The Pig’s Ear, Chalk and Cheese

My new batch of native bai tunze porcelain stone clay body is ready – if you can call wet rock dust a ‘clay’? Whatever it is, it’s all lifted from the drying bed and stored in plastic bags waiting for pugging. I have been up in Sydney all of last week teaching a MasterClass in porcelain bowl making. I took along a couple of samples of my homemade porcelain bodies for my students to try. I got to throw this batch for the first time during this week. It was lifted on Sunday and thrown on Wednesday. Not a long time for ageing, but it was surprisingly good for something so fresh. It had quite a bit of stretch to it for milled stone but showed its true character by tearing with lots of stretch marks and little cracks as it was pushed to extremes.


On the potters wheel it held up reasonably well for something so thixotropic. I had found that I needed to dry it out a little more before throwing because of the thixotropy effect of the kneading. This kind of milled stone body with lots of alkali present has very low plasticity and a very narrow range of Atterburg limits. This means that it goes from being too wet to hold its self up properly, to so dry that it becomes crumbly in a very short space of time, so drying is critical. I have learnt to keep it on the soft side until I need to use it and then stiffen it up to the desired consistency just before throwing.
Conventional potters kneading doesn’t always give the desired result with this kind of paste. In fact, it doesn’t knead well at all. I learnt to wedge and knead clay in the traditional Japanese spiral fashion a long time ago when I did my apprenticeship with a Japanese potter. I became quite proficient at it. I had to. He was very demanding. As it’s turned out, this is one of the two things in life that I can do well, so I’m not embarrassed about my spiral kneading/wedging skills, in fact I considered myself competent.
So when a new teacher came to the National Art School in the early/mid seventies to teach there and we shared a class together. I got to learn something new. Gillian Grigg was very well trained in Stoke on Trent and later, topped off with a Masters degree from the Royal College of Art in London. She was a gifted artist and potter with an amazing range of excellent skills. Everybody was in awe of her capabilities, while she was was quietly diffident and understated. It transpired that one day we were sharing a class and the subject of porcelain came up. I mentioned that it was hard to knead, but could be done well with some practice and proceeded to demonstrate what I had learnt. Gillian watched and then quietly mentioned that she had been taught in Stoke that the technique of cutting and slapping the clay together, called wedging was proven to be a superior technique to spiral kneading.  As this was not what I had learnt, I was surprised to hear this. Gillian assured me that this was what had been demonstrated to her during her studies in Stoke.
Gillian spoke quietly, but carried a big stick of knowledge, experience and skills, so I listened, but I was very confident that I had good skills, perhaps too full of hubris and youthful inexperience though? We set about providing an experiment for the class. We divided a bag of porcelain clay between us and set about preparing it by our own methods. After 5 minutes of this we cut our block of clay in half and swapped half our clay with each other. We then proceeded to throw a pot out of each ball of clay. I had to admit that Gillian’s clay was noticeably much better than mine. Tighter and more workable. I learnt something that day and it’s stuck with me. Thank you Gillian! We were like chalk and cheese, she so full of fine, natural talent, acquired knowledge and hard won experience, while I was a young ceramic kelpie with too much energy and not enough knowledge or experience.
To this day I finish my preparation of these milled rock paste bodies with a session of cut and slap wedging. This new batch of bai tunze is much better for it. It’s a little tricky to get the moisture content just right, but once it is, it throws on the wheel with the plasticity of a soft-ripened cheese – double brie perhaps? After it’s been resting out of the fridge for a while!
When I am preparing the minerals for this body, I carefully choose to use the tannin stained black water from the water tank below the pottery that collects the most eucalypt leaves. This water comes from the tank a dark slate grey to black/brown colour like over brewed black tea. I choose this water because the tannin helps to create good plasticity. It reduces the pH of the batch as it is being made and neutralises the alkali that is released from the stone during milling, as the combination of alkalinity and fine non-plastic particles produce thixotropic effects. i.e. it turns into warm brie on the potters wheel.
Throwing this clay is an exercise in coaxing a stiff non-plastic paste up into a simple form and leaving it thick at the base to support the rim.  It’s not a pretty sight, but if the form is well planned it can be coaxed into something by judicious turning later. When the pot is dried to leather hard it can be turned roughly to reduce weight and create a more even thickness, but this kind of non-clay material just isn’t sufficiently plastic to allow conventional turning. It tears and rips apart into torn chunks like cutting through Tasmanian Mersey Vally cheddar cheese. Very crumbly with no real internal cohesion. Roughing out is all that is possible at this stage. This clay turns from brie to cheddar, then to chalk over time while drying. The pot is left to dry to almost bone dry before it can be turned to a smooth, fine, finish. Turning bone dry requires very sharp turning tools that need to be re-sharpened regularly, as the stone fragments wear away the metal and blunten it very quickly.


