Hagia: My Little One

Hagia was the littlest of the litter born on 1 September 1995 in my parents' garden. We them took in: Zeus (then called Sofia, but that's another story), Groucho and Scutterbotch. Scutterbotch, an affectionate marmalade tabby, was adopted out within a few weeks and Groucho, a grey kitty with anger management issues, eventually found a home with the exbf. Hagia and Zeus stayed (Bean later joined the tribe).

In as much as they were so small, she was the smallest: for weeks she'd hide under the dishwasher, hissing and growling as if she were a cat the size of a dishwasher. Hiss, growl and carry on she did, until one day I picked her up (squirming with needle-like claws and yelling at the top of her lungs), lay down on the couch, and held her on my tummy as I fell asleep. I awoke about an hour later to find this little grey and white tabby with tiny vampire fangs and a little goatee sprawled on my belly, fast asleep.

When she awoke, Hagia decided I was her human. And the rest is history.

For almost 17 years she was my constant companion. She followed me around the house, her little bottom bouncing up and down like a bunny's as she ascended and descended the steps and quietly kept me company as I tapped away on my laptop.

She took care of me as much as I did her--the first time I had food poisoning Hagia mustered all her courage to explain (at great length) to the exbf that her human was sick and he, having opposable thumbs, needed to do something to fix it. One night when I came in very late from a date, she waited for me, and tried to corral me into the basement so I could deal with the burst water heater (tried being the operative word...I put her off...that was the last time I would ignore her anxious chatter). She even took care of My Dear Little Cardamummy, purring while lying on mum's bad ankle, like little furry heating pad.

Hagia also had opinions on the various men in my life: The exbf was there to do her bidding. Michael was fine to talk to on the phone, but couldn't bother with him in real life (in the three years we were together, she never came out to see him). And Dear Soul...Dear Soul wasn't worth the effort and she didn't see what I saw in him.

She was a determined little neat freak: she straightened rugs and decided what actually belonged on the dresser (new-to-her things were always nudged off)...and what she couldn't do, she decided who amongst the humans was the best person to do her bidding.

They say pets and their people take on each other's personalities. I have it on good authorities (yes, multiple sources) that this was true of Hagia and me: rather shy, born organisers, headstrong unless you can prove you know better. We can both defend ourselves--me, with words..her, with paws.

And while she wasn't one for cooking, Hagia liked to sit and watch me in the kitchen, her little nose following aromas as they wafted by. Her palate was akin to mine: black olives, bleu cheese, butter, croissants, flour, lemon grass, sugar, vanilla cake. She also had a taste for tequila, as I found out while I had margarita ice cream.

For all but the last month or so she looked and acted nothing like an almost 17-year old cat should. She was pleasantly plump, bunny hopping up and down the stairs, and (of course) offering her opinions on everything. The above photo was taken three weeks ago; this week she was looking drawn and gaunt.

But time caught up...kidney issues and seizures meant regular visits with Dr. Bonnie and assistant Julie: being being poked and prodded, pilled, jabbed and occasionally force fed. Hagia didn't complain...much.

But time caught up.

In one sigh I lost Hagia in the day's wee hours.

I like to think she had a good life--she was warm, dry and well nourished. She played safely, she snoozed deeply and she realised that there were humans she could direct. But most of all, she was loved.

Sleep well, Little One.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Irish Cream Cupcakes

If I had my camera with me the look would have been captured for all to see.

Not just any look, but the silent glare that simply says "Must you speak so loudly, human?"

No, I didn't get that look from someone wearing a green beer stained "Kiss me I'm Irish" T-shirt.

I got it from my cat.

On the floor, a few feet away from Hagia, two items told a story: to the left were cupcake wrappers, traces of Irish cream glaze left clinging to the paper; to the right, a puddle of cat barf.

Hmmm...I've been here before...sort of. Instead of being helped by My Dear Little Cardamummy down the distilled path of wobbliness, they apparently showed great initiative and helped themselves to discarded cupcake liners from the trash.

Well, they say drunks and other addicts will stop at nothing to get their fix.

Hagia has very...refined...tastes. Ice cream and tuna interest her. Olives, lemongrass and (more recently) bleu cheese keep her by my side. More recently baking--buttery cakes and croissants along with traces of raw flour--cause frantic miaos and pokes.

