (be sure to use a good lug of your Fairy Liquid), a jiffy cloth and the secret ingrediant - yesterday’s newspapers.

All you then need to do is get all Mr Miyagi. Warm soapy water on with one hand, polished off with newspaper and elbow grease with the other. Voila !

Now pass me the blue rinse …

Yesterday was spent in the kitchen. I suddenly came over all traditional, whipping out my Desperate Housewives apron. An epiphany - I suddenly knew what to do with the abundance of gingham ribbon I’d bought earlier in the week. That’s right, it was time to make Gingerbread men to decorate the tree.

Finding a nice simple recipe (thank you Waitrose), hands were washed, hair pinned back and the Munchkin kitted out in splash proof attire.

With my Rat Pack Christmas Album as our soundtrack, the Munchkin and I busied ourselves with our production line, and how wonderfully efficient we were. More often than not my perfectly shaped men and women were manhandled by Miss Sticky Fingers but I’m led to believe that’s all part of the fun. The end result was some VERY strange shaped creatures.

Once cooked and ready to decorate, the Husband joined us for the task of decorating. Unsurprised by his boyish smuttiness, I’ll have to be putting his efforts at the top of the tree, away from innocent eyes.

Once finished the Munchkin and I kicked off our shoes and demanded the Smutmeister bring us tea in front of the telly. Having a love rush for them both, I considered that Sunday’s simply didn’t get any better than this.

Back in the early eighties Saturday nights were punctuated by my Mother’s famous Spag Bol. That and Juliet Bravo. A combination that today I am still unable to forget.

I was never able to master the art of a good Italian ragu, the way Mama cooked it, despite being shown quite frequently under duress and normally in a sticky Home Economics’ classroom in deepest darkest South London.

That was until the Summer of 1996 when one of my best friends invited me to spend a couple of weeks with her Italian Father and Aunt and in a quintessential Italian village. There, with my pidgin Italian, I learnt the essence of cooking and a true Italian Bolognese.

Bolognese Sauce

1 Onion
2 Cloves of Garlic
400g Mince Meat
900g Passata
190g Sun-dried Tomato Paste
1/3 Bottle of Red Wine
1/2 Tablespoon of Oregano (dried)
Half a dozen fresh Basil leaves, torn into small pieces
1 Beef Oxo Cube
1 Star Anaise
Salt and Pepper to taste

Dice your onion and sweat it off in a tablespoon of olive oil. Once soft add your crushed garlic and cook just long enough for it to amalgamate. Add your mince and stock cube and cook on a medium heat until the meat colours and separates. You’re now ready to add your passata, sundried tomato paste, red wine, oregano, basil and star anaise. Don’t feel anxious that at this point it’s quite watery. The key to this sauce is it’s reduction.

Turn your heat down low, and leave uncovered, checking every quarter of an hour or so and giving a it a good stir. The longer you can leave it to reduce, the better the result, I leave mine simmering for a good hour and a half. Keep a close eye on the consistency, adding more liquid, either water or wine (I favour the latter), until you have a consistency you like.

Unsurprisingly, I serve mine with spaghetti, freezing Munchkin size portions for the winter ahead. It’s also great in an a lasagne and can be easily adapted for a killer chilli con carne (loose the basil and star anaise and add kidney beans, Worcester Sauce and chilli to taste).

I’m in love. It’s the kind of love that’s life long, and man, it gives you that funny feeling you your stomach. Sadly not in quite the same way as when you meet Mr Right (or Mr Right Now for that matter), but certainly enough to put a spring in your step and get you through the morning. That’s right ladies, I’m in love with my coffee machine.

Gone are my days of waiting in line at the local Starbucks to receive a luke warm coffee and a bill akin to the Gross National Product of a Third World country. I now have my coffee on tap, any which way but how, and coins in my purse at the end of the week.

After much debate we settled on the Rolls Royce of Coffee Machines, the Gaggia Classic. Since then I have been flying high on either a killer caffeine buzz or just plain love for my new Italian friend, the purveyor of my very fine cappuccino of a morning. I’m honestly not sure which.

