Showing posts with label book. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book. Show all posts

Thursday, 15 March 2012

Voltaire and Rousseau

It's no secret that I love a good messy bookshop. In fact, I try to seek out at least one whenever I'm on holiday. I found out about Voltaire and Rousseau just before my trip to Glasgow last December, and made it a point to visit it while I was in the city.
Behind that rather unassuming exterior on Otago Lane lies a treasure trove - piles upon upon upon shelves upon boxes of boxes. It's a minimalist's worst nightmare. It was my idea of heaven. 
 
 
 
It may not seem immediately obvious, but the shop is actually divided into several sections. The front room is the £1 section - every single book there costs £1. It's just a matter of finding something that takes your fancy. I found too many, and ended up spending more time culling my selection than I spent selecting them in the first place. 

The inner room is roughly split into sections such as Drama, Music, Cook Books, Military History and others that I can't recall. Those are very vague delineations though - the actual sorting system seemed to be: find a pile which doesn't look too precarious, place book on top, make sure it doesn't slip off, walk away. Repeat. The old men who ran the place practised this system very conscientiously while I was there. It's the exact same sorting system I use at home.
There's also supposed to be a shop cat somewhere in there, but I couldn't find him. Him? I felt the cat was a him, after all, everyone else working there was a 'him' too. We ended up leaving with only about 30 books. Only 30? Well, I could easily have bought more - trust me, there were some beautiful books in there - but my purse and Manbacon's arms could only stretch so far. 
Voltaire & Rousseau

Wednesday, 22 December 2010

(Almost) Black Books

While in Edinburgh last week, the Manbeast and I quite literally stumbled into our new favourite bookshop. Shelves laboured under the weight of dusty tomes, while every available inch of wall was covered in pithy life lessons.



Suffice to say that the both of us left that warm, magical cave with happy hearts, light wallets and heavy arms from buying too many books. 

Armchair Books, Edinburgh

Monday, 20 September 2010

Mrs Beeton's Brioches

I felt like I needed something to keep my baking spirit aloft my after producing those rather 'interesting' looking macar-nots last week. Thankfully, help was at hand, in the form of Mrs. Beeton herself. I'd chanced upon a slim volume called Breakfast with Mrs Beeton - Hearty Fare the week before, when popping in to a local op-shop. The title was slightly misleading, as only a few of the recipes it in were hers, with the other recipes being more modern versions of what might have been found on Victorian breakfast table. But, it was only 50p, and you can never have too many books, right? So it came home with me.
This recipe came from one of the 'modern' recipes in that book. How do I know it's not one of Mrs Beeton's own? Because I'm fairly sure they didn't have polythene bags back in 1850. You're supposed to let the dough rise in a lightly oiled poly-bag, but lacking one, I simply stuck it into a lightly oiled glass bowl and popped a moist towel over it. 
The brioche turned out much better than my the chocolate macs, although slightly too dry for my liking. My bad, I should have taken it out of the oven sooner. 
They also make great bases for French toast, as I discovered a day later. Soak them in some eggs and milk, mix in some ground cinnamon and nutmeg, and fry them in lots of butter. Then, dollops of golden syrup over them, and brunch is served!

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

A Doll's Macarons

Macarons have been floating around the interwubs for a while now, haven't they? My own macarons have been nearly a year in the making - I first decided to try baking my own a year ago, when I was back in Sydney for the summer.Those plans soon got shelved after I came back to London, and two new flatmates moved in. They were stereotypically bad housemates - filthy, inconsiderate, noisy, and really bad cooks (sweetcorn in EVERYTHING! Argghhhhh!). Things got so bad that I pretty much locked myself in my room when I knew they were home, only emerging to run to the loo or grab a hurried bite. I hated having awkward, forced conversations with them, and hated cooking anything when I knew they were home, or would be coming home soon, because I didn't want them to mess up my dishes, or get dust over my newly iced cupcakes.
But that filthy fool and his shrill harridan of a wife finally moved out last month, and since then, I have been baking and cooking with renewed vigour, making up for lost time. Now that we've cleaned the kitchen, I'm finally ready to invest some time and energy into attempting macarons.

