Domestic Goddessery

I truly feel that in this last week I have levelled up!

Those of you who follow the Facebook page as well as subscribe to the blog will have already seen these so I apologise to you happy few!

However, on Tuesday I once again ventured into the land of “making fresh soup from scratch for my beloved offspring”.

Ho ho ho *hysterical laughter commences*

So a slightly different selection of vegetables, including shallots for, you know, actual seasoning!


I did mention I didn’t know how to cook right?!?!?!


Which ended as this:

And yes, the significantly less chunky one was for #1 Son.

No, he didn’t eat it. But he did try it at least.


I have instituted a new rule of three separate mouthfuls before I call time. If he manages that (and we are only talking about three individual pieces of pasta – and please note the shape of them) then the bowl of pre-prepared plain pasta (yes I weep internally at this) that I also prepare is produced. I also offer grated cheese. If no try? No extra pasta. Cruel perhaps? But I’m officially at the end of my rope.


TT was marginally more impressed, but generally speaking, once her big brother gives up on something, so does she.

So I was left with a fairly voluminous pot of soup, with no idea what to do about it. But then with a sudden brain wave I decided I would blend the lot down and freeze it.

Behold the wonder and joy of ice baths and ziplock bags! There is a large bag that will serve as an emergency meal for us, and two smaller portions that the hus-creature can take to work alongside some microwaveable portions of ready to eat rice.

Behold the awesomeness of my wifely skill and care!!!!


STOP SNIGGERING AT THE BACK THERE


And that is not all dear audience, oh by no means.

I also did this:

Why yes, that would be a pan of homemade vegetable stock using the leftovers.

Now, I will freely admit that it seems that I apparently made the grievous error of including eggplant aubergine peelings in it – because they are bitter they shouldn’t be used. But there was a whopping amount of butternut squash unused from the soup:

And so I think it balanced out, as it didn’t taste bitter at all. And so now I have about 1.3 litres of homemade stock to use in my next attempt and providing the beasts with actual nutrition.

I’m actually itching to get my hands on a chicken carcass or lamb bones now πŸ˜‚πŸ€£

And this, this is not all. Today, I did this:

I actually ironed and sorted all of my son’s t-shirts.

Look, I appreciate that this does not sound impressive. And that I probably should not be as proud of this as I actually am, but as ironing could definitely be consider as my own personal Goliath/Achilles Heel/insert Greek metaphor of choice here I’m bloody pleased with myself!

All in all, I feel confident in stating that this week I have definitely levelled up in overall domestic goddessery.

Domestic Goddessing

No really. I have been.

Stop laughing at the back there!!!!

My wonderful momma is returning to Blighty a week tomorrow (😱😒😰) so I’m having to actually make a concerted effort to pull my finger out and get back to normality.


Right here and now I cannot promise to maintain standards of ironing for anyone beyond #1 Son – he likes “smart” so let’s see how we go.

God help me!!!!


So today, _I_ have thrown together the dinner for the children.

It is a stew of my own invention (and therefore probably lacks seasoning)

Order thrown into pot:
  • Fingerling potatoes – three colours
  • One small turnip
  • One parsnip
  • Three carrots – one orange, one purple, one white
  • One acorn squash
  • One boneless pork chop
  • Three (peeled) apples
  • Remains of a bag of frozen green beans that #1 Son has been refusing to eat
  • A bunch of fresh sage (I have since been informed that I shouldn’t have used that much and only used the leaves – these have since been extracted)
  • A pint of ready made chicken stock (like lamb, pork stock does not apparently exist)
  • Pinch of salt

Chucked it all in the slow cooker on high, been in 2.5 hours at the moment.

I’ll blend it down for their dinner and call it potage. TT will eat it. #1 Son? Almost certainly not.

Sigh.