Drawing Tuesday - glass gallery, V&A

Sketchbooks at the ready -

Modern glass by Danny Perkins, by Najlaa

I had decided to draw the contents of a case - this is 18th century engraved glass, mostly Dutch 

Mags found some blue glass and then did it again with graphite 

Jamet B was in the furniture department, grappling with curved perspective 

Janet K found a versatile writing table, displayed to show its possibilities

Modern Swedish glass, by Sue 

Michelle's contrastingly harmonious page spread

The sunlight came and went, and the shadows were wonderful -

Design Museum

Relocated to Holland Park, the Design Museum is in the listed building that used to be the Commonwealth Institute (1962-2004).

 A spacious core -

 My photos show a random selection of objects on display -

Forms and structures "From the spoon to the city"

Froebel gifts 1837

Modern German kitchen: Frankfurt Kitchen, designed by Grete Schütte-Lihotzky, 1926/27

Fascinating to see tools used for creating commonly-used items

Evolution of technology

 And then there's this somewhat surprising display -

Felting with various sorts of hair

Christmas in Kensal Rise

Cakes and all they stand for

It was a workshop at Alston Hall that set me on the road to ruin as far as traditional cakes are concerned. At teatime, Victoria Sponge was on offer - something I've seen lots of but never eaten ("so boring"). This was a revelation. And since then, the notion of making one myself has been in the back of my mind - reinforced by the madly impulsive decision to have a victoria sponge cupcake with my coffee in a cafe recently. A cupcake - shock horror, and not for the purist, but rather good....

Traditionally one takes 4 eggs, weighs them, and uses the same weight of butter, sugar, flour. The mixture goes into two 8" sandwich tins and bakes till golden, then the layers get a filling of jam. Done, dusted (with icing sugar on top). And maybe cream is added to the filling.

My research found an article that compared the "add one ingredient at a time" approach with the more modern "put it all in a bowl and beat it" approach - from which I concluded that easy does it, and got out the hand mixer. The butter had nicely come to room temperature, the eggs also - the recipe called for 4 medium eggs, 200g each of butter, sugar, self-raising flour - and a teaspoon of vanilla. The dough was a bit hard to level in the tins - and only 7" tins were available - but I went ahead, Delia's stern advice about having the proper size of tin niggled a little, and I watched with dismay as the middles rose alarmingly, leaving a flat area round the edge. 

On we bash, though, and once the cakes were cool, on went the jam and then cream and then the top layer, to await the rest of the tea party. 

Unfortunately, when it came to cutting the cake, we noticed that tectonics had been happening - a gentle slithering took the top layer slightly off to one side, and its weight sent the cream cascading off the edges all around the plate. No photo is available of this sad sight. 

I found it rather sweet - and heavy - and next time will try the butterless version.

This recipe makes one, 9" layer; 3 eggs, milk, lemon zest, and oh dear, a "dinnerspoon" of salt - what on earth is a dinnerspoon? Do we need salt at all?

This one uses 3 eggs, 75g sugar, 75g s-r flour for one 7" layer (ie, 6 eggs for the entire cake) - but it suggests whipping single cream, which ain't gonna work too well - you need the fat to hold the stiffness.

This one is vegan-friendly, should a friendly vegan be coming to tea - no eggs, and non-dairy milk is used, as well as a non-dairy buttercream.

"A quick, inexpensive cake that is relatively good for you" - that's the Irish version, according to Irish-American Mum, and here's her photo (the cream looks like it could start its tectonic cascade at any moment...) -

The recipe is given in American measurements, but on this side of the pond we might want to use what her mother used:  4 eggs, 4 ounces of sugar and 4 ounces of flour - easy to remember. Have your eggs at room temperature and beat, beat, beat. You'll want two 9" cake tins, and despite what the blogger says about the joys of using "non-stick spray infused with flour", go ahead and use butter and flour for the tins if you want!

Perhaps another Afternoon Tea, soon, is called for ... once I get some 9" cake tins.

For the record, here are many sponge cake recipes; if you try them all, please report back on your favourite (or what to avoid).

If you have access to catch-up radio, a recent Food Programme on BBC radio is all about the significance and making of cakes. What a heartwarming story about how the Clandestine Cake Club was started by Lynne Hill.

