Quotidian life

When I woke up this morning, it was just 6°C in the horsebox. It seems that I have yet to master keeping the burner going overnight and I suspect that this is mainly down to my habit of being frequently distracted by more interesting things and an inability to be fully engaged in the mundane. 

However, this wasn't what woke me up. I have more than enough blankets to keep me snuggly. In that shady time of the morning somewhere between sleep and waking, the drumming of a great spotted woodpecker reached me from high in the oak trees overhead. The thinness of the roof above my bed that leads to those chilly mornings, and the proximity of the ceiling to my head (my bed is raised above the cab of the truck), means that I am able to hear sounds that wouldn't be audible if I inhabited a space enclosed in bricks and mortar.

Descending to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, I have to pause briefly to remove pieces of half-eaten mouse that I inadvertently stepped on in my bare feet. The cat has begun supplementing his diet with rodents, but he doesn't appear to be keen on liver. At least he's bothering to eat most of them now. I don't fancy having to chase a vole around the horsebox. Too many hiding spaces. Nor do I want a repeat of the live shrew in my dressing gown. While I was wearing it. Or the one that jumped into my hair and used it as an escape route into my bra... Then I'm back under the covers listening to a bird that never fails to remind me of twanging wooden rulers against a school desk.

Plenty of people would label lying in bed listening to birds while most people are on their way to work as lazy. I'm the first to admit that I'm not really a 'morning person' but one thing I am definitely not is lazy. I am generally a 'doer'. I know what I want to do, I generally know how I'm going to do it and I'm away. Plenty of doing and not much being. It's the quieter moments, when I'm just being, that allow me to reflect on life, formulating my thoughts for the day and thinking about the successes and failures that have led me to this particular point.

Often, that's when inspiration hits. It's very easy, being self employed, to find yourself working away at 11 o'clock on a Sunday night, working through the 'to do' list. Without time to be we can get caught up in the daily process of doing and miss what has been staring us in the face all along. Newton's contemplation under an apple tree led him to form his theory of gravitation and Archimedes' eureka moment was the result of stepping into a lovely warm bath. I wonder if he'd lined up a glass of wine and a good book too?


As I write, the burner is going and the horsebox is a now super cosy nest. The sunshine is pouring through the windows and the occasional showers make me think that there is probably a rainbow nearby. I may venture out to look for it in a bit.You never know, it may just provide the inspiration I don't even know I'm looking for.

Homemade halloumi in a horsebox

The first time I made halloumi, over a year ago, it was incredibly easy and the result was a wonderfully textured firm cheese that fried perfectly and squeaked when you chewed it. I even made ricotta from the whey, although the amount that was produced was so little, and it was such a faff, that I haven't bothered again.

This time around though, I messed it all up. I tried twice and both each occasions I got distracted at a crucial point and ended up with an array of dairy products. I made quark, cottage cheese, something white and wobbly and a big old mess. All were edible but not the squeaky cheese I was looking for.

It got me to thinking, quite often my first attempt at making things works out perfectly. Annoyingly perfect. I can show you needle felting/knitting/silver-smithing/whittling projects where my initial efforts are flawless but rarely repeated.

Why?

Because the first time I try something, it's interesting. I holds my attention and my concentration. I don't know how it's going to go so it intrigues me and at every step I am learning something new. Second time around, it's less interesting. I kind of know what's going to happen and I become distracted and forget what I'm supposed to be doing. Then it goes wrong and I'm learning all over again. Learning what not to do.

The great thing about halloumi, apart from the squeakiness, is that you don't need loads of special apparatus to do it. The most technical bit of equipment you need is a thermometer. However, as the critical temperatures required are around body temperature, I just delved into my first aid kit, dug out my thermometer and used that (I've not had a fever in over a decade so I knew it hadn't been anywhere undesirable). The first time I did this, I didn't use one at all, I just judged it using my finger. Add to this a big pile of books and a colander and you're ready to start. As far as cheese making goes, you can definitely wing this one.

An unorthodox, but interesting, cheese press

So, on this, my final attempt, I walked down to the neighbouring badger-friendly farm and bought six pints of milk from the rosy-cheeked famer's wife, chatting about the struggles of small-scale farming and caring for sick livestock. It's great when food-miles become metres.

Here's the recipe:

Ingredients

For the cheese:
3 litres whole milk
3 tsp rennet

For the brine:
Half a litre of water
Half a litre of whey
50g salt

1. Warm the milk to 32°C and remove from heat.
2. Add rennet and leave for an hour.
3. To test the curds, place your finger into them at 45° angle and lift upwards. The curds should lift and break around your finger. If not, you've messed it up.
4. Use a long knife to cut the curds into small cubes and leave for 30 minutes to set.
5. Gently warm the mixture to 38°C.
6. Use a slotted spoon to remove the curds and place into a perforated container (I use a colander). Put a container underneath to collect the whey.
7. Weigh down with big books and leave for 2 hours or overnight.
8. Turn the curd out and cut into slices, 2 inches thick.
9. Warm the whey to 85°C and put the cheese blocks into the hot liquid and gently cook until the cheese rises to the surface.
10. Make the brine by warming the water and dissolving the salt. Add the whey. When both are cool, add the halloumi.


And the result?

After following the recipe to the letter and giving it my bestest concentration... I have a blob of something that looks and tastes nothing like halloumi. I mean, really, how on earth have I managed that? This time was exactly like the first time but with the opposite result. I have more learning to do.

Maybe I'll try to make some brie. I've never made brie before. It'll probably work out perfectly.