Daily Prompt: Morphing

Language evolves. The meaning of a word can shift over time as we use it differently — think of “cool,” “heavy,” or even “literally.”

Today, give a word an evolutionary push: give a common word a new meaning, explain it to us, and use it in the title of your post.

For the actual birth of the word “Fleisch Bruffeli” you must return to the year 1969, that memorable year when Mrs. Angloswiss and Mr. Swiss said “yes” in a registry office with two witnesses and the unforgettable Beda Baumgartner in is pin striped suit that was the marriage registrar at the time. No beating about the bush, it was a quick and painless step but a big one for the Angloswiss/Swiss family.

Of course we spent a time getting to know each other, which included food. One day I decided to make sausage rolls for the evening meal, a memory of England. Unfortunately english sausages were not available in Switzerland, but being and inventive type I created the next best thing.

and the fleisch bruffeli was born, although it was not as easy as it looks.

This is not an original fleisch bruffeli, it developed over the years into its constant form. The first attempt really did look like a smaller sausage roll, but as mentioned there were no small neat irish pork sausages available in the Swiss supermarket. I purchased mincemeat, and already the original taste was altered, because it was beef mincemeat. I was not keen on minced pork. 

I fried the meat with onions, a crushed clove of garlic and spiced it up with what I found to be appropriate: some paprika for the hot taste, salt and pepper and anything that I happened to find in the cupboard and of course some red wine. There are no rules when your cooking gifts are to be adapted. I had a pack of pastry, just plain pastry, and cut it into stripes. I then placed the mince in a line on the stripes, folded the pastry after coating the edge with the white of an egg to make it stick together. The next process was to coat the pastry with the remainder of the egg, beaten together with the yolk to give it a nice brown shiny surface. It was then baked in the oven for 30-40 minutes and the first Angloswiss sausage rolls Swiss style were born.

Needless to say they were a successs. My food is almost always a success under the threat that I would refuse to cook again if it was not praised. At last there was something new on the table. My step children were also enthralled by this creation.

About a month later it was again time to cook something completely different. You cannot live on Rösti and Bratwurst every day and Mr. Swiss made the suggestion.

“Why don’t you make those fleisch bruffelis again. They were quite good.”

“Fleisch what?” I exclaimed, thinking this was a new Swiss German word I had not yet encountered.

“Fleisch bruffeli, you know that mincemeat in pastry”

and so the fleisch bruffeli was born in the Angloswiss household. Today I am writing about it, and for the first time in my 47 years of marital life I asked Mr. Swiss where the word “bruffeli” arose.

“No idea” was the answer. “just a moment, Uncle Otti and his family would use the word for broken teeth - a broffle” and so the word Fleisch Bruffle was born thanks to the imaginative Swiss German spoken by Uncle Otti who was the brother of my Swiss mother-in-law and so the word could often be heard in the Mr. Swiss family (she had many brothers and sisters).

Over the years the fleisch bruffeli appeared on the Angloswiss table in various forms, but today it is generally large a layer of pastry (which might even be the flaky sort) covered  with the magical mincemeat mixture and completed with a final slice of pastry. It is much quicker and more convenient. After the cooking it is cut in family sized pieces. It may look different to a small roll of pastry with filling, but it tastes just the same. Over the last 47 years my cooking talent has developed.

Daily Prompt: Ear Worm

Write whatever you normally write about, and weave in a book quote, film quote, or song lyric that’s been sticking with you this week.

I normally write about what the WordPress Daily prompt team suggest to write about. This week it was the Christmas week, a little inappropriate to write all about Christmas with all the trimmings, so let’s have a jolly happy go lucky quote from “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens

“You are fettered," said Scrooge, trembling. "Tell me why?"

"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.” 

Which is really a cheerful quote - no let’s leave it to Scrooge to meet his fate with the 3 ghosts and his happy ending.

A film quote? Mr. Swiss are doing a re—run at home of the film series Fargo and so I found a nice little quote “There are no saints in the animal kingdom. Only breakfast and dinner.” - No, not so good. You lot are never satisfied. Song lyrics are in three languages at my place, so let’s leave it, What a miserable prompt this is. On the other hand I write about a lot of things, but not so normal.

On the other hand, let’s talk about food. That has been sticking with me all week, since around before Christmas because I had to make sure I had enough in the kitchen to feed a family of three during the Christmas holidays. The shops closed on 24th December in the afternoon and remained shut until 26th December when they decided to open for one day, only to close again on 27th December but we survived. Thanks to a careful logistic planning by Mr. Swiss and Mrs. Angloswiss the cupboard was not bare and we ate the remainders in the evening, Phew! now that is behind us all, or is it? No, of course not, the jolly eating carousel with a famine threat hovering in the background is upon us again and we have to survive from New Years Eve until 4th January, with on day in between for buying what we forgot, or may have run out of.

I ran out of ideas of what to cook and Mr. Swiss did not  really have any, the food had to be fresh and the freezer was full. It was then I had an idea.

“Where are you going with the axe?” asked Mr. Swiss

“I thought I could cook a nice fresh turkey for the new year.”

“with an axe?”

“There is a farm in the next village and they have turkeys running around. I am sure that would not miss one.”

“You cannot just kill a turkey, you will have to ask the farmer.”

“I could do it when he isn’t looking.”

An argument followed and so we forgot about the whole thing. I quite like turkey, but they are just a little too large for our family I suppose. 

“I could perhaps go to the chicken farm across the road”

“Forget it” and so the conversation came to an end. I am still wondering what to serve and I would so like some fresh meat. Unfortunately the cows are still in the barn throughout the Winter. Perhaps the next prompt might give me an idea.

