The curious incident of the frog in the night time

This cute, fluffy, adorable little blighter has been getting up to some rather impressive tricks recently.

He doesn't enjoy the heat much, or rather, he likes to bathe in the sunshine in spring, but the height of summer is not his friend. You can't blame him, you'd be a summer grump too if you were carrying rather a lot of hot ginger fur (and perhaps a little bit of weight?! - yes, the v.e.t. did mention he should lose a few hundred grams!).

As a result he doesn't venture into the house much at the moment, but seeks out shadier spots under the decking or neighbours trees. Only popping in occasionally to remind us he needs feeding.

So I get all silly. I worry that he doesn't sit on my lap or want to be cuddled, I fear he loves someone else more than us and spends his days with them. I get in a bit of a tizz about it all.

And so Sniff finds ways to show his appreciation, as only cats do. A couple of nights ago we were graced with a midnight mouse hunt. Sniff kindly brought it in to show us just how exciting it can be to chase both him, and said rodent, around our living room. The prize was captured by a very on-the-ball N and given it's freedom, and what we thought was ample time to run and hide before Sniff was allowed out again.

Not so. How could two humans be so bad at this game? The aim is not to free the mouse, but to eat it! Sniff showed us just how we were going wrong by treating us to bit of ex-mouse around the flat the next morning.

Not to be deterred by his humans failings he upped the game. The night we finally got some humidity relieving rain he tried again. We were woken not by the pleasant noises of raindrops on the windows, but instead a very strange sound indeed emanating from the kitchen. Another poor mouse we assumed, so I gaily went out to do my fair share of chasing. In my sleepy haze I made the mistake of not taking my glasses, and so was peering at the strange shape on the floor, thinking how it was amazing that a mouse that spread out could still make so much noise, when it leapt into the air and emitted a mighty croak! It was a huge frog! Goodness knows how this innocent little cat had managed not only to catch the amphibian, but to get it through the cat flap in one piece! 

At this discovery all rescue duties were promptly handed over to a very sleepy N. I have nothing against frogs, but they rank with slugs and snails for their potentially sliminess, at least in my head! And I wasn't about to attempt capture, not least because I had no shoes on, nor glasses, nor any idea how to go about the manouver.

In the end it took two of us, one inside and one outside, to coax the poor thing back out into the damp garden, whilst little Sniffer was trapped in the bedroom eeking for all his little lungs could managed (I like to think he was balling instructions about how the game worked!)

Luckily the frog survived the encounter and hasn't been seen since, and our little kitty has been smugly sleeping off the exertion.

What remains a mystery is where the frog came from in the first place. As far as we are aware there are no ponds, streams or water holes anywhere near us.

It truly was a curious incident of a frog in the night time, and shall remain so...

Spring Cleaning and Not Cross Buns.

Hello? Anyone still there? Seems I fell off the blogging wagon for a little while there. I needed a bit of time to get back into focus, and whilst doing so it made sense to do a bit of spring cleaning, both literally and virtually. (Sniff of course slept through the whole thing.)

So...ta da! A whole new look. I decided that much as I loved the red and black of old, it was time to lift my head and see some clean bright lines. It felt right for what I hope will be sort of a new start. It's amazing isn't it just how dramatic the impact of sunshine is. It totally controls my mood, and every year I try and pretend it doesn't. I've spoken before about how I used to be such a winter person, I loved the short days and the dark nights to wrap up into, loved the layers of clothes and root veg stews. I still, every year, try and pretend that this is true, and in some regards it is, I love pies, and sausage and mash and hearty stews. I love crumbles and steamed puddings. But the older I get the more I come to realise that the sunshine is crucial, and without a heavy dose I am one depressed little lady. This year it hit harder than every as a long dark winter was combined with a whole bunch of uncertainty and insecurity in my own goings on. 


Things are still mostly uncertain, and I remain as insecure as ever, but the sunshine is making me smile through it. As are wonderful inspirational meetings with new friends, and in lovely places, and with old friends on hilarious outings. 

Oh, and cake of course. Yes, cake is definitely a crucial element. I have baked lots in the last couple of weeks, and so hopefully will have lots to share. I shall start with something delightfully seasonal, a treat that I wait patiently for each year, and then wish I just gave in and made them all the time: Hot Cross Buns. Oh, I love them so, with their hint of spice, and slight tartness from mixed peel and the sweetness of the raisins. Not to mention how unbelievable perfect they are at soaking up melting salted butter. 


These are my "not cross buns" because somewhere along the way I forgot to put the crosses on, and then actually couldn't be bothered, and then realised that I liked them just as much without and it saves a step in the process, not to mention a few more bits of washing up. 

Not Cross Buns - Makes 16 small(ish) or 8 large. 