To bring in something seasonal - if it's Christmas cakes you're after - panettone, pandoro, stollen, buche de noel, galette des rois, bolo rei de natal, even japanese christmas cake, as well as english christmas cake and (scottish) Dundee cake - here's where to buy them in London, as well as a bit of their background.

Starting to move on

End of an era as "the green furniture" leaves the house -

It's going back to the family whence it came, though several generations down the line, to the donor's granddaughter. A good kind of circularity.

But it does leave an empty space -

Lots of room for sorting and packing and labelling and setting-aside. A task for early 2017.

Poetry Thursday - The Knee, by Christian Morgenstern

(via)

The Knee

On Earth there roams a lonely knee.
It's just a knee, that's all.
It's not a tent, it's not a tree,
it's just a knee, that's all.

In battle, long ago, a man
was riddled through and through.
The knee alone escaped unhurt
as if it were taboo.

Since then there roams a lonely knee.
It's just a knee, that's all.
It's not a tent, it's not a tree,
it's just a knee, that's all.

                      (via)

Christian Morgenstern (1871-1914) was a soldier in the German army during the War, who started writing extremely dark, comic poems based on his experiences. These included seeing the head and entrails of a friend hanging from a tree after a shell had exploded near them. Morgenstern was struck by how funny and absurd the sight was, rather than its horror. The Knee is about a disembodied knee roaming alone across the Earth after the man it belonged to was killed in the War. (via)

Other "nonsense poems" by Morgenstern are here, in German and translated to English by Max Knight.

My connection to this poem is through my son - we had an poetry anthology to hand when he was about 8, perhaps edited by Brian Patten, or perhaps by Michael Rosen - I can't find that 30(or so)-year-old book on the internet, but have a vague impression of the blue(y) cover - and some treasures within, including Charles Causley's Timothy Winters, which I couldn't read without tearing up, then - and it still affects me that way. Who says children's poetry is just for children?

Son Thomas liked The Knee, so we read it quite often, of a bedtime, and after a while were able to quote lines to each other at odd moments, such as bandaging of the occasional scrape: "It's just a knee, that's all."

All these years later, one of the volumes of Junior Voices which I'm claiming from Tony's bookshelves opened at random to The Knee. It felt like a sign - and a chance to find out about the author. So here it is, today.

Also in Junior Voices, p67, is Morgenstern's The Two Roots:

A pair of pine roots, old and dark,make conversation in the park.

The whispers where the top leaves groware echoed in the roots below. 

An agèd squirrel sitting thereis knitting stockings for the pair. 

The one says: squeak. The other: squawk.That is enough for one day's talk.

Move over, Edward Lear!

Winter solstice, time of light

Birch trees lit up outside Tate Modern

Reflected light of St Paul's xmas tree

Good-time lightness

Ironic light - since when is grey bright?

Light writes itself

Seasonal lights

Lighting up the Thames

And now the days slowly, slowly get longer. And lighter.

Morning light in Kensington Gardens

Drawing Tuesday - Richmond museum

A small local museum it may be, but it had space for us - and chairs. And items of interest, some looking initially "ordinary" but they turned out to be connected ...somehow... to the local community.

I got quite tangled up in drawing the lacing of the skates - and then realised that it was a bit hectic on the left. Earlier I'd been getting some strange angles on a treadle machine - it was a matter of where to put the chair...

Najlaa's fire insurance mark -

 Mags' keys included a double-ended one -

 Sue brightened the day with the uniform that Thames watermen wore till the late 19th century -

 Janet found a model of a monk (Sheen Priory was close by) - his reconstructed robe was very, very white -

 Jo found a ceramic model of a wheelchair-using WW1 soldier in the "Star and Garter Home" display -

 Apologies for the lighting and shadows of the photos. We were lunching under Richmond Bridge - in a nice cafe, I must quickly add - which had limited window space, hence limited natural light.

Mags brought along one of the bags to which she's been applying printed photos of her stitched quilting - it's hard to believe it's not the real thing -

 Making our way back to the station, we encountered high tide and a certain amount of high water - one of the joys of the riverside -

And in a side street, an old house with a recessed and discreetly decorated door - a piggy-in-the-middle -