Rosamicula (rosamicula) wrote,

midnight in the kitchen of good and evil

Poor souldier_blue goes to bed early because she works long hours with very early starts. This means that last night she missed the smell of baking in the house. I was concocting a sticky ginger, date lime and rum cake. It was supposed to be a normal Jamaican-style ginger cake, but although my local supermarket sells all manner of actual Jamaican produce, it doesn't sell molasses or treacle which are vital to the sticky texture of that particular cake. I improvised by blending together a load of dates, some lime juice and zest and a third of a jar of dark, greek honey. I warmed this mixture in a saucecepan with a heap of freshly grated ginger, muscovada sugar and butter until it was all melted and mixed and seething fragrantly, then added it to a bowl of flour, baking powder, cinnamon and nutmeg. Then I blended together two eggs and the last of a bottle of decent dark rum and gently worked them into the mixture, put in all in a big oblong roasting tray and covered the top with chopped crystallised ginger. It smelt amazing. And now it looks amazing. By Saturday it will be mature and dark and sticky and spicy; a lusty winter cake to accompany fireworks. Or a bit wrong and peculiar, as I couldn't locate the scales so the proportions were be a bit haphazard. If so I will serve it with hot custard and no one will care because custard makes makes everything alright.

Tonight she snoozed through the browning of a whole rabbit in goose fat, the addition of sweet small onions and the orchardy frothing of bottle of cider poured into the pan. The rabbit was put into a casserole dish with the onions and the cider mix. I poked in a a lot of woody stems of thyme, then covered it with browned slices of free range belly pork, which was in turn covered with a layer of peeled and cored old English apples, placed at the top so they would soften but not turn to mush. After 40 minutes on a low heat I rescued the apples and onions and set them aside, as I don't want them to lose too much of their structural integrity. I also took out some of the thyme to prevent the flavour becoming too dominant. In a hour or so when the rabbit is apply and tender I will take all the meat out and let it cool. I will blend the rabbit giblets with all the drained off cider, then reduce it in a pan with a little cream and the last of my calvados till it makes a rich, thick gravy. Then as it cools I will pull all the meat off the rabbit and take the bones out of the pork and chop it into chunks. I will mix the meats, the gravy and the apple and onions and let them cool. On Saturday I will wrap the mixture in homemade short crust pastry and bake it for my guests.

I will save some of the rabbit's dainty little bones to turn into beard ornaments for andrewhickey, or perhaps forsteer if he lives up to his threat of regrowing all his horrid hair now he no longer has to worry about being repulsive to me. The cats are very excited by the rabbit. They are not going to get any. When I took out the apples I broke them off a bony bit of pork. They circled their dish, steaming their whiskers on the hot apply juices and alarmed by the scorching heat. As soon as it was cool enough to bite they fought over it. Doughnut won and is currently doing a cider-fuelled feline Morris dance on the rug. I suspect it was him who walked over my cake when it was cooling overnight. Thankfully it was covered, but it has definite paw-shaped depressions in it now. If cats have ankles he sank in ankle deep, the little bastard.

I've been posting a lot today. I suspect most of you are asleep or fornicating now, but it is good to think of some night owl (or perhaps even a night owlfish) reading this. I have been a ranty old hag this week, but I am glad you are all out there to rant at.

As I was typing the word 'fornicating' I remembered that Alex was actually out last night having a date with a mouldy dreadlocked goth. We are never going to fight over a man. The last of the cake, possibly, but not a man.

EDIT: 01:45 It's been a long time since I cooked rabbit. I had forgotten just how angular their muscles are, especially the thighs. They remind me of the steroid Muscle Marys you find in certain gay nightclubs - the kind of men you wouldn't know whether to fuck or stick on a barbecue. Skinned and cooked, rabbits look like almost cubist. Nothing fluffy or cute about what is under the skin, just a mass of mechanoid muscle made for running and raiding and fucking. Such dainty little mauve kidneys, though. You could fix them in glass and wear them as jewels. Any vegetarians (or rabbit lovers) who have read this far are probably quite horrified. I'm, however, happy to have blood on my hands to have meat in my belly and entrails dangling from my ears.

I let the cats have the carcass and trimmings and they fell on it in a sort of orgiastic frenzy. They haven't had such delights before, as Alex lived with vegetarians and lives on posh ready meals, beer and cheese. They look almost embarrassingly contented now. I wouldn't be the least surprised if they sparked up a fag and shared it.
Tags: cats, cooking, feeling very english, food
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