Being so close to St. Patrick's Day, I decided to create an Irish cream cupcake--a treat that could inspire choruses of "No dear, those are Mummy's special cupcakes." Given she had no interest in other alcohols I've sipped or cooked with (Guiness, wines, liqueurs and the rest) I was more than surprised at her begging for a bit of cake (which she did not get...at least not then). Maybe it's the cream...or perhaps the sugar.

With my luck, it's the whiskey.

These cakelettes are very easy to make. The finished cake has Irish cream's caramelly tones while keeping a buttery-dense crumb and really doesn't need any additional boosting. Yet me being me, I chose to thoroughly embrace the day and gaze the fairy cakes with a thinned Irish cream icing.

Since I'm not a fan of thick icings, the cakes were glazed while still warm--apart from thinning the icing, the flavours to seeped into the cakes and dribbled down the sides and left a thin layer to cool on top. You can, if you wish, cut away any rounded peaks from the cooled cakes and spoon on a thicker icing (vanilla or royal icing would work well) and top with whichever candies, sprinkles or dragees that come to hand.

Irish Cream Cupcakes
yield 12

110g (0.75c +4tsp) cake flour
1 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
125g (0.5c + 1Tbsp) unsalted butter, softened
100g (0.5c) sugar
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 tsp vanilla extract
60ml (0.25c) Irish cream liqueur

Preheat oven to 200C/400F. Line a 12-bowl cupcake tin with papers.

Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

Cream together the butter and sugar until light, fluffy and almost pearlescent. Mix in the eggs one at at a time (or as best as you can), followed by the vanilla.

Incorporate half the flour into the batter, scrape down the sides and then continue with the rest of the flour. Pour in the Irish cream and mix until smooth.

Divide between the papered bowls and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the cakelettes have risen, are golden and an inserted skewer comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack; decorate as desired.


Irish cream glaze
55g (0.25c) unsalted butter, very soft
30-60g (2-4Tbsp) icing sugar, sifted
1 Tbsp Irish cream liqueur
1 Tbsp cream (heavy or light) or milk (plus more, if necessary)

Beat together the butter and a couple of spoons of the sugar until smooth. With the beaters still going, dribble in the Irish cream and cream. Taste for sweetness--add more sugar or cream (or Irish cream) as necessary for the consistency you prefer.


cheers!
jasmine


I'm a quill for hire!

...and Hagia on her blanket and I with a nightcap...

...collapsed on the chesterfield,
for a long winter's nap...

No, sorry. No Daring Baker contribution from me this month...eight fruitcakes and 20 dozen cookies have pretty much rendered me exhausted for any more Christmassy baking.

Still recovering from three hours of gluttony on Christmas Day and the almost annual Boxing Day turkey pot pie making extravaganza.

Will be back in the New Year. Until then, please keep safe and have a lovely, festive, soused, tea-totalling, quiet and joyous New Year.

cheers!
jasmine

BBB & WCB: For Sher

On 20 July 2008 the foodblogging and catblogging worlds lost a dear friend. Sherry Cermak of What Did You Eat passed away of a heart attack. She was lucky enough to have found Bob, the loving man who became her husband. She was an attorney, a wildlife rehabilitator, an avid foodie and a lover of cats.

She was a member of The Bread Baking Babes, a ragtag group of people who, like The Daring Bakers, complete a monthly baking challenge. The BBBs held a memorial food event for her that was open to everyone on 27 July--I wanted to participate, but that was the day after the first anniversary of My Darling One's passing and I was very emotionally drained and didn't think I could post something coherent that would do her spirit justice.

This weekend's Weekend Cat Blogging event is also a memorial event with a food theme, and is Hosted by the House of the (Mostly) Black and White Cats. I'd participated in a couple WCBs in the past, and well, I know I've been remiss in updating you guys on my furry companions, so I thought this might be a good time to do that.

I went through her site, looking for a recipe to create and post--not just for me, but also for Paz who was interested in sharing this post with me--Sher was in her thoughts as well, but Paz's recovery bed is keeping her from the kitchen.

Sher's site had a bit of everything, but it was pretty clear she really liked meatballs. When I saw her mushroom balls post cross my screen, it just seemed to be the right thing to do: not only do I love mushrooms, but Michael did as well.