500g plain flour (in two 250g batches in different bowls)
125ml Cold Milk
125ml Boiling water
10g instant yeast
pinch of salt
2 tsp mixed spice
50g caster sugar
zest of one unwaxed lemon
75g raisins
75g mixed peel
50g melted butter
1 beaten egg 


In one medium bowl (or the bowl of a food mixer) place 250g of the flour. In a jug mix the cold milk and the boiling water to give you a lukewarm liquid. Add a pinch of sugar and then the yeast. Leave until bubbles form and then pour into the flour and make a sticky dough. Leave to rise until doubled, about 45-50mins. 

Meanwhile mix the other 250g flour with the mixed spice, caster sugar and zest. Then add the raisins and peel. Once the wet batter has doubled, add the dry mix to it, along with the melted butter and half the beaten egg and form into a wet dough. It will be sticky, but manageable. Leave this to rise for a good hour, again until doubled. 


Turn out onto a well-floured surface and gently shape into a ball. Divide this into two, then four, and then eight (or sixteen depending on the size of bun you want). Shape these pieces in to slight rectangles and place on a greased and floured (or parchment covered) baking sheet(s). Leave for a final rise of 20mins. Preheat the oven to 200C.

Brush with the remaining beaten egg and place in the oven for 15min, until slightly golden. Then see how long you can hold out before tearing one in half, slathering in salted butter and stuffing into your face. I lasted five minutes, which I thought was pretty good, but then again I wasn't on the ball and hadn't prepared the pot of tea until the last moment. Rookie error! 

Enjoy everyone...

Rescue mission

Some days I'm trying to be a domestic goddess, some days I'm trying to be an academic, some days I'm just trying to stay awake, and then some days I'm trying to rescue tiny birds from the jaws of a ruthless cat.

This tiny tiny thing was brought in by Sniff today. He was stroked and soothed by me the best I could (I have no experience with birds, but hoped that very gentle stroking would calm it down) and the with Sniff locked in the flat the bird was taken outside. I think he was okay, no obvious wounds other than a little redness where Sniff had carried him. He tried to fly, but was fluttering on the ground and then disappeared under the fence into the grass next door. I keep telling myself that it will be okay, and so far Sniff as returned to the flat empty-jawed, which I can only hope is a good omen for such a sweet little bird.


I love Sniff so much that my heart aches when he eeks unhappily, and bursts when I wake up with him sleeping full length on my chest. But there are times when I wish I could explain to him just why I'm not pleased with his presents. Poor thing looked so sad when I took his toy away.

Things are manic right now, and for once I've been so busy I haven't busted out the baking tins in more than a week. A week, people! A tragedy, I know as alas, not even a three day weekend yielded the usual flurry of activity in this north London kitchen. But I promise I'll try harder, and hopefully have a recipe up in a couple of days.

Too cute for words

Getting territorial

Sniff would like to point out that the quilt I commented about in the last post isn't N's at all. It's his.

In denial about the end of the weekend

Sunshine!

This afternoon, London (well, my bit at least) was treated to a little taster of what spring was like. Proper sunshine, not weak winter sun, streamed into the garden and for the first time in ages I was able to open the doors and windows for the pleasure of soft breezes rather than just an obligatory airing with freezing gales.
Sniff not only tentatively venture outside today (after days guarding the sofa and the cricket), but even managed to catch some rays.I like winter, it's comforting stodgy meals, cuddling up on the sofa under blankets and enjoying hot chocolate (especially vegan hot chocolate from Alaska!), but I'm definitely ready for Spring to begin being sprung.

A photo essay: it's time for the weekend

It's been a very long week. It's definitely time for a sleepy weekend.

A photo essay: I iz in ur machine, re-furring ur clothes.

A photo essay: Sniff holding his own against the other neighbourhood kitties.

A photo essay: Our Lovely Cat (tm)

Sniff's adventures in the rain, or; he's got me totally sussed.

This is what our very cute, and very vocal cat currently looks like. He has spent the last three days whining, whinging and generally meowing up a storm. This morning it finally got the best of me and I decided to let him out, in the rain, against my better judgement I thought.

So out he went, and immediately under the decking. I gave it half an hour and tried to call him. Nothing. I gave it another ten minutes and tried again. Nothing. Finally I gave in, shut the door and got on with the washing up, all tearful at the idea that my frustration with him had forced him out and would mean he never comes back and doesn't love us anymore.

Ten minutes later a very soggy looking cat arrives at the back door. He didn't come in straight away, but a dentibit helped persuade him. I was so relieved. I gave him lots of love and attention, helped dry him off and finally relaxed.

He gave it five more minutes and started up with the whinging again. Honestly, the little blighter. Ah, how I can't wait until we have the tags for his cat flap. He's got a very definite frowning expression too, which is what he is giving me now that I won't let him out again.

