Thread 8 - TalkLair: “Brewing Russell's teapot”

[Kucinghitam]

Continuation of previous threads (thread 7).

The new lair of JTT escapees is all cosy and homey; we have truly settled here. Outside, the garden is blooming with spring flowers. Inside, the hearth is glowing, pictures are up on the walls, rugs are down on the floors (and assorted pets curled up on them).

We just won’t mention the gnawed bones of our prey over there in the corner of the cave…

The texture of papaya isn’t as good as mango, in my opinion, but with a bit of a boost from a squeeze of lime it’s still good.

Near(ish) here, boxes of Alphonso mangoes are available in season thanks to the demands of a large South Asian population. I’m seldom in that part of this suburb but perhaps I should (counterproductively) time my next dentist visit with mango season.

When we were in Taiwan we used to see a huge mango tree on the way to work and I was stunned at how big they can get, about the size of a lime tree. When it was full of fruit it was absolutely magnificent. There were a lot of papaya trees too and I used to love the papaya milkshakes where they'd cut the fruit up fresh while you waited. The fresh fruit there was delicious, far tastier than anything available in the UK, and I made a right pig of myself a few times.

My friend lived a few doors from someone who had a durian tree that stank the whole road out. Never got past the smell of durian.

I saw papaya growing in Trinidad and was amazed at the size of them, on relatively small trees. And they grow out of the trunk.

I absolutely love papaya, with just a squeeze of fresh lime to take away the very slight soapiness. It's never as good in the UK, though.

When I worked for a firm of city solicitors, there was a lunch room for partners and fee-earners in a windowless basement room with air-con. Someone <blushes> sneaked a durian into the fruit bowl and awaited developments. Very sadly, someone more sensible saw the look of glee on my face just before he cut into it. I suppose it was a good thing, as once it had got into the air-con we'd probably have had to evacuate the building. He took it home and cut it open at the bottom of the garden.

I'd like to be able to claim that I was young and foolish then, but it was after I'd been to Thailand so I must have been in my 40s.

Incidentally, papayas are dioecious plants: i.e. the males and females are separate individuals. Very disappointing if you find a papaya tree in your garden when you first move in, and then it turns out to be male.

Durians, as I would naturally say, are the King of Fruits. But I just can't seem to convince DH and DDs of this obvious fact. (This summer we will be spending a few days at a durian farmstay. They will either emerge as durian converts or in a state of starvation.)

Further note: In Malaysia and Singapore, durians are banned on public transport, in hotels, etc.

@Kucinghitam Durians, as I would naturally say, are the King of Fruits...

I'm quite prepared to believe that once you get it past your nose, it's worth the effort. Tripe is probably the same, but just one whiff of it is enough to make me gag. I was once offered something very weird-looking/smelling in China, in an almost challenging way, by an elderly professor who loved to tease. I held my breath, discovered that goose intestines are absolutely delicious, and went back for more.

I loved ciorba da burta - tripe soup - in Romania and ate it nearly every day.

All this gardening talk reminds me that some of you may remember Gardenista from the Old Place, who tells me that she has made a Mumsnet account but is going to have to be Gardenist because apparently Mumsnet already has a Gardenista among its usernames. She lives in Hawaii and has a mango tree in her back yard.

Lovely Gardenista! Hope to see her soon on here.

Ooh, lovely.

<dusts welcome mat>

I saw a Gardenista on a thread somewhere and wondered if it was her. Glad I did not assume!

I like pretty much all fruit but cannot get on at all with Sharon fruit which I just don't quite understand.

I find Sharon fruit just okay which means I mostly can't be bothered with it. I love mangoes. It was years before I tried them and I have no idea why. It was love at first bite. I thought I hated pineapple because I'd never had a fresh one. Then I did and it was, again, love at first bite. I love papaya too but not as much as mango.

Sharon fruit is the one a bit like a tomato, isn't it? If so, I had one once and all I remember about it is thinking 'Hmm, it's a bit like a tomato. But weird.'. Not a taste sensation, and I've never felt moved to repeat the experience.