It's Christmas

I thought I had seen the backs of these two guys in the supermarket and was not unhappy. Christmas the time of giving and feeling good and collapsing after all the cooking and preparations. I know I am a Christmas Grinch. When the kids were small you just got carried along with it all, buying presents, packing presents, decorating the Christmas Tree and throwing Christmas ornaments everywhere. Do not forget the candles, we must have enough candles to light our way into and through the celebrations.

As a young mother and wife, you put a brave face on it all, welcomed the family to the dinner for 7 or was it 8, might have been 10, but I survived.

This evening Mr. Swiss passed a remark.

“In two weeks time it is Christmas Eve.”

Ok, perhaps not a big deal in other countries, but in Switzerland and a few other European places, it is the beginning of it all. I don’t even believe in all this stuff, but I am not alone in the world, and if everyone else does then who am I to spoil it all. Christmas presents now take care of themselves. We buy our own, or do not buy them. Who cares, it’s the food that counts. I no longer have a Christmas tree, except for the mini version somewhere in the cellar. 

So I began to think. Two weeks and we begin to eat as if famine was around the corner. The discussion began. 

“On Christmas Eve I will cook something good and quick, no big deal, just expensive. On Christmas Day I will roast something.”

“No, you might not get a good piece of roasting meat if you order it. Make something else.”

“Schnitzel in mushroom cream sauce?”

“That’s a good idea.”

“And Boxing Day a piece of cooked ham?”

“Perfect”

The logistics are completed. In between we made a few remarks about the poor people in other countries that can be glad to have anything to eat. We also realised not too much meat, we are getting older and no longer appreciate large quantities, which lead to digestive problems. Except for No. 1 son, he eats until there is nothing more to eat.

But I still have 2 weeks to think about it. We are only three people, not an army. I really don’t mind Christmas basically I suppose. Ok I am just the Christmas grinch that is glad when it is over, when I no longer have to feed the five thousand (and he did it on a couple of fish and a few slices of bread). Perhaps I might even have time, after the dessert of course (just some ice cream, whipped cream and luxury fruit) to play with my computer.

Roll on Easter, at least that is the time of fasting, except for the chocolate eggs and bunnies.

Daily Feline Prompt: Ring of Tuna Fish

Do you love hot and spicy foods or do you avoid them for fear of what tomorrow might bring?

“Pass me the cat nip Fluffy.”

“Just a pinch or a paw full?”

“Just a claw full. Where’s the tarragon?”

“Next to the vitamin pellets. What would you like to drink with it Tabby?”

“I think I will take a bowl of water, Grand Cru, preferably cooled.”

“I think you will have to wait for the water Tabby. It is only room temperature. I just heard Mrs. Human flush the toilet.”

“That would be ideal. Has she gone, is the door open to the toilet. Will quickly have a taste. Yes, that is perfect. What about you Fluffy? Is your food to your taste?”

“No problem Tabby. I prefer to take the cat nip after the meal, but as a hors d’oevre I like a spoonful of yogurt mixed with a little tuna sauce.”

“Really, yes I also like that, although I actually prefer tuna sauce pure and stirred, not shaken.”

“But tuna mixed with yogurt gives it such a creamy touch, a delicacy for the feline taste buds. Look Tabby outside, a mouse just walked across the garden.”

“Forget the dish of pellets, the tuna and the water. A mouse? Come on Fluffy, let’s go. How shall we have it served with or without?”

“I don’t care Tabby, if it moves kill it according to Bastet’s famous words, Chapter 2, verse 1.”

Daily Feline Prompt: Feline v Human

Pick a feline issue

“You know what I think Fluffy, a pinch of tarragon in the fish would make it a little more appetising and would suit my sensitive feline palate.”

“It is a matter of taste Tabby. I prefer it laced with catnip, gives a real feeling of feline “oomph” if you know what I mean.”

“It seems that a glass of water from a rain shower would be the perfect accompaniment to wash down the tuna fish after eating. Of course the water should breathe for a few minutes before drinking.”

“Definitely Tabby, water that does not breathe has no real taste to appease our feline taste buds. Perhaps we should tell Mrs. Human to collect the rain water for us.”

“What do I hear felines, I should collect rain water.”

“Yes Mrs. Human, but do not serve it straight away. We prefer the water to settle. Do not put it in one of those subordinate plastic bottles. It should be put into a glass jug to allow it to breathe.”

“I’m sorry Tabby, since when does water have to breathe.”

“Mrs.Human would you drink a glass of that red grape juice you call wine without letting it breathe.”

“I am not an expert Tabby, but probably not. It has to have the correct room temperature before you drink it.”

“Exactly, but we felines, that were once worshipped as gods, can drink any old water, makes no difference how cold it is, just pour it in the dish and serve it, after all they are only felines. No, Mrs. Human, our taste buds have to be appeased, and not put into a shock condition.”

“Tabby is right Mrs. Human, water is not just water, it is to be chosen with care for the feline digestive system. We want to savour our food, digest every morsel slowly and carefully.”

“Tabby, Fluffy, don't you think you are overdoing it a little. When I serve a dish of tuna fish, it disappears in record time. I have never had the impression that I am feeding two gourmets.”

“That is because you just tip it out of the tin and throw it into the dish. A little decoration would be fit. Perhaps a twig of catnip, or a sprinkling of tarragon, you know you eat with the eyes as well as the mouth Mrs. Human.”

“Would the two felines prefer a serviette with their meal, to wipe their mouths afterwards.”

“Don’t be stupid Mrs. Human, for that we have our tongues to have a wash afterwards.”

The Great Feline Outdoors

“Fluffy the sun is shining, we have warm temperatures and the birds are feeding.”

“Big deal Tabby, so what do we do?”

“We sit and wait until the bird has forgotten that we are there and pounce.”

