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Fear and anxiety are powerful stalkers, and this prayer tackles them in a wonderfully original and peaceful way.  It might seem strange at first, but it really works. It is taken from Meditative Prayers For Today by Adam Bittleston, published by The Christian Community Press.

May the events that seek me
come unto me;
May I receive them
with a quiet mind
Through the Father’s ground of peace
on which we walk.

May the people who seek me
come unto me;
May I receive them
with an understanding heart
Through the Christ’s stream of love
in which we live.

May the spirits which seek me
come unto me;
May I receive them
with a clear soul
Through the healing Spirit’s Light
by which we see.

By far my favourite vegetarian main meal is this cashew nut loaf.  This recipe is stolen almost shamelessly from The Vegetarian Gourmet by Paul Southey.  It should serve as an advert for that fantastic cookbook, which has been our cooking bible for many years.

The loaf is soft and moist, and has a cheesy layer of shredded red pepper and onion in the middle.  Our family of six gets through one loaf in a meal, but larger people might be hungrier still.  Typically I make two and freeze one – it freezes well.

The loaf

225g ground cashew nuts
100g fresh wholemeal breadcrumbs (stale white ones also work!)
100g finely chopped onion
25g  butter
1 clove of garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 eggs, beaten
150ml milk
grated rind of one lemon
half-teaspoonful of finely chopped marjoram
salt
freshly ground black pepper

The filling

100g finely chopped onion
225g shredded red pepper (very approximately)
25g butter
freshly ground black pepper
salt
100g coarsely grated Edam or Cheddar cheese
1 egg, beaten

Method

Set the oven at 200C (400°F, gas mark 6 (UK)).  Note that both the loaf and filling require chopped onion, so chop it all at once!

To make the loaf, mix together the nuts and breadcrumbs in a bowl.  If using broken cashew pieces, grind in a mixer together with chunks of bread for the breadcrumbs – it seems to grind better with both together.

Fry the onion in the butter until soft and golden brown. Add the garlic and fry gently for a few moments longer without allowing it to colour.  Take out of the pan and add to the mixed nuts and crumbs.

Beat the eggs with the milk, lemon rind, marjoram, salt and pepper.  Pour into the nut and crumb mixture and mix thoroughly.

To make the filling, fry the onion and red pepper in the butter until almost soft but not browned.  Season liberally with black pepper and a little salt, then remove from the heat and add the cheese and enough beaten egg to bind the mixture.

Line a 1 litre capacity hinged loaf tin (I just use a bread tin) with greaseproof paper and press half the nut mixture into the bottom of the tin.  Spread the filling mixture on top, then cover with the remaining nut mixture.  One could decorate the top perhaps with nuts, but I haven’t tried that!

Bake in the pre-heated oven for 30-40 minutes or until firm.  (In a Rayburn or Aga it seems to take longer.)

Serve hot with Béarnaise sauce accompanied with caulifower or broccoli, or (as we prefer) a tomato and onion sauce made with a roux, and carrots and potatos.

My blog has been getting spam comments. I am a new, innocent blogger, and not familiar with the woes and ways of blog spam, but I have installed and activated the Akismet plugin, and am waiting with some hope to see if the spam comments are caught and dealt with automatically. I do hope so. It spoils the fun and excitement of getting a WordPress email if instead of telling me that someone has read and appreciated my blog, it’s just another spam comment.

Two weeks ago I went to a meeting in Seoul, South Korea. I’ve never been to Korea before and knew very little about it, apart from the fact that the country was split and that North Korea was an isolationist regime with nuclear ambitions which sounded rather scary. Last time I had the chance to visit the country, the security situation was looking dodgy and I decided not to go on grounds of safety. Of course this time everything was calm and negotiations were looking positive. This all changed while I was there as North Korea unsealed its reactor and stated that the USA had reneged on its commitments, but this had no noticeable effect in Seoul.

I have previously visited Beijing in China and was impressed by mile upon mile of high-rise apartment blocks mixed in with commercial developments, separated by very wide avenues which offset the crowding to give a feeling of space.  Seoul was similar, though the buildings were taller, more closely packed and more modern (at least in the areas we passed through on the way from the airport in our plush limo-bus).  Apart from the idea that if someone were to push just one tower block over, the whole lot would go down like dominoes, it struck me that there is very little space for recreation.

