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St. Dwynwen's Day

Hands up who knows all about Welsh Love Customs?

Oh, just me then.

Today - 25th January - is St. Dwynwen’s Day - Wales’ equivalent to St. Valentine.

Wait, Wales has its own lovers Day? So who was this Dwynwen then?

She lived: 5th century. Died 465AD

Patron Saint of Sick Animals and Farmer’s Beasts

Motto: 'Nothing wins hearts like cheerfulness'.

Her story as follows:

Dwynwen was the most beautiful daughter of Brychan Brycheiniog, son of King Anlach and his wife Marchel of Garthmadru. His name either mans Bitter or Freckly, or bitter about being freckly. Nevertheless he was married three times and according to some reports had 63 children.

According to legend, Dwynwen was due to be married but fell in love with another man, Maelon. She begged God to make her forget him. So an angel pitched up and gave her a potion which erased all memory of her fancy man and encased him in a block of ice.

God then gave Dwynwen three wishes. First she wanted Maelon thawed out. Secondly she asked for all the hopes of true lovers should come true. The third was that she would never marry. (Oh, Dwynwen, you could have had it all.)

She devoted the rest of her life to God and founded a convent at Llanddwyn Island on Anglesey which later became a place of pilgrimage.

Note: There’s a sacred fish in a well which can foretell whether a relationship will be happy or not.

There’s another well, the water of which can cure warts.

And what do you have to do to mark this special day?

It’s certainly nothing compared to St. Valentines Day - no flowers or hearts, or chocolates.

There are options, but many are no longer practical. It seems that romance in Wales died out with the industrial revolution. However you could if you so wish:

Give your beloved a Love Spoon.

In olden days the man would carve an ornate love spoon while sitting with his intended in front of the fire, suitably chaperoned - whittling furiously. They are usually decorated with keys to symbolise the key to a man’s heart, wheels to show industriousness, and beads to show many kids the couple will have.

Look into the Future

Rhamanta is the art of looking into the future. You had to romantically put a shovel on top of the fire with two grains of wheat on it. As they heat up, the grains twist and grow and eventually pop off the shovel. If they jumped off together then wedding bells were in the air. Separately and it was a non-starter. remember this was Pre-TV.

Jump the Broom Stick

Couples are required to jump over a broomstick wedged into a door frame. It’s a fertility rite, to show how big a family you were going to have.

Be Tricked by a Maid

This is done on Christmas Eve or on three defined Fairy Nights (looks in diary, can’t find.). A fire is made up, and a feast laid out. The girl goes and washes her underwear in a handy spring. Then it’s left to dry by the fire. Leave the door unlocked and go to bed. In theory, her future husband will be attracted to eat the feast. Not sure where the underwear comes in. Seems a risky strategy, especially if the goat gets in.

Listen to the Birds

It is said to be lucky to be woken by birdsong on your wedding day. It’s not lucky to be congratulated first by another woman.

That’s all fine but are there any food related activities?

Yes….

Take a shoulder of mutton and drill nine holes into it. Put it under a young lady’s pillow, with her shoes arranged in a T-shape at the foot of her bed. Say an incantation. The girl will dream of her future husband. I’d be circumspect about anyone who sleeps with a chop under her pillow.

And … it was tradition to go round the posh houses asking for Cheese for the reception later.

All you ever wanted to know about St. Dwynwen.

RJ

Blue Sky - Jet Trail

Photo © Rob Jones

RAF training in the skies over Snowdonia - Friday, 22nd January 2021

Padarn Lake Railway Tracks

Photo © Rob Jones

Llyn Padarn Lake Railway - Looking towards the Slate Museum - 17th January 2020

Welsh Tapas - Bara Lawr - Laver cakes

Photo © Rob Jones

Herewith Part 2 of my Seaweed double bill.

I would suggest that this is the more immediately appetising of my two Laverbread recipes. For me Laver Cakes would sit more happily on a plate with the rest of the cast of the Full Welsh Breakfast.

I should point out that, just as Laverbread is not bread, Laver Cakes are not cakes. (That’s all sorted then.)

Using the other half of the tin of Laverbread you used for the earlier recipe, mix in some rolled outs. The proportion is very much up to you. But it’s usually 3 parts Laverbread to one part Oats. Plus two tablespoons of flour. Salt and Pepper liberally. I also added - in a waste not want not sort of way - the white of the egg I didn’t use in the other recipe.

Cook up some bacon, not just as an accompaniment, but mainly because the fat from the pan is perfect for cooking the Laver Cakes.