Sher's page suggested pairing them with a spicy red sauce. I decided to serve them with roasted tomatoes on a bed of rice.

I used cremini mushrooms as I couldn't find portabellos. Since I don't have a food processor, I used the medium side of my box grater to mince the mushrooms. I know it's a bit labour intensive for some, but for those of us who don't have the gadget, I thought the grater worked very well. I used a ricer to extract the juices (if you don't know already, save the mushroom juice and then boil it down a bit. When cooled, you can freeze it or just refrigerate until you next make a beef soup, stew or meat sauce--it adds a really nice depth of flavour). The mushroom balls came together really easily and quickly....and they were easily and quickly eaten--as snacks and as supper.

With regards to my sweet little kitties...when I moved into the condo, I came to a difficult decision. Because of the extra costs of home ownership, I wasn't sure if I could afford to keep the kitties, so my parents came to the rescue and said they'd keep them for me. Yay! We know that Beanie and My Dear Little Cardamummy are quite close, and my dad and Zeus have a certain affinity (as well as uncanny mutual resemblance), and well Hagia is just a good girl so I wasn't too worried.

Unfortunately, a couple of months into the arrangement, I noticed that Hagia wasn't happy. She'd gotten thinner and was looking rather rumpled. Quite a change from my usually well-presented little vampire-fanged grey tabby.

Well...it turned out that Beanie's bullying ways came out very strongly and stopped her from eating and kept her hiding under beds and mostly out of sight. She came out to see me and she just didn't look right...so after many conversations with my parents, I scooped her up and moved her in.

She's quite happy and can eat when she wants and not worry about being pounced on by a cat two and a half her size. She's found a few favourite spots in the condo--under the loveseat in the TV temple, on the second floor landing...and of course, on the couch, next to me as I type...she's usually a little more chatty and headbonky than this, but she had a very tiring day being a cat:



The next major event occurred about two weeks ago. Beanie honed in on poor Zeus...same story as above. But instead of Zeus coming out for a couple of minutes a day, as Hagia did, he disappeared for days at a time. Zeus is a very timid and easily picked on by the bully boy. Add to this he's a stress eater and he put on a lot of weight in a very short span of time.

Well, it all came to a boil an d my father had to break up two pretty nasty cat fights--poor Zeus was made into chutney (as my parents would say). Quite surprised that my father agreed to it, but I think he realised it was no longer fair to Z. I got the call the next day, asking if Zeus could come over here and join his sister.

How could I say no? That would just be mean.

Zeus arrived and spent the first three nights locked in my powder room, scared out of his wits, crammed between the back of the privy and the wall. My parents came to visit him every day (they've actually visited him here more often then me, since they returned from India). I don't know who was more upset about he turn in events, Zeus or my dad...really. Mummy said Daddy was crying along with Zeus...and Daddy never cries.

The next night Zeus seemed a bit happier--still very stressed, but a bit happier...the happiness would be temporarily lessened as I decided he needed a bath...weeks of hiding out in my parent's basement left him with a certain waft. He'd never been bathed before so I had the exbf do the honours. They were both quite good about it.

Zeus now has free roam of the condo. There's a wee bit of hissing still, but the siblings are able to stay underneath the same loveseat together for hours at a time (yes, they come from a hidey, paranoid line)--very good sign, I think. He spends a lot of his life hiding from me (nothing new there) but when he hears me come down the basement steps, he gets quite social and hides behind a fortress wall of laundry baskets to see what I'm doing, in hopes he'll get a little scritch. His favourite spot is the corner behind the fireplace, in a towel-lined cardboard carton. I'm convinced he's dropped at least a pound. I couldn't help but take a photo of Zeus in the laundry sink after his bath. The other photo is him in his carton behind the fireplace.



And before you ask...Yes, Beanie does miss Zeus a heckuvalot...even though "gramma" feeds him lots of his beloved chicken, he doesn't know where his brother went. No, he didn't miss Hagia at all and his ears still go back when you mention her name. He just doesn't understand that he's much bigger than the others and they don't always want to "play." It seems to be genetic...his half-brother is much the same way. And yes, I have a feeling Beanie will be blogging again...

cheers!
jasmine