The "weird bannock scone thing."

Sometimes things don't quite work out as you hoped. It's not like it's a total disaster, really, but the image you have in your head doesn't quite translate into what you end up with what's in front of you. You visualise a triumph of culinary delight...

And end up with... culinary ooze...

To back up a little, I decided (and mentioned in the links post I did for Là Fhèill Mìcheil) to have a go at making a different version of the Strùthan Mhìcheil than I've done before. Here's one I made earlier:

It's a very dense bannock because it doesn't have any butter in it, and the caudle topping was very thick so I was able to spread it on and it stayed put. This one above was the large one, but I made individual ones as well:

Which turned out rather neatly.

The recipe I used for the most recent batch is here, and it kind of requires a certain level of psychism to actually figure out how to make it. For one, there aren't any instructions on how to make the bannock itself, but seeing as it was referred to as a scone I made it like that – rubbed the butter and flour together into fine breadcrumbs, then mixed in the rest to make the dough. I didn't need nearly as much milk as the recipe suggested – I'd say I used half a pint, if that. That part turned out really well – it's much lighter than the ones I've tried previously (because of the addition of butter), which tend to be rather solid and chewy if you don't eat them right out of the oven, so I'll do this version again, for sure. Although in future I think I'll use dried fruit rather than caraway.

Like the ones I've done before, I opted to use golden syrup rather than treacle for the topping, although technically it does call for treacle (black syrup); I find treacle has a rather heavy, bitter taste that overwhelms my tastebuds, so I prefer golden syrup over all. With this version, the topping is more like a proper caudle, involving eggs and milk, whereas the previous version I've tried only has a little milk and no egg at all. For this version, though, t's not entirely clear how thick the caudle topping should be, so I had to guess, and suffice it to say as far as the consistency of the topping goes, I'm pretty sure I guessed wrong:

Oooooooooze.

Treacle and golden syrup have about the same consistency so I don't think switching from one to the other had much to do with it. The recipe suggested adding more flour to the mixture if it seemed too runny, and I did – about half the amount of flour again, and even then I was worried it was too runny. I think I could've doubled the flour and it would've still been a little on the runny side. Too runny to end up with something "pretty," I suppose, anyway, assuming it's not supposed to ooze all over your oven (I'm fairly sure it isn't but I could be wrong...). The individual bannocks I made – one for each of us, and each bannock blessed – all ended up oozing together.

But damn the topping tastes good. Frankly, I could happily just make it by itself and sod the bannock...

For my tastebuds it didn't really compliment the caraway flavour in the scone (I didn't put much in at all – caraway's a very strong flavour, but perhaps I over-did it anyway – although then again, with the heavier flavour of treacle I imagine they'd work together a lot better) but I definitely think with fruit instead of caraway it would work nicely.

Rosie wasn't overly keen on the scone part, but Tom and Mr Seren really enjoyed it. Mr Seren would sidle into the kitchen and wonder if there was any of that "weird bannock scone thing" left. The kids decided, hopefully, that some extra syrup or honey drizzled on top of the scone part would Make It Better, but Speaking As A Mother, I vetoed that idea on the grounds of too much sugar, thankyouverymuch. Maybe next time.

Practice makes perfect, though, right? I'll keep trying.

Links and things for Là Fhèill Mìcheil

I accidentally typed "kinks" and things in the title there, which would put an altogether different tone on the rest of this post...

But anyway, as usual, let's start off with a video from Gaol Naofa's Youtube channel:

Which gives a short introduction to the festival as well as some ideas for things to do. I've done a more in-depth article over on Tairis, along with a short piece going over some practical ways of celebrating:

• Là Fhèill Mìcheil
• Celebrating Là Fhèill Mìcheil

Given the associations of St Michael and horses and the sea, along with the harvest theme, there are a number of deities that could be connected with the festival, and Kathryn wrote a bit about that on her blog. She also did the meme we posted on the GN Facebook page on Monday:

Photo collage from original images by efilpera (horses) and Duarte JH (field)

Along with the adaptation of the prayer, which you can find in full on the Gaol Naofa website's new meme page.