I refuse to spend the whole day getting up and down opening the door for him, so he's just going to have to put up and shut up. If he doesn't I guess I'll have to hope my nerves hold and put him back out again for a long while.

I'm secretly hoping all the whinging and adventuring will exhaust him and he'll curl up and go to sleep like he usually does.

You don't have to be the Queen to have a garden party!

A couple of months ago we got thinking; we've got a garden, we've got friends, we like food and drink, June might have good weather. Hmm...how could be combine all of these things into a cunning plan? A garden party of course! Plans were laid, invites were sent and it mostly went out of our minds. Then suddenly it was the week before, N was projecting the possibility of forty people arriving and I began what I do best: making lists. The responses to the invite clearly demonstrated the difference between our male and female friends. The men replied asking if they could bring anything for the BBQ, the women if they should wear dresses and bring cucumber sandwiches. When men see "garden party" they think BBQ, when women see "garden party" they think garden party!

Since we actually don't have a BBQ - okay, there is one out there, but it's an old gas thing that during the winter months was aptly nick-named "snail city". We weren't going to go there - we stuck to the garden party plan and I began planning and plotting the cakes, breads and salads that would satisfy a potential group of 40 of our friends.

Sounds stressful and hard work, but truth is I loved it. I love having to be that organized; making lists, choosing foods, planning recipes, and most of all I love spending an entire day (or in this case a day and a half) pottering in the kitchen producing things to share with other people.

With a lot of consulting with N our ideas looked like this:

Pecan and cranberry loaf
fig and orange loaf
walnut and apricot soda bread
focaccia
ciabatta
parmesan biscuits
veggie sausage rolls
roasted tomatoes
roasted beetroot and feta salad
mango and bulgar wheat salad

scones with homemade strawberry jam and cream
white chocolate and raspberry tarts
mixed berry tarts
Victoria sponges (two vegan, one normal)
vegan French lemon cake
vanilla cupcakes with vanilla buttercream
lemon cupcakes with lemon buttercream
chocolate cupcakes with rum buttercream
Mini-chocolate and vanilla cupcakes with vanilla buttercream (child safe just in case)

Not bad eh? I spent all of Friday creaming, whisking, baking and icing cakes, kneading, resting, proving and baking bread and then most of Saturday morning (the party kicked off at 3pm) rolling puff pastry, mixing, rolling and cutting scones, cutting and roasting tomatoes and beetroot and generally have a good ole time in my summer frock with N and K (who arrived early and was the best kitchen assistant ever). It was wonderful, and it produced this:



There are so many recipes to share that I won't do it now, instead I'm going to follow this round up with a series of posts about the delicious things we tucked into all afternoon (and evening, and the following morning, and evening and stocked the freezer with and gave to people in goody bags!).

It was a roaring success, the food went down well, the cocktails went down very well and everyone mingled and had a good time and to top it off we got great weather!

The real star of the show though was Sniff. He hasn't been allowed in the garden yet, so the poor chap had to be put in the study so he didn't escape. We also weren't sure how he'd be with other people. He was brilliant. He didn't complain, but lounged on his hug chair and was very compliant with all the people who wanted to visit him. Most importantly he clearly loved K, which is brilliant as she's our on-hand cat-sitter. I think their combined love of cake, cream and sleeping on the sofa helped! When we finally all came into the house and shut the French doors Sniff's door was opened. We were worried he'd just hide in the study and be afraid of all the people (there were still at least 10 of us at this point). How wrong we were! He was slightly timid at first, but was soon out and showing off his goal-keeping skills with a ping-pong ball.

What a little star. That was a cat that definitely got some cream.

A photo essay: Sniff gets up close and personal with the test match

Fair weather cat

Sniff is definitely a fair weather cat. After two days of moping about in the study curled up on his "hug-chair" scowling at the sound of the rain on the roof, he has emerged to re-stake his claim on the sofa.



He's so like his owners, we're so proud!

I am aware that recently the blog has been more like "From a North London Cat Obsessive" than a North London Kitchen, but no fear, recipes and updates to come. I have been experimenting, it's just the pictures of Sniff are so much cuter than my pictures of the food!

A photo essay: Sniff helps out with the washing!

Sniff gets an ultimatum

We've had Sniff for a week now. It's strange to think that it isn't longer, as it certainly feels like it has been, both because it's hard to imagine our life without him, and because of the amount of "cat-stress" he has caused! We started off feeling really sorry for our timid little cat, the big eyes wreaking havoc on us. Now we're beginning to think that actually he's been fine the whole time and has us totally pegged as the big softies we are, using the "big eye trick" to land himself a treat - and yes, it works every time!