“No-one will be pouncing Tabby, go and play together.”

“Felines do not play Mrs. Human, our life is concentrated on “The Importance of being Feline” based on the famous work by Oscar Wildcat. We think and therefore we are, in the words of Renée Des Cats, so do not tell us how we should approach the natural reflexes of the flying population. They are born to be supplied as our daily meal.”

“But you never seem to catch one Tabby.”

“Fluffy, be quiet, I am thinking and you will discourage my bird concentration. I think the bird does not realise I am here, it is still pecking at the delicacies supplied by Mrs. Human. I will now sleek up on the bird with my paws and pounce.”

“But Tabby.”

“Fluffy will you please hold your whiskers, the bird has now flown away due to your loud meows. You startled him.”

“And if Fluffy had not frightened the bird away, I would have done so. Birds are not in my garden as a supplement to your vitamin enriched food pellets.”

“Oh here she comes again, Mrs. Human with her food pellets. How would you like to eat dry food pellets Mrs. Human, instead of your juicy steaks, potato and vegetable.”

“That is not the question.”

“Mrs. Human it is written in the book of Bastet, chapter 992, verse 37, felines should be fed on something that once lived.”

“But your pellets lived, in another form of course. You have chicken flavoured pellets.”

“Oh, big deal, but I don’t see any chicken wings or legs, not even a feather in sight: just a brown pellet and it doesn’t make a noise either.”

WordPress Daily Feline Prompt: Three Perfect Feline Shots

Take a subject you’re familiar with and imagine it as three photos in a sequence. Tackle the subject by describing those three shots.

“Is that your shot Tabby?”

“What’s wrong with it Fluffy?”

“Well it’s OK, so what about the other two.”

“Mrs. Human said three shots would be too much, She doesn’t have the time to sort it on my paw pad, she has enough problems with her own three shots.”

“Yes, but munching away at vitamin filled pellet food is not particularly interesting.”

“Of course it is Fluffy. Other blogging felines can see how deprived we are with our food. Just a bowl of dry pellets, when we should be eating tuna, caviar, salmon. They will complain and Mrs. Human will have to rethink her diet plans for us.”

“I don’t think so Tabby. Humans have the idea that we eat healthy food and that fresh fish and meat is not so good.”

“Tell that to the lions, or even Bastet. It says in the book of Bastet, chapter 333, verse 20 that felines should be fed with fresh meat at all times and dead mice should not be dead longer than five minutes and we get dead pellets which probably never lived.”

“But on the 10 kilo packet it says made with chicken.”

“Fluffy, chickens have legs and walk. They are not dried pieces of chemically flavoured brown material.”

“Oh, well I quite like the pellets now and again. Washed down with a dish of fresh water they are ok. Mrs. Human said I look very healthy at the moment and am putting on weight.”

“Good for you Fluffy, but you would look more heathy and put on more weight if you were fed with fresh meat.”

“Where are you going Tabby?”

“Picture 2 and 3. Picture 2 is me with a dead mouse and picture 3 is me eating the mouse. I just have to catch it first of all.”

“Oh, in the meanwhile you can see picture 2 of me having a wash and picture 3 sleeping after my meal of chicken vitamin pellets.”

“OK Fluffy, what’s all this rubbish with the pictures. I will leave out my picture 2 and 3 and join you with the wash and sleep after the delicious dry boring vitamin pellets.”

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WordPress Daily Prompt: Five a Day 2

You’ve being exiled to a private island, and your captors will only supply you with five foods. What do you pick?

“This was a stupid prompt leaving me unmotivated the first time round.”

“But Mrs. Angloswiss, it was brought to inspire your imagination and tell us all about your favourite foods.”

“Woody, this has nothing do to with favourite foods. I am on a private island and get five foods. How would you like to eat just chocolate cake for the rest of your life?”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Angloswiss, but fresh and not that old stale stuff you served me this week.”

“There is no mention of anything being fresh in this prompt. I am on a private island? Who has private islands today? Only millionaires, experimental farms trying to change the world with new developments in the nature of things or something infected with radiation. I would probably die from other causes than the food.”

“Mrs. Angloswiss it is just a game, a daily prompt and you have such a wonderful imagination.”

“Imagination, yes that’s true. Well what about poached Wordy, fried Wordy, boiled Wordy, smoked Wordy or stewed Wordy. “

“Mrs. Angloswiss your imagination is running away with you again. I am Wordy your help and support in all problematic situations. Tell us about the nice pot of food on the picture.”

“It was lunch last Sunday. Yes, that might fit. Mr. Swiss suggested a pot au feu translated direct from the French as “Pot on the fire” so what could be better and very easy to cook. First of all fill up a large pot with water and boil it. It is very hot and could shrivel your fingers if you put your hand in it, but we are not cooking human flesh, are we Wordy?

Now for the ingredients. I would suggest flavouring the water with perhaps some bouillon powder, or just salt. No-one likes to eat a good cooked dish with no spice do they Wordy? Even stewed meat would be tasteless without a sprinkle of salt. Now we have the first problem. I am only allowed five things on the this desert island, which might be radioactive contaminated. I want meat in my soup. Who will kill the meat? Will these captors on my island kill for me? That is not included in the prompt. Will I have to do it myself? I do not kill living things Wordy. Now and again I might make an exception and tread on a fly. I have even been known to dismember mechanical things. Wordy, stay here and stop shaking, I am telling you about my five ingredients.

So we have a nice meaty soup and now for the veg. Do you like carrots Wordy? Yes, good, then I will peel a few and put them in the saucepan. Some celery, leek, cabbage Ok, fine. There we are Wordy we have our five ingredients. I am sure you would like some nice additional flavour. I will chop up a few parsley leaves, just for the flavour.

