Kitchen nightmares

As I mentioned yesterday, I celebrated my houses's rehydration with a bout of baking, and I think it's fair to say that I did a half good job. Without it being an exaggeration, I've done more baking over the course of the last year or so than in the rest of my life put together, and whilst my historical lack of culinary prowess doesn't exactly make that a difficult feat, it's still been something of a personal revelation.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not putting myself in the Gordon Ramsay league as packets and instructions still largely dictate my cooking technique, but I've been branching out and yesterday I made my first ever quiche which, even if I say so myself, came out rather well. It was a bacon and broccoli affair, and whilst Chef Ramsay would most likely have taken a forkful and declared it to be bland, I was very pleased.

I said at the beginning of this post that I did a half good job though, and there was indeed a downside to my relative success with the quiche. I also made a couple of apple pies, which should have been in the oven for around an hour, but they ended up baking for considerably longer. When I spoke to Melanie on the phone in the evening I proudly told her all about my adventures in baking, but as I was doing so I remembered the apple pies, and the fact that they were still in the oven.

It wasn't as bad as my spoon-based misadventures from earlier in the year, but after three and a half hours I don't think the pies were as moist as they could have been; apple crisp is a popular dish in these parts, but these were more like apple burnt-to-a-crisp. I probably do myself an injustice there as I think what emerged is still going to be edible, but a large amount of apple filling remained in the oven having burst through the pie crusts, and is now charcoaled in lumps at the bottom in a small-scale recreation of the last day of Pompeii.

I'm currently debating as to whether I should clean up the mess since it could eventually be of archaeological interest to future generations, but as I'm still going to be here for the next month I think history is going to have to lose out on this occasion. I'm going to make a cake at the weekend though...

The weekend looms

My suitcase finally arrived today, and whilst it's pleasing to be repatriated with both the case and its contents, an event of the magnitude of the Haitian earthquake certainly puts the inconvenience of a piece of lost luggage firmly in perspective. We have two teachers at the school here with either friends or family in Haiti, and it has been heartening to witness the support they have been offered by the community over the past couple of days. The scenes of devastation that have been coming out of Haiti seem to have had a special resonance amongst the local population, and my students have certainly been very keen to learn about the whats, wheres, whys and hows associated with the whole disaster.

Moving back into the bubble that surrounds my own little piece of the world, I'm very much looking forward to the weekend, for although I will have only taught for three days this week come the end of Friday, it always takes some time to readjust to the rhythm of life here following an extended break in the south. We have a staff meal to look forward to tomorrow night which will mean I will get at least one decent meal this week, and I intend to spend the rest of the weekend hedonistically catching up with the backlog of episodes of House and CSI New York that I have been meaning to watch for ages, and possibly giving the house a bit of a clean for the first time since I've been back.

Or possibly not.

Weekend musings

Well, the snow from earlier in the week has all but gone now thanks to a couple of rainy days, but at least I have had a taste of what the landscape will look like here once winter is here to stay. What qualifies as our 'autumn' is still exceedingly cold though; it's a balmy 6° today, but in the week ahead it's forecast to stay around the 1° or 2° mark.

My much talked about expedition into the foothills will have to wait for another day as I woke up with a bad back this morning - better than waking up with a horse's head I guess - and I've spent most of the morning hobbling around the house bent almost double, although this has enabled me to get a close up view of all the spots on the floor that I missed when I went on my cleaning blitz last weekend.

Housebound as I am I've had a go at baking my own version of Tim Hortons' raisin tea biscuits (scones to those of you in the UK), and I must say that they've actually come out pretty well. Combine these with the Timbits that I still have in the freezer and my jar of Tim Hortons ground coffee and I have quite a home away from home going on up here; all I need are the cops sitting at the next table and it'll be just like being there.

Always fresh...

18 boxes

The annual ritual of waiting for my cargo has now been completed! Last year, my life was shipped to me in 24 boxes, whereas this time around I've managed to downsize to 18. What that says about my life I'm not sure; perhaps the amount of possessions I need is slowly decreasing in line with the number of hairs remaining on my head.

The remainder of the week will now consist of an ongoing cycle of unpacking, cleaning and washing, but at least I now have my TV and I will now feel a little more connected to the outside world once more. My phone is also connected now, but there is still no sight of the internet, so I am continuing to spend more time in school than is healthy in order to access the world wide web and to write these posts for you, dear reader. It's home time now though...