Category Archives: Cookery

Yorkshire turf wars and rock cakes

I remember my Dad making a turf fire in the garden …

He’d start by just constructing a small mound of dry paper, twigs and other combustibles; then set it alight and gradually add turves around it, grass side downwards, until it was transformed into what looked like a pyramid of earth. It was a very useful means of disposing of a large quantity of grass which had grown where it was, for instance, covering soil needed for cultivation. The turves kept the heat in and (presumably) just enough oxygen seeped in to maintain combustion. The most memorable thing about it for me was that it just kept burning for days on end, usually with a thin wisp of sweet-scented smoke curling around the top of the ever-growing pile, with occasional flare-ups. At the end there was a large pile of useful, weed-free ash, which could be spread around the garden and acted as a cleanser (or so I was told), whilst adding valuable nutrients such as potash.

Now that was back in Wales, but I was reminded of those fires when I came across this postcard in our family archives. It shows an indoor turf fire – with a remarkable caption: “Turf fire at Huckaback, Castleton, Yorks, which has not been out for 70 years (1910)”.

If ever proof were needed that turf fires can burn for a very long time, this is surely it; except that there used to be one in The Saltergate Inn in Teesside which is reputed to have burned continuously, until fairly recently, since the 1730s!

By chance another postcard caught my eye with a related subject. This one is captioned “THE TURF BAKE KITCHEN SLEIGHTS”, Sleights being a village in North Yorkshire, located in the Esk Valley in the postal region of Whitby.

Despite my best efforts, I haven’t managed to find out how common turf cake kitchens were – whether they were “a thing”, in current parlance – but I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a large number of them back in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in Yorkshire. The Foods of England Project website, whilst helpfully describing how turf cakes were made, also points us in the direction of a wonderful quote from the utterly charming Yorkshire Painted And Described by Gordon Home: “I stepped into the little parlour, with its sanded floor, and demanded fat rascals’ and tea. The girl was not surprised at my request, for the hot turf cakes supplied at the inn are known to all the neighbourhood by this unusual name.” So it seems that turf cakes are directly related to what are nowadays known as “fat rascals”, similar to both rock cakes and scones.

(By the way, for anyone interested in the history, cities, towns, villages, ports and beautiful countryside of Yorkshire, I thoroughly recommend a visit to the Project Gutenburg Yorkshire Painted And Described ebook, which is freely available online and contains some twenty-five chapters and thirty-one paintings).

There’s a little more information about Sleights Turf Cake Bakehouse on the Facebook page of Rustic Baking Co Ltd, a small artisan bakery based on the edge of the North Yorkshire moors near Whitby. who also point to the link to fat rascals. But here the plot thickens …

In 2017, in what you might call a turf war, a small cafe in Whitby, Sandgate Coffee & Delights, was taken to court by Bettys Tea Rooms, who claimed to own the trademark in Fat Rascals. Bettys Tea Rooms won the case, despite Miss Matos, of the Whitby cafe, being able to show that fat rascals were baked on peat fires in Whitby as long ago as 1855.

Fat Rascals at Betty’s of York, UK

Rustic Baking continues to make turf cakes, but they call them Bossy Bettys.

I wonder why?

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Credit:

Fat Rascals at Betty’s of York, UK – Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) – author Wendy Slattery

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October/November 2020 garden diary

Deadly danger in the garden! I watched as an amazing crop of mushrooms and toadstools sprang up over the past couple of months. But I was shocked when I identified this specimen …

Although I’m a complete novice in the field of fungi, I remembered seeing this one illustrated as being deadly. And I believe this video on the wildfooduk.com website (a really fascinating, well-produced site, by the way) confirms my suspicion.

October can be a strange month in the garden. Some plants continue to grow full pelt and produce fruit or flowers; others quickly lose their leaves, wither and die, succumbing to the first frost; and then there are the fungi …

Fungi seem to have appeared every year, in all our previous gardens too, often arranged in a whole or part circle: both annual and annular, as it were. But this year has been different: the more I looked, the more I discovered so many individual plants, groups, pairs, rings – and so many different types.

