September 2008 newsletter

good cateress, newsletter September 2008

I am sitting here in my garden, on a hot muggy September day, musing on what to write this month. Five of the fledgling sparrows are sitting on the fence, watching and waiting for me to throw a handful of seed. We have a plethora of new sparrows, probably two hatching’s. I sense that the parents show them our garden, saying “All you will need can be found here.” I love to watch the birds at their Lido, four various sized terracotta planter saucer’s, placed amid plants that we keep filled with water. In the speckled afternoon sunlight they take turns jumping from the sides splashing around, while others sit on the sides watching and waiting to take their turn, until a rude Starling jumps in, pushing all others to the side. The big Blue Jays come quietly on their own for their bath.

The garden itself, is going into it’s last hurrah, the Montauk Daisies and Korean Chrysanthemums are close to blooming. A cricket sitting on the pot of Calendula’s is carefully watching my movement. It is easy to forgot that we are in the heart of New York City. I would love to learn to sketch the birds and plants that make up our haven.

We have picked herbs and chili’s to make flavored oils. Tomorrow I will make Damson Jam from Damsons bought in Union Square, something I wrote about in my first newsletter. By the by, all the newsletters are up on the good cateress blog, http://goodcateress.blogspot.com. Now I have a new computer, my intentions are to add photo’s.

If it’s time for Damsons, in England it would also be time for Sloe’s. Sloe’s, the tiny wild plums that grow in the hedgerows of England. In late April the sloe’s white blossom heralds the last winter chill and is known as the Blackthorn winter. The fruit is small round deep purple and intensely soar. I usually like to try one, to experience my mouth instantly dry and pucker. We would see the Sloe’s while picking the wild blackberries, but usually left them for a later picking. We never cooked the Sloe’s but I would think they would make a delicious sauce for game or a jelly like the beach plums, surely a close relative.

Sloe Gin or Vodka were our intentions. Rinsing and drying the Sloe’s we would then prick them with a fork a couple of times and pop them into a clean bottle. Filling the bottle to between a third and a half full, we would then add an equal quantity of dark brown sugar; finally topping off the bottle with either gin or vodka, shake a couple of times to mix the ingredients up together. Then store the bottle in a cool dry place, shaking once a week or so. The Sloe Gin would be ready to pour for an after dinner drink on Christmas day, a delightful reminder in the winter depths of the glories of summer.

September also meant Folly Regatta, usually the second Saturday. My great uncle, Uffa Fox restarted this regatta after the Second Word War. He felt that the local sailors and families should have a regatta of their own. While he was still alive he would sail upriver to watch the races.

My first Folly Regatta must have been in the mid 60’s, when Murray and Janette had the Folly and we would come down from Tidworth to work for the weekend. While the regatta was a lot of fun for most people, it was a lot of work for us with fun thrown in for good measure.

The day would dawn bright and clear, I never remember a wet Regatta, the weather was always in our favor. The yachts out on the river would start running up their flags, getting dressed over all. The ladies from Ladies Circle and Roundtable would arrive with their candyfloss machine and home made cakes to sell. The field would be marked out for children’s races. The racing dinghy’s would arrive, Flying Fifteens, Lasers, Mirrors, plus the larger boats all with flags a flutter. Rowing and skulling races too, I think Robert Cundall always won the skulling prize. Sea Scouts running everywhere, helping the race organizers.

Late morning Simon and I would be set up in the marquee pitched out on the lower end of the field. We were surrounded by crates of ‘Pop’ or Soda. Coke, lemonade, orangeade, orange juices; Mars Bars, Kit Kats, Penguins, Fruit Pastilles and Gums, chewing gum. Aprons were tied on, bottle openers clenched firmly in our hands. To start with there would be a couple of takers for our drinks, room temperature, I can see Americans shuddering at this thought but it would be years before we drank cold pop and we were jolly happy for the treat! Soon we were surrounded by children buying from us, some with their race winnings. One of us would have to run off periodically to request refills.

Outside the marquee, the races would be taking place. Egg and spoon, three legged, sack, wheelbarrow. Out on the river the different classes could be seen at various stages of their race. The balcony was full of people enjoying themselves, catching up with friends and family alike, everyone knew someone there.

When I met Anthony Minghella while catering a party for The English Patient, we talked about growing up in the food business on the Isle of Wight. He reminded me that it was him that manned the Minghella Ice Cream truck selling Ice Cream at Folly Regatta!

By late afternoon things were slowly winding down. Children were still running around high on all that sugar; Adults were jolly from a few beers and shandy’s. The last event was the tug of war. The final teams, a group quickly put together of yachties versus landlubbers, truthfully all too happy to put their all into it, but the crowd cheered them on.

We usually had fish and chips for dinner that night. Janette and mum would have asked for our orders earlier and would leave to pick it up as dusk started to fall. I always had Plaice (Why do we never see Plaice here in the States??) Then we would eat in shifts; us, all the Cundall’s, and various helper bee’s. Sitting contentedly munching on this hot delight, no one talking much, but asking if we saw so and so, heard this story or that.


Cathy and I are going to walk in the Make Strides Cancer walk on October 19, please help by making a donation. I will be walking for three people, My cousin Pat, who died in July from Cancer; My cousin Diana and friend Mary Anne who continue to fight this disease.
I don’t think I have to tell anyone that this is a good cause.
To donate now, use this link to visit my personal page:
http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/MakingStridesAgainstBreastCancer/MSABCBlueprint?px=8085119&pg=personal&fr_id=11618


I wanted to write my mothers German Plum tart recipe this month. We grew two plum tree’s, the Italian plums and Victoria’s. The Victoria’s would be eater and turned into jam, partly for the jam part of this tart. The Italians for the tart itself. It is a tart that you will find yourself going to at various times of the day, for just another small slither. I learnt to cook from mum, as she did hers, neither of them weighed or measured their ingredients and cooked from feel. So it is sometimes hard to write the recipe, but I will give it to you as she gave it to me.


Lucy McQueen-Mason German Plum Tart

Sweet Shortcrust Pastry

Make your usual recipe or

1 stick butter - 4 oz
1 cup flour - plain, 6oz
1 tablespoon sugar - we use organic
Cold water

combine the first three ingredients, until they look like breadcrumbs, add cold water, as required.

Plum Jam

Crumble mix

2 oz sugar
3 oz butter, 6 tablespoons
cup flour, 6 oz flour

Combine all three ingredients to make crumble mix

Italian or German plums - cut in half and stone.

4 oz dark brown sugar
tablespoon cinnamon

Roll out pastry and line quiche tin.
Spread plum jam across the top of the pastry.
Sprinkle the crumble mixture over the jam

Stand the plums on their side around outer ring of tin on top of crumble , and then work inside filling the remainder.
Sprinkle the brown sugar and cinnamon mix over the plums, generously.

Bake in 375 oven for 45 minutes. This may take longer, you want the plums to get juicy but retai their shape. I often start the tart t 375 for half and hour and then turn the oven down to 350 for another 30 minutes.

Serve with whipped cream.