The city of Seoul is spread out along the Han river in the northwest of southern Korea, quite close to the demilitarised zone which separates the north from the south.  I found out a little of the chequered history of the country when I visited the famous palaces which housed the royal family until 1910, and the museums nearby.  These palaces are reminiscent of the Forbidden City in Beijing, with very ornate carvings and bright colours.  Many of the palaces have been damaged by invaders during the 20th century and are in the process of being restored to their former glory.  Civilisation in Korea goes back thousands of years, and encompasses the roots of Japanese society, a fact which has only relatively recently been admitted in Japan.  It’s clear that Korea’s modern history is one of repetetive conquest, and there seems to be quite some remaining resentment with nearby neighbours, particularly Japan, which invaded in 1908 and annexed Korea in 1910 until the end of the second world war in 1945.  At that time Korea was divided into the North, administered by the USSR and the South, under the control of the USA.  There followed a few years of calm until the North invaded the South in 1950, triggering the Korean War.  This happened 10 years before I was born, and was sufficiently recent that I have childhood memories of its horror, presumably picked up from adults who remembered it.  The two parts of Korea are still officially at war, though both would seem to want to make peace.  As ever, they are pawns in larger conflicts.

To some extent my visit to Korea was more a question of running the gauntlet than enjoying the ride.  I was not comfortable with the food and was a little concerned about my health.  In the event my health was fine.  The food was another matter.  We stayed in a wonderfully posh hotel which has its own theme park attached, and at the start of the week I ate mainly in the bar, which had a small selection of poor imitations of American staples including a club sandwich, with a fried egg in it.  The sushi was apparently wonderful but not to my taste.  Breakfast was the saving grace; the hotel offered by far the most comprehensive and exciting breakfast buffet I have ever seen, with cereals, breads, fruit (including fresh lychees), eggs, omlette, meats, noodle bar, asian salads and more.  Later in the week I discovered the lunch buffet, which was another step beyond amazing with its selections of sushi so attractive that even I had to have some.  And the desserts were beyond my dreams.  What a lovely idea to offer small glasses of pulped fruit juices as a dessert, and in so many varieties, including the relatively familiar mango to raspberry and others.  All this for a mere $70 or so (ouch!).

We had much less success in the hotel’s extrordinarily expensive and poor posh Chinese restaurant.  What a load of rubbish!  Sea slug, or sea cucumber, is something which I shall not be trying again.  Imagine having a really bad cold and not enough to drink, then blowing your nose.  Enough said?

One night we ventured bravely forth around the lake to a part of town where there was a concentration of restaurants, lit by brightly coloured neon signs.  Operating the well known (?) principle of game theory by which you find the first restaurant which “will do” and then select the next place which is better than that one, we chose a Korean barbeque restaurant which looked clean and had reasonably happy-looking clients.  Our table had two tubes descending from the ceiling, which turned out to be an extraction system for BBQ smoke.  The waitress knew two words in English: “beef” and “pork”.  This turned out to be enough, and we ordered several different kinds of beef and one of pork.  Along came a bowl of hot coals and a huge tray of fascinating salad leaves (large, fresh and succulent looking) and peppers, and bowls of strange sauces and all things strange.  The salad I decided to leave, on the basis that I didn’t know if the water was to be trusted – shame, but I have to be careful.  The meat arrived and was cooked for us by the waitress.  We dared to sample it and dip it into odd things while drinking Soju from small glasses.  Soju is the local spirit and is made from sweet potato.  We were quickly pleased.

I was impressed by the helpfullness of the few Korean people we met in the street.  Twice we were approached while looking lost by people whose only interest seemed to be directing us where we wanted to go or explaining how the efficient, clean, bright and nice-smelling underground system worked.  There were a few unwanted taxi touts at the airport but apart from that we were hardly hassled at all.

And the hotel brought me a birthday cake without being asked!

Lemongrass's Korean birthday cake

Lemongrass’s Korean birthday cake

I’m skulking around a garden in the grounds.  I don’t have permission to be here and I’m trying not to be seen.  There are some safe places and others which I should keep clear of, such as the track past the old house; people might see me out of the windows.  Away from there, no-one is around and all is peaceful.  I’m the one doing the haunting: this place is important to me.

The garden is beautiful and green, with bushes and tall trees.  Parts are wild, parts more formal.  Here, there’s a pattern of stones inlaid into the lawn; a long curve.  I think there’s a lake nearby.

I need to go into the outhouses by the track, but just beyond the building, a father is walking with his child.  Perhaps if I am quiet?  I creep inside and around the corner, but the child senses me.  His father tells him to wait, while he checks.  I hide around a corner and hope he won’t be thorough.

Almost, he doesn’t see me, but then looks around my corner and recognises me, knowing I have no right to be here.  I want to explain how much I belong here, how I can help look after the garden, but I can’t find the words.

Waking early in the morning I have time to think about my dream and catch a little of it in my memory.   Half awake, I begin to find words to tell the man how I can make my contribution in return for being allowed to stay in the garden.  I have a portfolio of drawings and maps which will be helpful in maintenance and planning.  I have a feeling for what needs to be done, perhaps.  I imagine beginning to dig out the part by the lake where the wall is failing, and imagine my work being discovered and someone leaving materials for me to use.

