Progressively addled ramblings of a guinea fowl grandma
I think I must have always wanted to chronicle the events of my life, although chronicle seems a rather grand term for what I do. When I was a child I ran away from home, with a few belongings and a bit of food wrapped in a brightly coloured cloth tied to a stick, Dick Whittington-style. I ran as far as the railway line culvert and there I unpacked my things and had a bite to eat. I waited for something to happen but it didn't, so I walked home. I probably would have forgotten about this incident, but much later I found my account of it in an orange coloured exercise book, complete with drawings of my runaway from home kit! And then there were the forty years of diary writing! I always thought that when I was a very old person, as opposed to being just an old person, I would spend countless hours reading through my diary accounts of bringing up babies, of fixing things and of coping with playing at all our various gigs. Unfortunately this can no longer happen, but here I am again sifting through the muddled feelings and memories in my head, trying to make sense of it all! Memories are so unreliable. Important moments in one's life can disappear in a haphazard, unpredictable manner while painful, insignificant, should be forgotten events determinedly stay put!
Today's pudding from the old CWA Calendar of Puddings is a Strawberry Trifle.
December 2nd Strawberry Trifle
Break about half a stale sponge cake into a crystal dish, not too deep. Mix in a cup about two tablespoons milk and two tablespoons sherry and pour over sufficient to just soak the cake. Then add a layer of fresh strawberries mashed with sugar to taste. Make a custard with 1 cup milk, 1 tablespoon sugar and two eggs. Pour while still warm over the contents of dish, and when cold, top with ½ cup whipped cream. Decorate edges of trifle with whole small ripe strawberries. Raspberries and loganberries can be used in same way.
Mrs L.L.Kluske (Jervois)
Illustration 1: Strawberry Trifle
This was very light and delicious. I must confess that I cheated and bought a sponge! Second confession, I added a little cornflour to thicken my egg custard. I only had large strawberries for decoration, small ones around the edge would probably have been better. I did not add sugar to the mashed strawberries as I thought they were sweet enough. I used my newly acquired Swift Whip to whip the cream. (They still turn up in op shops occasionally.) If I don't have much whipping to do, I prefer to use my Swift Whip rather than my Kenwood, much less noisy!
Illustration 2: Swift Whip and successfully whipped cream.
Last weekend we had a wonderful time with our Pinnaroo family, playing music, reading books, planting trees, dancing on the trampoline, playing cricket and we even fitted in a visit to the Pinnaroo op shop!. We found a microscope, a good cricket bat, some clothes, some books and grand daughter Amelia found a lovely jug and glass set for her special drinks. When I was a child there were no op shops where I lived. I remember my mother adding bits of material to the waistline of my dresses to lengthen them when I grew and my father tacking new soles on my worn out shoes. I often wonder if this still happens.
Illustration 3: Amelia trying out her new microscope.
I thought in this post I would write about some of the things that survived the fire. The last thing I did before we drove away was to let out my chooks. When we returned later in the day, the geese and most of our chooks were still there and on the next day they laid us five eggs in their burnt nests! It is a puzzle to me how they survived. So many sheep, kangaroos, lizards, snakes and birds died at Pinkerton Plains on that day.
Iluustration 3: Five eggs in the burnt chookhouse the day after the fire.
Most of our guinea fowl survived, though the trees they always roosted in at night did not. I have always loved my guinea fowl. When we first moved to River House I really missed their noisy cacophony and rather absurd, quarrelsome antics.
Illustration 4 : Guinea fowl at Lonely Hill Farm (Photo taken by Tad)
At Lonely Hill Farm our guinea fowl would love to peck at my lawn. In fact, they were so destructive I had to cover it with a net, which I used to remove once a day so they could have a peck! Guinea fowl are a bit silly and panic a lot, but they often warn us if a wild cat or a fox is about and they love eating earwigs so are very helpful in the garden. We have brought our remaining guinea fowl to “River House”, where we are now living and where they have made a garden nest in one of the wildest parts.
Illustration 5: Guineafowl at home at River House already pecking my lawn.
Illustration 6: Hidden Guinea fowl nest.
Each day a new egg appears in the nest. Guinea fowl are not terribly good sitters. One year at Lonely Hill one of the mothers would dutifully sit on her eggs in the day time and then fly up into her tree at night! Consequently no guinea fowl chicks survived that time. Their eggs are very hard and occasionally I would find an accidentally laid egg lying unbroken at the foot of the tree, quite a long way down from where they were roosting. Even crows who are avid egg thieves often give up trying to crack guinea fowl eggs! I know this because intact eggs have been found amongst the egg shells of normal chook eggs in crow rubbish heaps!
The Lychgate
One structure which survived the fire was our lychgate. The lychgate was made from a stack of old weathered flooring joists for daughter Jane's wedding with help from son Alex, Tony, Adrian and Jeff. (See December 11th 2013 post.)
Illustration 7: Lychgate looking beautiful for Jane and Patrick’s wedding.
When we came home on the day of the fire and our home was gone, it seemed so strange that the wooden lychgate was still standing. Parts of it had caught alight and it was charred badly but most of it was intact.
Illustration 8: Surviving Lychgate.
Much later we decided we wanted the lychgate, our remaining piece of Lonely Hill Farm, to be with us at River house.
Illustration 8: Lychgate teetering on the trailer on the way to River House.
We put it on the back of our trailer, slowly drove it here and found some timber to repair it. On the whole farm there were only two surviving pieces of wood which happened to be perfect for the job. I think it looks very good here, old and rustic, like River House itself and like the current occupants!!!
Illustration 9: Lychgate at River House being repaired.
I am running out of time, so I will conclude by saying how much I am enjoying “The Leopard” by Giuseppe di Lampedusa, published posthumously in 1958 and written about change and decay in Sicily in the 1860s. There are so many wonderfully quotable passages in this book, but because I have a fondness for jellies, I will end my blog with an apt quote from this book.
“At the end of the meal appeared a rum jelly. This was the Prince's favourite pudding, and the Princess had been careful to order it early that morning in gratitude for favours granted. It was rather threatening at first sight, shaped like a tower with bastions and battlements and smooth slippery walls impossible to scale, garrisoned by red and green cherries and pistachio nuts; but into its transparent and quivering flanks a spoon plunged with astounding ease. By the time the amber-coloured fortress reached Francesco Paolo, the sixteen-year-old son who was served last, it consisted only of shattered walls and hunks of wobbly rubble. Exhilarated by the aroma of rum and the delicate flavour of the multi-coloured garrison, the Prince enjoyed watching the rapid demolishing of the fortress beneath the assault of his family's appetite.”
I would love the recipe, if anyone has insight into jellies made in Sicily in the 1860s!