The Voyage of Captain Cook

If you were looking forward to a rip roaring tale of sea shanties, discovery and a vast behind, then look elsewhere, for this week I have became the captain of cook, in the domestic sense..

Baking to me was something other people undertook, tasting as you go along. Biccies, choccy sponge, all mixed in Mum's earthenware bowl with a huge wooden spoon and palette..
Obviously I couldn't eat the finished products (unless it was a slightly less than vile diabetic recipe), so my brother got all the treats, whilst I would be extremely lucky to be able to lick the spoon.
But not any more, Haha! I happily bake way, licking and tasting as I go, not to mention siphoning off the chocolates and other fillings. So much for post diabetic restraint.
Yesterday I  made scones, bereft of fruit but with the addition of some extra baking powder to give them "lift". First appearances were positive, if a little deceptive.

Cook wise, I have been battling with a salmon. Not in the lush fertile waters of the Hauraki Gulf on the end of a line, but rather from the lush fertile fish counter at the supermarket.
Ideally to be roasted and flaked into fish cakes with fresh parsley from the garden, all drizzled in lemon juice and served with fresh beans.....

"Remember to take the bones out!" came the stentorian instructions from beyond the kitchen...,

Hmmm, that would be a challenge, never having done anything if the sort before.
After about 15 minutes I had managed to extricate 4 bones, from a lengthy piece of fish with a tiny pair of tweezers.. Each was a slippery battle of man against fish. I could almost see the spirit of the departed salmon laughing at me.

So I gave up and rationalised that if the fish were cooked then it would be easier to debone. Which it wasn't.
It was just as fatty and intricate, but just hotter. I endeavoured to complete the task, and laboured on. Finally a defeated salmon was combined with mashed potato and herbs.
The lemon spat everywhere, instead of drizzling, and the whole kitchen ended up covered in flour, but at least the result was a success, palate wise.

And the scones? Horrid, with so much baking powder that they tasted very salty.

Just like Captain Cook's barnacled bottom.