I should thank Henrik Ibsen for first sparking my interest in these fragile jewel-toned delights. We had to  study A Doll's House way back when in sixth-form drama class (a whole decade ago!). His 'childish' protagonist Nora had a predilection for 'macaroons'. Our class of rather naive young ladies were told by our drama teachers that Ibsen meant those biscuity, coconuty things  - which, for some reason, struck me as very odd, more so than anything else about that play, or even that class. Sure, macaroons are sweet, and when done correctly, are tasty enough that I could eat more than one. But I just didn't understand why Nora Helmer would be obsessed with these brown, rather plain biscuits, over any other kind of pastry, or anything else, for that matter. Isn't it funny when one tiny, almost insignificant point like that leads to you not understanding the play at all?

A few months later (way after we had finished A Doll's House and moved on to some other play), I saw a photograph of some macarons, and realised that these had to be what Ibsen meant, and the play finally fell into place for me. It made sense to me that macarons - those rainbow-hued, light as air confections with their almost hidden, sweet centre) would be Nora's secret little indulgence, but my teachers hadn't really bothered about what they were, they could have been any kind of biscuits, for all they cared - which initially ruined my understanding of the whole play. So...to sum up, some teachers are crap. (I'm restraining myself from having a rant about teachers, since this post is supposed to be about baking and not about school.)
Well, anyway, this post is supposed to be about my macarons, not school or bad housemates. I got the recipe for the macaron shells from this Serious Eats article, although I may try some other recipes in future. The filling was a simple lime and lemon curd, with the sourness of the curd helping to offset the intense sugary burst of the shells.

Lime-Lemon Curd
Ingredients
4 egg yolks
1 heaped tsp cornflour
3 limes, juiced
1 lemon, juiced
some zest
150 gm unsalted butter
250 gm caster sugar

Directions
- Melt butter in a double boiler (you can make one by popping a glass bowl over a pot of water), then mix in zest, juices, sugar and cornflour, and stir till sugar has dissolved.
- Beat egg yolks lightly, then sieve into mixture.
- Stir for 7-9 minutes, until mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.
- Remove from heat, pour into a sterilised jar and let it cool down. It will thicken even more as it cools down, and you can then keep it in the fridge for about 2 weeks.

These are the very first macarons I've ever made, so I must confess I was a little nervous prior to starting them. I'd read all the horror stories about 'feet' not appearing, too many air bubbles in shells, and everything else that can and will go wrong when preparing these delicate things. So I was surprised when I achieved the much-craved for 'feet', although my piping skills do leave much to be desired. I got bored with carefully piping out tiny little circles, so the last couple of batches I did consisted of huge discs - some of them were almost 2 inches across!

Lookswise, they probably need quite a lot of surgery before I can produce anything resembling the Crayola-coloured confections of Laduree et al. However, I was pretty happy with how they tasted. The shells were crispy on the outside, leading to a soft, sweet inner bit, and the sourness of the curd helped balance the sweetness of the shells. I'll be attempting more macarons soon (we'll need to finish up our current batch first) and I'll even attempt to add some colouring to them next time. 


Thursday, 10 September 2009

Samovars and Stone Cold Foxes

Last Saturday's trawl of the op-shops around Camberwell yielded some peculiarly fantastic finds. Perhaps the most awesome thing I found (in my opinion) was this little brass samovar.

I've had a yearning for one, ever since I spent about 4 months training it across Central Asia a couple of years ago. Each train carriage would be equiped with a gigantic, steaming samovar at each end of every carriage, to provide passengers with hot water for, well, any activity you'd require hot water for, really.

Mine's only a little one, for the home dining table, although the plug's so old that I doubt I'd be tempted to try and re-wire it, just in the whole thing blows up. As you can see, age has imbued the brass with a lovely warm patina, and it looks just beautiful glowing in the afternoon sunlight.

The other item that I got quite excited about was a copy of the book 'Beastly Knits' by Lalla Ward. That's her down there, lady on the cover with the crazy eyes, grinning rather inanely. She's married to Richard Dawkins though, so I forgive her her trepasses.

The excitement wasn't because I wanted to knit baggy jumpers with unrealistic animals on them. I'm not really that kinda girl, although I think Claudia Kishi would certainly approve. And it wasn't because Lalla Ward used to be a companion to the best time-travelling doctor in all the universes. I parted with 50 whole pence for this hardback tome because of the fantastic pictures in it.

And when I say 'fantastic', please read that as 'uncomfortable and extremely awkward.' I give you Exhibit A - Batgeek.


And Exhibit B - awkward fake father/daughter combo.

Although I must admit that I find that dude in the fox jumper to be quite the stone-cold fox himself. Check out that luscious hair (on his head and on his face). And let's not even get started on his ramrod posture - makes a girl weak at the knees, everytime! That little girl looks quite embarrassed by everything that's going on around her. I hope she grew up to be a vampire slayer.

