Making Cider

The Pomona Travelling Cider press visited Mapperton today. They set up at the big house, along with a host of plant nurseries and sellers. I was so excited about making my own juice that I was first in line when he opened for business.

I scrumped a few buckets of choice cider apples (thank you Rupert!) from the orchard where the horses live -
Then we tipped them into the waterbath to remove debris, earwigs, and ladybugs -
Then I fed the clean(ish) apples through the chute where they were chopped up into a pulp, ready for pressing -
Then I tipped my bucket of pulp into a cheesecloth pressed between boards. This is called the "cheese" -
The "cheese" is made of quite a few layers of pulp -
Then I lowered the press on top of the cheese and squeezed all the juice out into a big container -
Then I bottled it -
And sat down to enjoy a fresh glass of my own sweet cider!
I have kept half the juice back to make hard cider which, if all goes well, should be ready by next summer. The rest has gone in the freezer so we can enjoy fresh juice even when our trees are bare. I have earmarked one bottle for the Thanksgiving table and one bottle for Christmas. The biggest bottle will go as part of our contribution to the village's Harvest Supper.

With all the visitors in the village today, I put my surplus chicken eggs at the bottom of the driveway and sold out in the first hour. I only charge 60p a half dozen which I'm told is cheap (no pun intended) but I never have any go unsold, and it pretty much pays for the chickens' feed so I'm happy. This morning's egg sale paid for the cider too. Just occasionally, things just seem to work out right.

And the prize for the most antiquated work uniform goes to....

Thank you. Thank you. I accept this award on behalf of all my fellow serfs and servants. Yes we are wearing knee length trousers and knitted long socks with matching garters. The plaid is chosen by the estate and matching suits are made in London. The 'keepers get a new suit every other year, as stated in their contract of employment.

Mike and all the underkeepers have to wear the wool suit regardless of temperature, though yesterday the team allowed him to work without his jacket on. But he had to ask permission of the shoot captain. Etiquette, you know.

It's a bold fashion statement, but also functional. The wool is tough against the brambles and thorns encountered on shoot days. One of my wifely duties is to check his suit after every shoot day, and pull any threads back through that have caught on thorns, or darn any tears. It is a glamorous life.

The trousers are short so they don't chafe under long boots or, traditionally, leather gaiters worn to protect the lower leg. You may have heard the term 'plus twos' or 'plus fours'? It refers to the amount of overhang at the knee - 2 inches or 4 inches. The knee is cinched and the overhang directs water over the top of your boot or gaiters, not into it. The ones I'm wearing are actually riding trousers (too hot for wool, I don't have to ask permission) and have no overhang. On a rainy day the capillary action where the trouser meets the sock would mean I had wet feet by lunchtime. And because they're not as sturdy a material, I was patching a hole just the night before, on the inside thigh where I caught my backside going over a barbed wire fence.

But the day was beautiful, sunny and warm. Not the best weather for flying birds (has to do with position of the sun, barometric pressure, and the birds' tendencies to wander on nice days). But the team of guns were lovely, and keen on their first partridge day. Here's a picture of the guns lined out at a drive -
The birds will fly over their heads from right to left in this photo. Poor Lord M saw a bird late and by the time he raised his gun and pulled the trigger he was bent backwards; the recoil nearly sent him rolling down the hill. The same happened on the next drive and it did catch him out. I expect he's sore this morning.

The dogs are alert, watching birds and marking the ones that are hit -
Look at the concentration. We were posted in the woods, looking for stragglers. The woods were dappled and cooler, which both the dogs and I appreciated -
The dogs caught two birds - a pheasant and a partridge - both unharmed. And because these 2 spaniels have soft mouths, I could let them go again to fly another day. It's only good sportsmanship. I took a picture of the partridge as they are such attractive little birds up close -
I don't think she's impressed by the experience. The total bag for the day was 191 partridge, and the guns were happy. The partridge have already gone to the game dealer and are probably on their way to market in Belgium. A few went home with the beaters and pickers up for their suppers. More game is eaten on the continent than in England.

It was also my 40th birthday yesterday, and I had lots of cards and well wishing from friends and family. Mike bought me too many gifts as he always goes overboard, but it was thoughtful of him. I did get the sheep trailer of my dreams, and a jam funnel and thermometer. What more does any woman need?

He had to admit that he'd also bought me a flock of Shetland/Dorset cross sheep, but only after I'd surprised him with my news of the Gotlands that were arriving in Spring. So his sheep went back. But it was a nice thought. He has promised me he won't buy any more livestock as presents. I hope I can hold him to that!

