TOAD IN THE HOLE!

We were told that this was going to be the last week that we can expect rain.  We were told that at the end of the week we can expect seasonal temperatures, which will gradually hover around, and then go into, triple digits.  Look out folks, we are heading for hot, hot, hot!  Being spoken to like a bunch of pre-high school pupils, by someone who wasn't born until the turn of the millennium, about how to hydrate, pick a suitable sunscreen, and stay indoors as much as possible, is always a good start to the day!  I find myself, more and more, shouting back at the radio, television or any other device from which this education is given, and become the person we used to laugh at as kids.  "They can't hear you!" we used to say to my grandfather when he would answer the commentator.  Or perhaps they can?  Let's not go there!

Sunday evening was pleasant, after an afternoon with my grandson.  We spent the last fifteen minutes of 'playtime' under the umbrella, as the cloud that burst held a lot of water.  It was like a lake had been put into a sealskin, and then slit open!  No one else was at the pool, but that was hardly surprising.  It was slightly cooler and the clouds were rather ominous.

I tried to call the 'shop' to book my car in for its annual inspection and general 'going over', but they did not answer the phone.  I made a note to try later in the day and then promptly left said note on the table, which got covered by other paperwork, and I forgot as the day got busier.  I still had time, but wanted to get it done sooner rather than later, just so I had one less thing to tick off my list.  My list is not particularly long, nor important, but since the beginning of the year, when I had to 'take the reigns' I seemed to get back into the old saddle!  

Indeed, the child who offered advice about the heat, was correct and by Tuesday the humidity had started to make it feel much hotter, and the wall of heat was quite debilitating.  Going to the postbox was quite the ordeal.  I remembered to wear my hat, but did not take an umbrella.  I did not want to give anyone a false sense of hope that more rain would be imminent.  

Grant had procured some HP sauce (an English delight) from one of the shops he frequents.  We had been discussing it a couple of weeks ago when talking about the famous 'full English' breakfast.  "There is nothing like a sausage sandwich with HP sauce", I had commented.  Of course, a 'sausage' is not the same here as it is there and trying to describe the difference in not only sausage, but also 'sauce', was quite the challenge.  "Irish or /English", I said, when talking about sausages, "But it is easier to find Irish".  When I brought out the 'sauce' for sampling purposes, there was a discussion on to what it could be compared.  "It is sort of like.....with maybe some ..... or....".   Nothing.  I can be compared to nothing!  Grant was rather pleased with himself when he found the bottles on the shelf.

With the new bottle of sauce burning a hole in my fridge, I decided there was nothing else to do but cook a very typical English dish.  However, with the lack of immediate access to the English, or indeed Irish sausage, (without going to a specific shop,) my options were limited to chicken bangers.  Everything else was 'smoked' or unsuitable.  I am not trying to cast aspersions upon the great Elgin Hot Guts,  'Brats', or any other kind of delicacy that is served in various restaurants and barbecue places, but there is a big difference between these items and the Great British Sausage.  I digress! 

I decided to make 'Toad in the Hole'.  "Toad?  I have had frogs legs, but .....". No!  It isn't an amphibian. The nearest explanation for the name, that I could find, is that it resembles a toad looking up from the pond.  How anyone came up with the idea of putting sausages in batter, is beyond me, but I am thankful that they did!  Naturally, I went to an English recipe,  and made the batter early in the morning. My choice of Black Forest Gateaux for dessert made a strange combination, but it has been an itch waiting to be scratched.  I thought (wrongly) that I could perhaps 'prep' the day before!  However, again I digress.

Finally, I made contact with the 'auto-shop' and booked in the car for Friday morning, wondering if I would see it before Monday!  Although I would recommend their services from here to a good English (or Irish) sausage maker, their ability to keep me informed about my vehicle, and their progress, is not 'proper sausage'!  In other words, it would not a good toad in the hole make!  I had asked for two other things to be looked at, one simple, one less so!

It occurred to me that the success of the dish would have been achieved with less sausages.  Looking at all the pictures, the sausages are not squashed to allow the batter to breathe.  However, one of my regular guests is a young man, probably the same age as the child who gives advice on how to deal with the Texas heat, and has an appetite that of a tapeworm!  We often wonder if he eats for the rest of the week!  The batter rose and the sausages were good, albeit chicken, and not British (or Irsh) in any shape or form!

Twenty years ago, on Thursday, Samantha and I said 'au revoir' to our homeland.  I say 'au revoir' as unlike those who entered through Ellis Island, we did expect to see the shores of Blighty again.  However, it was very emotional, and quite the upheaval.  The 'annual' story of how we arrived at the airport, and no one was here to meet us, was once again revisited.  Dana was late in picking us up.  I had no cell phone, no change to put in a phone box (if they took change) and not a lot of cash!  He had been out for dinner, and was late leaving, and could not find a parking space.  We did not have an easy journey.  We had to say cheerio to Richard (and her dad) and had to buy an extra bag, because we were overweight, and pay an extortionate amount for said extra bag.  Twenty years later, we are still having difficulty 'blending' at times!  I would imagine that those who came through Ellis Island blended a lot quicker, but then they came in the hope of a better life and from an unsavory lifestyle. Or maybe not (on both counts.)  Twenty years ago, I wondered if I would ever feel 'at home'.  Despite getting homesick, I do feel 'at home'.   After all, everyone is obsessed with the weather!

A utility truck was parked a few doors down.  I heard a strange noise, and went to investigate as I thought it may be my air-conditioning playing up.  I thought about letting someone else see what was going on, but then decided I should check myself for two reasons.  One, and probably the lesser reason, was because I was checking for my neighbours.  Secondly, and more to the point, I am just that nosey!  "Sorry, ma'am.  Are we blocking your way?"  I responded that they were not, but wanted to know what they were doing.  "Power washing the sewer, ma'am".  Of course they were, at 9pm!  Thankfully, I knew it was something that we had asked to be done, but at 9pm?  I suppose we should be grateful that they are willing to work that late.  "You have a good evening, ma'am", said the young man, whose triplet brothers eat like they are infested with a tapeworm, and gives advice about what to do in hot climates!  I must be getting old!

Another week flew by, and another month!  Friday was rather quiet.  I took my car to the 'auto-shop' and had the same conversation with the mechanic about the attributes of the mini.  I was collected and driven to work, and as expected, I had to call a couple of times to find out the progress.  "Do you need it back today?  I will call you tomorrow!"  

The temperature rose and the humidity did make it feel much hotter. Thank you Mr. Weatherman (short trousers notwithstanding). I thought about the first summer here, how my sister came to visit with Richard and my nephew.  How we got lost every time we went on a journey, without a local to show us the way.  (It was how I found my way around!) How we were not understood at 'drive-thru's'.  (We are still not understood at 'drive-thru's'.) How we were asked "How long you visiting for?" (We are still asked how long we are visiting for.) How we are asked, "What part of Australia are y'all from?"  (Yes...still asked!)  

Keeping up the traditions of the 'old country' is not new in these parts.  There are many pockets, in many states, that keep up their 'old country' traditions.  Twenty years is not a lifetime, for most, and we do not have the generations that those who came through Ellis Island, or San Francisco, or indeed, the Vikings have to keep up traditions, but we will try.  Shouting at the television, making Toad in the Hole, HP sauce and being misunderstood will suffice, at least until ............. another story!