Now to prepare the meaty part of the dish. Wordy stay here. I need this machete to chop the meat. Don’t be worried, where are you going?

I don’t know what is wrong with him. I thought he was enjoying this harmless little prompt and now he has run away. Perhaps it was the machete, perhaps because I was chasing him with it or perhaps the name of my dish disturbed him, and I was so pleased with it. On my private island anything goes. They did not say where the food came from and I just cannot kill the little harmless animals that live there. So Wordy come here. I can see you hiding in the branches of that tree. You are my fifth ingredient. I named the dish after you, Wordy stew.”

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WordPress Daily Prompt: 10,000 Spoons

…When all you need is a knife might not be ironic, but it is unfortunate. Add your own verse, stanza, or story of badly-timed annoyance to Alanis Morisette's classic:

I have no idea of classics by Alanis Morissette. I only know that she is a singer but definitely not my sort of thing. I have never heard of an ironic song about 10,000 spoons. Ironic is that I am supposed to write a daily prompt about this song and even add my own verse or story. The only help I have is a link to a Wikipedia site, not even the lyrics: I had to find them myself. Of course, I could have searched for a YouTube video, but it is common knowledge that Mrs. Angloswiss avoids YouTube videos on her blog when possible. I am even allergic to blog sites with music in the background. I know, I am a miserable cow sometimes, but I do have my good side (I think). A badly-timed annoyance is that the t-shirted WordPress robots invent a prompt that is absolutely not in the line with an Angloswiss prize suspicious unique blog.

“Mrs. Human, stay cool.” My feline Tabby is shaking her head. “What is the fuss about? We felines live in ironic circumstances daily. We were once worshipped as Gods, and today we have to wait until our dish is filled by a subordinate human. Ironic is the fact that we have paws and not hands with fingers. Then the humans would be superfluous. If we had 10,000 spoons it would not help.”

“OK Tabby, point taken, but you are a well fed feline. Sometimes I have a feeling that you are a little too well fed. A bowl of delicious vitamin packed pellets always full and at your disposal when you are hungry. Some felines only have their food served twice a day.”

“Oh yummy Mrs. Human. I love dry brown pieces of unidentifiable food to munch: a real high point of the day.”

“Now don’t get ironic with me Tabby, otherwise your tuna fish ration is in danger.”

“Who is being ironic now Mrs. Human. Where is the tuna fish, I see no tuna fish.”

“It is in the cupboard and I will take out a tin for you this evening, if you are a good feline.”

“Here we go again. Felines are not good or bad, we don’t do adjectives. We exist, therefore we are in the words of the great philosopher Descartes Desi Cats “je pense, donc je suis”, he miawed in French. As far as I am concerned you can put the tins next to my dish. Don’t worry Mrs. Human, I will not eat the tuna fish before you open the tin and serve it.”

“I hope not. Too much tuna fish is not good for you.”

“Who says that? Of course it is good for me, but an ironical problem is involved.”

“And that would be?”

“Imagine you are walking in the desert. You are thirsty and have a bottle of mineral water in your rucksack. The sun is beating down, you are perspiring. What do you do?”

“No problem, Tabby, I open the rucksack and drink the mineral water.”

“I havn’t finished. You have forgotten the bottle opener. It is a glass bottle.”

“I can knock the bottle on a hard object to break it and then I am saved.”

“There are no hard objects in a desert, just sand.”

“OK, you have got me, an ironic situation.”

“So to continue Mrs. Human: I have ten tins of tuna fish and no tin opener.”

“I will give you a tin opener.”

“Typical stupid human: and how am I going to open the tin? Tin openers are not constructed for paws. That is an ironic situation, surrounded by tuna fish and no possibility to eat it. So I am left to my frugal ration of vitamin packed pellets, big deal.”

Tabby has now proved her point. Felines are always one step ahead. Who needs 10,000 spoons, a tin of tuna fish and a tin opener when you have no way of holiding a tin opener to open the tin and cats do not use spoons. What a stupid, pointless, dead ended prompt this is.

“Come Tabby, I will open a tin of tuna fish for you; forget the expensive vitamin packed pellet food. Let’s have a party and I will make a tuna fish salad for myself. Let us share the irony of this ironic prompt.”

“At last a good idea from a human brain, a rare occurrence, almost ironic” was Tabby’s last thought on the matter.

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WordPress Daily Prompt: Unlikely Pairing

Bacon and chocolate, caramel and cheddar… Is there an unorthodox food pairing you really enjoy? Share with us the weirdest combo you’re willing to admit that you like — and how you discovered it.

What I might find unlikely does not mean that others find it so. Our colonists in the States discovered how to make some sort of paste from peanuts, and they called it peanut butter. It was even exported to their mother country, Great Britain, and the British found it good. It is today still sold in supermarkets, but I have to yet meet a British person that just loves to coat their peanut butter with a thick layer of jam/jelly. The Chinese probably invented sweet and sour which is almost their daily food, but peanut butter is not sour, just savoury, and I do not know who had this brainy idea. Perhaps it was Doctor Pepper, but I have never drank this liquid and up to now I do not believe that it is a great export hit to Switzerland, who knows? Forest Gump seemed to drink it with every meal.

I remember when I left behind the English way to cook and arrived in Switzerland. It did not take long for me to discover that the English way of food was not the be all and end all of the culinary way of life. One of the many remarks I had to accept was “Oh yes, the English pour vinegar on their chips/French fries”. It was how I grew up. Mum cooked fish and chips and to accompany this English way of eating, we had salt, pepper and a bottle of vinegar on the table and would flavour and drench our chips in this acid for taste perfection. It was not just vinegar. There were two sorts. Either you had malt vineagar, or non-brewed. Mum always bought non-brewed. What that was I never discovered, but it was printed on the bottle.

