The Rambler

Moors, sikes, and creeping things - and a recipe for lentil soup

Riddle me this: how did we get to May? Seriously, how did we?

It’s getting to that time of year when it’s harder to get out of bed when the alarm goes off at 4:20 a.m., and our Mooloolaba beach walks are conducted (mostly) in the dark—the sun does not deign to crawl out from under the doona until we’re done with our coffee and heading home.

As hard as it is to get up, we always feel better after the walk, and pre-sunrise views like this morning’s cloud action certainly make it worthwhile.

Podcasts about writing …

We’re in the process of planning and booking a month away in the UK next March. Naturally, I’ll tell you more about it as we get closer to the trip.

Anyways, I got talking to the landlady at the Airbnb we’ve booked for Edinburgh, and it turns out she’s an aspiring author. She mentioned the podcast The Bestseller Experiment to me, and I’m hooked. So much so that it’s inspired me to begin writing an occasional series of posts about writing and all the hints and tips that come up in some of these podcasts. Watch this space.

Podcasts about writing with me in them …

Last Friday I did my first Facebook Live session with author Sandie Docker. We talked about cosy crime, characters and writing styles and I had a ball. You can watch and listen to it here.

Actual writing

Philly Barker 3 is motoring along nicely, and this week, I’ve spent virtual time at East Riddlesden Hall. While the real East Riddlesden Hall is in West Yorkshire and has a lovely garden and lake (as seen in the picture above), I’ve renamed it Deverell Grange and planted it smack bang in the middle of a lot of desolate moorland in North Yorkshire at the top of the Yorkshire Dales National Park, close to where the real-life Tan Hill Inn sits (pic below).

Rather than rising above a picturesque lake, my Deverell Grange sits on a plateau above a sike - an old Norse/Viking word for a small stream or gulley. As an aside, plenty of these Viking words are still in the Yorkshire dialect today. Did you know that the word arse comes from the Viking word ars meaning the back-end or posterior? So next time you refer to the arse-end of something, know that you’re channelling the Vikings. Don’t say you don’t learn anything from me.

Anyways, here’s an extract where Philly and Robbie get their first look at the Grange …

The sky had darkened ominously as we drove down the sweeping drive. Robbie peered through the windscreen, frowning. ‘Those clouds look like snow,’ he said.

‘This late in the season?’ I asked sceptically. 

‘It happens - especially up here.’

‘I know there’s a storm on the way, but the weather forecast doesn’t mention snow.’ 

‘Those buggers sometimes get it wrong,’ he said with a wry half-smile. ‘Hopefully there won’t be much in it.’ 

I glanced sideways at him and wished I hadn’t—his frown gave me no confidence that he believed his words. Before I could say anything, though, we got our first look at Deverell Grange. Robbie stopped the car so we could take it all in. The mid-seventeenth-century gabled house rose proudly on a plateau above Deverell Sike—more of a gully than a stream—its Yorkstone exterior darkened over the years to an almost-black deep grey that today matched the sky. The design was a hodge-podge of several styles, with the exterior of the main wing of the house marked by a two-storey porch with mullioned windows flanked by classical columns and a statement rose window beneath battlements and pinnacles.  

‘That’s their grand hall,’ said Robbie, pointing at the single-storey wing with high windows set into the ashlar to the left of the main house. I didn’t see inside it last time, but the old Earl said they used to use it for balls and the like, but not so much now, or, rather, they rarely used it back then,’ he corrected himself. 

‘And the ruins?’ Adjacent to the hall was the gabled facade of what I assumed was once a mirror image of the main house. 

‘Apparently the folly of the third or fourth earl - who knows with that lot. He died before he could finish the renovations - in mysterious circumstances too, mind - and whoever came after had to clean up his debts, so all that’s left is what you see.’

It was impressive, but something about it also sent a shiver up my spine.

‘It feels …’ I was unable to finish. 

Beside me Robbie shuddered. ‘I know what you mean. I can’t stand the place.’

‘Well,’ I said, squaring my shoulders as if heading into battle. ‘The sooner we get started, the sooner we can leave.’

Every Creeping Thing …

While I always used to write to a soundtrack, lately, I’ve been more productive with instrumental music in the background. Sometimes, it's classical, sometimes neoclassical. This last week, I’ve been listening to Every Creeping Thing by Wodwo and Simon McCorry. In full disclosure, Wodwo is my husband’s cousin and an award-winning novelist and screenwriter. He’s also a proud Yorkshireman. It’s ambient music - guitar, cello, synthesiser - that’s difficult to describe or label … the sort of background music with a hum but no beat - electro-orchestral drone. It’s not for everyone, but I find it … soothing - and it’s been perfect for the bleak moorland setting I’ve been writing.

Recipe of the week

Before I get onto this week’s recipe, if you want to know what I’ve been up to in the kitchen, April’s Kitchen Diary has been posted - you’ll find it here.

This week’s recipe is lentil and tomato soup. I first saw this one in Kate Humble’s Home Cooked but have adapted it slightly depending on what I have in the pantry and crisper and featured it in Philly Barker Investigates. Sometimes, I’ll add finely diced carrots and celery. This time, I had a half bag of spinach in the crisper leftover from when I made Recipe Tin Eat’s Tuscan Chicken Pasta Bake during the week (I’d add the recipe link, but it’s a cookbook exclusive), so I chucked that in.

I also had a rasher of streaky bacon (left from the same dish), so I fried it up first until it was crispy, then took it out and fried the onion in the bacony fat. Then, to make the taste go throughout the soup without using more bacon, I blitzed it to bacony dust and stirred it through. Hey presto: extra bacon flavour without all the calories. Naturally, I can’t claim all the credit for this hack - I saw it in a Tom Kerridge book or TV show … one of the three.

This makes enough for 5-6 lunch servings (depending on how hungry you are) and is perfect for the cooler autumn days I’m pretending we’re having when we’re not really … yet...

Lentil and Tomato Soup

What you need…

• a glug of olive oil (not your good extra virgin) or something like rapeseed/canola

• 1 onion, diced finely

• 1 garlic clove, grated

• a thumb-sized piece of ginger, grated

• 1 tbsp cumin seeds

• 1 tbsp garam masala

• 250g dried red lentils

• 1 litre chicken or vegetable stock (fresh or from a cube). If you don’t have either water is fine as well

• 500g tomato passata

• 160ml can coconut cream or milk - whatever you have

• salt and pepper to taste

What you do with it…

Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat and add the onions with a good pinch of salt (the salt will stop them from taking on too much colour). Sweat them down for about 5 minutes until they become soft and translucent and then follow with the ginger and garlic and cook for another 5 minutes. Tip in the garam masala and cumin seeds and mix well. By now, your kitchen should smell amazing.

Add the lentils and stir them through everything. Then, pour in the passata, stock, and coconut cream. Bring to a simmer and cook on gentle heat for 20-25 minutes, stirring every now and then until the lentils are soft.