Well okay, they’re not plants. In fact, they’re neither vegetable nor animal, the experts tell us. They form a completely different Kingdom. So what should we say they are? Planimals? Vegetals? Coincidentally, scrolling through our TV’s programme guide, I just happened to come across a discussion show on Al Jazeira, which featured a revealing interview with mycologist Paul Stamets. He confirmed that many fungi do indeed appear suddenly, in “cellular explosions”. Incidentally, Stamets is a cast member in a 2019 movie called Fantastic Fungi.

He believes that fungi are extremely under-exploited. With their largely-untapped uses in the fields of pharmacology, agriculture and environmental improvement, research into fungi should be funded as much as the computer industry, he suggests. Fungi produce water, hydrating the environment and sweating out enzymes, he says, and spores of mushrooms often become nuclei for raindrops, potentially a game-changing benefit in arid areas of the planet.

I think the unseasonably warm and moist atmosphere during this period must have been an important factor in prompting the appearance of so many. In fact, I didn’t realise quite how many were on display until I did a kind of “audit”. Searching in the grass, under trees, along the sides of concrete paths, in undergrowth, on wood piles and hidden away in crowded borders, I discovered some specimens I’d never have known were there. It all started with this lot …

I can’t say with any certainty what type of mushroom (toadstool?) these are.

Looking at my copy of The Observer’s Book of Mushrooms and Toadstools, I’m in awe of experts on fungi – mycologists – who can distinguish between the vast array of individual fungi types. It turns out that there are four main divisions in the world of fungi: Chytridiomycota (chytrids), Zygomycota (bread molds), Ascomycota (yeasts and sac fungi) and Basidiomycota (club fungi). The divisions are based on the way in which different fungi reproduce sexually.

But of course in the large majority of cases I haven’t a clue as to the names of the individual types that I came across. Having said that, realising that there are so many examples in and on our modest garden does make me want to find out more.

Ah yes, the gills. Also known as lamella, apparently, and the place where spores are formed and ejected. I wondered whether mushrooms and toadstools all had gills. Well, just hold on. I’ve searched in vain for information on the distinction between mushrooms and toadstools and it turns out there isn’t one. The Observer’s Book says: “The name commonly used for the cap fungi, other than mushrooms, is toadstools”. Elsewhere I read that they’re non-scientific terms, most often used to distinguish edible from non-edible fungi, and shorthand names for differentiating a fungus with a more ‘conventional’ shape (stalk and cap) – mushroom – from one with some other shape (toadstool). Though not always. Okay?

Anyway, back to the audit. Here are some more pics of the fungi I found.

Did you know, by the way, that for sheer size the largest living land organism is a honey fungus that makes a blue whale look like a mouse in comparison. Back to the audit …

Fungal spores are so light they are easily blown around by even the lightest of winds. The thought occurred to me that they might well fly so high that they could reach the exosphere and be conveyed to other planets – or even to other solar systems – by the effects of gravity and solar winds. Well, from what I’ve read of the weighty debate about this topic, it does seem unlikely. But the argument in favour of panspermia, in opposition to abiogenesis, is one that seems likely to run for many years to come.

After a few weeks, most were gone, cringing and shrinking into the cold of the night air. By the time of the first November frost, they’d vanished.

Vanished but not died: what I’d seen was each fungus’s “fruiting body”. Below the surface, the mycelium lives on, often lending assistance to other plants, as I mentioned in my blog about planting bare root roses. Fungi act as an internet of the soil, allowing plants to communicate with each other. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to join in their conversations? It seems that mushrooms have a great deal to offer us.

And, of course, they do provide a key ingredient in a mushroom omelette; though make sure you choose the right variety …

 

 

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