I was now living in Switzerland and discovered that although the Swiss looked down upon the English for smothering their chips/French fries in vinegar, they found it quite decent to serve fish with a portion of mayonnaise. I like mayonnaise, so this was no problem. A Swiss would think twice before serving fish with French fries/chips. They find it a crime to mix two items bathed in oil and so I gradually found that boiled potatoes (with a coating of parsley) were the suitable accompaniment to fish. I have now been married to Mr. Swiss for 46 years and yes, with a woman’s persuasion (he did not have a great choice) he now eats his fish fingers, salmon, cod etc. etc. with chips/French fries. He did not have a choice, although now and again I humour him with boiled potatoes.

I have eaten many foreign dishes and have no great problem. When I know it is genuine I will eat it. I am glad when I know what I am actually eating, whether it is animal, vegetable or mineral. There is a fish dish known as calamares, which is actually squid. It arrives on the plate in rings, deeply fried in a coating, or perhaps not and pure in a salad. I do not really care how it looks. I have tried it and whilst everyone else finds it fantastic, good, great, I wonder what is so perfect in chewing something that reminds me of a tyre on a car. OK, perhaps I get it all wrong, but I am not convinced.

I quite like pineapple with ham or in a coleslaw salad. It is harmless, and complements the meat flavour. I ate pigeon pie in Marrakesh, which is their delicacy. I was reminded of a tomb where you lift the lid and find a collection of bones beneath and some fragments of meat. It tasted OK, and why not eat a pigeon, there are enough flying around. I discovered in Internet it is known as Pastilla. I would not serve it at home, however. Some people might be annoyed to eat such a sweet little bird.

On my first holiday in England after leaving, I was still single and had not yet met Mr. Swiss: I decided to introduce mum and dad to the secrets of the Swiss kitchen. This was a mistake. I really thought they would fall in love with Sauerkraut, having been brought up on cabbage with most meals, but Sauerkraut is not = cabbage. It was not the English taste and so I decided to forget it.

The Swiss invented chocolate; at least they think they did. It comes in all shapes and sizes and flavours. Probably the turnover was decreasing or the powers that be in the Swiss chocolate world had a dream and all sorts of strange mixtures were appearing in the supermarket. I did not realise this as chocolate is chocolate and the packing looks mostly the same. It was a fateful day when I opened a new bar of chocolate at home and found my mouth began to burn with the first bite.

How can you mix chocolate with chilli powder, it does not work. I do not know what bright spark decided to invent this chocolate. It is a crime against the unsuspecting chocolate eaters of this world.

I now rest my case. Oh, it is also a strange mixture to bring a daily prompt at midnight, but all sorts of strange things happen in the WordPress t-shirt world.

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WordPress: Daily Prompt - Handmade Tales

Automation has made it possible to produce so many objects — from bread to shoes — without the intervention of human hands (assuming that pressing a button doesn’t count). What things do you still prefer in their traditional, handmade version?

Who makes their own lasagne? The photo is a Mrs. Angloswiss lasagne fresh from the oven. Perhaps there are those with Italian ancestry that would not dream of buying a ready-made, frozen lasagne and would do it all themselves from the beginning. Is it worthwhile to make the pasta pastry, roll it out to size; make a cheesy sauce as well as cook mincemeat in a tomato sauce put it in a dish layer by layer and top it all up with the remains of the cheese sauce, sprinkle parmesan over it and bake in the oven? There are not many that bother today; after all it is all available in the supermarket, even if the British did have a crisis when they discovered that some frozen food companies were using horsemeat instead of the normal beef. Mrs. Angloswiss does it all herself, although I do buy the ready-made pasta leaves to save time.

I have a thing about ready-made food. I do not trust it. I do not know what it really contains and today there is so much automation, the greedy food companies do not really care. Now and again there might be some food poisoning, but nothing serious and today’s news is always news, but tomorrow? If I write a prize suspicious blog today, tomorrow it is already forgotten, or a few days later, because something new has arrived. So if the customers of supermarket “A” all have digestion problems because the ready-made automated food they bought from the frozen food selection or special sterilised section or whatever from the shelf had some sort of germ, who cares. No-one really talks about it a week later and the toilet roll sales multiply in turnover.

If I am invited to a restaurant I will go and I will eat, but I will not visit a restaurant as a treat. I had to make enough compromising solutions when I was a working woman. I arrived home half an hour before lunch. I cooked for my son and I, with enough left for Mr. Swiss in the evening and I returned to the office ninety minutes later. I could not afford to eat in a restaurant with son no. 2 daily, and I did not want to. I had dealt with the shopping problem before I arrived in the office and I had it all worked out timewise. Pasta cooking needed about twenty minutes, veg ten at the most according to what it was, and meat could be cooked in the pressure cooker to save time. I did it all myself. I could have taken advantage of automated food, but would I know what I was eating? There are so many preservatives, chemical elements mixed into everything. It is not my sort of thing. Basically it is all a question of logistics. I remember once I had to bring my car to the garage and near the garage was a MacDonalds. I had to eat something for lunch and so I entered in this fast food temple. I found a small table. The other tables were occupied by mothers and their children. Do mothers actually cook today I asked myself?

Today I am a golden oldie and no longer a working woman, so I have the time to think it over and cook it. I do not need prepared packages. I buy my meat over the counter usually. I do not buy pre-packed meat in a cellophane wrapper. Perhaps I should have married a farmer, then I would even know the mother and father of the cow I was eating, but there I would have a problem. I am not a vegetarian, but prefer my meat to be anonymous, otherwise I would not eat it. If I knew that the leg of lamb I was eating came from the farm around the corner where Bluebell was its mother and the only ram in the pack the father, then forget it. I prefer New Zealand lamb. There are thousands of them roaming the prairies and probably the mothers do not even remember how many children they had. My dad had a basic saying on stock as always “Let’s face it there are enough cows walking around and they must be there for something”. I am not agreeing, but try feeding a cat vegetable, he cannot digest it and so it always eats meat. The human body is able to digest meat, so why not.

