Three things that are ginger and go CRUNCH

The decision of what to bake yesterday was reached in a manner very similar to a Chose Your Own Adventure novel. Remember those? They were awesome. Mind you, my one outstanding skill in reading those was that I could ALWAYS always always pick the option that made you die fastest. I don't know how I did it. It could be the most innocuous decision, like "do you take the bus or the train?" and I would take the train, and the train would derail and explode and I'd die, or "do you chose chocolate or vanilla ice cream?" and I'd chose chocolate, and then suddenly realise that I had a life-threatening allergy to chocolate and go into anaphylaxis and die.

After a while, like a fat kid who learns to make fun of his size so that people are laughing "with" him instead of "at" him, I would play a game with the books to see just how fast I could die. I would happily throw myself down the abandoned mine shafts, get into the car with the random guy in a ski mask, chose the fork in the road that had a giant NO ENTRY sign over it.

All of this proves that I would probably be the worst teen adventurer of all time. I would not only die seconds after the nice old lady had asked me to look for her missing parrot, I would also totally not be ok with being chased in a car, receiving threatening letters, or sneaking through the woods to eavesdrop on gangster hideouts. Really, I would not be ok with getting dirty, sweaty, in danger, or roughing it in any way. I would suck. I would definitely leave it to Nancy Drew, and have her tell me all about it later over a nice cup of tea in her warm, clean, River Heights living room.

So baking.

Option A. My first choice of baked good was a Lemon Curd Slice. (yes, still on the Donna Hay droolfest) It's summery and bright, and a much-needed kitchen-palate cleanser after last weekend. HOWEVER. Upon opening the fridge, I realised we had two too few eggs, and not nearly as many lemons as I thought we had (damn you, mother, and your obsession with lemon on fish). So. That was out. I chose Option B.

Option B. I remembered that Beatrice had a recipe for Lingonberry Jam Cake that I had faithfully promised to make a few months ago. Upon rushing to the living room and opening the cookbook, however, I realised that we didn't have any sour cream. Boo. We also have no cinnamon, which unfortunately means that my consumption of cinnamon oatmeal has reached the stage that psychologists label "interfering with social relationships." Bottom line, that was out. I chose Option C.

Option C. Going back to the original Lemon Curd Slice recipe, I glanced at the one below it: a Ginger Slice. Now, obviously Lemon followed the "summer dessert" rationale, and on Monday and Tuesday, that made perfect sense. (I will provide proof of this by simply saying that I took an hour and a half walk on Monday and got a heat rash. However, the Yankee Weather Gods clearly got bored, because Wednesday, yesterday, and today were frigid, soaking wet, and miserable. As I just typed that sentence, I am not kidding, there was a clap of thunder. Thanks guys, love you too.) So at the moment I saw "Ginger Crunch Slice", it was actually raw, misty, and cold. And the idea of ginger seemed warming and spicy and maybe not such a bad idea. And I still had caster sugar. And I didn't need ANY eggs. Or cinnamon.

YOU GUYS I CHOSE OPTION C. DID I DIE? WE SHALL SEE. 

GINGER CRUNCH SLICE
(Donna Hay's recipe, with small Beetle tweaks)

INGREDIENTS

• 2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 2 tsp ground ginger
• 1 cup caster sugar
• 250 g cold butter (17 1/2 tbs) 

ginger icing

• 150 g butter, chopped (10 1/2 tbs)
• 1/4 cup golden syrup
• 1 1/2 tbs ground ginger
• 1 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar

Preheat oven to 350F. Place flour, sugar, ginger and baking powder in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add butter and process until mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Press into a 20cm x 30cm tin lined with non-stick baking paper. The flour mixture will be quite crumbly when you press it into the tin but it comes together as it cooks and as the butter melts. Bake for 35-40 minutes or until golden and firm to the touch.

To make the ginger icing, place the butter, golden syrup and ginger in a saucepan over medium heat and cook for 2-3 minutes or until the butter is melted. Stir through the icing sugar and pour immediately over the slice. Refrigerate for 1 hour or until the icing is set, slice and serve. 

BEETLE NOTES
I refer you back to my comment of last week re: Rhubarb Raspberry Crumble Slice. These are stupidly easy to make, require very little baking, and can be made without a mixmaster if you simply can't face that pale green Kitchen Aid one more time. Also, the concept of a slice remains a delicious filling sandwiched between two loaves of "bread" made out of butter and sugar. HOW COULD IT GO WRONG? God Bless Australia for having slices as a commonly made confection.

