Boiled beef

Getting on for ten days ago now, it was the turn of boiled beef. Some confusion about whether it was roast beef or boiled beef, it saying roast beef on the label and looking like a cut, albeit rather lean, of roasting beef. BH, however, knew her Sainsbury's better than I did, carefully removing the label to reveal instructions about boiling - or at least pot-roasting - underneath. After some palaver we settled on the latter.

On the same expedition, Sainsbury's had discounted jars of Robertson's mince meat - according to BH far more palatable than own brand - from £1.80 or so to 9p a jar. So two jars sold and one jar combined with apple and made up into the tart snapped above, to be taken after the beef.

For me, the day had started with a Ewell Village clockwise, that is to say Horton Lane, Ewell Village, East Street and home via Hook Road, thus avoiding Epsom town centre, apt to be busy on a Sunday. And also not long into lockdown. This was the first spin for a few days and involved three modest hills. Up the short, steep hillock to the church. Up the short, steep hillock to the top of the railway bridge. Climb out of the village to the top end of East Street. All of which made me puff more than they should have, with short, steep in particular not usually being a problem. It is the long and not so steep which I find challenging. Maybe out of trim after the festivities.

With insult to injury being added by there being quite a lot of other cyclists about, quite a lot of whom sailed past me. Some of them were ladies.

Home to a little something before lunch, while I turned the pages of the Mishnah (references 3 and 4), last looked at in October. Most of the time was spent reminding myself of the gross organisation so that I could follow at least some of the many cross references about. That apart I was rather impressed by a dispute about when a certain rite - I think the Shema - could be performed. A said before dawn, while B said before midnight. Both A and B being respected authorities. Ah well, says C, another such, B was concerned for those who are a bit sloppy about these things. He gave a time which gave a reasonable margin for error. A was talking to more serious people. Less success so far in finding out exactly what the Shema is, although I will probably get there if I persist with reference 5.

The translator was described as a - or the - residentiary canon at St. George's Cathedral, Jerusalem. I wondered how many Church of England clerics would be qualified to make such a translation now. A dozen? All male? All fellows of Oxford or Cambridge colleges?

While all this was going on, BH was attending to lunch, with the beef being accompanied by our usual boiled vegetables, plus the vegetables from the pot-roast, served in the gravy they had been cooked in. A thin gravy but one which did very well to moisten the otherwise rather dry boiled beef. Pleased to say that there was no soapy flavour about this beef, a soapy flavour which sometimes comes with boiling.

The wine was one of those we had learned about at our pre-Christmas tasting, noticed at reference 1. A 1040 Ribeiro from Sameirás? In any event the people at reference 2. As far as I can make out O Ribeiro is a wine growing area - like the French Appellation d'Origine Controlée - in the north west of Spain, and just to the north of the substantial Minho River. And while gmaps knows about the place, I can't actually find it on the map which it takes me to. That apart, we really liked the wine and may well get some more.

Furthermore, BH felt sure - after a couple of glasses that is - that 1040 was something to do with the Reconquista, a factlet neither confirmed nor denied by a quick look at the relevant article in Wikipedia. Spanish history at the time being sufficiently complicated to make it difficult to find out what was was going on a little to the south east of Santiago de Compostela - although I did learn that the Moors got close enough to sack this last place at some point towards the end of the 10th century. So a fit of sorts.

Next up, a rather inconclusive discussion of the possible merits of rare boiled beef. Which this particular boiled beef was not. But we did think that rarity was more of a runner with roast than boiled.

Next up, brick walk stood down in favour of Scrabble. The tiles were not falling well and we only just scraped through the 500 point barrier. I did win on this occasion though.

Wound up the proceedings with 6 lengths of our road in the dark, which took about half an hour. Christmas lights down to just one or two houses, this by a fortnight after the great event. Two cars. One fox. One cycle with an unnecessarily bright front light. No moon or stars, but cold. White line nearly the whole way. Gmaps says 320m a length, so a bit more than a mile. And I now have some idea about getting gmaps to tell me about distances.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/11/wine-buffs.html.

Reference 2: http://www.adegasameiras.com/en/home/. The victim of unusually poor translation.

Reference 3: The Mishnah - Herbert Danby - 1933.

Reference 4: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/10/swine.html.

Reference 5: http://cojs.org/.