I have seen some potters in Japan using tungsten carbide tipped turning tools that hold an edge very well for a long time and I got to try using one in Tatsuya San’s workshop last year. I bought one after that, but I find it a bit heavy and cumbersome, as I’m used to making my own tools out of high carbon steel, re-cycled, packing case strapping. They are quick and easy to make and easy to keep sharp with a few strokes of a file. I like that they are so light and flexible. I guess that it’s just what you get used too. Perhaps I like them because I can make them myself from re-cycled material, forestalling waste and re-purposing industrial discards. It is one small part that adds to the bigger picture of self reliance.



Turning pots bone dry is just a little tricky also, as you need to use a specially designed leather-hard clay ‘chuck’ to hold the pot perfectly and intimately with exquisite contact detailing, such that the bone dry and very fragile rock dust bowl form won’t crack due to the stress and pressure of the turning and trimming. This process can also be quite dusty as well, so measures have to be taken to minimise the dust. I tend to turn while there is still just a small fraction of moisture still in the pot. In workshops where they turn like this day-in and day-out, they install exhaust fans to collect the dust in a dust extractor where it is collected for recycling. Turning dry clay like this is like cutting through chalk. Actually, it’s more like grinding away at a chalk surface and reducing it to powder to reveal a form encased or hidden within.  I’ve come to like turning, it’s the other thing that I’m OK at.
From the Journeyman on the remarkable journey from Cheese to Chalk and then on to the Pig’s Ear. (porcellana). Porcelain was named for its similarity the Italian sea shell (cowrie shell), ‘porcellana’. Named for its pale white, translucent quality. However, the shell porcellana was named for it’s similarity to the pale white translucent nature of a pigs ear. Hence Porca – lain. I wonder if I can make a ceramic purse out of it?
Best wishes from the potter with the cheesy grin, who’s bringing home the bacon.

Much ado about netting

We have netted all the stone-fruit trees in the orchard that still have fruit on them. We move the nets from the early trees that have finished fruiting and relocate them to the late season trees that are turning colour and ripening. Once all the early fruiting varieties are done, they no-longer need the netting. Some of these trees are getting quite old now and have gained some size. Our oldest trees are over 40 years old, however most are now 2nd generation plantings, still they need a support system that can cover trees up to 4 metres high. This means that we need to use the bigger nets that are 9 metres square.


We have figured out a way to build a frame simply out of 2 pieces of left-over polypipe tubing, tied together in the middle and spread out at right angles to form an arched support. We hammer in tomato stakes to secure the pipe to the ground and it become quite stable. The difficulty is in getting the netting over the frame. Janine ‘bowline’ King attaches a rope to one side and throws it over, then with me voicing encouragement, she hauls the netting over the frame. The polythene piping is quite smooth and slippery, so the netting travels freely over. We repeat the process for each tree with ripening fruit until we run out of nets.



The birds are so very resourceful. They have figured out that if they sit on the netting and bounce up and down on it , it will sag down until it touches some of the fruit. Then they peck at it through the netting.

This whole process of netting is fast and efficient, and we get it all done in an hour or so. There is still time in the afternoon to go to the garden and de-fuse the exploding zucchini crop. We lunch on steamed broccoli and cauliflower with a squeeze of lemon juice and a little fresh ground pepper.


As the garden is so prolific in this warm wet weather, we decide to make an egg plant parmigiana. We have lots of tomatoes and aubergines.


Tomatoes blanched and skinned, sliced and laid over the aubergines with a little olive oil, then sprinkled with torn basil leaves and crushed garlic, finally covered with a jar of our home made tomato, garlic, onion and capsicum sauce. Grate parmigiana on top and bake.