It’s an important dream, I recognise, and not hurtful or very disturbing.  I think it tells me about my desire to belong.  I remember liking to be at school when no-one else was there, and feeling a sense of belonging.  I took it quite far.  I found where the cleaners kept their key, and got several copies made.  I used my key carefully, and was never found in places I shouldn’t have been.  I gave a copy to my friend, but he used it to break into the science lab and steal an old hand grenade.  He came back another day to put it back, not realising the teacher was in the lab, and was caught.  He confessed where the key came from, and the teacher’s reaction was interesting: he kept quiet.  I wonder what his insight was; he never discussed it with me despite the fact that we were quite close.

I had a similar experience at my next school, a little different as the oldest pupils were allowed a key; I just got mine a little early.  I seem to remember that when I was in the top class, a teacher said there was no need to give me a key, seeing as I already had one.  When I left that school, I often returned and used my key to get into secret places; I stayed the night several times sleeping in the loft of the gymnasium!

Later again I worked in a research lab; now I had free access to a large lab site and often spent all night walking the eerie corridoors and peering into the labs.  Once again, I liked to be there when no-one else was.

Part of the feelings associated with this story are to do with belonging and part perhaps explain my desire for hacking.  Computers maybe in the past, but locks certainly.  I have a great relationship with doors and keys.  I still have a Halls and Catering knife from Loughborough University, the end of which I carved into a working copy of the master key for my hall of residence.  Students used to come to me to let them back into their rooms if they locked themselves out.  The measurements for that key are drawn on a piece of paper sealed and buried under a tree on an island in a reservoir in Leicestershire.  The lattitude and longitude were once built into the structure of my bed in hall.  There are electronic doors at my office which open without the need for me to use my keycard, and forget to report that I’ve been through.  This is pointless, as there are no restrictions on access.  In the old tradition of hacking, I’ve rarely ever used my skills to do wrong – it’s not the motivation, and I don’t have the need.

Remembering a dream is so rare for me, and this one has a wonderful feeling, as well as a sad one.  I’m glad to have been able to write about it.

This is my mother-in-law’s recipe for Marmalade. It’s a strong, earthy, chunky marmalade which will make you grow up healthy, and slightly brown. Seville Oranges have a very short season, approximately in January. Marmalade keeps for several years, which is handy, as it’s too much work to make this marmalade every year.

Ingredients

4lb Seville Oranges

2 Lemons

2 Sweet Oranges

6 pints Water

6 lbs Granulated White Sugar

Method

Wash fruit well and place into a preserving pan with the water. Bring to the boil and simmer moderately fast until soft enough to pierce with a fork (approximately 1 hour). Take the fruit out, leaving the juices in the pan.


When cool, cut the fruit into chunky bits, discarding pips and retaining the juice which runs out of the fruit. Expect this cutting process to take a long time and hurt your fingers; how you cut the fruit determines how good the marmalade will be.


You can cheat and use a liquidiser very briefly, but neither your marmalade nor your soul will benefit. Return the shredded fruit and any juice to the pan and stir in the sugar. Bring to the boil and boil moderately fast until set, stirring frequently to avoid it sticking and burning.


Pot while hot, and cover when quite cold.

The fun part of making marmalade is testing it to see if it’s set yet. This is done by dribbling a bit of the cooking marmalade onto a plate which has been chilled in the fridge. After leaving for a minute or so, draw your finger through the marmalade. If you can see that a skin has formed, then the marmalade is set. Mostly of course, it’s not, so you have to lick the plate, wash it, dry it and return it to the fridge.

My plurkenbuddies have been demanding to know about Guinness Cake, so here is the recipe, stolen from the Rayburn Cookbook by Sarah Pym.

Guinness Cake is a rich fruit cake made moist by the addition of Guinness stout.  It keeps particularly well.

Ingredients

225g (8oz) butter or margarine
225g (8oz) soft dark brown sugar
4 eggs, lightly beaten
275g (10oz) self-raising flour
10ml (2tsp) mixed spice
225g (8oz) seedless raisins
225g (8oz) sultanas
100g (4oz) mixed peel
100g (4oz) chopped walnuts
125ml (1/4pt) Guinness

Oven

Set the oven for 170 to 180C (325-350°F)

Method

Cream together the butter and sugar until light and creamy. Gradually beat in the eggs. Fold in the flour and the mixed spice, and add the fruit and nuts. Stir in 4 tablespoons of the Guinness and mix to a soft dropping consistency. Turn into a greased and lined 18cm (7inch) round cake tin and bake in a moderate oven for 1 hour. Reduce the temperature (perhaps by opening the oven door a little) and cook for a further 1.5 hours or until completely cooked. (Test using a clean dry knife stabbed gently into the top of the cake; if it comes out clean, it’s cooked.) Allow to cool. Prick with a skewer or fine knitting needle and pour on the remaining Guinness.