Just a simple stylish green vintage clock

 

Tel-Tru vintage kitchen thermometer

Club Tropicana earworm part 2 - Retro 1980s style, cocktail glass style lamp.

Retro 1980s style, cocktail glass style lamp. I love the frosted effect!

 

 

Missing you already - mid century salad serving spoons.

iGuzzini Lamp - rather pretty isn't it?

B.O.A.C. in-flight catering kitchenalia.

Has anyone been watching Pan-Am? We've got to start watching it yet. It has been recorded and when we find a couple of spare hours to relax, we will catch-up and soak up the styles of the era. I wonder if their in-flight catering bits were anything like these items. These were used in B.O.A.C. aircraft prior to it becoming British Airways.

What to do with the leftovers from your Saint Andrew's Day Supper

What to do with the leftovers from your Saint Andrews Day Supper. Make scones of course, then fry them up with bacon and egg. Yesterday's breakfast.

Dough

 

Bake

there were four but one fell out of the oven into my mouth before I got a chance to...

 Fry then serve

Saint Andrew's Day Supper - Haggis & Clapshot followed by Cranachan

With it being Saint Andrew's Day yesterday, we thought we'd have a bit of supper that had a bit of a Scottish feel to it. Haggis is probably the first thing that springs to mind (although others might grunt out "deep-fried Mars Bar", all neanderthal-like), however... knowing what haggis is made from, the thought of putting it past my lips has never appealed. Time to be brave!

Half an hour later I have a shopping basket full of the ingredients I will need: potatoes, turnip, (some of you will call it swede - it's the bigger of the two, which I call turnip), real butter, a bunch of chives and black pepper. For the sweet - cranachan: whipping cream, oats, heather honey, a measly tin of raspberries and a bottle of whisky (yes that is the correct spelling!). Oh hang on! I've forgotten something (this might have been deliberate, as I am still unsure). Yes, the haggis. I eventually find the little corner, on the bottom, out of sight, where the haggis nest. 

I feel a little pang of relief that there is no haggis left, only a pile of  'vegetarian' haggis. Yet my curiosity is getting the better of me, and as I scan the supermarket shelf further there are packets of microwave haggis, in neat little slices. Two to a pack - one each, and just a handy enough size for those who are timid to try this out.

Fast forward an hour or so. The dining table is all dressed up in its best tartan finery, a couple of bottles of cold Crabbies Ginger Beer awaits and there sitting looking all lonely in a puddle of peppery gravy, next to a tower of clapshot, is a little disc of haggis, which was fried in bacon fat. A teeny-weeny wee toaty thing! And we're ready to dig in.

The first tentative mouthful of spiced animals innards passes the lips!!

YUM absolutely YUM!! I suppose I should say fan-dabby-dozy!

We Collectinis are now haggis converts.

I suppose I should try and paint a picture. The flavour is somewhat reminiscent (to me anyway) of a kind of mixture between Scottish black-pudding (i.e. more spicy and way less fatty than other black pudding), Scotch pie and stovies (stovies will be another blog entry some time). Being teeny, toaty, it did go own rather quick. Which meant cranachan time.

Cranachan, again, is something we've never tried. This is a lovely mixture of cream whipped thick, raspberries soaked in a heather-honey & whisky mixture, and sugar toasted oats. Funnily enough that didn't last too long either. 

All was washed down with a bottle of ice-cold Crabbies ginger beer. 

Must consider St Andrew more often.

Wee Willie Winkie by William Miller

Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toon,

Up stairs an' doon stairs in his nicht-gown,

Tirlin' at the window, crying at the lock,

"Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?"

"Hey, Willie Winkie, are ye comin' ben?

The cat's singin grey thrums to the sleepin hen,

The dog's speldert on the floor and disna gie a cheep,

But here's a waukrife laddie, that wunna fa' asleep."

Onything but sleep, you rogue, glow'ring like the moon,

Rattling in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon,

Rumblin', tumblin' roon about, crawin' like a cock,

Skirlin like a kenna-what, waukenin' sleepin' fock.

"Hey Willie Winkie, the wean's in a creel,

Wamblin' aff a bodie's knee like a verra eel,

Ruggin' at the cat's lug and raveling a' her thrums-

Hey Willie Winkie – see there he comes."

Wearit is the mither that has a stoorie wean,

A wee, stumpie, stousie, that canna rin his lane,

That has a battle aye wi' sleep afore he'll close an e'e-

But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew to me