I would like to take this moment to dedicate this Ginger Crunch Slice to Julia Gillard. Julia, some of your policies may have been flawed, but you made great strides for women in Australian politics and stood up to what has to be some of the most rampant, disgusting, and personally vicious sexism I have ever seen. I am very sorry that clearly Australian men can't handle being led by a woman, and rather than accept you as a human being and a colleague they have chosen to denigrate you in a completely petty, vulgar, and infantile manner, and replace you with your predecessor, who, as far as I can tell, counts as his sole accomplishment the fact that he looks even stupider than David Cameron. 

This one's for you, Lady.

For what it's worth, Kevin Rudd sucks. 

Ahem. So I guess when you run out of one spice you run out of them all. I realised halfway through the making of the crust and icing that I was going to be short on ground ginger. (you guys what is happening in my pantry right now?) But when the cooking gets tough, the Beetle gets Warrior. Or, more specifically, when the cooking gets tough, the Beetle gets out the Ginger Preserve.


I used all the ground ginger in the base mixture, bumping it up to 3 tsp, and then for the icing, used 2 tsp of ground ginger (all that was left in the jar), a little less than a 1/4 cup of ginger preserve, and 2 tbs of agave. I figured that all this combined would roughly (ok, very roughly) approximate 1 1/2 tbs ginger and 1/4 cup golden syrup. ALSO KEY was that the ginger preserve has those amazing little nuggets of crystalised ginger in it, which I figured not only couldn't HURT the icing atop the crust, would go as far as ENHANCING IT.

Nuggets of crystalised ginger = nuggets of awesome. 

What happened was a) it totally worked and b) the icing ended up being thicker. Win win, Beetle. 

Suuuuuper thick icing spotted with tiny ginger pieces. 

The dissolving of confectioner's sugar in almost infinite amounts is one of my favourite parts of making icing.
It's like MAGIC. No matter how much you add, it DISAPPEARS. 

And that, dear reader, is that. I shoved it in the fridge for a few hours, and pulled it out when Mum got home to warm up a bit before slicing. It slices like a DREAM which always makes me feel accomplished. I don't know, somehow if it slices cleanly I feel like it can't taste bad? Completely nonsensical but there you go. 

The Beetle Note I have is that when Donna Hay says "crunch" she means crunch. This is probably best eaten like a brownie or bar, aka with your hands. Totally not a problem, you say, that was my plan in the first place. Well if you are fastidious to the point of a Monty Python sketch like Mum, then you will try to eat this with a knife and fork. I had to watch this last night, you guys. It's possible, but difficult. It cuts in a big SMACK as the knife all of a sudden goes through, and if you're trying to watch a new Swedish Crime TV show, it's kind of distracting. I left it out over night to give the base time to dethaw completely, and it's definitely easier to cut through this morning. But just be aware. The Aussies take their crunches seriously, apparently. 

My boyfriend Chris Hemsworth ALSO takes his crunches seriously. 

However, extra thick icing makes everything ok. And there's definitely something to be said for the melding of two different consistencies as well as textures.

See? World Peace. Done. End to Global Warming. Done.
EXTRA THICK ICING FOR EVERYONE.  

Please note the perfect slices.

And again . . . 

So even though I chose Option C, I'm not dead (not yet, anyway). And as I finish this post, the thunder has stopped, the sun is emerging, and the birds are singing. I think, dear reader, that it might be time for Lemon Curd Slices in a day or two.

If I can avoid empty elevator shafts, smugglers, and falling tree limbs until then. Hey, it might happen.

In the meantime, if you haven't seen it yet, watch Julia Gillard DESTROY Tony Abbot (aka Leader of the Opposition aka a butthead sexist pig who still lives in the year 1452) because it is the most amazing thing ever and it made me damn proud to be a woman. A Beetle. But a Woman. 

The Main Event - BIRTHDAY AWESOME

There's really only one way to begin this post:

Dear reader, it was glorious. It was a birthday party worthy of the SUPERMOON which occurred at its fullest on Sunday night (even the MOON was celebrating you guys, don't think she didn't read into that) and which luckily didn't transform us into werewolves in the midst of cake and candles (an interesting possibility, however, didn't happen). 

