Castle Rock, Maine

Castle Rock is a fictional small town which is featured prominently in a number of Stephen King works. It is first introduced in The Dead Zone, where unwilling psychic Johnny Smith is drawn into the search for a murderer. The man in question, when discovered, is none other than... well, you don't want me to spoil it, do you?

Anyway, Castle Rock's Sheriff Bannerman, having recovered from this unmentioned incident, later reappears in Cujo, which takes place entirely in the town. Following this, The Dark Half, The Sun Dog and Needful Things all take place within the boundaries of this rather beleaguered location.

Thankfully, the residents of Castle Rock can breathe a sigh of relief: Needful Things was subtitled The Last Castle Rock Story, and although references to the town pop up in Gerald's Game, Bag Of Bones and King's latest (massive!) Under The Dome, a rewrite of It Grows On You from the short story collection Nightmares And Dreamscapes forms the final glimpse of Castle Rock as a main location.

Castle Rock Entertainment is also the film company that has produced several Stephen King adaptations: Misery, Hearts In Atlantis and Dreamcatcher being notable successes. Despite the name, a homage chosen after success with Stand By Me (based on the novella The Body), Castle Rock Entertainment does not exclusively work on King movies. Television programmes like Seinfeld were a part of Castle Rock Entertainment's output, and other successful films including When Harry Met Sally and A Few Good Men, were also produced by the company.

Jägermeister

Jägermeister is a thick, dark German liqueur (35%) produced from a blend of fifty-six herbs, fruits and spices. It is best served ice cold, and is thus commonly kept in the freezer, where it becomes slightly thicker and infinitely more pleasurable to consume. Its taste is similar to the Hungarian liquor Zwack Unicum, or its German contemporary Schierker Feuerstein; the herbal quality really shines through.

Jägermeister means hunt master, a title reflected in the Jägermeister logo: a stag, replete with impressive antlers between which floats a cross. So the story goes, a seventh century lad called Hubertus was moved by such a vision to change his life, joining a monastery and, ultimately, becoming the patron saint of hunters. Whether it's true or not, the label is distinctive and undeniably appropriate.

The company that produces Jägermeister is keen to promote its consumption, as you'd expect. Special tap machines serve the liqueur at freezing cold temperatures, and the website www.jager.com features a host of suggestions and potential purchases. Snowboards, watches,hats and glasses: Jägermeister are going for a younger market here. It's working, too - Jägermeister, worthy of such claims or not, is slowly acquiring a reputation similar to that of absinthe. It is suggested for use in a range of cocktails, too, though its bitter taste does not work well in most cases. The more popular Jägermeister cocktails are those which provide an opportunity to display some sort of drinking prowess. The provocatively-named 'Screaming Nazi' is one such alcoholic trial.

And with this comes the danger: that Jägermeister will come to be regarded as a fad liquor, taking its place alongside Aftershock and Goldschlager as a dare-you-to-down-it shot for the end of the evening. This would be a shame: the best way to drink Jägermeister is to slowly sip its icy depths; the subtle blends of flavours deserve more than a quick tip down the back of the neck. Certainly, claims as to its potency are over-rated; its alcohol percentage is a significant five percent below most vodkas. Drink enough, or drink it fast enough, and it's going to give you a serious hangover, this is true, but exactly the same is true of enough Jack Daniel's or Grey Goose. But however you choose to drink it, the fact remains that Jägermeister's bitter, medicinal taste and alcoholic strength are an acquired taste which, once firmly ingrained, will not be regretted. Unless you indulge a little too much, of course...

Pikelets

Pikelets and crumpets - both traditional British tea-time dishes. What's the difference? A good question, because there isn't much of a one. Crumpets and pikelets are both raised bread products made with yeast, and they're both baked on a griddle (although a frying pan does just as well).. Crumpets - proper crumpets - are thick and usually cooked in a circular mould leading to a seven or eight centimetre diameter circle with a top covered in little open bubbles. When toasted and buttered, the melted butter oozes into these holes, producing a soft, buttery honeycomb with a crunchy exterior. A pikelet is usually flatter and less regularly shaped as you simply spoon a small amount of batter out rather than filling up a mould. Although other countries have their own versions, the traditional English recipe involves yeast, and so is a little more involved and lengthy than other recipes which use eggs or bicarbonate of soda as a raising agent.

This one contains a bit of both - yeast and bicarbonate of soda. Fresh yeast is always best, and it's surprisingly easy to get hold of if you don't mind asking at the local bakery. Even the supermarkets with in-store bakeries are usually happy to sell you a lump, and I know for a fact you can get it at Morrisons because I usually do; it's near the butter in our local store, and the bakery politely but firmly point you in that direction if you get mixed up. Strong bread flour has proteins necessary for making that wonderful gluten, which helps when you're making yeast-based bread treats, so do check your packet carefully and go for a good, strong flour.

Making the batter:
125g strong bread flour
125g plain flour
1 and a half teaspoons bicarbonate of soda
Half a teaspoon of salt
8g fresh yeast (if you're using powdered, you may need to prepare it differently)
75ml lukewarm whole milk
250ml lukewarm water

Sort your yeast out first, adding the water to it slowly until you've made a yeasty paste into which it's easy to combine the remaining water. Add this to the flours with just half a teaspoon of the bicarbonate of soda and mix it into a very thick batter.

You're going to leave this in a warm place for two hours, covered with a damp cloth. The batter will go very frothy, and you can now dissolve the remaining bicarbonate of soda in the lukewarm milk and add it to the batter. Yay! You're now ready to make pikelets!


Cooking the pikelets:
Lightly butter and heat a non-stick frying pan. Spoon tablespoons of the mixture onto the pan and watch the pikelet for signs of the bubbles beginning to burst on the surface. When this happens, turn over the pikelet and continue to cook for a little longer until the top, bubbled surface is golden.
It's best now to allow them to cool, then re-toast them and slather them with plenty of butter. In practice, however, the freshly cooked pikelets are a little too tempting to be left alone, and a good smear of butter on top of them is hard to resist. Either way, enjoy.

Sources:
The Great British Kitchen, The Lovely Delia, Wikibooks