As far as things to do go, the big one is making a Strùthan Mhìcheil, or Michaelmas struan, which is a specially made bannock that's coated with a kind of caudle. I've posted a recipe for it on Tairis, which is taken from Margaret Shaw's Folksongs and Folklore of Uist. The Ceolas website has a more scone-like version, which I'm going to try tomorrow, hopefully (I prefer to use golden syrup as opposed to treacle, personally, though). An offering can be made of some of the strùthan, perhaps as you "beat the bounds" of your property, if you're able.

In the run up to the festival you could also try going out to look for some wild carrots (also known as Queen Anne's Lace), which are traditionally gathered at this time of year, although they may not grow in your area (and they're considered a problem in some parts of the US so it's probably not a good idea to grow them yourself). If you do go looking for them, it's important to be cautious because they're easily confused with poison hemlock (conium maculatum) and a couple of other plants. If you'd rather play it safe then the more usual orange variety of domesticated carrots (or more specialist variants, like purple or white ones) could be harvested (or obtained by other means) instead.

Of course, a good party is always a great way to celebrate any festival, and as Carmichael notes (two links up) there's a traditional dance that's done to the tune of Cailleach an Dùdain ('The Old Woman of the Mill-Dust'). Here's an example of the tune with a peurt-a-beul accompanying it:



The Carmichael Watson Project Blog has some interesting commentary on it, and also notes that the last sheaf of the harvest is often woven into a doll called the Cailleach. As winter approaches, she's certainly making her presence felt as she prepares to resume her wintry reign, and let's not forget that she also has associations with the equinox in Ireland, at Sliabh na Caillighe (Loughcrew), where Cairn T is oriented to the equinox sunrise.

That's about all I can think of at the minute, but check back on the Gaol Naofa Facebook page for another related meme on Monday...

Lùnastal and Vikings (Yarr)

I haven't updated much recently so there's a bit of catching up to do...

Lùnastal was celebrated, and it was kind of an odd affair in some ways. We celebrated on time, getting the house in order and having a festive meal, making the bonnach Lùnastain:

Saining the house and playing some games, offering to Taillte and Lugh. All the usual stuff we do for Lùnastal.

It kind of snuck up on me, but now I'm more experienced I don't tend to take as much time planning and generally flapping and flailing about making sure everything's ready as I used to when I was just starting out. But over all the festival seemed more drawn out than usual. It's not unusual that we might take a few days to celebrate a festival, so we can fit everything in and get it all done without overdoing it, but this year Lùnastal was more drawn out than ever. I'd had an idea that we'd have a family celebration and then carry on with the festivities at my great-niece's first birthday party, which would involve lots of games and things for the kids to do that tie in with the festive theme, and that's what happened there (the kids had a great time at the party, in spite of the slightly disturbing giant Peppa Pig who came in with the birthday cake...). But although everything was successful and our offerings and songs seemed to be well received, there was a feeling that things weren't finished.

Usually, given the fact that it's a festival of first fruits, I like to incorporate that into the festivities and make it the major focus, and I never really felt much of a connection to Lùnastal until we moved here, to where we live now, and I was able to start a vegetable patch and put in some fruit bushes. Harvesting our own fruits and veg helped reinforce the significance of the festival, and bring it closer to home. But this year, I didn't have anything to harvest from the garden, really. The long winter and late spring we had seems to have put paid to any blueberries this year, and I decided against growing any vegetables because I had to admit to myself that I just can't manage it - there was too much work needed with replacing the containers and compost I've been using for the veg, and it was pointless trying to fudge it and do it anyway because the containers were clearly going to fall apart as soon as I touched them. I just decided to accept that we'd have to make do with a festive feast made with seasonal foods - the first new potatoes of the season, and that kind of thing - from the supermarket instead.

It's been a really warm and sunny summer this year, though, and that means the blackberries have been exceptionally early and there are tons of them, too, extra fat and juicy. I had an idea that the brambles were going to ripening earlier rather than later, but hadn't quite anticipated that they'd be ripe and ready well before the end of August. Usually they don't ripen until mid-September, but this year they ended up ripening by mid-August. So a couple of weeks after our Lùnastal festivities began, we were able to finish things off with the harvesting of our first lot of autumn fruits, which the kids insisted had to become a blackberry and apple crumble:

And if I do say so myself, it's the best one I've ever done. It didn't last long...

Harvesting the berries gave a sense of closure and the sense of rounding things off that had been otherwise lacking, and with hindsight I kind of wish I'd waited a few weeks and celebrated a little later. In between the start and finish, things just felt a bit up in the air. The kids had fun, though, and the heavily laden bramble bushes are just about the best thing ever as far as Rosie's concerned, especially. Free food. To her mind, it should be autumn all year round.