In attendance were Mummy's best friend, and two of my best girlfriends from New York, both of whom were angelic enough to make the trek AND help me out in the kitchen, bless them. It was an incredibly girly day/evening, and much fun and high pitched shrieking was had by all. Presents included books (natch, is there any other kind of gift?), cellulite firming cream (which she doesn't need, damn her, why couldn't I inherit her lack of cellulite???), and snazzy new workout clothes including something I'd never heard of but HAD to order just to see . . . a SKAPRI which is of course a skort that is capri-legged. What will the world think of next? 

ANYWAY. Party = my new favorite word = JOLLIFICATION.

BIRTHDAY PARTY SUPPER

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Fennel, Artichoke, Pea, and Farro Salad

Herbed Three Bean and Spinach Salad

Oven Baked Halibut with Dill

(served with) Sauteed Leeks and Green Olives

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Crackers, Cheese (Camembert, Blue, Cheddar, Goat), Almonds, Dates

Black Bread

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Pavlova with Whipped Cream, Raspberries, and Blackberries

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Coffee, Tea, etc. 

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I KNOW RIGHT???? I took a lot more but I think I was shaking from sugar high
because they all came out blurry. 

RECIPES AND BEETLE NOTES

FENNEL, ARTICHOKE, PEA, AND FARRO SALAD

Artichokes have never been involved in my cooking before, primarily because I detest them. HOWEVER. My friend Meg was in attendance and one of the reasons we are besties is that she takes my artichokes/avocado and I take her mushrooms. It's a symbiotic BFF relationship. Upon broaching the artichoke topic with Mum, she revealed that she does in fact like artichokes. [waggles horns in surprise and thinly disguised horror] So looking through Recipes for Health in the Times, like I do every day, I found this recipe, which looked summery and delicious (if you like that sort of thing, she sniffs).

It was very straightforward (like you always are, Martha Rose Shulman), and all I did was substitute Farro for Farfalle to give it a bit more depth (and a bit more health) and that was that. I cooked the Artichoke/Fennel/Pea mixture separately from the Farro, put them both in the fridge over night, then mixed them together, still cold, before serving.

God bless cold summer salads, you guys, they are THE BEST.

[Beetle Note: I love the smell of Fennel. I mean, seriously love it.]

HERBED THREE BEAN AND SPINACH SALAD

This is one of those recipes that you get from Epicurious one random day five years ago because it's Julia Child and you add it to your recipe box because . . . because. And then all of a sudden you make it and you realise that it's THE BEST THING EVER and not only that, it is insanely versatile and you can pretty much add anything you want and play around with it and it becomes your summer standby dish because it's healthy, light, best served cold, and . . . crazy easy. 

For this one, I went with Pinto, Great Northern, and Black Eyed Peas. (I'm on a Pinto kick at the moment, incidentally.) We got A TON of fresh herbs at the market so I went nuts with the Basil and Thyme, olive oil, salt and pepper, and boom. Instant awesome. I will remark, however, that if you ARE going to use sage (which I recommend, it's delightful) that I prefer ground sage over the leaves. Because the taste of it is so so so strong, one mouthful of a leaf can kind of throw off everything. If you use powdered sage (sorry, Julia!) then the distribution is even throughout, and you get to enjoy it's taste as a more subtle thing rather than holy hell my tongue is burning. 

To keep the spinach as fresh as possible (because spinach bruises if you look at it) I chilled the salad over night, then mixed in the fresh baby spinach and a touch more olive oil just before I brought it out. It keeps its texture, its colour, and its taste so much better that way. 

OVEN BAKED HALIBUT WITH DILL served with SAUTEED LEEKS AND GREEN OLIVES

I've said it before but it bears repeating. The best way to cook with fish is to plan on the fly depending on what your market has the day you buy it. Chose whatever is the freshest, whatever is the most local, whatever your fishmonger recommends (seriously, ASK THEM where the fish came from, ASK THEM when it came in. It's an almost guaranteed thing that you'll get the best there is to offer.)

That being said, Halibut was up at the market, yummy yummy yummy local Halibut that screamed I just came out of the ocean please cook me and eat me until you can't move. And so, dear reader, I did. My friend Kristin (also in attendance) emailed me next day to say, "how did you know I loved halibut?" and I had to disabuse her of the notion that my fish choice was anything but inherently selfish. (I suspect she knew that was going to be the answer . . . I mean, we ARE besties, she knows how I operate by now.) 