He's finally beginning to show some real character (particularly the mischievous side) and it's wonderful to both see his personality emerge and to see him getting more confident in the flat. However, he is an inconsistent little blighter, and this is why we're convinced that it's him training us, not vice versa. On Sunday, only two days into cat ownership we were totally spoiled. He allowed us to pick him up, carry him out of the study and lay on the sofa with us for the whole day watching the cricket. Since then, he won't be picked up, and seems to have become completely inseparable from my desk chair (aka "the hug chair") and he will only allow strokes if he's sitting on it, running away from affection in any other part of the flat, and then looking out from the study with his big eyes as if to suggest we're cruel and evil to not be in there giving him all the strokes in the world.

So this morning, N having dragged himself out of bed after a restless night of work-stress and being shunned by Sniff decided that the time has come to issue an ultimatum: it's been a week, we've been all affectionate and understanding, now it's time for the cat to start returning the love! I think his exact phrase (whilst looking at Sniff perched just outside the study door, comtemptuously licking one paw) was something along the lines of "well Sniff, you'd better buck up and start showing some love or that's it, you're out."

In the cold dreary light of this morning the whole thing was hilarious, and we've spent the whole day giggling about the episode. Especially as it comes after a week of me stressing about whether of not Sniff is settling in, worrying that he doesn't love me (because he wouldn't come up to me) or might love N more, complaining that he wouldn't sit on my lap etc etc etc (and etc). After three days of this N's quiet soothing hugs and calming comments changed to a dead pan "yeah, our cat's rubbish, he's not working, let's shoot him." The shift in tactic clearly worked as it meant I couldn't stress for laughing.

Poor cat. We gave him some "dentibits" (his favourite treat) just to prove we loved him. Like I said, total softies.

Editors note: no cats were harmed before, during or after the writing of this blog, and the owners may have had to pop to Tesco to re-stock on an already depleated supply of dentibits.

Cats make me a "big silly." (Warning: long cat annecdotes to follow!)

I am typing this using one hand because my left arm is trapped under a very purry Sniff who is curled up on my lap. It's so wonderful to have him finally relaxed enough to actually not only tolerate being cuddled, but enjoying it, that I can't bring myself to attempt to claim my arm back.

We had friends round for dinner last night, and I spent the whole time worried that Sniff, who is currently housed in the study until he is settled enough to explore the rest of the flat, would be hiding and terrified by us having a good time. N did point out that in order to truly bring Sniff out of his shell we need to act as naturally as possible, and not creep around, otherwise we'd just compound his timidity. So we went in before going to bed for lots of relaxing strokes, settled him down, and then retired ourselves. Less than half an hour after having turned out the lights we started hearing Sniff crying and yowling. We're big softies and just can't hack the tough love approach, so out came the air bed, and there I was sleeping in the tiny study to keep him company! It worked, and although I didn't get much sleep, Sniff seemed very rested this morning.

He still hadn't eaten anything however, and despite having curled up happily purring first thing when I stroked him, once I left the room and returned with food all his timidity seemed to have returned. He flinched away from me, hid under the desk and looked terrified. This, combined with two nights of very little sleep and my worry about Sniff not eating, (and being hungry myself) set me off crying and being all stressed and worried. Poor N, he thought that having a cat would make me really happy and constantly excited, and here I was standing hugging him in the kitchen crying about whether we'd made a bad decision. I really am a "big silly" as he would say.

So N came in with me and Sniff and made the executive decision to try picking him up. We know that he'd come from cruelty and very little handling, hence his worry whenever we try to touch or stroke him. We'd been told that we needed to handle him as much as possible, but had been worried about forcing him to be picked up. N however decided that the only way to get him used to us, to both show him who's boss, whilst also showing him how much we love him, and that picking up will only lead to cuddles, was to just have a go. It's one of the best decisions we''ve made in two days. He struggled at first, but soon settled down in my arms and even started purring, and since then he's allowed us to pick him up and hold him, and has spent much of the afternoon purring in my lap. It was such a huge relief, not only for me, but for N because as soon as Sniff settled down, so did I!

Since then Sniff has at least eaten a few mouthfuls of food, expressed an interest in the squirrels in the garden and allowed himself to be carried around the room by N. I think it's going to be a slow process, but progress is being made, and, as N says "everything is going to be alright"



In other news, Sniff is at least going to be a cat with taste; he's really rather enjoying listening to Test Match Special. So we know he's a cricket fan, all we need to instill is a love of The Arsenal and he'll be set for life!

Sniff

We'd like to introduce you to the newest member of the North London Kitchen: Sniff the cat.


He's a little bit shy at the moment, but I'm sure he'll warm up to the camera in no time and soon this blog will be inundated with Sniff pictures and anecdotes!