That is the food problem dealt with for me. I love knowing how things arrive. I made my own clothes for many years; mainly because I had such an impossible figure, that it was the best solution – I was very tall. I even made trousers for the kids, but that was more a financial solution. Today I have perhaps shrunk a little, but what I have lost in height I have gained in width, although being a golden oldie who bothers. I dress in comfort and comfort clothes give and expand and I can buy it.

I buy bread although I even baked bread almost daily some time ago. Ok, it taste fine, smells good, but is it worth it? I decided eventually no, it was not worth it and so I now buy my bread. I do not eat a lot of bread. Making shoes is nothing I ever thought about, but I do not think so. There is nothing better wearing a pair of adidas or whatever for roaming around the country, and in summer either shoeless or a few leather thongs wrapped around the feet do the job quite well.

A thought came to me. This prompt is really directed at the so-called western civilisations. I remember a week in Marrakesh, Morocco. There is a market (souk), full of hand workers. They recycle what they can. They are not rich people and they would probably laugh when they would see the subject of this prompt. They would not have a great choice (except for the rich), they know how to make everything themselves and do not throw it away because something new has arrived.

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WordPress Daily Prompt: Ingredients

What’s the one item in your kitchen you can’t possibly cook without? A spice, your grandma’s measuring cup, instant ramen — what’s your magic ingredient, and why? 

Photographers, artists, poets: show us KITCHEN.

Personally there is not anything I could not cook without. If I forget something, I just adapt, do not forget I am a female widget, a multi tasker and have carried the responsibility of feeding the family over many years, even the felines, although they are happy with a tin of tuna or vitamin pellets.

My mother could not cook. She cooked as her mother cooked, but reciples from the mid 20^th century were not my thing and I have a suspicion that my departed grandmother, who I never actually knew, could also not cook. There are some English master cooks I know, but my mum was not one. Asking what she could not do without in the kitchen, I would say salt and pepper, cooking fat and greens (large green leaves relating to a cabbage plant). However I survived.

I moved to Switzerland and spent my first two years working for an Indian boss and living-in with his family. His wife was Swiss, but mainly cooked Indian. I quite liked Indian food and learnt a few tricks of the trade.

After leaving my Indian-Swiss cooking experience I moved on and met Mr. Swiss. This was when my cooking experience made a turning in the Swiss direction. My mother-in-law would invite now and again. It was then that I learned to appreciate the Swiss cooking. It seems the Sunday dish always had a cream white wine sauce, the Sunday meat mainly being veal.

I remember cooking my first meals for myself, the kids and Mr. Swiss. The English accompany everything with potato, (boiled, fried, chipped etc. etc.). I was glad to discover that the Swiss had a choice of pasta, rice, rösti (a sort of flat fried chopped potato flan) and normal potatoes as an accompniment. The first problem arose when serving pasta. We were all sitting at the table ready to go and Mr. Swiss was a little troubled.

“Is there something?” I asked

“Err, yes, where’s the Aromat?”

“The Aromat?”

He arose from the table and searched in the cupboard and produced a small metal holder with the word “Aromat” emblazoned on the metal in large letters. I then remembered we had Aromat. It sort of arrived with the wedding ring. Was Mr. Swiss happy? Almost.

“Do we have any Maggi?” (prounounced Majji). Even this bottle was tucked away between the salt and pepper: a brown liquid.

So Mr. Swiss sprinkled Aromat and poured Maggi over his pasta. This was just the beginning. I noticed a Swiss never eats a normal fried egg, sunny side up, without smothering the normal egg taste in Aromat and Maggi. With time I realised then when cooking pasta, before serving it should must be mixed with a large spraying of Aromat. I soon discovered that Aromat was a tasty thing, but I never could accustom myself to drench my pasta in Maggi. Time passed, the children were growing and developing into Aromat and Maggi addicts.

Then came the day when we visited my parents in England. We were staying with my mum and dad and poor Mr. Swiss would be subjected to the intricacies of the English kitchen, although I would say he was quite partial to beans on toast and fish and chips. We were packing for the departure and he put a supply of Aromat into the case. He decided he would abstain from taking the Maggi as this was a liquid and could cause problems in the case on the flight. He was worried that the reputation of Aromat had not yet reached England. At this time his worries were almost justified as Aromat had only just entered the English food realm. The English were still happy to coat their Frenchfries/chips with salt, pepper and vineager.

So to sum up, I can cook with anything, but I have to be sure there is Aromat in the kitchen – you never know. I am quite partial to putting garlic in everything, but there I have to consider the others. Mr. Swiss is not keen on garlic in the salad sauce, but this is no problem. As long as I put Aromat in the salad sauce he is a happy Swiss.

Daily Prompt: Ingredients

WordPress Daily Prompt: Simply Irresistible

Tell us about the favorite dish or food that you simply cannot turn down. 

Photographers, artists, poets: show us TEMPTATION.

This is a Bernese Platte, smoked sausage, bacon and potato on a bed of vegetable. In this case green beans, but cooked red cabbage is also appropriate. A Swiss dish, but under other names available in most countries and I cooked it myself.

I very rarely turn down anything that goes under the name of food. Not that I would try a grasshopper, a locust or mealworms, everything has its limits, although it seems they are rich in protein. Of course if my country was suffering from famine as a result of drought or war, then I would probably even cook grass if I was hungry. It would then not come into the question to turn food down. However, in our country this is not the fact. We are even guilty of throwing good food away because it might be two days over the date of “eat before” and it is no longer qualified to be sold.

