We have an exciting lipstick making workshop happening on Wednesday 23rd May and there 10 places available! The perfect mix of art and science, why not join us after work 7-9pm for a rewarding evening learning how to Make Your Own Lipstick!

Make classic shades inspired by the golden era of lipsticks, from the twenties through to the fifties and learn how to apply them with vintage make up artist extraordinaire, Amanda Moorhouse of Lipstick and Curls. Which shade of red suits your complexion? How to achieve vintage lip shapes with a brush? Amanda is the one to tell you! 

Good eh? You leave with three pots of classic retro shades plus one wind up tube of lipstick. All materials provided, plus recipe and suppliers lists so you can make more. Wonderful!

7-9pm, Wednesday 23th May at Revival Boutique (Just off Carnaby Street, Oxford Circus) 

By Chloé Bobbin

This is Junket. It doesn’t look terribly exciting does it? Some people go crazy for it, although I have to say I’ve never been a fan. In fact the only reason I do know about it is having to dodge being served it at large family gatherings at my grandparents’ home in Devon.

So when I spotted the ‘coagulated’ milk dessert in the book We’ll Eat Again, by Margeurite Pattern (the wartime Delia), I made a note to try it out. In fact after I’d spoken to my Aunty Ruth about my challenge and Junket, she was more than happy to send up a bottle of rennet. That’s the mysterious fluid enzyme used to turn milk to quivering junket. Like most things during the war, we don’t ask too much about it. (The label does mentions calves’ livers.)

So, I wonder if the taste will have improved since I last failed to convince grandma that I did NOT want to ‘just try a little bit.” Let’s find out!

Verdict: It’s actually not bad. It tastes like milk. In a solid form. I would say more nutmeg would liven it up. 

Method: Warm 1/2 pint milk in a pan until luke warm and then pour into a serving bowl. Stir in half a teaspoon of honey and 2 teaspoons of rennet and set to one side to do it’s thing for 15 minutes. Grate over nutmeg and serve cold.

Here are the verdicts on the other two puddings I made.

Apple and Blackberry Roly:

Yes. After all the fuss I made of it yesterday, this turned out to be a surprise hit. Served with cream and the ‘jus’, it makes a convincing end note to a meal. 

Method: Peel, core and dice 1 lb of apples. Together with 1/2 lb of blackberries, cook gently in a little water with the lid ON. When softened slightly drain, reserving the fluid which you can sweeten with a teaspoon of sugar for an accompanying ‘jus’. Roll out pastry on a sheet of grease proof paper and spoon on the warm fruit. Fold long sides over to envelop and tuck in the ends. Transfer to a foil covered baking tray, brush over with milk and bake in a moderate oven (180 degrees) for 30 minutes or until golden. 

Oat Pastry: Rub 2-3 oz of fat into 6 oz of plain flour (plus a pinch of salt). Gradually add drops of cold water and mix until it forms a dough.

Beetroot cake:

This one divided opinions when sampled. I’ll leave it up to you, although I won’t personally be using any more rations on this one.

Method: Mix 6 oz of flour with 1/2 teaspoon baking powder. Rub in 1/2 oz fat before adding 1/2 oz sugar and 4 oz grated beetroot (raw). Wear a rubber glove for this. Add 3-4 tablespoons of milk and a couple of drops of flavouring essence (I used vanilla) before dropping the mixture into a greased tin. Bake immediately in a moderate to hot oven for 40m minutes. 

Gosh I’m tired. More on my fuel duel tomorrow. Time to buy some meat methinks. Adios.

[I’m trying to live for a week on WW2 Food rations. Go back to day one if you’d like to read from the beginning of the challenge.]

By Chloé Bobbin 

Like everything in life, sometimes things don’t turn out how you’d hoped. Take my Blackberry and Apple Roly, Recipe of the Week in 1940 (hmm I wonder), featured in Marguerite Pattern’s, We’ll Eat Again. Perhaps I shouldn’t have strayed from the instruction to put in the fruit uncooked, or realised that the sheer bulk of it would put the thinly rolled oat pastry under undue strain! Poor thing looks about ready for the embalmer.

My beetroot pudding turned out much better though. Of course the proof is in the eating, which will take place later this afternoon when an old flatmate pops back to say hello. Essentially an eggless, practically sugarless cake, it puts the natural sweetness of the beet to work with a helping hand from good old baking powder to rise.

Fingers crossed for later. Don’t worry, I have some ideas up my vyella sleeve for the Roly.

Anyway it’s been a bit of a flat couple of days. As I write the heavens couldn’t be doing more to let me know it’s April in Britain. Just now there were audible cries from the street as a hail storm, then sheets (and blankets) of rain descended from above. Poor postman who just delivered my mail!

