StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Winter solstice is nearly here, and I'm fixing up the annual feast, which is something I like to do and experiment with.
The menu this year:

Drinks
Mulled wine (made last year, worked OK. Added some more sugar and some cuman this year)
Warm pear and ginger smoothies (debut, and never made them before)

Nibblies
Rumballs
Snowballs (lemon-cake balls coated with white icing with mint essence-something I'm inventing to see how it'll work)
Garlic bread (using home-made soda bread. Again, debut, see how it goes)

Main
Chicken and red-wine casserole with herby dumplings, served on soda bread trenchers (never made trenchers before, but how hard can it be?)

Desert
Christmas pudding, with rum sauce (the pudding's been maturing since I made it just after last solstice--it has a silver coin in it and everything. Brandy is more traditionally used in the sauce, but I have rum so suck it)

I've gotten most of the ingredients together, and tomorrow it's time to start on what can be started early.
There are, however, at least two individuals who aren't going to be too happy about all this--the brown chickens have gotten pretty old and they haven't been laying for a while. A couple of hours ago, I pulled them from the coop and put them under a couple of milk crates for the morning. You see, have a second look at that menu...

I was confused for a second there, then I looked at your location tag (Northern Hemisphere-dweller here). Sounds delicious, enjoy your feast!

One of the best things about the internet is that it keeps reminding me that there are millions of people living in the southern hemisphere with seasons half a year different than mine.

Happy feasting, sounds delicious.

Damn, that sounds scrumptious. Makes me want to visit Oz now more than ever.

Yeah, I just stuffed myself and that still sounds pretty impressive. Happy Solstice.

The dire deed is done.
The desperate duo drawn, nay, directed!
Departing under durance to a dismal doom,
Down into the deep, dreamless, dark.

I take it that meant it went well?

Purple wrote:I take it that meant it went well?

Or he just really likes alliteration.

Elheru Aran wrote:

Purple wrote:I take it that meant it went well?

Or he just really likes alliteration.

Nobody gets in the mood to write stuff that poetic unless he had something nice happen.

It means he killed the chickens.

Dalton wrote:It means he killed the chickens.

So, as I said, something nice.

Yea, I've thought about the doing the Winter Solstice Feast thing but with the local wealthy philanthropist throwing one for the whole city I can save myself the effort...

Suck it Newcastle :p

Yeah, "retired" (there's a pleasant euphemism) the two chickens. I wouldn't describe it as "nice" (and I'm pretty bloody certain the chooks wouldn't)--more an unpleasant but necessary task, like getting an injection. From my point of view anyway; I suspect the chickens if asked may have differed in both their opinion of the unpleasantness of it, and the level of actual necessity.
The joke of it is that they got the chop because they weren't laying, and they were getting old--they hadn't laid for perhaps a month--but when I gutted one what did I find? Three yolks, in a little line. No shells yet, but it was coming back onto the lay. Oh well.

The writing group I go to had "Alliteration" as one suggested writing task, so there you go.

The feast is tomorrow. I've pre-prepared everything I can, leaving only the stuff that has to be made right then and there (you know, most of the stuff that takes the most work).

Yea, I've thought about the doing the Winter Solstice Feast thing but with the local wealthy philanthropist throwing one for the whole city I can save myself the effort...

Suck it Newcastle :p

Hey! All the work is half the joy!
The other half is moaning about it.

Korto wrote:Yeah, "retired" (there's a pleasant euphemism) the two chickens.

Aaaaand for some reason I read this as a peasant euphemism....



The yolks were just the chickens way of giving you the finger from the afterlife... I've experienced that before.

What could be nicer than having super fresh, hand killed, you 100% know what you fed them and how you raised them meat for a feast? That's like the best possible sign of quality you could get.

The_Saint wrote:

Korto wrote:Yeah, "retired" (there's a pleasant euphemism) the two chickens.

Aaaaand for some reason I read this as a peasant euphemism....

I suppose I could have said it was a pheasant euphemism, but that would have been a bit fowl of me.

Chickens got a little of their own back. Despite being marinated for five days, they were tough as tyre rubber. They actually tasted quite good, but I don't think I'll casserole old birds like that again. Slow cooker overnight.

Everything went well. The food was good, the trenchers worked, but I don't think I'll bother with them again; I've got lovely wooden plates I turned last year, anyway. Everyone had a good time, and I'm exhausted.

Purple--what I get out of it is a feeling of independence from the shops. It doesn't matter how good or bad the meat was (and it was quite tough), the fact was I raised those birds, I killed those birds, and I cooked those birds. I don't need your bloody supermarket, woolies! (You are convenient, though, so I'll keep on using you for everyday life, I reckon.)


Anyway, there's something wrong with my monitor. When it's switched on, after an instant it goes black (but not switching off, just a black screen), so I've currently plugged into my son's monitor and craning around to see. It's a bit of a pain in the neck, really. I suppose I could go onto his computer properly, but I'm going to go to bed instead. Maybe my monitor will be feeling better in the morning.

Korto wrote: marinated for five days, they were tough as tyre rubber. They actually tasted quite good, but I don't think I'll casserole old birds like that again. Slow cooker overnight.

I've had that experience - if you kill them after they finish laying they tend to be tougher. Dunno why, I'm not an agricultural ornithologist.

As a general rule, the older the meat animal the tougher the meat.

Or... yay slow cookers.