The Homemade Heart

sweet, salty, crunchy, smooth.

I love peanut butter; I could eat it straight from the jar by the spoonful  (and on occasions when my self control has been less than steely, I have done just that). I also love jam; home made if possible, ideally my Nana's bramble and apple jelly.

So when I have peanut butter, and jam/jelly in the house, I can either making myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (and let's never underestimate just how gorgeous that can be), or, if I am prepeared to defer gratification for an hour or so,  I can bake Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars.

These tickle the tastbuds in so many ways; they are sweet, salty, crunchy, smooth and altogether one of my favourite things to bake. The original recipe came from Ina Garten, aka The Barefoot Contessa, and I haven't changed it in any way, apart from converting the cup measurements to grams, so thank you Ina!

 

Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars

Ingredients.

130g butter (+ more for greasing tin)

160g caster sugar

1 large egg, lightly whisked

250g smooth peanut butter

240g plain flour (+ more for dusting tin)

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon table salt

300g jelly or seedless jam

200g salted peanuts, chopped (or place in freezer bag and bash with a rolling pin)

 

Method.

Preheat oven to Gas 4/180c

Butter and flour tin, base measurement approx 30cm long x 20cm wide, 4cm deep (I use a standard enamel roasting tin)

Using a stand mixer or hand held electric mixer, cream the butter and sugar together until it is plae, and light in texture.

Add the egg, and the peanut butter, and mix again until thoroughly combined.

Sift the flour, salt and baking powder together and add slowly to the peanut butter mixture. Mix until well combined, but do not overmix. (The dough will be rather soft.)

Divide the dough in half, and, taking the first half, tear off small pieces and scatter them evenly over the base of the tin. Then, dipping your fingers in some plain flour to stop them sticking, pat out the dough until it is evenly spread in a single layer over the base. (The first time you do this, you will be convinced there isn't enough dough to get right over the base, but there should be, it's just a little fiddly to work with).

Next, spread the jam evenly on top of the dough, avoiding spreading it to the very edges (if the jam sticks to the side of the tin during baking, it is harder to cut the bars, and harder to scrub the tin clean!).

Now take the second half of the dough, and breaking off small pieces, scatter it evenly over the jam. This time you wont be able to spread it out, as it will slide on the jam, but you will mange a reasonably even covering, even if tiny bits of jam are showing through here and there.

Scatter over the chopped peanuts. I sometimes sprinkle a little extra salt on top too, but that is entirely optional.

Bake for 45-50 minutes, until golden on top and smelling strongly of peanuts!

Allow to cool competely in the tin, then cut into bars, as big or small as you like.

 

 

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I was ready for a challenge.

I have never been athletic in any way.

Not competitive. Not sports minded. Not tactical. Not really capable, if I'm honest.

I hate swimming (too wet)

I hate ball games (can't catch, throw or kick a ball)

I hate golf (the clothes alone....really.)

I hate tennis (too energetic)

I hate basketball (too many jumps and speed turns)

I hate hockey (too dangerous, those sticks...)

I hate cricket (too complicated)

I hate rugby (looks dangerous, is dangerous. And muddy)

I hate football (boring; rugby without the guts and glory)

I hate skiing (too cold)

I'm not really built for sport either; a bit too clumsy, a bit too heavy, a bit too self concious. I was always picked last for teams at school, and then let everyone down by running the wrong way up the hockey pitch, or knocking over the high jump, or just running away altogether if it all got a bit too aggressively competitive.

As an adult, I have had various attempts at gym membership over the years, but there is always a bit of palaver with gym sessions; travel time, complicated exercise regimes, carrying toiletries and changes of clothes to and fro, not to mention the horror of communal showers and changing rooms.

So, although I have good underlying energy, strength and health, my formal fitness regime had lain dormant (to put it kindly) for some years. Then, about 9 weeks ago, I received a text from a friend with the portentous message 'I think we should start running', and found myself replying instantly 'I'm up for it'. I didn't really know if I was up for it, but realised in that moment that I wanted to give it a damned good try.

