Dec. 31st, 2014 09:10 pm
Oat lang syne
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muckefuckThe Old Man wasn't in the mood for coca this year, but it just wouldn't be New Year's without me ruining my back wrestling with some sort of dough, so I decided to make oatcakes to compliment the Scottish smoked salmon he picked up for us. Much as I liked the look of this recipe in the Graun, I didn't even know what "pinhead oats" were, let alone whether we had any on hand. (Apparently they're the same as the steel-cut oats we make our porridge from.) Moreover, I did not feel like translating from the metric.
So I just used the recipe on the side of the box, decreasing the sugar slightly (and substituting brown) and doubling the baking powder (like![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu's grandmother always did). I'm quite happy with the results, though I think they needed a skotch more time in the oven. If I made them again, however, it would be worth buying a proper steel cake cutter. I tried using an old honey jar of appropriate dimensions, but even after switching to the plastic lid it was hard to cut through to the board.
The Old Man whipped up some horseradish cream to affix the fish with. Then he prepared a simple dish of fresh tagliatelle with oil, garlic, and anchovy and some chard with almonds and raisins. There's still plenty leftover for me to make a side of greens to accompany the hoppin' john I plan to fix for lunch. He also introduced me to the Laphraoig "Triple Wood" now that the bottle is nearly empty. (Mallachdan!)
Afterwards, he toddled off to bed exhausted. (Foreseeing that outcome, I insisted he open his Hogmanay gifts before the meal.) I went down to soak my back in hot tub for long enough that I could face the half-mile walk over to my friend the Ewok's place for his little shindig. I was underdressed for the cold, but it was only on the way back that I noticed it.
If there was any doubts about the extreme nerdiness of the gathering, they were quashed after the ball-drop when one of the young otters switched on Dragonball Z and half the crowd were transfixed by it. But I can't complain too much, since without him I would never have known about let alone seen Nick Offerman's full erect frontal in Deadwood. (It also didn't hurt that he was cute as a fucking button with his bowtie and Ruttles-snug slacks.)
When I got back,monshu was up for me to fill in on every silly detail. Can't say I'm thrilled with the note this year is starting on, but the fact is he's still here, I'm still here, and that's what matters.
So I just used the recipe on the side of the box, decreasing the sugar slightly (and substituting brown) and doubling the baking powder (like
monshu's grandmother always did). I'm quite happy with the results, though I think they needed a skotch more time in the oven. If I made them again, however, it would be worth buying a proper steel cake cutter. I tried using an old honey jar of appropriate dimensions, but even after switching to the plastic lid it was hard to cut through to the board.The Old Man whipped up some horseradish cream to affix the fish with. Then he prepared a simple dish of fresh tagliatelle with oil, garlic, and anchovy and some chard with almonds and raisins. There's still plenty leftover for me to make a side of greens to accompany the hoppin' john I plan to fix for lunch. He also introduced me to the Laphraoig "Triple Wood" now that the bottle is nearly empty. (Mallachdan!)
Afterwards, he toddled off to bed exhausted. (Foreseeing that outcome, I insisted he open his Hogmanay gifts before the meal.) I went down to soak my back in hot tub for long enough that I could face the half-mile walk over to my friend the Ewok's place for his little shindig. I was underdressed for the cold, but it was only on the way back that I noticed it.
If there was any doubts about the extreme nerdiness of the gathering, they were quashed after the ball-drop when one of the young otters switched on Dragonball Z and half the crowd were transfixed by it. But I can't complain too much, since without him I would never have known about let alone seen Nick Offerman's full erect frontal in Deadwood. (It also didn't hurt that he was cute as a fucking button with his bowtie and Ruttles-snug slacks.)
When I got back,
monshu was up for me to fill in on every silly detail. Can't say I'm thrilled with the note this year is starting on, but the fact is he's still here, I'm still here, and that's what matters.