A couple of weeks ago, Tim, Kieran and I went up to Tim's parents' farm to help out with docking the lambs (ie, cutting off their tails) I baked some bits and pieces to add to the general pool, including an oaty slice from the New Zealand Cookbook simply called "Crunchies." Anyway, we are sitting there having our lunch on the grass, having docked a couple of mobs of sheep and lambs, and having brief respite from docking the next lot. I offer round this slice, and comment to Kieran that because of it's seedy, oaty nature "It's a bit like that energy stuff you take hiking, you know...scrottage?" Apparently this was hilarious. I think what I was looking for was "scroggin" (which sounds equally testicular if you ask me) but anyway, it didn't put people off eating it and since then, Scrottage it is. Shows how often I go hiking!!
So, today began gloriously, woke up with the sun streaming through the windows, and cloudless blue sky. Mere hours later, and it is cold, grey, hosing down, and of course, windy. Welcome to Wellington - where one's choice of clothes in the morning may be wildly innapropriate by the afternoon.
On days as cold as this one has become, one's thoughts turn to baking, and I decided to rustle up another batch of Scrottage. It is particularly good in that it is very cheap to make and then Tim doesn't have to buy muesli bars.
Above: Scrottage, fresh from the oven.
There are far worse words beginning with "scrot"...... that you could have called it. It sounds, in the immortal words of your great-grandmother, (and probably hers before her)..... remarkably "good for the foo-foo valves". Almost makes one want to take up hiking.
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