Another favourite at this time of year for a simple meal on a hot day is cold cucumber soup.

This isn’t really a recipe, more a way of thinking about using up cucumbers. It’s cooling and soothing and a little bit tangy, and you get to use up a lot of cucumbers.

Use half a dozen small, or 3 large cucumbers. Peeled and seeded if they are older and larger, but all in as they come if they are young.

Some mild onion like red or white, or even green spring onions finely chopped

A big bunch of cilantro or coriander leaves finely chopped.

A small bunch of mint leaves finely chopped.

A couple of cloves of garlic, smashed and de-papered.

Some finely chopped chilli to taste and although I don’t use salt, if you want it, add it to your our taste.

Juice of a lemon.

Put it all in the blender or food processor with half a tin of coconut milk and the same quantity of plain greek yoghurt, or just one of them, or some sour cream if that’s what you have in the fridge. You can use a blend of all three.

You can serve it with a little bit of olive oil on top and some paprika sprinkled on.

Janine mixes up the recipe each time she makes it to keep it lively and interesting, sometimes adding chopped dill, parsley or tarragon leaves. Sometimes with only yoghurt and other times with just coconut milk. It works just the same.

It’s always different and always delicious.


Half Baked

Welcome to mid-summer.

Without doing anything about it, we find ourselves now at the high point of mid-summer. It was effortless. How did we get here? Time is flying by, the days are getting shorter, but not that noticeably and the fruit is ripening on the trees, even through all this rain. This is probably the apogee of the summer heat, although it’s not that hot this year. Our maximums are in the low to mid thirties.

The Earth Mother Garden Girl has been out early, picking vegetables and returns with a wheel barrow full. She comes in with a couple of boxes full of tomatoes, capsicums, aubergines, zucchinis, and more.

I’ve spent the day cutting and folding stainless steel kiln parts. I see the bounty of summer right there in boxes on the kitchen floor and decide to make the obvious choice, ratatouille. It’s that time of year!
I start by selecting out all the bird-damaged, rain-split, sun-burnt and otherwise affected and just plain over-ripe or undersized tomatoes. Paring them down and cutting them in half. I rub them with olive oil and dress them with a sprinkling of salt, then pop them into a low oven to dry a little for a while.
For the past few days, The lovely has been thinking about doing our tax. It’s a job that we always do in Jan. Well, we try to. It has to be in by March, along with our company returns. It’s not as big a deal as it used to be. Since the introduction of the GST and quarterly BAS statements, most of it is already done. But it’s still a job that no-one likes. So My Beautiful Abacus has managed to put it off now for 2 days and as a result of this extended procrastination, she has sorted out the office, cleaned out the spare room, tidied under our bed, re-arranged the pantry and de-cluttered the kitchen table, work bench and side board. Tax time is great! The house has never looked so tidy. I think the next job on the tax-list may well turn out to be cleaning the shower grouting. Procrastination can be good!
In the kitchen the smell of the half baked tomatoes is wafting out and about the house now. I split the zucchinis, capsicums and aubergines. These are our first two aubergines of the season. I lay them all in a baking dish with some olive oil, cover them with the half baked tomatoes and dress it all with a big handful of torn basil leaves fresh from the garden, while The Lovely crushes a few cloves of garlic and spreads it about all over the mix. I tear up a few anchovies and place little bits evenly about the pan. It isn’t pretty. It’s a big jumbled mass of veggies, but it smells fantastic already and I haven’t even cooked it yet.
In the oven for half an hour to soften the veggies let it all meld in together. It fills the house with that smell of “only in summer”.
For me, ratatouille and its many variations has to be the apotheosis of summer. Good olive oil and fresh summer vegetables from the garden – beautiful!  As we only eat what we grow. We can’t have this dish at any other time of the year. Aubergines are very slow to get going here. They don’t start producing until mid-summer and then fruit well into the autumn. Zucchinis on the other hand are just about past their zenith and starting their slow decline as they straggle and spread all over the place. The tomatoes haven’t reached their peak as yet, but are bearing very well for us just now. We are just starting to get enough to think about bottling them. Passata may well come before tax?
My Beautiful Abacus packs away the tax files from the kitchen table into their relevant boxes and spring folders, then transforms into a Beautiful Maitre’D and Sommelier as I plate-up the fragrant dish and grate a little parmigiana on top and some more fresh basil leaves. It’s really wonderful, if I do say so myself. It’s a great pity that I can’t convey the smell sensations to you in words. You just have to be there – or do it yourself. Half baking the tomatoes really helps to concentrate the flavour. It takes a little longer, but it’s really worth it. Once they are in the oven, you can go back to not doing the tax for a little longer. Actually, it’s a great way to extend the working day without realising it.

