Grannymar

Today’s recipe has been well tried and tested for many years. I never remember anyone not liking it. I first tasted it at a friend’s house and she kindly shared the recipe with me.

Garlic Chicken with a Lemon Sauce

Serves 6

Preheat oven to 220°C

4 Chicken Breasts

2 Cloves of Garlic

1 Bunch of Springs Onions

1 dessertspoon Honey

1 dessertspoon Sunflower Oil

12ozs Mushrooms

1 dessertspoon Tarragon Vinegar

A few drops Soy Sauce

Lemon Sauce

½ cup Lemon Juice

2 Chicken Stock Cubes

2 tablespoon Cornflour

2 tablespoon Honey

1 tablespoon Brown Sugar

1 teaspoon Grated Ginger

375mls Water

Rind of 1 Lemon

225g Filo Pastry

Sesame Seeds

A little beaten egg or oil to brush

Cut the chicken into strips them marinate in the crushed garlic, oil, tarragon vinegar, honey and soy sauce. Leave covered for 1-2 hours (longer if possible). Heat the olive oil in a pan and quickly fry the chicken for 9-10 minutes until golden brown. Pour into an ovenproof dish. A few wild mushrooms could also be added.

To make the lemon sauce, combine the lemon juice crumbled stock cubes, cornflour, honey, brown sugar, ginger, water and lemon rind in a saucepan and stir over a low heat until the sauce boils and thickens. Cut the spring onions into 1inch pieces and add to the sauce and pour it over the chicken pieces. Cut the filo pastry into squares and fold into triangles arrange them on top of the chicken & brush with a little beaten egg or oil or melted fat. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and bake for 25-30 minutes.

Foods I Crave

• A ‘BLT’ Sandwich – made with grilled tomatoes, smoked bacon and lettuce.
• Traditional Roast Beef dinner – shared with a large group of friends because it takes the longer cooking of a large joint to bring out the flavour.
• Olives stuffed with garlic – just because I like them
• Raspberries – with a little ice cream
• Mammy’s Christmas Pudding – a reminder of my childhood
• Good Coffee – that tastes like it smells
• Pistachio nuts – like the great big bags full that a patient brought me from Turkey when I worked in the USAF Hospital in Wiesbaden.
• Danish pastries – the real thing that I gorged on tasted on a holiday in Denmark.
• Death by Chocolate Cake – even if it doesn’t agree with me
• Sweet Mince Pies – I have been known to have them for breakfast!!

Foods I dislike with a passion

• Porridge
• Mashed Potatoes
• Oysters
• Salted Peanuts (Whole)
• Whiskey
• Milk
• Bread & butter pudding
• Fast food Burgers
• Sauces made with a Roux ( butter, flour and milk)
• Milk Chocolate

What’s on your list?

Are they Toyboys or spies?

What do you think?

Police were called to a Quiet residential area when sleep was disturbed with loud noise for a third night in a row. A young man was seen banging on the door of Grannymar Gables at 2a.m. There was no trace of this young man at all the next day.

“The noise was very loud and frightening” said a weary elderly neighbour.

“That lady is usually very quiet. In fact sedate is how I would describe her.” said another.

“Well she comes from the South. She is one of them!” an elderly gentleman was heard to mutter.

Grannymar was unavailable for comment. She is believed to be in hiding!

So what is going on, I hear you ask. Now don’t all faint together, make a cup of tea and sure have a Choccie biscuit or three, just for the shock, you know. When you eat Choccie biscuits for shock, calories don’t count

Now are you ready? George take Elly out of the room, this might upset her!

It all started on Sunday. You might remember I was having a Rest Day. After many hours vegetating outdoors I felt refreshed enough to prepare a blog post for the next day. It was midnight as I battened down the hatches, set the alarm and hit the hay. Feeling relaxed I drifted off to sleep quite quickly with the BBC World Service droning softly in the background.

Suddenly I was awake and realised that the noise that woke me was not all down to ‘Sailing By’ the tune played every night as a lead in to the Fishing Weather Forecast. This sound was everywhere. Inside and outside the house – it was the Burglar Alarm! I was asleep for less than an hour. Out of the bed I hopped like a sprinter heading for the control panel, switching on lights in each room as I passed. The control panel told me that the garage was the source of concern.