There's lots of other beauties in the book, but I shouldn't torture you anymore. Sleep tight, don't let the Batgeek bite!

Wednesday, 15 July 2009

Tutorial - Security Pattern Scrap Paper Notebook

When I wrote about the security-patterned paper notebook I made, I also said that I would have a tutorial up 'in a couple of weeks'. And that was only, oh, I dunno, about a month and a half ago.

But I've finally got my arse into gear and taken some photos of the steps required, so you can make your own little notebooks out of scrap paper too! Of course, you can make them any size you like, I make mine A6 as they fit into pockets easily. You don't really need any bookbinding equipment, but it probably makes things much easier if you do. I don't.


1) Gather your scrap paper, and cut them into size if they're not the size you want. I use a range of papers from magazine pages and envelopes. You'll also need a piece of cardboard - cut into the same size as the paper you're using - for the cover. For this tute, I'll be using an old postcard for the cover, but you can cut up old cereal boxes or other suitable items too.


2) You'll also need some tools - if you're professional, you'll have an awl (for punching holes), a bone folder (for scoring paper and cardboard), a metal ruler, upholstery thread and maybe an upholstery needle. Oh, and a Stanley knife.

If you're like me, you'll use a thick canvas needle (for punching holes), your fingers (for folding), crochet cotton and a darning needle. I do, however, have a metal ruler and a Stanley knife named Stanley! Wahey! I've actually got an excellent metal ruler that has an indentation running all the way down the middle so you can place your fingers in it and slice away without worrying about your fingers. I bought it coz I was seduced by its good looks, then realised that it was also cheaper than the standard flat ruler, so, double score!


3) Decide on the number of pages you want in your notebook. Remember: each piece of paper gives you 4 pages when folded in half. I wanted 32 A6 pages in my notebook, so I picked out 8 A5 pieces of paper and folded them all in half.

You'll get a nicer fold with a bone folder, but I don't have one, so...I used my fingers.


4) You'll then need to collate your folded pieces of paper. Just put them all together in the order you want them.


5) Fold your piece of cardboard/ postcard in half too. If you have a bone folder, score the cardboard down the middle before you fold it for a sharp, professional look. I'm jsut using my stubby little fingies.


6) This is where having an awl comes in handy. If you haven't got one, get hold of a thick needle. In my case, I'm using a thick canvas needle. Piece 3 holes in the spine of your notebook. Hold all the pages together, then make a hole in the middle of the spine, then one each nearer the edges. If you want to be neat, you can measure out where you want the holes to be and mark them with a pencil before piercing, but I just guess where I want them and poke. Just like life.


7) Do the same to your cover. The easiest way to get all the holes aligned is to put the pages into the cover, hold them all tight, and put your needle through the holes you've already pierced, then push it all the way through the cardboard cover.


8) Next thread your darning needle. Or a proper bookbinding-type needle if you have one. The professionals use waxed linen upholstery thread (I think?) but I'm using some nifty red crochet cotton instead. Coz it's what I have. Oh, and don't knot your thread at the end.


9) Then open your notebook to the centre page, and put your needle and thread through the middle hole, leaving a tail about 2 inches long. You'll need this tail later.


10) Put your needle back through the top hole...


11) ...and bring it back out through the bottom hole.


12) Then bring the needle back into the middle hole, and made a knot with the 2-inch tail that was left there. Trim the tails so you don't have too much of a bulge when you close the notebook.


13) We're almost there! You'll notice that the pages tend to stick out, so you can choose to leave them as they are, or trim them. At times, you'll be trimming mere slivers of paper, which can get fiddly, so you can always them like that and say you were going for the 'shabby chic' look.

14) Because this is a tute, I'm gonna to show you how to trim them. This is where a metal ruler and Mr. Stanley Knife come in handy. Make sure your blade is sharp too, or you'll end up with gross rumpled edges (shabby chic, again?). A metal ruler works much better than a plastic or wooden one in this case because the blade doesn't cut into the metal, so you'll be almost certain that you're cutting a straight line.

I say 'almost', because sometimes my fingers go crazy and don't listen to me and I end up with wavy cuts anyway.

So, place yourmetal ruler against the edge of the cover, and make light but firm cuts till you've trimmed all the protruding edges way. Don't rush this, as the blade might drag on the paper and tear bits off.


And it's done! I've put up some examples of different ones that I've made, so you get an idea of the kinds of covers you can use. Of course, you can use any type of paper inside, or make a little storybook out of it too.