Jam Makers' Anonymous and the Tell-Tale Chicken

Shooting season is in full swing for us now. The first day stirred up the partridges and gave the dogs a chance to be disobedient in front of paying customers. Gamekeepers' dogs are different from pets or field trial dogs; ours are multi-purpose working beasts and as such tend to fall into the "jack of all trades, master of none" category. Not perfect but effective. It's hard to explain to a dog that, although I wanted you to work far away chasing pheasants for the last month, today I want you to sit patiently and wait until I send you for a bird, just ignore those others falling around you and hunt closer please. Don't forget to bring me back what you find and hold it until I take it from you. Jazz and Dulcie came and did an admirable job, and in hot weather. I never cease to be amazed by their drive to find lost and wounded birds.

We are 50% down on working dogs. Pip is still lame in her front foot from a thorn and Podge scratched her cornea chasing birds home from thick cover. Pip has had to go back on antibiotics and I will make her a boot tonight to stop her licking the pad of her foot. Podge's eye is much better and I will probably work her on Monday and give Jazz a rest. I usually work a pair.

Hazel, a 5 year old springer spaniel we adopted from my old employer, is also going to be given a chance this season. She came to us with the "useless" tag (as have 4 of our other dogs) after suffering training by electric collar. She hunts and retrieves like a demon but recall can be optional. She gets so focused on hunting she seems to go temporarily deaf. Mike says it's a common affliction known as "spanielitis". I hate the thought of losing her on a shoot day but if we can get her past this and working regularly, she will be a much happier more fulfilled little dog, and a real asset to the team. Everyone needs a purpose.

The weather has been so beautiful today I used it as an excuse to defer housework (again). I thought living in a small cottage would be easier - less space to keep clean - but it's quite the opposite. There is so little room to put anything, my small amount of stuff gets dizzy it's moved around that much. The dining room is doubling as a tack room, the office is under the stairs and there are sheep fleeces in spare bedroom. I seem to live in the kitchen. Mike lives in his truck.

Well, the pup needed training anyway and there are just so many blackberries still in the hedgerows. I couldn't resist collecting just one more tub. Just one more lot of jelly. This is the last time I swear. I'm going to need an intervention soon. But I picked and trained, and Spud went for her biggest walk yet, and brought me back 3 half eaten partridge carcases. One came out of the river and had been picked completely clean by crayfish except the wingtip feathers. Fascinating. I swapped her the skanky birds for a handful of biscuits, an amiable exchange. She has the desire to retrieve which bodes well for future training; retrieving is something that is incredibly difficult to teach if the natural inclination isn't there. When I ran out of biscuits, she was happy to eat some of my picked blackberries instead.

I've spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen cooking for tomorrow's shoot and for our dinner. I've made one venison meatloaf, a big pot of venison chili, gallons of potato, leek & pea soup, plus venison sausage rolls, and scones. I still have the blackberry & apple jelly to finish tonight after I feed and water the horses. I try and keep the dogs out of the kitchen when I'm cooking. Though I don't mind a few dog hairs in my jelly (all dog owners know it has healing properties), I don't suppose the workers will want it in their soup.

The dogs were sent out of the kitchen, but shortly after a chicken joined me. I looked down to see Mrs Sussex staring up at me with her head cocked and making a little noise at me. It almost sounded like a complaint. She certainly looked perturbed - if a chicken can look perturbed. I thought about the leftover food I just put out on the lawn and wondered if she wasn't getting her fair share and came in to complain. Then I remembered the dogs. This is what I found:
A very greedy shepherd. I took her picture then shooed her off the baked bean buffet. Who knew chickens were such tattle-tales?

I also promised to take a picture of the bathrobe-dog coat when I finished it:
The coat has been hemmed and velcro closures put on the front and the belt. The coat is modelled by its new owner Pip (does that make it a "lab coat"?) who obviously thinks this is loungewear. It needs the bootie on her front foot, to complete the ensemble.

I didn't even know robins could sew

It's the day before the start of our shoot season and there is more to do than there are people and daylight hours to do it. I'm about to get stuck into making dinner for the workers but an easy one - bacon and beans over mashed potatoes. Not inspired but easy and it tastes fine after being left for 4 hours in a slow cooker while we shoot. Plus I have jam to make, and our own dinner, and scones if I can find room in the oven.

Every time I start to cook, I get called to do an 'air strike' - that's what Mike and the guys call my throwing the spaniels in cover to chase the pheasant and partridge home. The birds must know the season starts tomorrow and they're all trying to leave home in droves! The weather is a bit warm for the dogs but we have conveniently placed troughs for a drink and a quick cool down. I will be packing the dog first aid kit tomorrow and ensure that there is lots of water for dogs and a few sachets of electrolyte solution, for those who overdo it on the first day.
Our chimney sweep - nicknamed Sooty - came today with his broom and cleaned both chimneys and wood stoves. He's just been interviewed for the TV program Coast. The series goes around the coast of Britain (hence the name) telling people's stories and family histories. Sooty found out that his father was an African-American soldier stationed over here during the war. The programme discusses the unsung role that these soldiers played not only in the war, but in British society at the time. Racism was never as formative a part of UK culture, but the Americans brought it with them and it affected British life.