So that's Lùnastal all caught up. Then came a local festival at the end of August, celebrating the final defeat of the Vikings in Scotland (the decisive battle happening just down the road from us, where the festival takes place). So I dragged the kids along and they had fun at the fair, both of them choosing a bow and arrow set as a prize for Hook a Duck, having a run around one of those haunted houses and so on, and then we went to watch the re-enactors demonstrating some Viking "battle" tactics and fighting techniques. I think it's fair to use the term "technique" loosely there...

There were all kinds of stalls, too, and the kids got to stroke some owls at one of them:

Including Hedwig, I think?

And then we went to the Viking village, where the re-enactors do a bit of living history, demonstrating how they lived, slept, ate in those days, and so on. Rosie was fascinated by the wolf and fox skins on the bed:

And was torn between being sad at the fact that the animals were dead, and loving how soft and snuggly they feel. Check out the very authentic Viking wall hanging at the back there...

The kids also had the chance to have a go at some archery again:

Tom's enthusiasm makes up for his lack of expertise, I'm sure. He thought the target on the left was hilarious (it's a naked dude covering his "winky" with his axe. I've no idea where Tom got "winky" from...):

It was a good afternoon out and we brought Mr Seren some fudge back with us (he was working).

Now, as the autumn's well and truly under way, thoughts are inevitably turning to Là Fhèill Mìcheil and then Samhainn, which I might waffle on about in another post. Hopefully soon we'll have some more videos to post as well.

New videos...

Since we released a bunch of videos earlier this month, which took us up to Midsummer in the festival year, Kathryn and I have been working hard on the next batch so we can get them out in time for Lùnastal.

Picking up where we left off, then, now have a new video for Lùnastal (Lúnasa):

And then tying in with that we have a video on the Prophecy of the Morrígan - Badb's Prayer for Peace:

Following on from that, we get to Là Fhèill Mìcheil, which roughly coincides with the autumnal equinox:

As with the other videos, Lúnasa and Là Fhèill Mìcheil are intended to be a short introduction to the festivals, giving an overview of the historical roots, lore, and practices associated with them. Là Fhèill Mìcheil is primarily celebrated in Scotland, but we also touch on the broader points of the significance of the solstices and equinoxes in Gaelic belief, as well as the customs that are observed in some parts of Ireland at this time. For more information on the festival, you can always take a look at the article I've done on Tairis (link to the archive, because the site is still down - hopefully not for much longer...).

The music we've chosen for the Lúnasa are two different versions of a traditional reaping song, called Buain a' Choirce (lyrics and translation are at the link). The first version, by Martyn Bennett, is a fusion of a more modern musical arrangement, with the song itself sung in the traditional style by his mother, the Scottish folklorist Margaret Bennett, and the rhythm track uses a sample of an old 1920s threshing machine. The second version, by Síleas, is a more traditional rendition over all.

The second video, on Badb's prayer for peace, is intended to tie in with Lúnasa, as well as Samhain, as we explain in the announcement we released over on Gaol Naofa. Lúnasa is the one time of the year where peace is an essential condition of the celebrations and gatherings that are held in honour of Taillte, as Lugh instituted the festival in her memory. We've chosen this particular prayer, as sung by the Morrígan from Cath Maige Tuired, because the tale has many elements that fit in with what Lúnasa is all about, as well as Samhain. Historically, a failure to uphold the peace at Lúnasa would have risked being thrown out of your túath, which was a serious consequence in a time when your legal rights were heavily tied in with your status and standing amongst your people. Without a túath you effectively had no legal rights, making you fair game, basically. Given the seriousness of all this, it's something that we, as Gaelic Polytheists, should think about too.

More videos are still to come, at some point. All that remains to say is another big thank you to everyone who's helped us produce the videos, from those of you who've helped us find music we can use, given us feedback and general support, and those of you who've very generously given us permission to use your photos. In particular, I'd like to thank Ali Isaac for allowing us to use her photo of Taillte's assembly site in our Lúnasa video. Mòran taing!

