My Big Fat Breaking Bad Obsession

Breaking Bad is almost over and so ends six months of obsessive TV watching. For those who have not seen the show that won big at the Emmys this year, it is about a chemistry teacher who, when he is diagnosed with cancer, decides to make crystal meth in order to make enough money to support his wife and family after his death.  Spoiler alert! Stop now if you are at the start of the story. I would hate to ruin it for those of you in the early stages of your addiction.

The Breaking Bad obsession is affecting the family, friends, even the neighbours. Walter White, we're missing you already. 

Breaking Bad and the Answering Machine

Last month, a friend decided to record a message in the style of Jessie Pinkman’s.  Try it yourself:

“Yo Yo Yo, 148, 3 to the 3 to the 6 to the 9, representing the ABQ, word up Biatch, Leaveth Tone”.

Needless to say, it had to go. Her Irish accent didn’t do the message justice and ended up confusing callers, especially the dishwasher repair man who was lost on the M7 motorway.

Skyler

She's lost her brother in law and her husband almost kidnapped their baby. It's no wonder Skyler's resting face is one of extreme anxiety. Until the final season is over, this is my face too. I cannot help it. This poor woman is hated by Breaking Bad fans for nothing more than supporting her husband as he runs the biggest crystal meth lab in the world AND a car wash company. 

The RV

Thanks to Breaking Bad, last month we spent every weekend looking at mobile homes and caravans. Only one just like Walt's would do and we didn't find it in Ireland. In my mind, to own an RV like the one below would be a life complete. When the neighbours beat us to it this week and bought a state of the art mobile home, it could only mean one thing. They are manufacturing crystal meth. I am watching their RV every night. It is only a matter of time before the blue smoke appears.  To my neighbours, I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE UP TO. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.  

My Uncle

The weirdest thing of all is that I have a recently retired scientist in the family. Call me obsessed but at his seventieth birthday earlier in the year, I couldn't help but notice that he bears a striking resemblance to Walter White. Is he modelling himself on WW? Perhaps, the writers modelled WW on my uncle. It is quite uncanny. 

Walter White

My Uncle

Breaking Bad and Teenagers

My teenager is also hooked. She loves Jesse. When she was asked at school to write a report on South America, she chose Columbia. “I’m going to do the whole report about the drug cartels”. 

The Hat

My husband celebrate's his birthday at the end of October. So far I have purchases dark sunglasses, a pork pie hat and a windbreaker. I am going to urge him to grow a goatee to complete the look. It has to be done in honour of Heisenberg. He works in horse racing, one of the only industries in Ireland where  in his new attire, he'll blend in at any race meeting. 

Finally....Should I get a BB tattoo?

The test of any super fan is whether or not they go the whole hog and get a tattoo. Here are possible options: 

I'll sleep on this decision. 

Blackberry Jam, Crumble, Crisp and Seamus Heaney.

I am just back from the school run  (that should read school walk as we are lucky enough to be a twenty five minute walk away from school). I enjoy the journey at this time more than any other because of the Autumnal colours and hedgerows bursting with fruits. In a few hours time I'll be picking them up from school and armed with a colander, plan to start collecting the first crop of blackberries. 

There is so much that can be done with blackberries. I am a country girl through and through and my happiest childhood memories are of hours spent in a Sussex field picking them to bring back to our mother. She would always make an apple and blackberry crumble. When she died, the recipe went with her so I spent years trying to replicate that flavour, smell and texture of home. I managed to do just that about five years ago and am sharing the recipe here. 

Along with that, I've put up the simplest blackberry jam and a variation on a crumble called a Blackberry Crisp. It has a softer, buttery topping than the conventional crumble and is simple to make. When you have finished making all three, here you will find also the wonderful poem, 'Blackberry Picking' by the late great Seamus Heaney.

APPLE AND BLACKBERRY CRUMBLE

For the filling:

3 large bramley apples, peeled, cored and diced. 

1 ½ oz butter

12 oz blackberries

5 oz caster sugar

1 pinch of cinnamon (or cloves)

2 fl oz water

For the crumble:

4 oz diced butter

4 oz plain wholemeal flour

4 oz self raising flour

4 oz caster sugar

1 sprinkling of brown sugar

Icing sugar (to dust) 

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/Gas4.

For the filling:
Put the 2 oz of water to a saucepan, add butter and the heat until melted; then add the apple chunks, sugar and cinnamon, stirring until apples are soft - this should take no more than ten minutes. Add the blackberries to the apple compote and stir very gently (at this point, you could add a clove or two).
Remove from heat after about three minutes.

For the topping:
Thoroughly mix the flour and sugar, then place the diced butter into the mix and using your finger tips, lightly rub the mixture through to make a breadcrumb consistency (you can do this easily in a food processor).

