December 14: Shopping List
From Ennui Enigma - Beekeeping
A glance out the door, a sniff of the air, and a sharp eye to the sky told the woman that today was likely to be considerably above average.
"Just perfect weather for a good shop about."
If not today, she would berate herself tomorrow, or the day afterwards that she hadn't taken advantage of the break in the weather. Mrs. Martha Hudson wasn't as young and hardy as she used to be. Arthritis made her knees ache on bad days, and cold damp weather only made them worse. A good day to get out to run her shopping errands was not to be turned down, not when the timing was right, and the project a special one.
Mrs. Hudson had enough of a reputation in her neighborhood such that her day-to-day necessary provisions now mostly came to her. Dairy, meats, poultry, most fish, and even her essential fruits and vegetables came to her door, or were sent out by Rebecca, her part time girl. It's not that Mrs. Hudson didn't go out anymore – far from it. It's just that it was always nice to be able to choose not to. Martha still liked to get her exercise, and 'do a walk about' whenever possible. Neighbors needed seeing, friendships reaffirmed and cultivated, and her countless local contacts needed… well, contact. One of her favorite reasons for a good day out was for "special errands." Today was one of those special days, one of her personal delights. The purpose of this particular excursion had been on her mind for at least a week. It was time to buy all the extra selective ingredients for her famous Christmas biscuits. Everything had to be perfect, just right. Nothing but the best. The freshest, the tastiest, the spiciest. She had a reputation to uphold, and people were counting on her.
"I'm not going to fall down on it this year! There's a lot to bake, and a lot of people who are hoping for a treat."
Martha hated to admit it, but she missed baking for others. Her famous tenants, Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson, had moved out last year. The doctor now owned a fine house with his new wife in Marylebone, and Mr. Holmes had… RETIRED? And to the country too! The idea still surprised, even shocked her. The man who had spent so many years under her roof solving the crimes and mysteries of the world, had been first and foremost a man of endless energy and curiosity. He had a restlessness, and need for action – and danger – that left her exasperated, tormented, and driven to distraction many more times than she cared to remember. A few days without a case, or a period of bad weather, left Holmes irritable to the point where he was sharp with everyone, climbing the walls – and even shooting at them!
"The man didn't give me a moment of peace. The vile chemistry experiments, violin playing at all hours, and the nastiest shag tobacco a body could inhale – and those were his good qualities…"
Still, she had been proud of him, proud of them both, and had grown to be fiercely protective of them. She had made it her personal responsibility to ensure both men ate well, and only of the best. Holmes disappointed her more often than not by turning down her good cooking, refusing food, even when it was put right in front of him. The moody detective was brilliant, but he made one grievous miscalculation. He insisted that his restless mind didn't need fuel or sustaining when on an important case, and digestion took critical energy that was needed for the task at hand. Many times, Mrs. Hudson watched Holmes come close to making himself ill, simply because he denied the painfully obvious needs of his body. It was all she and the good doctor could do to keep the man alive sometimes.
And yet, she had done it. She did it for years. Taking care of her two, now world-famous lodgers had given her purpose, and something she could be proud of.
Besides, for all of his finicky eating habits, Sherlock Holmes had always been partial to her baked goods and desserts.
"The man did love his tarts and pies, he did! Rarely turned down some fine shortbread or biscuits either now, did he?"
The thought made her smile. Over the years her baking had kept Holmes going when few other foods inspired him. Her best was saved for birthdays, Easter, and of course Christmas. Holmes never cared much for Christmas, unlike the gentle doctor, who enjoyed the holiday as much as she. However, she still got to take care of Holmes, and give him the best of the season, by baking up a storm for Christmas: mince, apple, and raspberry pies, plum pudding, tarts and cakes of all sorts. And her specialty holiday biscuits. Always the biscuits. She had learned it was best to leave a decorated biscuit tin or two upstairs – and to always keep them full. Holmes and Watson did the rest. She didn't think they kept count, but in truth, they went through dozens of them every year.
The all-important list:
Extra eggs, milk and cream: notify her dairy deliveryman.
White bread flour
Cake flour
Three pounds of butter (to start)
Three types of raisins
Currants
Dried candied fruits: pineapple, cherries, figs, apricots, orange and lemon peel
Dates
Almonds
Walnuts
Hazelnuts
Baking chocolate
Spices: cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, allspice, cardamom, vanilla beans
Extra white sugar
Brown sugar
Molasses
Honey
Peppermint oil
Ah, the honey. This one she could cross off her list. Martha Hudson always found honey difficult to buy, as she was very particular about taste and quality. Every year, she went to several shops, sampling as she went, before she found what she was looking for – or grudgingly chose the best of a less-than-ideal selection. Not this year. Much to her astonished delight, the restless, impatient Holmes had taken up that hobby which required almost infinite gentleness and patience: Beekeeping.
Seriously? Beekeeping!
Best of all, Mr. Holmes sent her free honey, as much as she needed – and it was the best she had ever tasted since the wild heather honey of her Scottish childhood. Holmes' hives sat right on the cliffs of the Sussex Downs, and tasted of the wild fresh flowers that grew in the pasturelands overlooking the Channel. Adding in an extra layer of complexity was the nectar from the many local gardens surrounding Holmes' cottage. Holmes had even done some research, providing some supplemental planting of his own, which added just a slight note of lavender, and some rare clovers.
"Leave it to Sherlock to chemically design the best honey in his little corner of England."
She missed her rough and tumble tenants, she couldn't deny it. But she still cherished them and all her memories of those years. Besides, she had many people who looked forward to her baking even now. Doctor Watson, and his new wife Sandra, the Simmons children, the church bake sale ladies – and the Irregulars. She had promised Holmes she would continue to bake Christmas goodies for them, even though she saw them far less. Many of the children who had run errands for Holmes were now grown up anyway. It made her more than a little proud of Holmes and Watson (and relieved) that they had worked tirelessly, finding improved situations for most of those who had helped and supported the crime fighting duo of Baker Street.
Wiggens was the biggest surprise of all. He was now a well-regarded constable at Scottland Yard, married to a lovely bakery shop girl, with a child on the way. The thought made her shake her head in wonder. Life had a way of doing the most unexpected things to a person. The boy who had picked pockets, now chased down pickpockets – and far more besides. All those years working with Mr. Holmes, and the hard life of the streets, gave him skills few in the Yard could match.
"He'll be a Sergeant one of these days… imagine that!"
Wiggens had always loved her Christmas desserts. A special batch of her best biscuits was in the works for him. She would give it to him when he came to Christmas dinner with Emily. Doctor Watson and Sandra would be there too. She already knew what Watson's favorites were. She wouldn't disappoint him.
"I wonder what Emily will think of my mince pies, and my honey cinnamon biscuits…"
Time to go shopping!
(The end.)
Please Review. Thanks!