More soup

One of the consolations of moving from "summer" to "winter" is soup.

I have always enjoyed making soup, I like the simple task of chopping vegetables and combining them to make something hot, satisfying and tasty on a cold dank evening. And believe me, I am talking about food.

Today for the first time this soup-season, I have made the old standard "cockless leekie". I am sorry if that name is misleading or even offends anyone - but what else do you call a meatless version of the classic "cockaleekie", eh? Actually, I have been throwing it together for so many years that I am not even sure any more that there is any resemblance whatsoever. Mine today consists of onion, leek, carrot, potato and swede. (Yes, SWEDE, that round, yellow root vegetable that is Not A Turnip. Turnips are small, round, but white. I say again - small and white. Let there be no misunderstanding - swede, large and yellow, turnip small and white.) Right. Glad that is settled, then. Oh, ok, I will allow rutabaga if you insist.

Plus pearl barley, vegetable stock, sage and thyme. Simmered until delectable. On the cooker alongside the fish kettle. I am breaking the unbreakable rule again, and dyeing at the same time as I cook. There Is No Alternative.

The first fish kettle experiment went reasonably well. I had white bits rather than the dyes all swooshing together, in other words, I had the thing hot enough when the dyes were poured on and I didn't use too much dye solution. This time, I have risked very gently mashing the fibre very, very slightly with my gloved hand so that the dye solution squidges into the bits I didn't pour it. Isn't my technical language simply marvellous? Despite having sat at the feet of those at the pinnacle of the craft, synthetic dyeing does not come easy for me. Apart from any deficiency of skill on my part, the main reason for that is the aforementioned lack of facilities, and having to shoe-horn each procedure into space occupied already by other activities. But I for one thing would like to be able to produce dyed rovings
for my own use, and also to be able to use this same technique with natural dyes which are more expensive to experiment with. So, get part way thusly.

I fell to musing about the seasons this morning. There was actually some watery sunshine, and with the leaves now changing rapidly if in an unexciting way, it all looked rather pretty. Gone now - back to grey. But I don't think that the seasons used to be like this. Autumn was often quite bright, with the sharp tinge of the first frosts and that lovely crisp smell from the leaves that this engendered. The leaves lay in dry swathes on the ground, and foolish gardeners used to build and fire up bonfires of them instead of making heaps for leaf-mould. By the time we reached 5th November, we would all be snuggled in to scarves and gloves and would need hot drinks around any bonfires we went to stop from freezing to death.

But now, the seasons are all sort of ironed out. We have rare hot days and even rarer chilly days, but I can't remember the last time we had much in the way of a really hard frost, the sort that comes with wall to wall blue skies and a tang in the air that makes you feel good to be alive.

Harrumph. I'm having an old fogeyish spell. Nostalgia rules ok.

Need to go check on my pots. Let's hope I can keep telling them apart.