Sharon fruit ( is that the same thing as persimmons?) need to be really ripe or they don't have much taste in my opinion.

Sharon fruit can be really unpleasant unless they’re just right when they switch magically from drying out your mouth to being delicious and juicy. And weirdly ones sold as persimmons (usually from Spain and a bit smaller as far as I recall) seem more reliable than ones sold as sharon fruit. No idea what that’s about.

This is a lovely thread of memories. Makes me realise that mumsnet has a fair few middle age people on it and much of what they recall is familiar.

https://www.mumsnet.com/talk/_chat/4835751-what-do-you-remember-about-your-grandparents-house?page=1

Britinme · Today 00:07

Sharon fruit ( is that the same thing as persimmons?)

That's the one. I love them!

Ooh, I hope Gardenist finds our little lair!

I'm not that keen on persimmons either, something about their fragrance just doesn't really appeal to me (nor does their texture).

I read the start of the Grandparents' House thread and it looked like it was going to be very very lovely. Albeit feeling a bit strange because the details described are nothing like my own childhood memories - instead, they're things I only encountered as an adult, in the homes of my UK relatives-by-marriage. Whereas my childhood memories would probably just cause perplexity on that thread. I'll go back and catch up.

My memory of my grandparents house quickly turned into remembering I didn’t much like my Nana as she thought my Mum was beneath him, her precious youngest son.

My mum’s parents lived in a house with no indoor running water and I remember hating the outside loo.

I have a vague memory of my dad’s mum but she died when I was 3. I don’t remember dad’s step father at all even though he lived a few years longer but I think he didn’t speak English and my dad lived in lodgings from age 11 so he could go to school (there wasn’t a secondary school anywhere near and no public transport) so he didn’t know his step father particularly well. They were farmers but I can’t remember their farm at all. We always stayed with my aunt and uncle (my dad’s brother) on their farm which I remember pretty well.

I only ever had one grandparent - mum's mum - as the others had died before I was born. We lived in Yorkshire and Nan was in Woolwich, and we only saw her at Easter when we usually visited an aunt and uncle in Kent. She only visited us once and I only remember going to her house once, so I can't honestly say we had a relationship as I don't suppose we met more than a dozen or so times. My mum was the second of six, the first five of whom were born an 18 month intervals. She was sent to stay with her grandmother when Nan was expecting number 3, and stayed there until her dad died when she was 10, when she went back to her mum's to help with number 6, who was a tiny baby. That baby died last year at the age of 95.

@Kucinghitam there are some comments from people who grew up in the region you did and they describe similar things to what you've said in the past. It's a lovely thread full of fascinating memories. Interesting how many say how vividly they can still visualise the houses their grandparents lived in. I can too, even though those memories are from the 1970s.

Thinking about my paternal grandparents, who we saw a lot more than the maternal ones as they lived closer. We used to go over for tea now and then, which was very often Granny's divine Irish stew followed by apple crumble and custard. Sometimes Granny took me to the butcher with her, a tiny shop, where she'd ask for 'scrag end of neck'. Us kids used to squabble over who got the skin on the custard (even though everything was fairly shared out) and would start whining. To distract us, Grandad, who was a thespian and a very good mimic, would imitate a field of sheep, going from the high bleats of small lambs to the low gruff tones of old sheep. He'd grown up surrounded by sheep in the Lakes and got their voices perfectly. Every time he did that, we'd sit in silent awe and then beg for more. 'Grandad, be a sheep!'. It was lovely.

This has me remembering granddad Thomas's house and loving helping him to get the range going again each morning and the smell of burning peat. I loved that house although the sleeping arrangements were mental. Mum and dad weren't allowed to share a bed. Mum had to sleep with great aunt Eileen. There were two double beds in grandad's room. Daddy slept with my brother and I slept with granddad. I was jealous because I wanted to sleep with daddy but that wasn't allowed. N.b. nothing dodgy about it just utter mentalism.

That sounds like a very odd arrangement, Mavis. I don't get why your parents weren't allowed to share a bed.