PRIMROSES AND CHOCOLATE SAUCE

THIS IS A TIME for sharing, so today as well as having reduced the price of my first book ‘Losing Time’ to just under half price, I’m going to publish an old family recipe for everyone to enjoy. We all need treats at a time like this.

This recipe, for Chocolate Sauce to be poured over Ice Cream, originated from a friend of my mother’s and I’ve forgotten how long ago I first began to use it. You need to be quick at serving it, because it turns to a kind of toffee when the hot sauce hits the freezing ice cream.

The method is simple and you need only three basic ingredients:

• Butter – approx. 60 gm (2 oz)
• Golden Syrup – approx. 1 – 2 large tablespoons
• Cocoa (not drinking chocolate) – approx. 1 – 2 large tablespoons
• Optional: a few drops of vanilla essence

The measurements are approximate, because I have never actually written this down before. This quantity will serve about 3 people, depending upon how greedy you are.

This is what you do: simply measure all the ingredients into a small saucepan and heat gently, stirring all the time until a smooth, warm sauce appears. Be careful not to cook for too long, because it will go like glue and be useless.
Pour immediately over bowls of very cold ice cream – any flavour will do, but simple vanilla is gorgeous. Serve at once!

PRIMROSES AND THE GARDEN

The garden is awash with primroses again this year. Our lawn, springy with moss, has had its first mow – simply because its rampant growth needed to be curtailed. The blossom on the ornamental cherry has just about faded and fallen, but the huge Camelia bush has surprised us with a riot of pink blooms. There is much to do when the weather improves. I tried edging a flower bed the other day, but the soil is claggy and heavy with moisture, and my knees became quite soggy as dampness seeped through my garden kneeler. I gave up!



BOOKS TO READ

Should you need book recommendations (other than ‘Losing Time’ of course,) I have read three excellent novels so far this year. I can recommend all three:

• The City of Brass by S. A. Chakraborty – a fantasy novel. My review in brief: ‘This is an extraordinary book! If you love fantasy and are tempted by something completely different, a breath of 'Arabian Nights' meets Scheherazade but even more fantastic, then - like me - you won't be able to put this down.’ 
• Bury Them Deep by James Oswald – a thriller. The tenth in an unforgettable series of suspense thrillers. Unputdownable!
• The Long Call by Ann Cleeves – a thriller. This is the first in a new series by popular writer Ann Cleeves. It is based in North Devon, and wonderfully written, a powerful novel.

Of course, if you haven’t read LOSING TIME why not give it a try – but hurry, because the offer is only for a short time. Here’s the link https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B016X4HXCE

These are dark times for some of us, and the tip of the iceberg for a few. Here are a couple of lines which have brought me comfort in the past, and I hope they will help you too.

A brief quote from Shelley: 

'O Wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?'

And this from Dame Julian of Norwich (b. 1342):

“All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.”

REMEMBERING ROSES

WHILST this Winter has not been particularly cold, its soaking dreariness seems to have lasted for months. News is bad, spirits are downcast… I want to try and bring a little beauty into our lives. Their wonderful scent cannot be shared, but I can talk about roses…

When we moved to this house five years ago, I was determined to bring roses into the rather bare garden. I could easily have planted duplicates of the ones I left behind, but with a couple of exceptions I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to choose new ones. Time has passed, and on the whole my roses have flourished, but I still feel nostalgic for the ones I left in my tiny garden in Mid-Devon.

William Lobb is a rose I first heard of from famous rose-grower Cyril Fletcher. I wanted a moss rose, something old-fashioned and highly scented, and sure enough this flourished on a trellis from the word go. Planted in 1989, when I left it in 2014 this rose had matured and spread right across the trellis and beyond.

I chose not to plant it again, because it only flowers once and not for very long. This photo (left) is from June 2010.

One rose I have planted again is 'Compassion' which I first came across in my Uncle's garden at Oxford. It's not the healthiest of roses, and it doesn't really like it here, but the scent is quite breathtaking.  In the photo (in my old garden) it mingles with Paul's Himalayan Musk, a strong and rampant climber which can be a bit of a thug and is very thorny. The combination worked extremely well at the cottage, but I'm in two minds about Paul's Himalayan Musk, as it's quite a lot of work to keep under control, although again it is sweetly scented.

Starlight Express (left) is an unscented rose. I seldom choose a plant without scent, but the colour was so gorgeous and this rose grew incredibly fast and well.

Spirit of Freedom (right) is, in contrast, a highly scented rose. The full-blown flower head must be seen in all its glory before the petals fall, because they all fall at once, forming a carpet of rose-confetti... 

To end this little essay on roses, I must share with you a wonderful poem which is centuries old, but which illustrates the timeless beauty of the flower.

Extract from: ‘On New-blown Roses’ by Decimus Magnus Ausonius (c. 310 - c. 395 AD) – a Roman poet. Translation: Helen Waddell, 1948

Spring, and the sharpness of the golden dawn.

Before the sun was up a cooler breeze

had blown, in promise of a day of heat,

and I was walking in my formal garden,

to freshen me, before the day grew old.

I saw the hoar frost stiff on the bent grasses,

sitting in fat globes on the cabbage leaves,

and all my Paestum roses laughing at me,

dew-drenched, and in the East the morning star,

and here and there a dewdrop glistening white,

that soon must perish in the early sun.

Think you, did Dawn steal colour from the roses,

or was it new born day that stained the rose?

To each one dew, one crimson, and one morning,

to star and rose, their lady Venus one.

Mayhap one fragrance, but the sweet of Dawn

drifts through the sky, and closer breathes the rose.