To boost morale, hungry and with grey skies, I’ve found myself taking extra care with my appearance. It reminds me of something Grandma once said to me about the make do and mend days, “You might well have been poor, but what you didn’t want was to look it.” 

Yesterday that meant putting on some lipstick I had sampled up for the upcoming workshop, before setting out to a meeting. And upon my return a friend complimented me on the shininess of my leather shoes.

The meeting was a success. And while I might have reached a stalemate on the Kitchen Front, at least I made up for it with steady advances on the Work Front. 

More tomorrow. Including Junket, a coagulated milk dessert which never fails in dividing opinion at family gatherings back home in Devon. Cheerio for now dear Bobbins!

[I’m trying to live for a week on WW2 Food rations. Go back to day one if you’d like to read from the beginning of the challenge.]

By Chloé Bobbin

Yesterday I became friends with Potato Pete. Here he is above in a wartime illustration from the Ministry of Food promoting his protective properties. Don’t ask me what those properties are (he looks like he’d be the one needing protection), but he is certainly one of the cornerstones of filling fare in a wartime diet.

After deciding to hold off buying my meat ration until I’d heard from grandpa and had time to go to a proper butcher to buy my 100g of bacon (2 rashers - modern packs are 300g), I got busy with my collection of huge baking potatoes for lunch. 

I say got busy. In fact it was only after I’d been working and glanced at the clock when I started to get hungry that I started to think about consulting Marguerite  and Pete. Mistake. I didn’t eat until 4.30pm.

The same thing happened for dinner, which was served at 10pm. By now I was tutting along with my wartime persona - my husband and family would be up in arms eating at this hour! Back to 2012 I watched my flatmates grating cheese from huge blocks as I tended my boiling veg and once again the old lady’s voice inside prattled on about never having had it so good. I joked about my time travelling thoughts, and privately wondered if I was opening some sort of Gary Sparrowesque Pandora’s Box.

Lesson learnt? Don’t wait until you are hungry before cracking on with meals. Not least as it gives you hectoring voices in your head! Also, making a pie is time well spent. The majority of the Woolton Pie I made yesterday sits reassuringly behind my laptop as I write from the Kitchen Front and means that the pressure’s off today. Perhaps I’ll tackle some desserts next. 

So. For day one I made Potato Jane for Lunch and a Woolton Pie with potato pastry for dinner, both from Marguerite Pattern’s book, We’ll Eat Again. I used mostly non rationed items, with about 1 oz of my 8 oz ration of cheese and half pint of my 3 pint ration going into lunch, and just a cup of rolled oats to thicken the veg stock for my Woolton supper. That’s the brilliance of the pie, named after Lord Woolton Head of The Ministry of Food, it uses all store cupboard items and the filling is varied with whatever you have in the larder. Potato Pete is always involved, and his friend Dr. Carrot. More on him later in the week!

Here’s the Potato Jane:

This is great little dish to add to anyone’s repetoire. I can imagine myself using it as a side dish with meat, but as a meal in itself I found it more satisfying accompanied with a creamy (and salty) white sauce. This I made spontaneously using the milk I decided to pour off half way through baking in the oven. 

Method: Layer sliced potato with chopped leek, breadcrumbs, grated cheese and salt and pepper. Pour over full fat milk and put into a moderate oven (180) for 45 minutes. 

And the Woolton Pie:

I’ll make the potato pastry again, it was light and short with an interesting nutty flavour which works well for sweet and savoury dishes. The moisture released from finely grating the potato bound the pastry brilliantly, however it is less elastic than regular pastry (with a full quota of precious fat) so I had a struggle to cover my ambitious modern sized pie dish. Quite crumbly at the edges, I managed by rolling out on a piece of grease-proof paper for added stability and manouverability. 

Method: Boil potato (diced), carrots (chopped) and any other root veg you have to hand in salted water (just to cover with the lid ON). Once tender add to your pie dish and reserve the cooking water. Add a vegetable stock cube and a cup of rolled oats to this and simmer until thickened. Pour over the vegetables and top with chopped spring onions and cover with potato pastry (or mash).

Pastry: Rub 2-3 oz fat into 6 oz plain flour with a pinch of salt. Finely grate 2 oz of potato and mix into dough. Chill in the fridge until needed, then roll out on a floured surface with a rolling pin.

Thank you for reading, dear Bobbins. If you would like to help support us while learning useful skills from the past, please consider joining us for one of our pop up events or spreading the word. Otherwise let us know you are there with some cheer on our Facebook wall.

Until tomorrow!

[I’m trying to live for a week on WW2 Food rations. Go back to day one if you’d like to read from the beginning of the challenge.]