Dried Pears
The lack of rain in early autumn has been more than compensated for by the weather of late. The rain was so heavy this morning that I was forced to don my souwester and gaudy yellow PVC mac. The outfit isn't much to look at I'm sure but it keeps me dry and gives the weary faced commuters, heading to the station something to smile about. There is something peculiar about the weak light of a winter's morning creeping through a wet wood which gives everything an oily appearance. Nothing shines or glistens but leaves, trunks, undergrowth and particularly rhododendron take on a slippery looking lustre.
Outside a cock pheasant, still on the roost has uttered a guttural call and been immediately answered by another two further back in the woods. The sound reminds me that pheasants are visiting the pig pen every day now and I have begun to spread a little grain to encourage more. These game birds, despite having been bred in captivity for countless generations still retain sufficient wit to seek food around stock and more than enough, I suspect, to evade my eventual efforts to shoot them!
The cider has begun to work (ferment) and the gratifying sound of carbon dioxide gurgling through the convoluted airlocks will be our background noise for weeks. Despite the pleasure of free sugar turning to alcohol in my presence, the two barrels are a sad reminder that I have been unable to brew beer this season. Indeed the Morris men were most upset to hear that there will be no mince pies and homebrew this year at the cottage. This has been a Christmas tradition for some time now and a few things give me greater satisfaction than the sight of friends swilling back home-made brown ale, stout and Christmas Porter. Admittedly years of rigorous alcohol training means the lads will drink just about anything, but you can always tell if they're really enjoying something. The search for barley has been extended to Essex by Mr. C, but no news as yet and my dried hops, gathered weeks ago from the hedgerows, look destined to remain unused.
Fermentation air lock
The next wave of pear drying is about to begin and the last batch is safely packed away in a tall glass jar. I would hazard a guess and suggest that drying is the oldest method of preserving food, but it still seems miraculous that everything required to keep an easily perishable pear wholesome for years, is already contained within it’s flesh and requires only that the water be removed.
Dinner
Pork chops with jacket potatoes, cabbage and gravy. After years of choosing between overcooked meat and soggy rinds, I now remove the rind from the boned out chops and cook them separately. The skin goes in a hot oven whilst the meat is flattened slightly and flash fried. The result is perfect crackling and just cooked through meat, which is succulent and tender.
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