International Cat Day- 8th August

 I didn’t realise it was International Cat Day yesterday.  I haven’t heard of it.  What about you?

Edward Lear, Poet

Rick Stein mentioned on a television programme in India yesterday that he remembered his mum reading this poem to him as a little boy.

It’s rather long but quite interesting.

On the Coast of Coromandel
   Where the early pumpkins blow,
      In the middle of the woods
   Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
Two old chairs, and half a candle,
One old jug without a handle--
      These were all his worldly goods,
      In the middle of the woods,
      These were all his worldly goods,
   Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
   Of the Yonghy-Bonghy Bo.

Once, among the Bong-trees walking
   Where the early pumpkins blow,
      To a little heap of stones
   Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There he heard a Lady talking,
To some milk-white Hens of Dorking--
      "'Tis the Lady Jingly Jones!
      On that little heap of stones
      Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!"
   Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
   Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.

"Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!
   Sitting where the pumpkins blow,
      Will you come and be my wife?"
   Said the Yongby-Bonghy-Bo.
"I am tired of living singly--
On this coast so wild and shingly--
      I'm a-weary of my life;
      If you'll come and be my wife,
      Quite serene would be my life!"
   Said the Yonghy-Bongby-Bo,
   Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.

"On this Coast of Coromandel
   Shrimps and watercresses grow,
      Prawns are plentiful and cheap,"
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
"You shall have my chairs and candle,
And my jug without a handle!
      Gaze upon the rolling deep
      (Fish is plentiful and cheap);
      As the sea, my love is deep!"
   Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
   Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.

Lady Jingly answered sadly,
   And her tears began to flow--
      "Your proposal comes too late,
   Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
I would be your wife most gladly!"
(Here she twirled her fingers madly)
      "But in England I've a mate!
      Yes! you've asked me far too late,
      For in England I've a mate,
   Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
   Mr. Yongby-Bonghy-Bo!

"Mr. Jones (his name is Handel--
   Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.)
      Dorking fowls delights to send
Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
Keep, oh, keep your chairs and candle,
And your jug without a handle--
      I can merely be your friend!
      Should my Jones more Dorkings send,
      I will give you three, my friend!
   Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
   Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!

"Though you've such a tiny body,
   And your head so large doth grow--
      Though your hat may blow away
   Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
Though you're such a Hoddy Doddy,
Yet I wish that I could modi-
      fy the words I needs must say!
      will you please to go away
      That is all I have to say,
   Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
   Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!"

Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,
   Where the early pumpkins blow,
      To the calm and silent sea
   Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There, beyond the Bay of Gurtle,
Lay a large and lively Turtle.
      "You're the Cove," he said, "for me;
      On your back beyond the sea,
      Turtle, you shall carry me!"
   Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
   Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.

Through the silent-roaring ocean
   Did the Turtle swiftly go;
      Holding fast upon his shell
   Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
With a sad primeval motion
Towards the sunset isles of Boshen
      Still the Turtle bore him well.
      Holding fast upon his shell,
      "Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!"
   Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
   Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.

From the Coast of Coromandel
   Did that Lady never go;
      On that heap of stones she mourns
   For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
On that Coast of Coromandel,
In his jug without a handle
      Still she weeps, and daily moans;
      On that little heap of stones
      To her Dorking Hens she moans,
   For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
   For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.

Rumi, Persian Poet, circa 1200’s

 Either give me more wine, or leave me alone”

Sounds like great minds think alike!!!

Arabic Potato Chab

 Ingredients 

400g of minced lamb. 

One onion finely chopped.

Corn oil for frying.

A teaspoon of turmeric.

A heaped teaspoon of curry powder.

Flat leaf parsley, washed and finely chopped.

Salt and pepper.

Large potatoes for the mash.

A dessertspoon of cornflour.

Fry the onions until translucent. Add the minced meat and cook for 20 minutes. Add the salt and pepper, parsley and a teaspoon of curry powder. Cook another 5 minutes and then leave to cool down.

Boil the peeled potatoes in salted water and when soft, drain the water and mash the potatoes with turmeric and cornflour. 

Leave to cool down.

Take a tennis ball size of potato in your left hand and roll into a ball. Make a pouch to insert the meat mixture. Slowly work the potato dough so as to cover the meat completely and flatten into a patty. See photo. Freeze for 20 minutes before deep frying until golden in colour.

Nice served with a big side salad. Brown sauce and beetroot.

Nice served with a big side salad. Brown sauce and beetroot.