In this connection there is nothing I could simply not turn down. I have my preferences, but we all have our preferences. Mum was not exactly a cordon bleu cook. She cooked as her mother cooked and at the beginning of the twentieth century in a working class environment you could be glad to have meat on the table: One of the reasons why mum always ensured that we had meat on the table, a sign of decency probably. Mum did not know what garlic was, she never bought it and never used it. Actually the only spices she really used were salt and pepper and if French fries were on the menu then you had vinegar to shake over them as well – an English tradition. How often have I heard from my Swiss friends when talking about the English cooking “the English cannot cook and they put vinegar on their chips”. There are a few well known English cooks that can cook and very well. Times change and so does food. My mother had never tasted smoked salmon, that was for the posh. Today smoked salmon is often on the menu at home, generally served on toast with perhaps a horse radish sauce.

Of course I have my likes but I have a funny thing about food. Unless I know how it is prepared and where it comes from I try to avoid it. You do not make me happy if you invite me to a meal in a restaurant. It might look good, taste fine, but how did they cook it, what did they use and where did they get the ingredients from? Oh I am fussy. There are times when I am stressed and cooking a meal for a family can be annoying, but on the other hand at least I know what I am eating. When I was a young mother with four children (2 step) and a husband to feed it was similar to feeding an army. Every day meat, vegetable and pasta, potato or rice, but at least we knew what we were eating. It comes to my mind the big horrific scare the English suffered when it was discovered that horsemeat was contained in their frozen lasagne. Personally I like horse meat, do not eat it every day, once in a blue moon, but why not. In Switzerland the sale of horse meat is controlled. We eat beef, lamb or pork and no carnivore person would bat an eyelid.

Then I ask myself, why frozen lasagne. It is not magic to make it yourself, might take a little more time than just heating it up in the oven, but at least you know what it contains.

An important aspect of eating served food is the ambiance. Some restaurants have it and some do not. A busy overstressed waitress can spoil the meal with her impatient actions. After a meal in a restaurant, no matter how good it was, you feel tired, drink your coffee and go home. If I serve the meal at home, we clear away the dishes, drink our coffee or tea and take it easy: perhaps a sojourn on the settee or even a golden oldie midday sleep – what restaurant offers such a service. This is really only available at hotel Mama.

So what is my favourite? As said I eat it all, am not fussy. I quite like lamb, a shoulder, a leg or just a piece of meat. I like an Indian curry, lived with an Indian family for two years and it was the daily meal, be it a curry, biryani or pakora and the various breads. In Switzerland we are surrounded by France, Italy and Germany and this shows in the diversity of food available: Switzerland itself has a good choice according to where you live.

So you can all enjoy your chocolate cakes spiced with cherries and covered in cream, I can do that as well and do not need a restaurant to serve it.

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WordPress Daily Prompt: Food for the Soul (and the Stomach)

Tell us about your favorite meal, either to eat or to prepare. Does it just taste great, or does it have other associations? 

Photographers, artists, poets: show us FOOD.

And now for the foody part: what an opportunity for the cooks and housewives of the Daily Prompt to show us their favourites. Personally I did not really know where to begin. I do not really have favourites, I eat almost anything.

I have a sort of mental list of things I like to cook regularly. Then I have a backup somewhere in my head with things I like to cook now and again. There is another list for high days and holidays, when you spend a little more.

The regular stuff is nice an easy. I have cooked it so often. During the week at lunch it is just Mr. Swiss and I, so that is easy. We both have to like it. I very rarely cook meat at lunch time, but at week-ends and in between. Today it had to go quick as I had an appointment at the vets this afternoon with my mean cat (see Link), so I cooked some Spätzli (sort of pastry-like pasta) and fried some mushrooms and leek with chopped bacon. That filled us up for the afternoon. Tomorrow I have planned fried potato, baked tomatoes garnished with sage and thyme from the garden, and fried cervelat. Cervelat is a national Swiss sausage. My food is mostly Swiss based.

To explain the photo: on the right we have osso buco (sounds Italian and yes it is). The following explanation is not for the squeamish or vegetarians. Imagine an animal, calf or pig, chop the legs in pieces and there you have it: a bone in the middle surrounded by meat. It is cooked for a couple of hours in a chopped mixture of carrots, celeriac, leek and wine (red or white according to your taste – I prefer white). One of the best parts is the bone marrow, although a matter of taste. Mr. Swiss likes it on a piece of bread, I just eat it pure.

On the left we have bramata, again something Italian. It is maize cut roughly and cooked in bouillon, stirring all the time, for about thirty minutes. I usually mix it with some parmesan cheese and butter when cooked. It is just something that suits the osso buco.

I only associate food with occasions, when the food does not leave a good memory. There are people that long for the good old days when mum cooked this and that. My mum cooked everything, according to how her mother cooked it and probably how her mother cooked it like her not a lot of new things were picked up on the way. I was the odd one out at home as I never ate what was good for me. Greens (cabbage) boiled and drained off as a veg were not my favourite, but it would have been so good for me. I did not like the fat on the meat, another “good for you” part of the meal. The funny thing is that today I am quite partial to fat on the meat. Ham is just not ham without the white edge.

At the moment I am planning Christmas Eve (the big celebrations at Christmas in Switzerland). Over the years it has been established that a preliminary of prawn cocktail goes down well, followed by Chateau Briand with mixed veg (brussel sprouts and carrots), accompanied by fried potato. I have not yet decided on the desert, but probably something with ice cream. I do not really celebrate Christmas, but it is a time of year when everyone else does, so who am I to eat a cheese sandwich, being surrounded by everyone eating their 5 star menus.