I am unable to access the garage from inside my house and not wanting to venture outside in my nightwear I opened the blinds to see if anyone was about. The garage seemed secure so I reset the alarm and went back to bed. Although all was quiet I found it difficult to drop off to sleep once more. I dosed and woke repeatedly until around 6a.m. when I gave in and went to make breakfast. Later I checked the garage and the door was still locked. I turned the key and raised the door. My car was still there and everything seemed in order. No trapped birds or neighbours cats had slipped past me as I put the car away. No sign of any little mice anywhere, they are more usual in wintertime, drawn in by the heat from the central heating boiler.

My day passed as normal on Monday and soon it was time for the nightly routine of switching off, unplugging, locking up and switching on the alarm. All seemed in order and I was soon tucked up nice and warm. Sleep came easily – the sign of an easy conscience my father often told us.

Once more just an hour after settling down, my sleep was interrupted by the alarm. I shot out of the bed to discover once again that the problem was with the garage. I opened my front door and look about. There was no sign of intruders so I made a warm drink and took it back to bed with me. Sleep was rather elusive and I counted more sheep than we have in Co Antrim!

Breakfast over on Tuesday morning I opened the garage and removed the car. I looked everywhere and still found no culprit. Tasks for the day soon took over and I forgot about the lack of sleep. By bedtime I was really tired and promised myself a lie-in in the morning.

I became aware of the voices on the radio and there was dreadful interference in the background. Did I knock the control button and move it off the station? Wait now that was not interference it was the alarm yet AGAIN!

Jumping up once more I became aware of a banging on my front door. This time there was a man’s shape at the door. I called hello and went to switch off the offending alarm. It was a young neighbour who had moved back into the newly renovated bungalow with his wife and young children across the way from me. Apparently the alarm had been going for some time and I had slept through it. They were not sure if I was at home or gone to visit Elly.

The wife called the police fearing that I might be ill and they would need to gain entry. Assuring the young man that I was ok, I returned to bed without the alarm. They called the police to cancel their callout and say I was fine.

I sat back in bed and cried!

It was the first time in years that anybody came to my door to see if I was alright or needed help. I welcome back my new neighbours with open arms.

On Wednesday I gutted the garage and all I found were SPIDERS! I declared war on them. No matter how fast they ran I still got them. My garage is now so clean it only lacks the smell of polish.

I called the company that installed the system and they said the PIR in the garage was so sensitive that a spider walking across it was enough to trigger it off. That is both good and bad. Good in that nothing will get past it, but bad in that I now must dust the garage on a more regular basis.

A very loud, scruffy, cigarette smoking woman walked into Asda with her two children, yelling obscenities at them all the way through the entrance.

A member of the Customer Service Team (CST) said pleasantly, ‘Good morning, and welcome to Asda. Nice children you have there. Are they twins? ‘The woman stopped yelling long enough to say, ‘No way, they are not! The oldest one’s 9 and the other one’s 7. Why the hell would you think they’re twins? Are you blind, or just stupid?’

‘I’m neither blind nor stupid’ replied the CS person. ‘I just couldn’t believe someone would sleep with you twice. Have a good day and thank you for shopping at Asda.

Alan in Belfast wrote about the high point of a Northern Ireland’s summer season, or the Marching Season as it is known. You can catch up on his posts here and here.

He mentions the suggestion that it should become a Cultural Tourist Event.

Before the 12th becomes a Cultural Tourist Event the Powers that be in Tourism and the Orange Order need to step back and take a long hard look at what happens as part of the twelfth of July celebrations.

OK Alan, as a native you have some idea of how it evolved and what it is about, but as a visitor coming in raw, what image do enormous bonfires of stolen pallets and tyres from motor vehicles producing palls of acrid smoke and surrounded by people who seem to have fallen out of a pub, do to sell the province?

This Video is from 2007 but will give you an idea of how a Bonfire is built.