Fishing for brambles

It's been quiet round here over the past month or so, but I've not been slacking (honest). Since Lùnastal and the kids going back to school shortly after, I've been concentrating on writing and doing the odd job here and there, and – unfortunately but not surprisingly – dealing with back problems again. It's officially been a year since I had surgery and I had a good run but I was never going to be totally pain or problem free. Ah well.

With the kids back at school, so comes the homework and the projects they'll concentrate on for the term, and it's ended up being a happy coincidence. Much to their delight they're both doing their favourite subject respectively – Rosie is doing "Under the Sea" (she desperately wants to be a mermaid), while Tom is doing "Space." For his birthday just over a week ago he asked for a telescope and a microscope, "Because space is AWESOME and so are small things," he said. So the in-laws obliged with the telescope and we got him the microscope, and an unnecessary amount of Lego Technic, along with a trip to the Glasgow Science Centre, which was equally AWESOME. Unfortunately it's rained pretty solidly ever since his birthday so the telescope hasn't seen much use yet, but it looks like next week might improve.

For Rosie's part, she's loving every minute of her school project and is becoming increasingly worried about the well-being of sea creatures – especially as far as pollution is concerned. So after hearing at length about all the kinds of things fish or birds might get stuck in "and they might die, mum, they might die," I suggested that maybe we should go to the beach and pick up some rubbish if the weather was up to it this weekend.

It so happened that this weekend was also some kind of national beach clean up day, and we could've gone to a local beach and joined a group of volunteers, but that was too far away to walk and Mr Seren is away working. A bit of community spirit would've been nice, but the local beach it was. We took the dogs with us, some carrier bags, and some snacks, and we went "fishing for brambles" along the way and got a good stash. I think this is officially Rosie's most favourite time of year because FREE FRUIT MUM, and every day, when we come home from school, we have to stop and "fish" for blackberries in the bushes along the way. It is the bestest thing ever, when you're six, although it's very important to leave enough for the birds, isn't it mum?

Once we got to the beach and the kids had refuelled, we put our gloves on and set to work. My back wasn't up to much but I managed to fill a bag. Tom was more interested in the rocks, to be honest, but he filled a bag too. Rosie was by far the most enthusiastic in the litter-picking, and she ended up filling two bags. We didn't find anything too untoward on the beach – a bunch of bottles that were mostly still full of juice, empty cans of beer, bottle caps, wrappers, and bits of plastic:

We would've got more had I been up to it, but it's a start.

The seaweed is dying off now and coming to the shore in heaps – helped by a recent storm, I'm sure:

Manannán's having an autumnal clearout.

Before we left we made some equinox offerings to the spirits of the beach, and to Manannán out at sea. We left some of the blackberries for him, along with some bits I'd brought with us from home, and built a wee cairn as we usually do, and set off back home, only stopping to dump our rubbish at the first bin we came to. Rosie insisted she carry some bags "to be helpful" and Tom gallantly took charge of Mungo.

Back at home, I realised I was out of oatmeal to make the kind of bannock I usually do, and so instead of a more seasonally appropriate struthan, I decided to try out a recipe from Skye that was shared by one of the members on the Gaelic Polytheism group; it's pretty similar to the struthan, but sweeter (I didn't put the coating on because I didn't have enough golden syrup, but I don't think it needed it, really). I blessed it as I made it and added some blackberries to the dough, and then bunged it in the oven, and:

It turned out pretty well for a first go! Although I'm not quite sure why some of the berries tried to make a break for it. The berries were a little wet so the dough went a bit slimy and I had to apply more flour, and my oven was a little too hot so the inside very nearly didn't cook properly (although traditional recipes tend to prefer "well-fired" baked goods, so it was probably about right. "Well-fired" translates as "burnt" to you and me – so if you ever burn anything in future, just say it's cooked to a traditional Scottish recipe), so it's a bit browner than I would normally do it, but the blackberries were a very tasty addition. Next time I might add a little mixed spice to compliment the berries, but once it was cooked I tried a bit with butter and then a bit with jam and they were both equally delicious. The kids had them for pudding after dinner and really enjoyed them, so we'll definitely be having them again. We had a quarter each and the final quarter (the one with the berries that tried to escape) went out as an offering.

I hadn't really intended to do much for the festival, and I usually celebrate it on the day of Là Fhèill Mìcheil itself (the 25th), but our trip to the beach kind of meant it made sense to just go with it. And thoughts are turning to Samhainn already, mainly because the shops are already full of festive sweets and the kids are getting all excited. The Hallowe'en buckets are ready. Rosie wants to dress up as a meerkat. Don't ask me why; I have no clue.