One of my favourites to prepare is a cheese fondue. You can buy the mixture in a sachet. Take a suitable fondue bowl, rub it out with a clove of garlic, put the mixture in, heat it up stirring all the time. When it is a bubbling melted thick cheesy sauce, put it on the little fondue stove. In the meanwhile cubes of bread are ready to be pierced on a fondue fork to stir in the cheesy mixture. Now that is really no stress, tastes good, and ideal for a cold Winter evening. OK, there are dedicated housewives that make it all themself. Grated cheese, white wine and cornflour carefully being stirred to suddenly find that it does not mix and you have a hard clump of cheese surrounded by a watery white wine sauce. There are many memories of Swiss mothers/housewives having their nervous breakdowns caused by this catastrophe. That is why Mrs. Angloswiss buys the mixture. No stress and all finished in 10-15 minutes.

Enjoy you meals everyone.

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WordPress Daily Prompt: You, the Sandwich

If a restaurant were to name something after you, what would it be? Describe it. (Bonus points if you give us a recipe!)

Photographers, artists, poets: show us DINNER.

Angloswiss Rosti, Swiss Calf sausage and Chicory

Some people eat to live, others live to eat. There is also the third category that even enjoy creating and cooking. I am a bit of everything, although as a golden oldie I am more the eat to live person. In later years everything you eat tends to go southwards on the body and buying new larger clothes every year can become expensive; even my feet have grown. Certain surprising health problems can arrive with age, and even sweet and sugary does not like me today.

As far as food and cooking is concerned, I grew up surrounded by a family that was convinced if I ate my crusts on the bread, I would grow healthy. Crusts on pre-cut English bread packed in plastic were almost as soft and putty-similar as the bread itself, so I am still wondering what the secret of eating crusts would be. I was also repeatedly told to eat the fat, the best part of the meat. It gives you curly hair. Is that why I have such straight hair? There was definitely some hidden meaning in this. Of course, vegetable was also part of the diet. It was green, cooked in water and drained onto the plate. “Does you good” were the words I constantly heard, although I am still wondering what the good part was. When you drain off the water, the little vitamin content left was thrown away. When I reflect on the cooking skills of my family and the logic, I am still surprised that I survived with my vitamin-packed, good-for-you food that I did not like.

Mum always told me “I pity your old man” (cockney) “he will have to live on fish fingers”. Strangely enough “my old man” even eats fish fingers, which I might fry in a blue moon, but otherwise, up to now he seems to thrive on what arrives on the table. My children have also survived and never say no to a Sunday lunch invitation at hotel mama. I would also mention that my youngest son has become quite a good cook and has been known to invite friends for a meal.

To return to my five-star menu. I have many and decided to choose something Swiss with a touch of Anglo (Anglo is the butter part). You would think after the beginnings of my eating/cooking life, I would make a trip to Macdonalds or phone Pizza Luigi for food, but no. I do not like ready cooked meals or pre-frozen meat dishes, where the origins of the meat and part of the animal are doubtful. I now have time, being retired and a golden oldie, and can do it all myself. So let us begin.

Rosti (we Swiss say Röschti) is a Swiss invention. Swiss farmer’s wives would cook large amounts of potato the day before (the potato is then more suitable for a genuine Swiss Röschti) and in the morning would arise with the sun (or cows) to prepare breakfast for their William Tell look-alike husbands. The pre-cooked potato would be grated and fried in pig fat in a large heavy iron pan. After some time on one side, it would be turned and fried on the other side, both sides forming a wonderful brown surface. I have often wondered how Swiss-farmer-wife managed this without a Teflon coating. This must have been the reason why William Tell won the battle against Gessler - he did it all with Rosti.

My version is a little different. I do not cook the potato on the day before, but peel the raw potatoes, grate them raw and fry them in a Teflon coated pan in butter with a sprinkling of salt. Yes, I am a butter cook – no pig fat or otherwise in my kitchen: perhaps a reason why my dimensions have spread over the years. No sticky lumps left behind and it does the job just as well. Mrs. Angloswiss may also fry some finely chopped bacon cubes with the potato (this is then known as a Berner Röschti – Bern type rosti). When one side of the rosti has developed its even crust I put a large plate on the uncrusted side, lift the pan and turn it, sliding the rosti back into the Teflon coated pan to form a crust on the other side (see photo of finished rosti).

What to eat with this wonderful-hit-suspected Angloswiss 5-star rosti, Swiss veal sausages of course. Now I must admit, I had to get used to these sausages. In England we had smaller sausages and the meat mixture was different (Mr. Swiss still refers to them as sawdust sausages). Swiss veal sausages are king-sized, containing a compact pale meat, but with time I acquired the taste. Of course they vary. I buy mine in the local supermarket where there are different types. The one to buy, if you really want the best, is the St. Gall calf sausage. I do not know why, but they have an agricultural show in St. Gall every year, showing their wonderful cows and selling this type of sausage. OK, frying a sausage is no rocket science. Again I fry mine in butter. What would a calf sausage be without a large portion of onion fried with it – again see photo.

Now we have some vegetable. I cook the season vegetable. In this case it was the chicory season, you know that pointy white veg that most only eat raw, but you can also cook it. I cut them lengthwise in a half and fry them in butter again, cooking time about 15 minutes, according to how you like them: with a little bit of salt and pepper for flavour.

I am not the best cook in town, but I like to try something new. I remember when Mr. Swiss once said his mother used to cook brain. I even tried that. Not too bad at all, fried in butter on both sides. It did not seem to increase our intelligence.

It seems I will get bonus points for a recipe, so I expect to be awarded with at least 20 points in the new edition of Gault Milllau (that will look good on the wall next to my certificate for the Pulitzer literature prize).

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