 What makes an apparantly split second decision feel right? Well, I guess for some time I'd had the faint rumbling sensation at the back of my mind that I should take up some sort of fitness regime.I had recently rejoined Weight Watchers (oh boy, that is a whole other post for another day...) and was slowly losing weight, but I knew that wasn't enough. Also, I turned 50 in May this year, and whilst I am totally cool with that (and yes, I realise you probably have to be 50 to think that saying 'cool' is, well, cool....) I was determined not to slump into cardigan-wearing, elasticated waistband, frumpy, comfortably plump territory as my 50's progressed. In other words, I was ready for a challenge.

So, had you been passing our road end some nine weeks ago at 5.45am, you would have seen two ladies, sans make up, giggling a bit at the absurdity of the situation, fumbling with the C25K app on their mobile phones, preparing to set off into the unknown. Me, dressed in an odd assortment of old leggings, a teeshirt of Derek's, and an ancient golf cagoule from one of the boys' golfing phases, all topped off with a discarded school hat from Isaac's Primary school days (one of those fleecy ones with three little tassles on top). I looked ridiculous. My friend was a great deal more sleek in nice little running leggings and  top, hair pulled back professionally in a pony tail. And so, off we went, for our first run.

I will never forget it. After our brisk 5 minute warm up walk, we were to run for 1 minute, then walk for one minute, and repeat this cycle 8 times. I thought I was going to die. My heart was pounding. My lungs hurt. My breath was gasping. My thighs felt like jelly. My hip joints ached. My calf muscles nipped. Sweat was prickling down my back. My hair was stuck to my face. When our half hour was over, we both agreed it was so terribly hard. Yet we agreed to meet the next again day at the same early hour to do the second run of the week, and then the third. Each time we followed the same pattern of running and walking for alternate minutes. By the end of that first week we found we rather liked it; we began to feel we were coping better. Our long neglected muscles began to wake up, and respond accordingly. By the end of that first week, our fitness had improved a tiny little bit.

Fast forward to now, and what can I say? I am madly in love with running. I run three times a week, still using the C25K app, which I can strongly recommend to anyone who would like to try running for the first time, as it guides you through every run and gradually builds up your running time each week. I am now running for 28 minutes without stopping, and loving every endorphin filled moment of it. I am dizzy with the sense of personal achievement running has given me, and the first time I ran for 28 minutes without stopping  I actually shouted aloud with joy, so great was the sense of exhilaration (and disbelief!).

 Unfortunately my friend has had to take a few weeks off running, but with her blessing, I have continued. Running alone at 5.45am didn't appeal, so I now go out when the boys leave for school, and run along the towpath of our local canal. It is beautiful, the wide, tarmac path is comfortable to run on; I pass other runners, cyclists, and dog walkers, and say a cheery 'Good Morning' to them as I pass. I see ducks and swans on the water; grey squirrels scampering up and down trees, preoccupied with finding and storing supplies for the coming winter, and sometimes a big buzzard gliding overhead. 

There is a strange disparity between body and mind when running; my mind is relaxed, chewing over various ideas, or plans, quite seperate from the hard work my body is doing to keep propelling me forward at a steady pace. Yet in other ways there is a strong sense of mind and body working in harmony, as I psyche myself up to run without stopping, try to control my breathing, to use the music I listen to as a distraction from the fatigue that creeps up on me as I run. 

The overwhelming sensation in both mind and body is one of intense wellbeing, connecting with an ancient, elemental human ability (need?) to run, to feel free, to breathe deeply, to sense the immediate environment, the smells, sounds, sights; each is quickly assessed and sorted, yet there is also a feeling of calm, of having plenty of time to see where you are. Overall, I am aware of such a sense of privilege, to have the time, and the physical ability to just....run. I honestly never thought I could do it, but I found that I can, and it is wonderful. I feel committed to running, I want running to be part of my life for as long as I am fit to do it. I have signed up for the 10k next May, just after my 51st birthday. Oh, and the tasseled hat? The first time I ran for 20 minutes without stopping I treated myself to an infinately more respectable runner's hat from the local sports shop. 