But what to make for it? I mean, it would have been TOTALLY AMAZING just cooked with olive oil, salt, and herbs, but you know, birthday party and all, I wanted something a bit more special. So considering it had been almost a month [gasps in horror] since I had made anything with leeks, and still on an olive kick from Midsummer the night before, I made a quick saute of three large leeks, 1 cup of green olives, and 3 tbs of olive oil. The leeks take about 10 minutes to cook, so toss them with salt and pepper and lots of fresh dill and let them soften a bit. After 5 minutes, add the olives and keep stirring until they start to brown. Your house will smell wonderful, and you will absolutely love the oniony, salty pairing of them with a clean, white fish. They offset each other perfectly. 

Served over the fish, this is best served hot. However, if, like me, you made a lot of leeks and olives, they are OMG SO DELICIOUS cold the next day. 

And all together now . . . 

Ok ok ok so I knowwwww you've all been going BEETLE WHAT THE HELL STOP TALKING ABOUT LEEKS FOR GOD'S SAKE I READ THIS BLOG FOR THE BAKING I WANT THAT PAVLOVA THAT YOU TALKED ABOUT IN THE BEGINNING I'M BORED GET ON WITH IT.

Sorry. Here it is. 

BIRTHDAY CAKE

PAVLOVA WITH WHIPPED CREAM, RASPBERRIES, AND BLACKBERRIES 

Pavlova became the chosen birthday cake about a month ago. I forget what we were watching on television but all of a sudden there was a MASSIVE ONE on the screen and Mum turned to me and went I WANT THAT FOR MY BIRTHDAY MAKE IT and I went OK FINE. 

I had never made a pavlova before. The concept of making a meringue, delicious delicious delicious meringue, made me nervous. I was fine eating marshmallow fluff out of a jar but BAKING one? A recipe that involved propping open the oven door with a spoon for an hour and only opening it upon pain of culinary death? Different story. However. I am not called Warrior Beetle for nothing. BRING IT ON, EGG WHITES AND CASTER SUGAR AND FOR SOME INEXPLICABLE REASON WHITE VINEGAR. BRING IT ON. 

How do you like THEM stiff peaks????

I used the Joy of Baking recipe, wanting something absolutely basic (none of your fancypants meringues, thank you, we don't do that up North, Yankee modesty and all that . . . also it was going to be daunting enough without adding pistachios or something).

The thing is, meringue is inherently easy. The ingredients come together in a few minutes, and if you've got a mixmaster it's even faster. What makes this scary as hell is the fact that you bake it for over an hour, that you CANNOT ON PAIN OF DEATH open the oven door, and then, like I said, you have to let it cool by sticking a wooden spoon in the door hinge, backing slowly out of the room, and lying in a dark closet for an hour until it's safe to come out. That, dear reader, is worrisome. SO MUCH COULD GO WRONG. 

Oh god you can SEE THE CRACKS.
I suck at life. 

Well. I did it. And you know what, it was beautiful. [pats horns on own exoskeletal back] It did fall. I will say that. Hey, you can't have everything in life and it was my first one. It did cave in, and I think maybe I made the depression in the middle too steep? Or spread it out too wide? But the best thing about whipped cream (ok, one of the best things) is that it covers oh so many flaws. Once it was filled up with cream and covered in a glorious mix of blue and red berries, it really was quite lovely. 

Below is a small meringue slideshow to commemorate my first attempt. (I have been informed it will BY NO MEANS BE MY LAST.) 

Pre-cooked. Perhaps where I went wrong. 

After cooking and stealth cooling . . . note the collapsed edges. 

Beetle Fail.
Delicious Fail.
But Fail. 

And filled to the brim with cream and berries.  

And with candles cleverly stuck inside upside down blackberries to keep them upright.
Genius Beetle.  

Good news is I can TOTALLY EAT MERINGUE because it's egg whites and sugar, so the cracked sides actually helped me nibble, rabid squirrel like, round the edges. I can personally attest to the fact that the insides WERE TOTALLY MARSHMALLOWY LIKE THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE and that it was, in fact, CRAZY YUMMY. 

Or rather: 

OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT THE BIRTHDAY BREAKFAST. When you ask Mum what she wants for her special bday morning meal, I'll give you three guesses as to what she says. . . 

Yep. Pancakes it is. 

You can take the girl out of Finland . . . 

So Happy Birthday to my dear Beetle Mum, and please forgive me for giving your old workout clothes to our handyman as drop cloths for his bandsaw. I figured if I gave you nice new ones it would sort of even things out. 

You know what, whilst you decide whether you are still pissed at me or not, let me just cut you another slice of pavlova . . . 