Best wishes from the Half Baked Steve and his Beautiful Actuary

Make Clay While the Sun Shines

Warning! This post could be very boring if you are not a potter – and maybe even if you are?
Contains technical terms and traces of nuts.
Making clay while the sun shines is a very good idea and ought to be possible in summer, but not this summer.
This has been the most amazing summer that we have had for many, many years. It’s hot, just like every year, but this year it has rained more than we can remember for a long time. We are having a great time. The rain combined with the warmth has made everything grow its head off. We have plenty of water in the dams and drinking water tanks, plus lots of food coming from the garden. We only have to water the garden every few days, as it usually rains in between at some point. Sometimes it rains hard enough to wet the soil sufficiently that we don’t need to water for a few days.
Earlier in the summer it was raining very hard and very often, but now that pattern has changed to occasional showers. So it is now dry enough under cover to get my milled porcelain stone slip to dry on the drying beds and in plaster basins. I’m aware that it is not wet like this everywhere. There are bush fires raging down south, while I’m clearing ditches to guide the excess water away from the pottery. When it is this wet, the humidity is so high that it is very hard to dry liquid clay slip. It just tends to sit there and go mouldy while rotting the fabric membrane underneath that separates the clay from the brick bed.
After 40 years of pursuing my project of self-reliance, I have decided to modify slightly my fundamentalist, hard-line approach of ‘total commitment to maximum achievable’ self reliance, to a more relaxed and flexible approach of ‘substantially committed to’ self-reliance.
In this regard I have recently decided to allow myself some slack and buy in more processed product to allow for an easier life as I age. For example, When I returned from my studies in Japan, late last spring, it was getting a bit late to put in seeds and start a summer garden from scratch, so I decided to compromise and buy some punnets of vegetable seedlings to get the garden up and growing, while I planted my seeds and waited for this second planting to come along as a second, follow-up crop. This worked well and I’m very pleased with the serried plantings and how they are growing and providing a steady flow of tomatoes, sweet corn and zucchini etc.
It’s a small compromise, but once compromised, why not go with it?


Blanched French beans served with fresh, home-made basil pesto.

Blanched French beans served with fresh, home-made basil pesto.