 

 

 

 

 

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a glorious red and golden farewell

Have you ever noticed that sometimes, on a still afternoon in late Autumn, there comes an almost unnaturally bright moment, where the low sun illuminates the world as clearly as a spotlight?

Yesterday, as I set out to walk our labrador, Meg, with my friend and her adorable spaniel, Ollie, the dazzling sunlight made me screw my eyes up. I had remembered my camera, and caught some of the light; highlighting the delicate veins in leaves,

gleaming through raindrops, turning each into a miniature prism....

 

and striking the delicate gills of these monster mushrooms, defining the pattern of soft ridges and troughs.

As suddenly as it had come, the flare of light left, leaving a grey, cool, Autumn day, and, with hands in pockets againt the chill, and hats pulled well down, we set off through the fields and woods, allowing the dogs off their leads as sooon as it was safe.

Here are Meg and Ollie; Ollie contrasting beautifully with the gold and russet of the leaves, Meg harder to see with her pale yellow coat.  We walk with Ollie most days. He and Meg adore each other, and Ollie's owner and I are great friends; an all round ideal arrangement.

I enjoy the distinctive mulchy smell of  leaves carpeting the woodland floor, and sometimes (heavenly moment!) a whiff of woodsmoke drifting on the air as some lucky soul lights a log fire. Then the short afternoon wanes into evening, we call the dogs, and our steps turn to home, a last giggle and arrangements to meet next day, back to the house, wellies off at the door, the kettle going on, and a restorative cup of tea.

I know many people dislike Autumn, associating it with decay; the onset of darker days, and the end of light and growth. I never feel that way, I love Autumn, I see it as Nature waving us a glorious red and golden farewell before the long sleep of Winter. A necessary time of quiet and rest before the rigours of Spring.

How do you feel about Autumn?

Year in books; November

Joining in once again with Laura, who kindly hosts the Year in Books link-up at her beautiful, inspirational blog, Circle of Pine Trees. There are lots of interesting book recommendations, and new blogs to discover, so well worth a visit if you haven't found your way there before.

I would normally recap my previous month's read here, and give a brief review, but I haven't yet finished October's book, 'Written in my Own Heart's Blood', the latest in the 'Outlander' series by Diana Gabaldon. Every work of fiction requires suspension of disbelief, and that is perhaps even more necessary for this (so far) eight book series, but take the leap and join those of us who have abandoned reality at the first page-it's fun! 'Written in my Own Heart's Blood' is a hefty 814 pages, though in fairness a light read and an addictive page turner, and every bit as bodice rippingly melodramatic as its title suggests. I am confident that I will have completed it soon, and will be looking forward to book nine...

I have selected my book for next month; 'We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves' by Karen Joy Fowler. This is also the book my non-virtual book group is reading this month, and as I still have some catching up to do I thought it would be sensible to have this as my 'Year in Books' choice too.

It has an 'inducement to read' quote by Barbara Kingsolver on the back cover. I am sensitive to cover quotes and can be put off a book if the quote is by an author I dislike, however Barbara Kindsolver is a brilliant and clever author. I have read and enjoyed several of her books, particularly the one pictured above, 'Animal, Vegetable, Miracle', which is a fascinating account of her family's year of eating only food grown or raised in their neighbourhood, or grown by themselves. If a foodstuff didn't meet these criteria, they didn't eat it. It is a thought provoking read, and in our current food culture of 'everything available everywhere all the time' it is encouraging to read about a family who put principles well beyond convenience, and learned to love it.

There is a tenuous link betwee the three books, then, which I include here for fun. Karen Joy Fowler's book has a quote by Barbara Kingsolver on the cover, Barbara Kingslover has a degree in Biology from the University of Arizona, Diana Gabaldon lives in Arizona. It's the little things....