Take a spoonful of the sludgy mixture and drop into the pan. Shape and flatten with the back of the spoon.

They really don’t take long at all. Lightly brown them on both sides.

Perfect alongside bacon and egg. They are remarkably light.

It’s not solely a Welsh thing. There are similar dishes all up the west coast. I always equate it with West Wales, Carmarthenshire especially, but it’s also eaten in North Somerset.

It became a staple for miners. The great English traveller, writer, Linguist and Horse Whisperer, George Borrow described eating mutton with piping hot laver sauce in about 1865 during his grand tour of Wales.

RJ

The Minhall and Jones Podcast

EPISODE 4

JANUARY 2021

In which we discuss:Celebrating New Year/Hogmanay during a time of Covid; The perfect Bloody Mary; Beefing up a Haggis for Burnsnight; The legend of Saint Dwynwen; The Wednesday Comfort Food Club; Smashing Spaghetti Hoops.

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Welsh Caviar

There is something deeply unappetising about Lavabread - apart from the taste.

The Welsh actor Richard Burton described it as ‘Welsh Caviar.’ He would have been brought up on it, but there’s a part of me that thinks he would have found it a hard sell if he’d presented it to Elizabeth Taylor one morning dressed as Julius Ceasar, and she as Cleopatra. (It’s the only way I can think of them.)

‘I have cooked you a full Welsh breakfast, my dove,’ he might have begun.

‘How charming,’ she might have replied,’ but what is that when it’s at home?’

‘Much the same as a Full English, with a few Welsh tweeks,’

‘Those tweeks being?’

Burton points to a grubby green tacky smear on the plate, slightly to the one side of the egg - and wait, is that fried cockles?

Yes well… How many times did they divorce? I rather think the Laverbread had a role to play in their rocky relationship.

However….

I am presenting two Laverbread recipes… Laver Cakes will appear in another post, as a possible candidate for a Welsh Tapas dish.

But the simplest option is as follows:

Buy a tin of Laverbread - most big supermarkets have it. You could nip across to the Severn Estuary, scrape some suitable seaweed off a rock, boil it to Kingdom come, and then mince it, but actually the creation of the sludge has all been done for you. Parson’s seem to have cornered the mass market.

I divided my tin’s contents into two - so a little 120g tin certainly goes a long way. Use the other half for the Laver Cakes.

Add a liberal squeeze of lemon juice, and salt and pepper. You could fry it, but I whacked it in the microwave to heat up for two minutes.

Prepare some soldiers (bread) and the yolk of an egg.

Smear the gloop on the buttered soldiers and dip in the egg. Sublime. The taste is literally indescribable. No, really. I thought hard while eating it, how best to describe the taste and I can’t.

I realise that I maybe haven’t made it sound as appetising as I could. I’m not sure it’s possible. It’s more of a leap faith. Note however that Laver Bread is good for you, is very low in calories, very rich in protein, contains iodine and vitamins A ,B, B2, C & D. It is also classified as vegetarian, clearly.

RJ

London Lockdown

A cat cafe on bethnal Green Road, London, 3rd January 2021.

All non-essential shops closed during lockdown.

Trig Stairs, London

View from Trig Stairs, looking towards the Shard and Borough. 29th December 2020.

Christmas Leftovers

Pasties on Boxing Day.

I don’t know why. As a child I just accepted it. I have feeling it was displacement activity after the trauma of relatives arriving en masse for Christmas Day.

The announcement, ‘Well, I suppose I ought to start making the pasties,’ ranks alongside comments like…

‘Well, I must let you get on…’ and, ‘Don’t let me keep you,’ and ‘I need to talk to a man about a dog,’

But … the pasties were lovely. Turkey pasties. Made from leftovers. An entire Christmas meal encased in pastry gorgeousness.

But why we always made them for Boxing Day, I don’t know.

But because of that, I have a lifelong love of pasties, cemented by a year spent in Falmouth training to do radio. Happy Days.

But then … that makes me very choosy.

According to the Cornish Pasty Association

The contents should be …

• Roughly diced or minced beef

• Sliced or diced potato

• Swede (turnip)

• Onion

• Seasoning to taste (mainly salt & pepper)

The meat must be beef, and no other veg other than those listed above. There must be at least 12.5% beef, 25% veg. All the ingredients must be uncooked when the pasty is put together and then slowly baked.

The outside can be shortcrust, rough puff or puff, but it has to be savoury, and able to survive the rough and tumble of being hurled down a mine shaft. If the edges aren’t crimped, it’s not a Cornish Pasty.

Luckily - these days, like everything, you can get them by post.