Harvesting

While most of Britain basks in a last gasp heatwave, it's business as usual round these parts. It's a wee bit warmer than usual for this time of year, yes, but no less wet and generally grey. An Cailleachan have been busy battering the coast and the autumnal colours are decidedly dampened on the trees here. Offerings were made to them at the equinox, but otherwise things have been pretty quiet. 

The berry harvest has been good though - we've missed the best of the brambles, I think, but our own blueberries are still going strong. Our old friends, the baby snails, haven't disappointed:

 
But with careful removal of said friends, to avoid any extra accidental protein, we've had a good harvest so far and it's given me an excuse for some of these:

Although the recipe could do with some perfecting. Practice makes perfect, no?

And we've got some raspberries! Of the two bushes I've got in the flowerbed, this is the first year either one of them has put forth much in the way of fruit, and most of them have gone to the wee beasties in the garden, I think. The standard raspberry bush ended up getting crowded out by weeds and bushes that need trimming, I think, but aside from the other bush getting blown over, we have a modest amount of golden raspberries promising:

I've never tried them before, I don't think, though there are a lot of bushes that have spread and gone wild in the village. Rosie and I picked the only two that were good for eating, and Rosie bravely volunteered for a taste test:

It turns out they taste exactly like normal raspberries. They were met with approval.

The warmer weather has been good for the veg I've still got growing - the onions are about ready now, I think, but alas, after our berry harvest on Wednesday I decided to prune down some flowers that were crowding everything else out and that knackered my back again. Not as bad as it has been, but not great, and the onions can wait a while longer until I can walk again. The good news there is, I've at least been reassurred that fibromyalgia is an unlikely diagnosis for me - I just have the bog standard variety of chronic pain. Yay me.

With the pruning out of the way, however, I'll be able to get at my little devotional space I've arranged and set aside in the flower bed. It's been sadly neglected like most other things this year, but it seems something doesn't mind that because I startled a tiny wee frog as I was pruning. Sorry froggy. But I'm glad you found a home here.

Grr and woo

First of all, apologies if you're finding the Tairis website slow - it's driving me up the wall, too. Hopefully it will get sorted soon.

In other news, I've completed another article for the site, which sees the Festivals section finished (as it stands now, anyway). In the long term I need to go over the articles in the section and update them a little, and possibly re-write the first one I did (covering Samhainn), to make it follow the same general format as the others. That needs the most work doing to it, I think.

The last article to be added is on Là Fhèill Mìcheil, or Michaelmas - the festival that falls close to the Autumn equinox. It's a little heavier on large chunks of quotes than I'd like, but then it seemed pointless to just paraphrase it when I could put in details straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. In my defence, F. Marian McNeill did pretty much the same! So there...

I found this one really interesting to do - Carmichael gives a lot of detail in his description of the festivities on the Islands, and although it seems a little confused at times (to me), it's a good example of just ritualised daily life was, and how that was emphasised on the important days such as this. I've tried to make sense of it all, and not rely too heavily on Carmichael; hopefully that works out.

There's still a whole hell of a lot I want to do. Now the kids will be at school or nursery for a good portion of the day (but not long enough for me to get a proper job), I'm dreaming of having the time to actually get some proper research and writing done (I could pretend that I aspire to be a better housekeeper, but frankly, unless I ban everyone else from the kitchen, it seems pointless to sacrifice myself at the altar of Good Housekeeping...I've dealt with the dustbunnies, what more do you want?!).

Festival to revive seaweed doll tradition, Co Waterford

A festival in County Waterford is reviving an old tradition of making a seaweed doll to mark the end of the tourist season on St Michael's Day:

The weed doll had a few names — Michil, others called it Breedeen and a small few called it Father Neptune. After the parading of the town, the doll was taken down to the sea where it was cast out as an offering to the sea, a simple ceremony which drew the curtain on the bathing season in the town.

"It was said if the doll turns up in the Back Strand it would mean the next season would be a very good summer."

Read more: Irish Examiner

 There's a little more detail on the history of it in another article here.

I'm just working on some research for Là Fhèill Mìcheil (which falls around the autumn equinox), and this happened to pop up on an email list I'm on. I thought I'd share seeing as it piqued my interest.