Apple-Butter and Cheese

I'm from the south of Holland. This means that, through the ages of our existence, we got a lot of unexpected visitors showing up. Further up north it was far too wet and chilly for most of them, so they used to camp out in our neck of the woods.

First the Romans, then the Spanish (boy, did they stay long...), and, of course, (a couple of times): The French. Now, this was all a long time ago, but it did leave some traces. The one I want to particularly mention in this blog-post is: Food.

We, the natives from Brabant and Limburg, we love our food. We take every opportunity to add a bit of southern life style to the simple, sturdy Dutch kitchen. We are professionals when it comes to beer brewing and baking fruit pies, our soil produces delicious asparagus, and I think we invented the apple-butter and cheese sandwich (What? You don't know the apple-butter and cheese sandwich?).

Of course this does mean that we were always too busy cooking and eating to really join in with northern Holland's golden age, and I happen to be a real Southerner. This means I have quite a sizeable collection of inherited, home-grown, torn-out-of-magazines, and adapted recipes. All on scraps of paper, stained and scribbled over, torn and wrinkled at the edges. Take the soufflé with warm cherries, the wild boar stew, that casserole of confit with white beans, the delicious spinach malfatti, those clams-in-a-package....hmmm...nothing you'd throw away, right?

Anyway, I got to learn to know Kornelia Székessy, who saved me and my messy recipe collection. She got some of my ribbon, and then made something very handy. And beautiful (I love her little hand stamped tabs).


So here I am, straightening out all those scraps of paper. Writing things down properly. Bringing this binder to life.


If you like the idea, have a look on my site. There is some fine bookbinder work on there since last week, and it's not only for recipes ;)

Seven...

is…
when life is lived per hour instead of per year
when pink is just a colour, not the colour
when the number of teeth you have, changes every month
when the world is full of stories and beliefs, instead of facts and theories
when the heart and mind are still so, so open
when secrets are best kept in boxes

Happy seventh my sweet Miss M.
And many, many returns.

bit of a knit

I was sorting through the pile of gloves.

See if they still come in pairs, or if one or two of them secretly turned single between end of last winter and now. Check for holes, inexplicable stains (is that Glühwein?), and general malaise due to old age. Make mental note if any particular type for any member of the family is missing. The chilly-but-sunny weather-finger gloves, the special-occasion-suedes (OK, these are just for me), the gore tex mittens for minus degrees and a day on the slopes.

All there. So I got ready to close the drawer, but suddenly hear a soft: "Hi!".

I went: "Huhwhazzthat?", pulled it open again, and saw this one popping out:

Glove: "Remember us? We used to be the perfect match with that one shawl and the anthracite coat!?"

Me: "Eh...yes, that was, eh...help me out here...five years ago?"

Gloves (proud): "Eight. We're still there!"

Me: "Yes, I can see that. Still very yellow as well."

Gloves (ignoring my tactless remark): "No holes, see? No stains, no loops. Still spick and span. Perfect weather for us now as well. Chilly but not too cold".

Me: "Well,...you know, I'm still fine without gloves, actually."

Gloves (now whispering): "You don't want us anymore, do you? We're like the dark blue long coat with the shoulder pads. That funny pleated skirt. The chucks that always were a tad too small. We are...Outcasts. You can say it aloud."

Me (ashamed): "Rubbish. None of that. I'm gonna take you out of that drawer right now, do a little bit of colour treatment, knit a row or two, and you'll be ready to go out again in no time."

Gloves: "Yes!"

...then suddenly a bit hesitant: "But no cutting, right?"

Me: "Promised, hand on my heart. No cutting."

Easy to do, it's just a wristlet knitted to size with the right yarn (2,5 - sock yarn in chocolate brown and baby blue. A glove is a sock for your hand anyway, right?). Once you're ready, pull the wrislet over the original glove and secure with a few stitches. For the sizing: Do a test run to check the amount of stitches required (56 in my case) and knit that pattern loose, or you won't even get a Barbie's waist through anymore ;). But, unlike me, you probably know that already...

Change of plan

Planned: Early rise, waving guests goodbye, do some crafting (I could really start liking early sunday mornings. The world is so peaceful and quiet).

Done: Early rise, waving guests goodbye, go back to sleep again.

Planned: An exhibition.

Done: Lake side. There was no line at the entrance. Who needs long lines and crowdy rooms on a mild autumn day.

Planned: Left-over dinner.

Done: Restaurant on the way home. We were just too hungry for left-overs.

Planned: Finish that last bit of home work in time for school tomorrow.

Done: Studying and determining Mr. Acronicta rumicis. Hope Mrs. T. doesn't notice.

The day took over, all by itself, and we just moved along...

hold it

Keep it, stack it, tape it, wrap it, sew it. Ready.