Up to about five years ago a field that bordered my land was taken over and a bonfire built and burned there. Trees on our property were hacked when wood was scarce, but we could have told them, if they bothered to ask, that fresh branches are to damp to burn. Nobody ever asked our permission to chop the trees or place the fire right behind our bungalow. The field was way below us so we had a ringside view of all that went on. Naturally no thought of our feelings were taken into consideration. The drunken squalling that supposedly was the singing of ‘The Sash‘ (one line repeated endlessly) was an insult to any occasion. The fire burned all night and indeed smouldered for nearly a week covering our bungalow and gardens with a layer of soot and bits of half burned tyres. The whole place reeked of burning rubber for weeks and needed to be hosed down on the morning of the 13^th.

I have watched 12th Parades both live and on TV over the years. I am sorry; but in my mind a parade is marched with military precision in time to a band. What I witnessed over the years could in no way be called marching but rather slouching along with participants waving to everyone they know. It would be impossible to march properly anyway, as each lodge was preceded by a band, and each band thumped a different attempt at a tune.

The Belfast Telegraph give a flavour of this years main Parade in Belfast.

Alan’s description of what happened at the field further shows that the whole thing is a sham and an insult to Queen and country, as are the Flags that appear all over the countryside at the end of June and are left there to rot and decay all year long at the mercy of the weather.

Marches will take place are regular intervals from now to the end of August across the Province, often culminating with a church service. During my years as a Church Warden I was involved in preparing for and greeting the Orange Men. The church hall was opened for the band to off load their instruments – large drums etc. Regularly the band members stayed in the hall for the duration and quite a few of those who did enter the church were unfamiliar with service or the hymns chosen by the Orange men themselves beforehand.

New Drawing Boards are needed!

I remember as a youngster my father lecturing my brothers and me about having respect for ‘The Flag’, no matter what country you were in. The place for flags are public buildings and they should be removed (never touching the ground) before sundown. The greatest insult is to have a flag with a rip or tear in it. Painting flags on faces or wearing shorts made from fabric that looks like a Union Jack is way off the grid where I am concerned.

First Robin Blandord came up with the idea to run his CV through Wordle.net to see what it would look like as a tag cloud. The idea snowballed and was taken up by Ellybabes, Sinéad Cochrane, Will and Paul Browne. They were all very different.

My CV is rather dog eared and dusty at this stage and I would waste valuable time searching for it. I teased Will about running my blog through instead of a CV. The next thing I know he has it done and emailed to me.

Now I was not very sure that I liked the result… am I constantly referring to a Ferrari? The words used most frequently appear in large type. Now my regular readers do you notice anything……

I don’t doubt the work of my Toyboy Will, but I thought I would have another shot at it myself.

I changed the layout and the colours.

Again do you notice anything….?

The clue is in the top right hand corner, about three or four words down… look how small it is!

And you all think I am obscessed with a word beginning with T……

Today Baino mentioned that Olive Riley reputed to be the world’s oldest internet blogger, has died at the age of 108. She was born in the town of Broken Hill on 20 October 1899. Since she began her blog in February 2007, Olive posted more than 70 entries about her life.

Rest In Peace Olive.

May your efforts give encouragement to others out there, to give it a go and join in the fun.

It made me think…. 108 years of age…

At one post a day I have at least another 17,155 posts to write

Do you think you could put up with me for that long?

This recipe has been around since Elly’s first term in Home Economics. Adding the nuts was the only change I made.

Banana Loaf

Preheat oven to 190°C

150gr plain flour

50gr wheaten meal (Wholemeal)

100gr sugar

1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

½ teaspoon baking powder

100gr butter or margarine

2 eggs beaten

2 Bananas mashed.

A few walnuts chopped (optional)

Sift all the dry ingredients. Add the eggs, butter or margarine and banana and nuts.

Mix well. Pour into a prepared 2lb loaf tin.

Bake for 30 to 35 minutes.

Today was a rest day and I did enjoy it.

Dry, with a little sunshine and plenty of fresh air.

So from this

I have managed to produce this:

Back tomorrow with a foodie!