Edward Lear, Poet

 

Rick Stein mentioned on a television programme in India yesterday that he remembered his mum reading this poem to him as a little boy. It’s rather long but quite interesting. On the Coast of Coromandel Where the early pumpkins blow, In the middle of the woods Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. Two old chairs, and half a candle, One old jug without a handle-- These were all his worldly goods, In the middle of the woods, These were all his worldly goods, Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo, Of the Yonghy-Bonghy Bo. Once, among the Bong-trees walking Where the early pumpkins blow, To a little heap of stones Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. There he heard a Lady talking, To some milk-white Hens of Dorking-- "'Tis the Lady Jingly Jones! On that little heap of stones Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!" Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. "Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly! Sitting where the pumpkins blow, Will you come and be my wife?" Said the Yongby-Bonghy-Bo. "I am tired of living singly-- On this coast so wild and shingly-- I'm a-weary of my life; If you'll come and be my wife, Quite serene would be my life!" Said the Yonghy-Bongby-Bo, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. "On this Coast of Coromandel Shrimps and watercresses grow, Prawns are plentiful and cheap," Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. "You shall have my chairs and candle, And my jug without a handle! Gaze upon the rolling deep (Fish is plentiful and cheap); As the sea, my love is deep!" Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. Lady Jingly answered sadly, And her tears began to flow-- "Your proposal comes too late, Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo! I would be your wife most gladly!" (Here she twirled her fingers madly) "But in England I've a mate! Yes! you've asked me far too late, For in England I've a mate, Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo! Mr. Yongby-Bonghy-Bo! "Mr. Jones (his name is Handel-- Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.) Dorking fowls delights to send Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo! Keep, oh, keep your chairs and candle, And your jug without a handle-- I can merely be your friend! Should my Jones more Dorkings send, I will give you three, my friend! Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo! Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo! "Though you've such a tiny body, And your head so large doth grow-- Though your hat may blow away Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo! Though you're such a Hoddy Doddy, Yet I wish that I could modi- fy the words I needs must say! will you please to go away That is all I have to say, Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo! Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!" Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle, Where the early pumpkins blow, To the calm and silent sea Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. There, beyond the Bay of Gurtle, Lay a large and lively Turtle. "You're the Cove," he said, "for me; On your back beyond the sea, Turtle, you shall carry me!" Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. Through the silent-roaring ocean Did the Turtle swiftly go; Holding fast upon his shell Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. With a sad primeval motion Towards the sunset isles of Boshen Still the Turtle bore him well. Holding fast upon his shell, "Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!" Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo, Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. From the Coast of Coromandel Did that Lady never go; On that heap of stones she mourns For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. On that Coast of Coromandel, In his jug without a handle Still she weeps, and daily moans; On that little heap of stones To her Dorking Hens she moans, For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo, For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. Comment Like

COOKING EVERY DAY

After over 50 years of cooking most days, I like to take a break. This week we have plenty of leftovers as well as meals prepped over the weekend. This will free up time to do other things. More time for blogging, shopping and chatting to friends. I also want to start sending my books to agents and publishers as I kind of gave up after so many rejections.

Unfortunately, I can’t batch cook for the freezer as my other half isn’t keen on food that has been frozen. He reckons it alters the taste. He is fussy about ready meals from the supermarket too.

One good thing is he enjoys cooking but as age creeps up, he’s less enthusiastic.

 

Mother Child Telepathy

  Apparent Apparently the most common form of microchimerism is fetal maternal. A condition where the foetus passes on a small number of cells to the mother’s body through the placenta during pregnancy.

Apparently the most common form of microchimerism is fetal maternal. A condition where the foetus passes on a small number of cells to the mother’s body through the placenta during pregnancy. pparently the 

The reason I researched this is I chose a harmonica as a belated Christmas present for Jnr.  I could have chosen many models on Amazon.  When he opened it today his face lit up.  He showed me the harmonica in his basket on Amazon.  He hadn’t bought it yet but it was exactly the same one in C chord.  Same colour.  I know nothing about music so why I chose C I have no idea.  This isn’t the first time it’s happened. 

What about you?most common form of microchimerism is fetal maternal. A condition where the foetus passes on a small number of cells to the mother’s body through the placenta during pregnancy.

The reason I researched this is I chose a harmonica as a belated Christmas present for Jnr.  I could have chosen many models on Amazon.  When he opened it today his face lit up.  He showed me the harmonica in his basket on Amazon.  He hadn’t bought it yet but it was exactly the same one in C chord.  Same colour.  I know nothing about music so why I chose C I have no idea.  This isn’t the first time it’s happened. reason I researched this is I chose a harmonica as a belated Christmas present for Jnr.  I could have chosen many models on Amazon.  When he opened it today his face lit up.  He showed me the harmonica in his basket on Amazon.  He hadn’t bought it yet but it was exactly the same one in C chord.  Same colour.  I know nothing about music so why I chose C I have no idea.  This isn’t the first time it’s happened. ly the most common form of microchimerism is fetal maternal. A condition where the foetus passes on a small number of cells to the mother’s body through the placenta during pregnancy.

The reason I researched this is I chose a harmonica as a belated Christmas present for Jnr.  I could have chosen many models on Amazon.  When he opened it today his face lit up.  He showed me the harmonica in his basket on Amazon.  He hadn’t bought it yet but it was exactly the same one in C chord.  Same colour.  I know nothing about music so why I chose C I have no idea.  This isn’t the first time it’s happened.