Midsummer's Eve - Party Prelude

HI YOU GUYS I MISSED YOU. Don't worry, I am not encased in meringue (although it was a bit touch a go for a while, there) nor am I baked inside a vegetarian meatball, nor have I been pushed into the middle of a lake on a bonfire (which would be totally awesome actually but that didn't happen this weekend. Next, maybe.)

NO. What happened was MIDSUMMER'S EVE on Friday night followed by MUMMY'S BIRTHDAY on Sunday, the result being that the entire weekend was delightful and warm and sunny and full of yummy things to eat and laughter and presents and cake (!!) and lots of happy stuff.

So because I don't want to overload you, especially after my horrifically long absence (your Beetle tolerance has probably slipped accordingly) I shall post MIDSUMMER'S EVE today and her BIRTHDAY PARTY tomorrow. Hope everyone's cool with that. Yes? Good. Onward!

Remember when I promised flower crowns? FLOWER CROWNS. 

MIDSUMMER'S EVE SUPPER AND FESTIVITIES

(Keskikesä and Kesäjuhla)

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Finnish Meatballs with White Gravy

Oven Roasted Purple Potatoes with Lemon and Black Olives

Cold Spinach and Green Bean Salad

Black Bread

Midsummer Weekend in our house is always fun. In Finland, they push bonfires onto the lakes and stay up all night dancing and eating and it's crazy and awesome. We do not do this per se because a) the fire department probably would show up at some point and b) we are both geriatric and can't stay up all night without dying. But we DO have a lovely dinner on the porch and wear flower crowns and go hunt for fireflies after dark. So that's something. AND bonus factor is that it falls on Mum's birthday weekend too (She thought she was the sh*t growing up in Finland because the entire country celebrated her birthday. I'm assuming there were years of therapy involved once the penny dropped.) so we generally give a few days over to sun and eating and, as Mister Tumnus would say in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, "jollification."

You know, jollification is SUCH a good word. I'm totally going to start using it.

Friday afternoon we went on a disgustingly large food shopping binge and bought enough to feed the five people coming to dinner on Saturday night, or, if you prefer, an entire Pakistani village for a year. Same amount. [hides Beetle horns in shame at blatant first-world consumerism then remembers it was her mother's birthday party and whips them back out in pride and an ecstasy of waggling defiance]

So for Midsummer dinner, it needed to be something culturally and culinarily appropriate, but also something I could make at the same time that I made three other cold salads for Saturday plus bread plus flower crowns.

Hey, that's why they call me Warrior Beetle. Bring it. 

ROASTED PURPLE POTATOES WITH LEMON AND BLACK OLIVES

Purple potatoes are essentially the only potato Mum will deign to eat now since we read that Times article about breeding the nutrients out of our produce. They really do taste different than your average Yukon Gold, much earthier and with a lot more depth. (Which now that I think about it is probably the taste of health that I never missed until now.)

If you don't have purple, this recipe can be used for any other kind. Potatoes are equally opportunity taste bud amazers.

Turn the oven on to 450 degrees. Chop the potatoes in half or quarters depending on the size, and toss in a large bowl with olive oil, coarse salt, and lots of fresh rosemary. Spread evenly out on a baking sheet covered in foil and pop it in the oven. During that time, quarter a lemon, and get your olives ready. (We got the best olives in the world - the dangerous ones we are only allowed to buy every other month because we will eat ourselves into an olive coma.)

At 20 minutes, take the pan out, squeeze the lemon quarters evenly over the potatoes, and scatter with olives and the squeezed lemon rinds. Put the pan back in the oven and cook for another 10 - 15 minutes until the potatoes are tender. You can serve this one hot if you like but it is absolutely delicious cold.

FINNISH MEATBALLS WITH WHITE GRAVY (Lihapyörykät) 
[Beetle Note: I don't know what "vegetarian meatballs" is in Finnish and I'm sure it's a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT WORD WITH SEVENTEEN NEW UMLAUTS and I'm just going to let it go.]

This is Beatrice's recipe, obviously. The best part is that my dad AND my grandmother always used Beatrice too, so my "traditional family recipe" just happens to be the one in my cookbook. Easy, that. The difference is that these are vegetarian instead of a mixture of pork and beef. What I did was take Beatrice's meatball recipe, substitute one package of ground veggie meat, and reduce the accompanying ingredients accordingly. I also switched out bread crumbs for oat bran and put in another heaping teaspoon of allspice. The below is what happened.

