A Secret Day Off, and Too Little Time

It was an early wake up call this morning, thanks to my darling Olive.  All was soon forgiven when I found her waking me up, and shouting "Happy Valentine's Day, Daddy!"

I got a lovely, card, and listened to her read it to me, which is in the video clip, below.  Please keep it in mind that I had just been awoken, so it may not be too brilliant:

Well, this was the moment, that the my nervous system comes to fruition, and luckily late last night I managed to buy a card before running home.  I also took the hind sight to take the day off work.  With this knowledge, I set to work in order to getting a nice dinner prepared for my two favourite ladies this evening.

I mentioned in an earlier blog, that while my lady wife was suffering a period of self reflection induced by an over indulgent use of wine, I took Olive to Glover's Farm in Kent, and took a look at what they had to offer.  The decision was made to buy some beef fillet, and make Beef Wellington.  I've tried this before, and it was a success.  Being in a bit of a hurry, I decided to do a bit of research, find a recipe that tickled my senses, and get away to find the required ingredients.  I found a rather interesting study on what makes the perfect Beef Wellington, so trusting the Gods, I went ahead, copied it down, and then worried about desert.  This was soon sorted when I looked through my blogs for some baking ones, and a Chocolate Raspberry Tart presented itself.

What can go wrong?

Not a great deal, only time constraints with an unorganised male.  Oh, and erm an incident with the pastry bake of the tart, involving a makeshift paper base for the baking beans because I had no baking paper... this resulted in going out, buying more pastry, and some baking paper.

So here's a little photo run down on events;

The beef will be worth every penny, locally sourced, and I'll do what I can to do it justice.

A decent cut of beef for the three of us

Getting ready to start a heavy session of chopping.  There were also some dried Porcini Mushrooms in some boiled water, and I'll use the juice as part of the gravy stock

Shallots, Mushrooms, Thyme.  I also the Porcini Mushrooms

After a moment of improvisation, resulting in a fast trip back out to the supermarket, I was ready to pre-bake another base for the tart.

The second attempt at the tart prior to the pre-bake

Getting ready for the ganache on the top of the tart.  The recipe said to use good 70% Dark Chocolate I think.  I opted to take it a step further, and went full hog with some Willies's 100% Venezuelan Cacao.  This stuff isn't cheap, but it does make the difference at times.  Also, the guy who makes the stuff is eccentric, and completely nuts, alike Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge in the P.G.Wodehouse tales.

100% Venezuelan Cacao.  A pain to grate

Now, I find myself at the table typing away, awaiting news of my ladies return home, and the surprise in finding me here.

Set up, waiting for my two ladies

 

Reflections of a Night Pass

All has been well today.  Well.  Well?  Well, that is kind of one word to describe events.

I got to bed at about 1:30am last night (this morning to the pedantic amongst you), and Olive thought 7am was a decent enough hour to get us up.  Knowing Mrs. Banks had been on the sauce last night, and she wasn't even home by the time I went to bed, I feared for the worst.  The usual thoughts filtered through the mind of whether to treat this rare turning of the tables in the kind, husbandry (in sickness, and in health) way, or to milk the situation, and watch her suffer.

Always one for the quiet life, yet still tests the boundaries, I elected for a combination of the two.  This was simply keep Olive occupied, and sport the knowing grin whenever presented with an opportunity.  She's still asleep as I type this, and I'm thinking of bed.

Keeping Olive occupied involved a trip out to Glovers Farm in Kent.  They have a farm shop, and sold me a decent Rib Eye steak a few months back, so I thought I'd keep the money local (they're about 15miles away from home), and find something decent for a valentines meal.  I'll keep this one back for the time being, on the off chance that she reads this blog for once.

Once home, Olive and I decided to interact some more as a family.  Although Mummy had migrated to the couch, there was little more communication than the repetitive opening and closing of the mouth, not too dissimilar to a goldfish.  Consequently, Olive wanted to watch the Rugby, then head out to see more animals.

A bit of an overview of Maryon Wilson Park.  Olive is the tiny explorer

Maryon Wilson Park was where we headed to.  It's situated bang in the middle of Charlton, and has an undulating terrain, coupled with some little woods, and an Animal Care Centre.  The Care Centre, is a nicely set up place.  They offer plenty of space to animals they keep on site.  Most animals are of the farmyard variety, and they also keep deer in a separate enclosure. 

Olive loves the Deer, or Reindeer as calls them after Christmas

At certain times of the day, they do have an educational period where children can interact with the animals, and feed them their special diets etc.  We have never been able to do this yet.  Mainly because I never learn when they do it specifically, but I do know it's always on a school day, and being an occupational sort. that's not going to happen.

Olive and Dude spot the Deer

Olive does love it here, so with her little doll (She's called Dude), we went for a walk around.  They do pretty much have any farm animal you can think of, and Olive loves to think which one she wants to see next, as she's shouting "Cock-a-Doodle-Doo!" at the plethora of foul on offer.

An idea of the birds in house.  There are sheep; pigs; goats; horses to name a few others

The evening got a little more interesting.  Once I got Olive to bed, let Julia sleep some more, I decided to go through some emails, and write up the Maryon Wilson Park adventure.  Then I came across this:

How the mollyfock did that get in there, at that hour?  The answer was easy to come by, yet difficult to face

I am, to use a word, speechless.  Yes, speechless.  I can type out words, but I can't use all the ones that are filtering through my noggin' and failing to form in my mouth.

What can I say?  I hate Amsterdam.  I've been there on several occasions now, never liked it one bit, and always see it as a test of endurance.  I'll be heading off there again, and there's no doubt about it... 26 miles of running anywhere, is a test of endurance, and I'll be doing it there.  I even vowed to never set foot in that city again, so long as I live.

I even missed out on a 16.5km run today because of fatherly duties.  I'll be stewing over all of this, when I run into work tomorrow, and lay plans to facing my fears in the Amsterdam Marathon in October.

I blame the moderate consumption of whisky last night.  I know anyone will only say I have myself to blame.

I'm an idiot.

Be nice.  The truth hurts.