Sooty took over his family's chimney sweep business and his sons, one of whom is also a fireman, are following on behind. He's nearing retirement age now but shows no signs of slowing down yet. We had a great discussion while he made sure we had clean and safe chimneys for the winter. Better yet we did an amiable trade - some of his freshly caught prawns and a sea bream, for a kilo of our minced venison and package of sausages.

On the subject of interesting facts: While I was rummaging in the hedgerow as I have been doing lately, I saw this strange parasitic growth on a dog rose stem -
It's called a Robin's Pin Cushion and it's the gall of a wasp, Diplolepsis rosae for you science nerds. It was oddly pretty. Nature is so cool.

We also dropped Boris at his new home last night. I parked him next to his new friends and gave him a hug goodbye.And took a picture of the farm where he's now going to live, just so you know he went to a good home.
I've taken some pictures of the cider apple harvest too, just because it's a fascinating process. I promise to explain more fully next time. But for now I must get on with the cooking. Wish us luck - and a few birds overhead - for tomorrow.

Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in

No, not the Sicilian mafia. The hedgerows. Miles of them, still heaving with fruit and foliage and possibilities. I gave in to my appetite and picked more blackberries (just this one last time...I swear...) as I had a new recipe idea - Blackberry, Apple & Winter Pimm's no 3 cup Jelly. Pimm's is an alcoholic mixer, in this case based on brandy infused with spices. Summer Pimm's (no 1 cup) is based on gin with spices and citrus. Of all the British gastronomic traditions, Pimm's and lemonade in summer is in the top 5.

I also gave into my creative urges and made a Fall wreath for the front door, using only what's in the hedgerow (and a bit of wire). I braided some teasel and formed it into a ring, then added rosehips, old man's beard (Clematis vitalba), and some Crocosmia seedheads. I think it looks seasonal.

I can remember my mother making Christmas wreaths for the doors and windows of our childhood home. Every year was a different style. One year she made outlandish wreaths out of white turkey feathers. Suburbia and taste be damned. As a child I thought they were pretty cool. As an adult I admire her for expressing her own creative vision.

I've been pretty productive today in general. It's the countdown to the start of our shooting season - only 2 days away now. Mike is dashing around with a pained expression on his face, and his usual mellow attitude has given way to a panic normally associated with DEFCON 2 or worse. I can just hear his truck pulling into the drive as I write this, at 8pm on Saturday evening. I've been preparing the village hall kitchen to feed the shoot workers, getting last minute supplies in and preparing the very basic menu, as all my food has to be done in a slow cooker [crockpot]. And chasing birds back home every morning. No weekends off.

We did have a few hours off the estate this afternoon to look at sheep. We've now decided on Gotlands as a good balance between fleece quality and meat. We went to White Hall Farm in Devon and met David and Lyn who breed Gotlands and run the breed society. They were so generous with their time and knowledge, and we will contact them in spring to buy 5 ewes and start our own flock. Those are some of their handsome breeding rams in the picture below. I confess I also brought home a bag of Gotland fleece to spin. It's so soft it's unreal. I'm knitting a secret project for my dear cousin Lisa who's expecting her first child. It's one of my "auntie duties". I swatched it last night and started it this morning at 6.30am - is that dedication or what!? And it's nice to have something on my needles again.

The meat chickens are growing so quickly, I've had to build them a makeshift extension, and give them some fresh grass. They showed their appreciation by doing a comical run while flapping their wings. With those breasts they have no hope of getting off the ground but it gives them a good stretch. Totally winded, they spent the rest of the morning laying in the sun and eating. Now that they're nearing their cull weight, it dawns on me that I'm not sure how I'm going to get 29 chickens in my already full freezer. Hmmmm.

One old bathrobe = dog coat & training dummy

I put my back out splitting firewood this week. Thankfully the chiropractor righted it for me this morning, and now it's just sore muscles. My body is reminding me that I'm about to turn 40. Add that to my own poor judgement - using a heavy splitting maul when an axe would do - and hey presto, ice packs and no heavy work for a couple days.

So I've been doing odd jobs and making lists of things I need to do once my muscles stop yelling at me. With shoot season upon us, and the prospect of wet and cold weather, I thought about that old bathrobe I saved. I was about to recycle it when I thought, I bet you could make a simple dog coat out of that. Turns out you can, here's how:

1. Find a willing dog that will stand still long enough, and is the right size(ish)

2. Cut the arms off the robe. If you cut neatly just past the join, you won't have to hem. Put the dog's front legs through the armholes like so-

3. Check that you can pull each side of the robe closed over the front of the dog's chest, enough that you can put a good size piece of velcro there as a front fastener. Check when the dog is stood up and sat down that it's not too tight.