Hear that? That's the sound of all my dead relatives screaming in culinary agony simultaneously.

INGREDIENTS

• 1 tbs minced garlic
• 1 small onion, minced
• 2/3 cup oat bran
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1 package veggie ground beef
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 tsp ground allspice
• 1 tsp ground white pepper

• 3 tbs butter
• 1/3 cup flour
• 1 cup milk
• 2 cups veggie broth

In a large mixing bowl, mix the onions, oat bran, and milk. Add all the other ingredients, and beat them together until very smooth and fluffy (you can use a spoon, an egg beater, or a mixmaster. I used a spoon and then my hands. Because. OLD SCHOOL BEETLE.) 
Using two spoons that you've frozen in the snow [LITERALLY. I'm not making this up. I, um, didn't. I used my hands.] Shape the meat mixture into small meatballs. Fry the meatballs, shaking the pan constantly so that they brown evenly on all sides. Drain them and keep them warm on a platter. 

I baked these, incidentally. Because frying meatballs at 6 o'clock at night when I was already a sweaty, onion-stained mess seemed excessive, even for Midsummer's Eve. The good thing about veggie meat is that you don't have to stress about cooking times and dying of e-coli or salmonella or something like that. (Soy protein is pretty safe like that.) Cook them at 450 for 15 minutes, turning over halfway through to evenly brown on both sides. 

For the sauce, melt the butter in a small saucepan and add the flour, whisking until smooth. Add the milk and veggie broth and cook, whisking pretty constantly, until it gets nice and thick, about 3 minutes. If it gets crazy thick you can add more liquid, and add more flour if the opposite is true. 

The sauce should remain white, incidentally. If it browns, then you ruined it. And you have to go ritually kill yourself with a reindeer antler outside. 

[Beetle Note: I can't find my pictures of the white gravy. I'm sorry. I trust that at this point you can use your imagination. If not, write to me and I'll see what I can do.]

BLACK BREAD

Well, no Scandinavian feast would be complete without Black Bread. (Or bread in some form that could hammer in a nail, kill someone, etc.) This black bread is the one I always make, it's the Beetle version of the 101 Cookbooks recipe, wherein I use butternut squash puree and oat bran in place of grated carrot [Mum's now obsolete hahah aversion to carrot is the reason for this]. It always goes well, but this time I'm including a slideshow of sorts because it went MAGNIFICENT for some reason and I couldn't deal with the awesomeness. Enjoy. 

When they say "double in size" . . . yeah. I put this in the bowl, went on a walk, and came back to this.
Try QUADRUPLE IN SIZE. 

Obviously punching down the dough is one of the best parts.
I just want the sheer FLUFFINESS of this on record. 

And shaped into two perfect little loaves. Sigh. 

Now, a before and after, if you will. Same loaf. Just before going in the oven, and just after coming out. Check it out. 

BEFORE

AFTER. 

I KNOW RIGHT?? For serious you guys I was so mad there wasn't anyone but the cat to share with this. (Singularly unimpressed, for the record.) The LAST time I made this I was all omg I've perfected this recipe. LITTLE DID I KNOW. 

I shoved it in Mum's face when she came home, then made her weep when I told her that it had to wait until the party. I know, I know. MEAN BEETLE. 

I included this because all of a sudden all I could think of was that scene in Star Wars when Luke Skywalker is flying his plane into the Death Star down that corridor. And it made me laugh so hard that I needed to share it.
It's a Bread Death Star.
You're welcome. 

And so, dear reader, it was a Midsummer for the record books. The weather held and we were able to have a lovely porch supper and watch the fireflies come out, and there was a single,sad, lonely piece of Rhubarb Raspberry Crumble Slice left so Mum felt it was her duty to put it out of its misery.

She's a kind soul.

To finish, I shall entertain you with flower crown photos. There are no pictures of us wearing the crowns because Mum refuses to appear on camera and/or video and she hasn't mastered my SLR, so anything with me in it comes out looking like it's underwater.

I learned to make these out of a Swedish book when I was 7. The wrapping method means you get a really strong crown so that it can hold leaves, etc, and also won't disintegrate on your hair, which would kind of ruin the mood, no? Especially if it fell into your meatballs and gravy. Just get flowers with long enough stems and you're in business.

Oh, and KEY POINT. Remember to take your Claritin BEFORE you start. Or, you know, keep the EMT's on speedial.

Party tomorrow! Hauskaa Keskikesä!