Spoon the fruit into a shallow round or oval oven-proof dish. Sprinkle crumble mixture over the top of fruit until fruit is covered. Dust over with a very little amount of brown sugar.

Place in preheated oven and cook on centre shelf for 20-30 minutes or until the crumble is a light golden brown.

BLACKBERRY CRISP  

(a recipe from the wonderful Skye Gyngell)

5 punnets of blackberries
100g/31/2oz caster sugar
The juice and zest of one orange

For the topping

120g/4oz soft brown sugar
140g/41/2oz plain flour
120g/4oz unsalted butter, chilled

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/Gas4.

Scatter the berries into an oven-proof serving dish, large enough to hold them comfortably. Sprinkle the sugar casually over the top, along with the orange zest. Pour over the orange juice – but do not bother to stir anything in evenly.

For the topping, place the sugar and flour into a bowl and toss lightly with your fingertips. Grate the butter into the bowl and work the whole lot together, again using your fingers, until it is the texture of course sand.

Scatter the topping fairly evenly over the berries and place on the middle shelf of the oven. Cook uncovered for 20-25 minutes or until the topping is golden brown.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool slightly – it is also very good at room temperature. Serve straight from the dish, accompanied by a jug of cold double cream.

BLACKBERRY JAM 

(from my mother's Delia Smith recipe book, 1978)

1lb ripe blackberries (450g)
6 fl oz water (175mls)
1 lb granulated sugar (450g)
juice of 1 lemon

Wash the blackberries and place in a heavy-based saucepan with 6 fl oz (170 ml) water, then stew them very gently with a lid on for about 20-25 minutes. Now and then give them a good mash to reduce them to pulp and squeeze as much juice out of them as possible. After that add the sugar and lemon juice to the pan and allow the sugar to dissolve completely, with the heat still low. There must not be any whole granules of sugar left. This takes about 10-15 minutes. Now turn the heat right up and boil fairly rapidly for 8 minutes, stirring now and then to prevent sticking.

Meanwhile warm a large bowl in the oven to get it nice and hot then place the sieve, lined with gauze, over the bowl and pour the blackberry mixture into the lined sieve. Then, using a wooden spoon, get all the liquid through as quickly as possible, squeezing the remaining pulp as much as you can – but do be quick as the jelly sets if you take too long (if it does begin to set before you've had a chance to put it into the jar, just reheat it gently). Now pour the jelly into the sterilised jar (see below), cover with a waxed disc, cool and tie down. 

To sterilise jars, wash the jars and lids in warm, soapy water, rinse well (again in warm water), then dry them thoroughly with a clean tea cloth, place them on a baking tray and pop them in a medium oven, gas mark 4, 350°F (180°C) for a minimum of 5 minutes. Add their contents while they are still hot.

BLACKBERRY PICKING

 by 

Seamus Heaney

Late August, given heavy rain and sun

for a full week, the blackberries would ripen.

At first, just one, a glossy purple clot

among others, red, green, hard as a knot.

You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet

like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it

leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for

picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger

sent us out with milk-cans, pea-tins, jam-pots

where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.

Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills

we trekked and picked until the cans were full,

until the tinkling bottom had been covered

with green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned

like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered

with thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.

We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.

But when the bath was filled we found a fur,

A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.

The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush

the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.

I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair

that all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.

Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not.

You Should Be Dancing

It's just great to have Strictly Come Dancing back on the telly (my money is on Sophie Ellis Baxter - my eyes are on Ben Cohen). Sometimes I dream that Anton Du Beke has me on his shoulders and is spinning me around the dance floor in a sparkly red dress with more more make up on me than Divine in 1983.  

That may never happen but whilst waiting for the new series, I came across a number of dancers on YouTube. Here is the best one by far. She is a legend in her own living room. She loves to dance and has posted a whole heap of dance videos for the world to see. Her name is Diana and my kids say that she and I share the same dance technique. I'm not sure about that. Hair maybe....

SHUT UP AND DRIVE

I'm turning in to Deirdre Barlow from Coronation Street. The constant battles with my teenage daughters are to blame. The worry is killing me. To think that I used to be so fresh faced and full of life. Just a few years ago it was all blue skies, beaches and white teeth. Now it's cloudy skies, stormy waters and waterproof denture adhesive. 

Yesterday morning was ridiculous. Diva Teen walked towards the Stress-mobile wearing a bucket load of mascara that she must have applied with a masonry paint brush. It was like two black ravens had landed on her face. What should I do? Should I say something and risk a full blown rage before she even got into the Stress-mobile or say nothing at all and let it go? What do other mothers do? If I say nothing she'll soon end up going to school looking like Jodie Marsh.

"Are you wearing eye make up?" I asked, keeping it light and remembering what the experts say about picking your fights. (There are always at least ten things that I could moan about at any given time of the day). 

