Shades of Blue

Sunshine, shorts, sandals and hammocking... I must be in the Southern Hemisphere. I am trying to soak up as much Vitamin D as possible -- what a contrast to the snow and ice the Sailor and I left behind only a few days ago!  

For the trip, I specifically picked this cardigan pattern to knit. It’s not at all complicated (handy when trying to knit AND carry on a conversation when you're somewhat jet-lagged), plus it’s made of cotton (essential in my book for summertime knitting). I already made this same cardigan before, years ago, in a shade of green for my mother. 

I decided to make myself a blue one, so I ordered the yarn online. I realized later that it’s the exact same shade of blue as the first sweater I ever made -- one I knit and put together in Cape Town, the year I learned to knit. In fact I was wearing that first sweater the day the yarn arrived -- and I even chuckled a little to myself when I saw how similar the shades of blue were to each other. 

Apparently I'm drawn to all things blue when it comes to knitwear
(although I prefer my hammocks in pink and green...) 

Fitting then, that yesterday I set-up my trusty hammock and decided to float for a bit under the bright blue sky, while working on the blue cardi. 

Everyone should hammock. It's good for the soul. It's also the perfect way to see some shades of blue without feeling blue. Here's where to find your own Color Cloud Hammock. Even if you're still experiencing winter, if you order your hammock now, you'll have it in time for sunny skies and hot weather. 

* Full disclaimer... while I am friends with the fun and fabulous gals behind Color Cloud Hammocks, I received no compensation or goods from this post. Hammocking however, is contagious, so I do feel compelled to spread the word. 

Fresh-Tasting Oranges

Grease Jar

A few weeks ago in Tennessee, while paying a visit to the same antique store where I found this glass rolling pin, I noticed a gorgeous Jadeite 'grease jar'. For $25, I passed it up. I confess I have a slight obsession with vintage Pyrex, but I'm no expert on Jadeite. I wasn't even sure if it was the real thing.

But I was still intrigued by the thought of a grease jar.

In all of my travels, I've never been one to collect souvenirs, thimbles or frankly anything else except memories and journal entries. However, recently, I noticed that the top of my fridge is actually lined with cookbooks from many of the places I've visited. Not all of them actually come from the country, of course. My former proficiency in Russian may have helped me to barter in the Ukrainian market daily, but I'm not fully convinced of my ability to accurately translate a pelemeni recipe from Cyrillic.

One afternoon I stared at those cookbooks and realized that I didn't even have one from Pennsylvania Dutch Country... the very place where I grew up.

I decided to remedy that when I saw a review in a magazine for Ian Knauer's cookbook, The Farm.

  

I ordered the book and proceeded to devour it. 

In the book, he describes 'master fat' -- and how people used to (and still do!) collect the fat drippings from any meat or bacon products they use. I often make Yorkshire Pudding with meat drippings, and I have been known to use the same oil to fry things like onion rings more than once, but collecting the drippings all together was a new concept to me. 

I love to recycle and reuse all kinds of things -- of course I was on board with this idea.  

So when I saw the 'grease jar' in Tennessee, I knew I had to add something similar to my kitchen.

Although I passed up the Jadeite, I did manage to find a drip can when I returned home. On an antique outing with a friend a few weeks ago, I found a gorgeous enamel pan with a lid (above), as well as this drip container. I squealed a little when I saw the price was only $2.50. 
 

I had to use it right away, so I actually went to the farm market the next day to purchase some bacon. Only a few minutes after I consumed said bacon, I was already straining the grease (I didn't even think to get a photo of the 'clean' jar before I put it right to use!)

I've already added more drippings, and even the Sailor seemed impressed when I showed him the jar and how quickly it was filling up. Not everything agrees though. A good friend emailed me and said the whole concept sounded 'gross'. 

Maybe it does to some people. Then again, maybe it's a little strange that I'm so excited about it? 

Felt Slippers

If you haven't already guessed, I have a thing for slippers. Over the holidays, I couldn't stop making these granny square slippers. I also love handbags and luggage -- but I'm not very good at making those from scratch. Yet.

Slippers, on the other hand, are wonderful to create and wear. They make fabulous gifts... and occasionally I keep a pair for myself. 

Like these. 

These are the same felt slippers (or clogs, as they are called in the pattern) that I made my mom a while ago. You can see that pair here. This time, I made a pair for myself. And yes, that's right. It's the same yarn that I've been trying to use up from the stash -- first it was Lawrence, then a pair of socks for a friend. 

Unless there is a spare half ball rolling around under the sofa, I think it's safe to say that I've finally used up the last of this color with the slippers. 

Fridge Milk Tart

The Sailor is home-bound so I thought I would make him a special dessert. Since I discussed his distaste for pasta in my last post, I figured it's only fair to share something he actually enjoys -- South African Fridge Milk Tart. 

Fridge what?

It does sound a little strange... I admit. It's kind of like custard, but with a bottom crust. 

My first encounter with Milk Tart was at a South African braai, or BBQ, along a beach in Sierra Leone, West Africa. (That alone is a story for another time...) As a non-South African, I got invited because the Sailor and I were dating. The day was filled with all manner of South African good eats, but I was particularly taken with the Milk Tart -- especially when the Sailor mentioned how much he liked it. 

I cornered the gal who made it and said she must give me the recipe. 

While I'm not a fan of haphazardly posting other people's recipes online (there is somewhat of a copyright controversy in the blogging world) I feel assured that this is a fairly standard Milk Tart recipe. And since she gave me scribbles from memory on how to make it, I'm quite certain she didn't remember who passed it on to her. I have made some minor changes to the recipe (mainly more detailed instructions... the scribbles were a little vague!)

Now I share it with you. Go forth... try something new. Pretend it's summer, and you're having a braai. Unless of course you're in the Southern Hemisphere, in which case, there is no need to pretend. 

SOUTH AFRICAN FRIDGE MILK TART

INGREDIENTS: 
1 Packet of Marie Biscuits (These are not always easy to find in the USA. I found 'Goya Maria' ones that are the same. I have also used animal crackers in the past, with great success!) 
1/2 cup of butter 
1 tin of condensed milk 
3 tins of whole milk (roughly 3.5 cups - I actually just use the condensed milk tin to measure the regular milk while I'm making it) 
3 tablespoons of maizena (cornstarch) 
3 eggs, separated
1 teaspoon vanilla
pinch of salt
cinnamon for sprinkling

CRUST: 

Melt the Butter

Crush the Marie biscuits. 

You can crush them even more, but I like my crust to have some substance.

Add the melted butter to the biscuits. Press the mixture into a large rectangular pan (like a 9"x13") or two or three smaller dishes. 

Refrigerate the crust.

FILLING: 

Heat the milk, maizena, and egg yolks on medium high heat. Use a whisk to remove any lumps. Stir until the mixture thickens. This may take about 10 minutes. 

As soon as it thickens, add the condensed milk, salt and vanilla. Stir together. Fold in the egg whites. 

Stir a bit more until thick again and reduce heat. The mixture burns quickly, so watch it carefully. 

Pour the mixture onto the refrigerated crust. At this point, the mixture may still be runnier than you expect, but it will continue to thicken once it cools. (And, as a side note, if it never thickens, it still tastes good... it is just sloppier to eat and has more of a pudding consistency.) 

Sprinkle cinnamon all over and then refrigerate until chilled. 

Enjoy! Or, as they say in Afrikaans... Lekker eet!

(Still craving more? I'm one of many bloggers on the Pyrex Collective III blog. Go here for my post on how I got that gorgeous Butterprint blue dish holding the Marie biscuits. You can also see more of my vintage refrigerator dish obsession here.)