A refrained version of what could also be a burst of colour.
But I had that going on elsewhere.
If you don't have a collection of empty ribbon spools at hand like me, try it out with a thick poster-roll, which you can cut/seesaw into rings of different heights. I used 2mm felt to wrap the rings as that nicely rounds off the edges, but is still flexible and elastic enough to deal with the circular shape. The felt is then handstitched together inside the ring.

Getting warm

Snow today. And I didn't even have my autumn banner up yet! That's fixed now. Also fixed: My camera.

It dropped, when I was checking my blog stats earlier this week.

Oh yes, Nancy "warned" me all right ;), but still... a Bloesem and an Apartment Therapy posting can take you by surprise! A pleasant surprise of course - as seeing my striped bench on these blogs is a great compliment. Thank you Irene, and AT!

Well, in the mean time...the heating is on, knitting is out and the candles are up. I'm ready for some serious winter time here. Just need to get that new painting project off the balcony. Pronto.

A Theory

In former times, while men went out hunting for mammoth or sabertooth, women and children did less glamorous, but quite essential things to guarantee long term survival: They gathered.

Roots, herbs, berries, nuts, mushrooms…the whole lot. They collected, tested them, and prepared the useful stuff as food or for medicine.

So, even in case the men would come home exhausted, with no mammoth, sabertooth, turkey or even a rat dangling from their spears, the women would be perfectly all right.

They would nibble on a couple of sweet roasted chestnuts and stir a delicious pumpkin casserole, while indulging in a bit of gossip.

Men, being the way they are, would be very hungry, so a handful of chestnuts would not mean a thing. Luckily the women had developed a device that enabled them to gather and carry more than a handful. They called it a bag. That’s why women have bags and men are always hungry.

This is also, I’m convinced, why girls collect pretty leaves, hazelnuts and itty-bitty-tiny things during their lunch break at school, and boys throw stones and fight with sticks. Although some girls I know, do both (the collecting and the fighting/throwing).

Anyway: These are for Miss M. and Miss A. To stow away their yearly autumn collections. As I gather most of our food at the local farmer’s or super market, I had some spare time to add fiddles and bells from my own autumn collection. The bags are still prototypes but similar ones and/or their pattern will be for sale some time soon as well.

Spruced up

Miss M. is a schoolgirl. Since yesterday. Soon, the "Wonders of Writing" and the "Mystery of Multiplication" will be unravelled. She'll be able to catch all the headlines from the tabloids sold on the streets (Great). Read the television programme (Oh Boy), and, at night, hide herself under her duvet wih a book and a flashlight (We will have to carry her to school in her pyjamas next morning).

Before we know, she'll know more than we know (and that'll be pretty soon).

Of course, to enable all this we needed a Desk. I was relieved I could therefore finally throw out this:



"Sally Spruce" held all the diapers, bibs, baby bottom creams and cozy blankets for the last six years. I bought her in a rush, when I was nine months pregnant, and shopping for furniture had become an ordeal. Now we had to tell Sally it was over.

Knowing she was not made for eternity, she sighed briefly, lost a knot, and was ready to take her fate with countenance. But it all came differently, as the lady of the house (me) had been hoarding fabric over the last couple of years. And that had to be kept neatly. So out came the paint, glue, paper and a jigsaw.

When the dust settled, I showed her in the mirror how she looked.



She almost lost all her knots, but forgave me for wanting to throw her out in the first place.

The problem is now, that Miss M. claims this is actually her set of drawers, and it has no business in my office, and home work can be made at the kitchen table perfectly well.

I'll think about it.
No promises though...

A matter of perspective...

So: This australian frog thinks he/she has found the perfect place.

Cool, humid, shadowy. No birds or snakes in sight.

We, on the other hand, know it's quite crappy.

Just one "funny" person and you're flushed.

Or worse.

Of course I warned him about that. But he just smiled.

"Believing" is a strange thing.

Inventory of Summer

* Plus 2 kilos. And I thought I only ate fruit(y-ish things). Djeez.

* Balcony: Succesfull Hollyhock and Hortensia blooming. Lavender dead.

* Financial status: Ruined. Shopping in Amsterdam, Munich and Paris.

* Health status: 4 colds (not the same person), 1 stitched forehead (Miss A.), egg-sized mosquito bites (Miss M.), 2 times funny spots (Miss A.), and a hypochondric attack after having a funny numbish leg for 1 day (me).

* Finished craft projects: zero.

* Bottles of white wine: Yes.

* Sun days: 50/50 I'd say. It feels that way.

* Accomplishments: Patiently playing "Knight Roderick with no Brains" in endless playmobil sessions, forget about work entirely, blowing up two children's lounge chairs, a matching side table, two beach balls and a children's paddling pool all in one session without fainting, wrote a column on web useability for Grace from Design Sponge (Go check out her great Biz Ladies Series, if you haven't seen it yet!).

* Forgotten items during travel: Just 1. (Now I read this, I think it can't be true. Just one/uno/één? Normally it's at least 5).

* State of the car after 2000 kilometres: Yuk, inside and out.

* What I learned: Saying goodbye, or even thinking it.