If you want to go off piste, take a look at these rescipes from a Pasty maker in Wisconsin.

In fact you’ll find pasties anywhere that Cornish miners found a home.

Anyhow … Boxing Day is Pasty Day.

RJ

St. Paul's Cathedral, London, Christmas Day

Christmas Day outside St. Paul’s Cathedral, London.

Paternoster Square, London

Paternoster Square, next to St. Paul’s Cathedral, London. 26th December 2020.

Christmas Shopping 2020 - The Strand, London

Christmas shopping in a time of Covid. The Strand, London, Christmas Eve.

Sprouts

I thought coming to love sprouts later in life was one of those taste changes… like falling in love with beer. As a child one generally hates both, but gradually… like a creeping sickness … they take hold of you.

But no….

It would seem that the sprout of my childhood is not the sprout of today. A close relationship certainly, but it’s a bit like a long lost member of the family, who went to live in Australia and now comes to visit once a year sporting a sun tan and a Hawaiian shirt, and talks non-stop about barbecues and parties on the beach.

It would appear that Dutch scientists about 30 years ago, started tinkering with the DNA of a sprout, and discovered what makes them taste bitter, and simply bred it out.

You want facts? I’ll give you facts.

What did the Roman’s ever do for us? They gave us sprouts. They had arrived in northern Europe during the 5th century, and were commonly cultivated in the 13th century near Brussels, which is where they acquired their name. They are Belgium’s gift to the world. Thank you Belgium.

Each stalk can prodice about 3 lbs of sprouts. It is the Dutch however who produce the most. With Germany and the UK not far behind. French settlers took them to Louisiana but the biggest growing areas in the States are now California.

Raw Brussels sprouts are 86% water, 9% carbs and 3% protein and are full of vitamins.

Boiling removes the goodness.

*** Eating too many Brussels sprouts can put you in hospital ***.

They can be boiled, steamed, stir-fried, grilled, roasted or cooked in a slow cooker. Cutting a cross in the base to aid the cooking process doesn’t actually help.

They stink when overcooked because they contain a sulfur compound called Glucosinolate Sinigrin.

10 ways to cook Sprouts

Roasted and served with butter and parmesan.
Roast with balsamic vinegar.
Roast served brown sugar, olive oil and pinch of Salt.
Fried and served with cracked Black Pepper.
Pickled.
Fried with lardons, bacon scraps or chorizo.
Kebabs, with red peppers and mushrooms.
Sautéd with garlic and onion, dash of lemon.
Quartered and added to stir fry.
Steamed, served with feta cheese, salt, pepper and Lemon Juice.
In a Honey Balsamic Glaze.
Sprouts in Blankets - Steamed and wrapped in ham or bacon and roasted in garlic.
Roast and served with aioli dip

I looked to see if you could cover them in chocolate but it’s a non-starter unless you want to frighten children.

RJ

Classic FM - Christmas & New Year

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December 21st - 25th
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Rural Life - Snowdon Domes

Festive Gin Soaked Fruity Scones

(Written for the Minhall & Jones Food Blog)

The origins of Scones (definately pronounced to rhyme with Long Johns) is steeped in history. So steeped in fact that it’s not worth worrying about. Let steeping scones lie.

Cheese Scones were a Sunday staple at home. We were never much into fruity scones though.

But having lived in Cornwall for a year, I do like a scone with jam and cream (or is it cream and jam?)

This Festive Gin Soaked Fruity Scone is an amalgum of recipes. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But whatever you end up with, tastes lovely. Especially with custard.

You have to plan ahead. Steep some mixed fruit in some brandy - although I tried it with Sloe Gin.

350g of Self Raising Flour
50g of Sugar
Pinch of Salt

Mix this lt together, then add 170g of butter cut into chunks. Rub it into the mix. Hurl in the mixed fruit.

Make a well, and pour in some single cream. Enough to make a sticky but moderately solid mix. It’ll be about 250ml.

Plonk it onto a floured board, and flatten it. Try to make a square. Then cut into a lot of little squares. 8 by 8.

Into a heated oven - well spaced apart - until they are looking nicely brown on top, and are cooked through.

Serve hot with butter. Or with custard. Or jam and clotted cream.

RJ

The Minhall and Jones Podcast

Episode 3

DECEMBER 2020

In which we discuss:

Riding the Brussels Christmas Market in a force 10 gale, and tasting our first Caprinhas; the near miss with fighter jets returning from Kazakhstan; the story of Sinterklaas, his non-PC friend and a horse, who retired; feeding the Christmas cake; the joy of veg boxes; and has anyone seen Rudolf?

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