"NO", she replied, her eyelids almost stuck together with the weight of a tube of Urban Decay 'Big Fatty' Mascara. 

"You know that the school have a 'no make up' policy don't you?"

"I AM NOT WEARING MASCARA" then the one word order, "DRIVE".

Now, you put yourself in my shoes. Imagine that scenario. 

What was I to do? To take her inside and get her to remove the 'Big Fatty' in her own time would take a good fifteen minutes. I'd then be left with the other two children in the car and fighting would break out. It would be quicker to take the mascara off myself but I'd have to hold Diva Teen in a head lock or worse still, perform a body slam and power hose it off. Then a neighbour would hear her screaming, they'd phone the social workers and I'd end up being locked up for cruelty to teens. Was mascara really worth the fight? 

I decided to shut up and drive. It was the easiest option. I bit my tongue and drove her to school. The only hope that I was clinging onto was that her teachers wouldn't notice. Luckily, her form teacher is a very glamourous woman herself. A bit like Kate Bush. As it happens, she wears thick mascara too. 

After school I looked in her schoolbag. No letter home from teacher about the make up. I had got away with it. Got away with being a bad parent and not having the strength to discipline my daughter at 8.30am before the school run had even started. 

We went swimming later that afternoon. After five minutes in the pool and forty five minutes in the jacuzzi, Diva Teen got out. She got dressed and came out of the changing room. The 'Big Fatty' mascara was all over her face. 

"What are you looking at?" DIva Teen asked as she came storming towards me. 

"Are you sure you are not wearing mascara?" I asked. 

"I AM NOT WEARING MASCARA!" she screamed back at me. 

I did my best to smile and look like a normal mother as we left the pool.

The next morning, I woke up and looked in the mirror. Perhaps I had let myself go a bit. I've worn the same make up now for twenty years. Maybe if I take more interest in my own appearance and go for a natural, sun kissed look, I might steer my teenagers away from the caked and baked look. I headed into town and bought a new foundation, blusher and lip gloss. Once home, I spent ages applying the stuff in the hope that I might look ten years younger for the school pick up.  

Diva Teen got into the stress-mobile after school. She briefly glanced at me. 

"Well? What do you think? Do you like my new make up?" I had hoped that she'd remember this brief moment of mother daughter  bonding. Maybe we'd have a great chat about make up and beauty and do girlie stuff together from now on. Maybe she'd be happy to be seen with me now that I was making an effort. 

"You look like a drag queen" she replied, "now DRIVE". 

Does anyone have Dr Phil's phone number?

Chocolate Refrigerator Cake.

In the name of research I have made this refrigerator cake fifteen times last month, each time tweaking the ingredients slightly to get it right.  With four children and a chocoholic husband taste tests are simple to organise. This recipe came top and once you have the ingredients prepared, this it takes five minutes to prepare. Just think about that. You can literally make this in the ad breaks and fling it into the fridge. 

This is not a cake for the school lunchbox, it may melt and make teachers cross. But it is ideal for when the children come home. Better still, when the kids are in bed, this is perfect at night for the grown ups with a coffee. It will stay in the fridge for a week and requires so little effort that it demands to be made. Go on, you know you want to....

Ingredients:

10 oz  (300g) chocolate (half milk, half plain)
3 1/2 oz (100g) butter
2 oz (50g) golden syrup
4 oz (115g) (ready to eat) prunes chopped into tiny pieces
6 oz (170g) sultanas
3 oz (75g) pecans roughly chopped
7 oz (200g) shortbread (broken into small chunks)

You will need a lined 2lb loaf tin, twice lined with cling film. 


Method:

Put the sultanas, chopped prunes, broken biscuits and nuts into a large bowl and mix together well. 

Put the butter and chocolate in a bowl and into the microwave until melted. I do mine in 30 second bursts. Take out when melted, mix with fork and add syrup. 

Add the syrupy chocolatey buttery mix to the large bowl of dry ingredients and stir well.

Place into the lined loaf tin and refrigerate for at least three hours. Cut into slices and tuck in. 

Refrigerator Cake top tips: 

• I use half milk and half plain chocolate but the ratio is entirely up to you. You might like to use all plain if you like a bitter taste. If you prefer to make it with milk chocolate alone, you will have a much sweeter finish.  
• Please don't freak out about the addition of prunes. You can't see them but they do add a juiciness that is missed without them. Likewise the sultanas. 
• I have used pecan nuts but walnuts or pistachios also work well. 
• I used Scottish shortbread fingers but also tested the recipe using Malted Milk, Digestives and Gingernuts. All work well and are delicious. 
• Yes, this cake is a calorie catastrophe but think of all that fruit you are getting. Personally I think that a slice of this counts as one piece of your 'Five A Day'.