4. Get the dog to stand up and fold the bottom half of the robe up over the dog so it covers the kidneys but doesn't drag - 5. Now cut off all that material folded over the dog's back. Leave a little extra if you want to hem it and neaten it up.

6. Now cut along the sides so they aren't dragging on the ground. Again, leave a bit extra length if you want to hem it. Be careful you don't cut through the arm holes. It should look like this -

7. Take the belt that came with the bathrobe and feed it back though the belt loops. Wrap it once around the dog, quite loosely. Leave a 3-5 inch overlap and mark it with a pin. This is where you'll put another velcro fastener -

8. You can hem the edges if you wish. I used some iron-on hemming tape. Add the velcro strips to the front and to the belt. Done. Instant dog coat, and I saved myself £35.

I'm out of velcro so I can't show you the finished coat, but I will post a picture when it's done.

Besides terrycloth/towelling coats, you can by dry bags - essentially a towel bag you zip your dog into and only the head is poking out:

The bags keep your car clean, which I think is their main selling point. We have one and have tried it, but ended up with a writhing spaniel chewing its way out. I find the coats easier to use and I can put them on a dog while we're having lunch and let them walk around to help keep warm and limber.

While I had the iron-on hemming tape I remembered I needed a training dummy for the puppy. She's just starting to show interest in retrieving things. Mike has lots of tubifast leftover from his hospital visits. I used an arm-length section of tubifast and sealed one end with the tape. Then I rolled up one of the sleeves I cut from the bathrobe into a sausage shape and put it inside, and sealed up the other end. Puppy tried it out:Perfect! Just the right size, not too heavy, good mouth feel and it smells of her family. Later I can put some pheasant feathers and such in it to get her used to the smell of quarry.

It's especially cathartic to take objects associated with our difficult time in the hospital last year - Mike's robe and the tubifast he wore to protect his arms - and turn them into something life affirming like our relationship with our dogs.

I feel like I've been chained to the kitchen for weeks, with occasional and brief forays outside to pick more fruit. Harvest is only a short period of time, so I shouldn't complain. I will be glad of the preserves and frozen vegetables come winter.

Yesterday, besides making a fish pie and apple crumble, I processed 4 containers' worth of apple puree and a big bowl of runner beans for the freezer. We sometimes give in to the 21st century (and our own laziness) and order a Chinese takeaway, and the meals come in these great reusable plastic containers with lids - exactly the right size for freezing a 2 people portion of soup, or a dose of stock, 4 pheasant breasts, or enough apple puree for a pie or batch of muffins. And the containers form a tidy, space-saving stack in the freezer, unlike bags which roll around and split. Well, that's my excuse for ordering out. Oh, and it's supporting a local business. I'm getting through our stash pretty quickly now, but we'll have enough. I'll run out of freezer space first, as I've just taken delivery of 10 packs of venison sausages from Paul the stalker, as payment for the wild pig.

Did you know in the middle ages, the term 'venison' referred to any animal killed in a hunt, from rabbit to deer to bear? That is your fact for the day.

I also made 2 gallons of sloe gin. The gin won't be ready until this time next year, when it has been thoroughly steeped in the sloe juice and sugar. That probably sounds like a lot of gin, but shared out with a team of pickers-up it just about lasts one shoot season. The dark purple bottle on the left was made some months ago and is just about ready for this season.

The mobile cider press is coming next Sunday, but my bramley apple tree is looking denuded, especially after last night's heavy winds. I will speak to Rupert the cider farmer and beg some of his fruit. He's always generous to us and I'm sure he'll spare me a bucket. I made the mistake of freezing the juice in a huge gallon container last year and once opened it only stays fresh for a day or two, faster than I can drink it. Then it turns to vinegar. Not a waste though - cider vinegar is reputed to have health-giving properties for horses, so I tip a cupful in Alan's and Kitty's buckets. Everyone gets a share.

Aside from making my daily loaf of bread - Mike's staple diet, he eats a loaf a day - I've been chained to the village cafe's sink today. It adds a few pennies to the coffers. In this case, it has paid for Spud's new indoor crate. She outgrew the old one -any longer in there and she would have been a bonsai pet.

But it's Pip who's in the 'doghouse' today. As I was getting in the shower, she came in proud to show off what she'd just rolled in. It was all over her face and behind her ears, and she had a nice racing stripe down her left side. So I had to shower her before I could shower myself and go to work. Dogs: if they're not eating something disgusting, they're rolling in it.

And on that thought, I'd better get on and feed the horses, make dinner, and maybe even mow the lawn. Thankfully, there's nothing I can make from grass clippings except compost, and that doesn't take up freezer space.