If only I’d have discovered this sooner. Perhaps those cold, lonely, sleepless nights as a new mother wouldn’t have been so hard with my Gaggia welcoming me with open arms at 6 am ?

Afternoon tea is the new champagne and oysters.

I must admit I am most partial to a good cupcake, so you can only imagine my excitement at their return to their rightful place in a balanced diet - it can’t all be pumpkin seeds and green tea.

On a recent weekend trip to celebrate my Dorset dwelling friend’s birthday, I discovered the joys of Cakeadoodledoo. Sadly on this occassion I wasn’t the temptress that ordered a dozen scrumptious treats to arrive in time for elevenses, but I sure as hell took note and enjoyed them. At just £ 1 a cake (minimum order is 9) they’re a really affordable present. Of course my love of all things delivered is utterly served by Cakeadoodledo, but I honestly can’t think of anything nicer than a bunch of beautifully iced cakes arriving at someone’s door.

Of course they don’t have to mark a birthday, so any old excuse will do.

I have a new motto. Albeit not a glamourous one, but it is most definitely new. Are you sitting comfortably, then here we go. Never be without a baby wipe. These little things have saved me from many a disaster, and not all Munchkin related.

Just one, very fashionista type example - did you know that our trusty friends are used by fashion models to remove make-up between shows during fashion week ? If it’s good enough for Naomi, Kate and Amber than it sure as hell is good enough for little old me.

Here’s just a couple of examples of just how wonderful they are :

SHINING SHOES - give them a quick once over with a baby wipe and if you’re particularly keen, you can add extra shine by using some cotton wool to buff.

CARPET STAINS - you need to move quickly. Give them a quick scrub with a couple of wipes and so far I’ve been able to exorcise every spill and stain.

SPOT WASHING - it’s not just kids that manage to get food on their clothes. Not including of course, the time you’re running late and look down to find a big fat snot mark from your beloved babe, smeared across your favourite dry clean only garment. Do not fear. Work over with a baby wipe, or two and it should be as good as new.

CLEANING - they clean like demons. I’ve been able to get crayon off a newly painted walls and all manner of grubby hand marks off things.

BATHROOMS - you need to employ the Karate Kid wax on / wax off approach for this. Baby wipe in one hand, dry cloth in the other. Wipe over to clean, and use the dry cloth to buff.

CAR - give the interior of your car a once over for that Back to Black look.

PAINT-WORK - Man, I didn’t realise my paint work was so dirty. I started on the banisters and couldn’t stop. They’re killer at getting crayon and felt tips off things too.

I’m quite possibly preaching to the converted, but for those of you who are yet to discover the joys of doing your grocery shopping online, I urge you to give it a go.

I love little more than a full on grocery shop, particularly en famille, but as life’s got busier so too has our shopping bill. The temptation of time saving treats was quite frequently too much for the Husband and I to bear - not to mention the ability for one of us to remember the vital pound coin for our rather unwilling and independent trolley. Then of course, there is keeping the Munchkin amused throughout the proceedings which is a whole different story.

I’m a Sainsbury’s girl through and through. How thoroughly middle class. We choose our hour slot and I shop away on line over the course of the week, sending my finite order by 6 pm the night before it’s due. They even remember our regular items which helps save on time. They’re rarely late, however if they are, we have a whole £10 off our next week’s shop.

Of course every supermarket is in on the act, Tescos, Waitrose and Asda all offer their own services. One gem I must pass on, is to avoid the purchase of any fruit and veg, simply because you’ll more likely than not end up with the least appealing specimens, often a little passed their prime.

Now what are you waiting for ?

If you’re going to have bling, it’s important that it doesn’t just bling but that it’s ‘blangs’ too.

Of course there’s the old trick of dropping it in some gin, but if it isn’t your tipple (like yours truly) it can work out to be a pretty expensive option. Alternatively use a soft toothbrush and a small amount of toothpaste to give them a good going over. Rinse well (to avoid disaster I urge you at this point to make sure the plug is firmly in place). In less than a minute you’ll be sparkltasic.