Well, what an excellent Saturday I had. It was full of crayfish preparation, ably conducted by KSP and Jonas, with the tiniest bit of help from me, in our kitchen. There were a lot of crayfish caught following our efforts yesterday – around 177 to be roughly exact – and, in a few hours, they were all perfectly boiled in a wonderful homemade stock.
Jonas called me mid-morning and said get boiling. We’d need many litres of water for the operation. There were soon lots of saucepans bubbling vigorously away. When it came time to start making the stock, Jonas asked if we knew the volume of the big pot. There were head shakes all round.
Being a scientist with a great penchant for maths, Jonas worked out the volume of the pot with a tape measure and numbers. KSP and I said we’d have used a measuring jug. Obviously, the mathematical method was a lot better.
Satisfied with the amount of water, Jonas then said you couldn’t have too much dill, so a lot went in. This was followed by beer, fennel seeds, salt, sugar and star anise. Everything was soon bubbling away once more, and the crayfish were gradually turned into food. In fact, KSP and I tested a couple and declared them very, very fine. I think the word used was ‘perfect’.
Taking batches of them, Jonas cooked each, adding them to the growing bucket that would eventually find its way into our freezer.
During the procedure, we chatted about all manner of things. From Jonas being cited in a very expensive book to how to use the word conundrum in a sentence. There was also the very important planning of the actual crayfish party next Saturday.
When Mirinda returned from Swedish class in Stockholm, followed by one of the worst dance performances she’d ever attended, she said the house smelled delicious. I said it was the stock, permeating every nook and cranny. By all accounts, it was a lot better than the incense infused stench of the performance space she’d attended.
A couple of times during the day, Jason emerged from his self-imposed isolation in the stuga to declare, between coughs, that he wasn’t going into work tomorrow. It took him a lot of time finding someone to take his shift, but eventually, he did. Then he could relax.