I have decided now to addapt this freer approach to my ceramic materials and my creative work. I have previously only used the rocks, shales and clays of my own local shire and I am still completely committed to this ‘local’ concept. I had found during this long extended period of research that although I tried very hard to locate everything that I needed to make my ceramics from only the materials that I discovered around me. I could not find any pale plastic throwable clay in a quantity that was useable. However, what I did find, was plenty of hard igneous rocks to make glazes and in the end I managed to make two really special, unique and very interesting stoneware clay bodies from self-processed, local rock dusts. To achieve this, I realised that I would need to add some bentonite (a very sticky clay) to bind and slightly plasticise these powdered rock bodies to make them useable. These rocks are so hard, that they need to be crushed first in a large jaw crusher, then a small laboratory jaw crusher and following that I put the grit through a disc mill and finally in the ball mill for 16 hours to get it really fine. Using this rather slow, convoluted and old-fashioned technology, that I obtained as industrial cast-off, from auctions and junk yards, I can process my finds from large rocks down to 200# powder in about 24 hours. It’s the drying out of the liquid clay slip from the ball mill that is taking the longest time and slowing the process down. Not helped by the continuing wet weather.
I never thought that I’d find myself complaining about rain!
Warning, there are traces of nuts showing in this image!
I pass the thin liquid slip through 100# sieve before settling out the solids.
So, bentonite was my first compromise. It may not be local, but it is Australian. I have bought 3 x 25 kg bags of bentonite during my career. I also found that I needed to buy in alumina powder to use as shelf wash. This wasn’t absolutely essential, it was just very much better than all the alternatives, so another compromise. I’m still using this original 25 kg. bag of Al203. I use it sparingly, so It will last a very long time.
Recently, I decided to get some kaolin to add some slight increase in plasticity to my ground up local native porcelain stone bodies. This is not a local material either, as it comes from 300 kms away, but it’s closer than the bentonite. There must be something closer, I just haven’t found it yet. Proceeding on from my initial tests. I have decided to add 15% of this plastic kaolin to my ground porcelain stone body, it makes an enormous difference to it’s workability very quickly. I completed the first small batch tests of 5 kg each last year, before I went to Japan. So now I am making the larger 100 kg batches to see how they work on a larger scale. The tests were very promising, so I am eager to see them perform and feel them on the wheel. I was encouraged to follow on with this blending idea when I saw them making their porcelain body in Arita in Japan recently, using imported New Zealand kaolin. But I’m not prepared to go that far for some kaolin.
I have been told that the most famous porcelain body in Australia, which is exported all over the world, is made from Chinese kaolin, Indian felspar and American bentonite. At least the water is Australian!
To aid the drying process of my ball milled (bai tunze) porcelain stone slip, to a stiff plastic, usable porcelain body, I make two batches. One of 30 kg in the big ball mill as a liquid slip. This slip has to be thin enough to allow the grinding down of the very hard rock granules from the crushers. After milling I allow the thin liquid to sit and settle for a day or so, to allow the very fine ceramic fragments to flocculate. I drain off the free water from the top of the settled clay material. At the same time I make a second 5 kg. batch in the smaller ball mill which is dry milled. I then add this dry material to the wet batch and mix them together. This significantly stiffens up the slip. I can then put it out on the drying bed or plaster tubs to firm up.
I drag my finger through the stiff slip to make it dry into usable square plastic blocks that are easier to pick up and store for pugging.
However, because of the very wet summer continuing on like it has, I’m finding that the clay just won’t dry as usual. The humidity is just too high. I’m having to lift the very soft plastic mass off the sodden brick drying beds and place it in the open air to get a little air movement over it to finish it off to a stiff plastic condition. Perhaps the extra 15% of kaolin content is slowing the drying a little as well?
I have been using my new ‘VENCO’ stainless steel mini pug mill to pug the small batches of clay. It’s fantastic, quiet, fast for it’s size and ideal for small batches of porcelain body like the stuff that I’m making. And so much easier on my wrists than hand wedging.
As part of this sudden loss of intellectual rigour and convenient relaxation of my philosophical standards, I hope to make my life a little easier in my latter years. However, I can’t help somehow feeling a bit like the philosopher Bertie Russell reneging on his death-bed. I am fully aware that this is where the similarity ends. I am no philosopher, and hopefully I am not on my death-bed either – just yet. I just feel like I need to extend my range and have the ability to work with an extended palette of interesting materials for my creative work. 15% of non-local kaolin isn’t going to change the fabric of my work in any noticeable way, but it will make the act of throwing a lot more pleasurable for me and extend what I can make.
So I have decided to start using materials that I have discovered that are outside of my shire and my previous 50 km radius of interest. Over the last 20 years I have experimented with my immediately available local materials, non of which are mentioned in McMeekin’ s book. I have worked on them to the point that I couldn’t think of any more variations that I could make to gain any further insight into these materials. Only extreme ageing could improve their plasticity, I’m too old to wait for that solution to work for me. I’d taken these materials as far as I could imagine. Another potter would certainly find new things to do with these materials, but I feel that I have lived and worked on this restricted palette for long enough. I want to experiment with some ‘new’, and therefore interesting materials that I don’t know anything about.
To this end, I just went to collect some felspar from a site that I came across a few years ago, near my friend’s house, it’s 150 kms away. I only sampled it at that time, because it wasn’t within my target area, but it looked very interesting all the same and I can’t pass an interesting bit of soil by without at least looking at it and taking a preliminary sample. The initial testing proved that it was felspar and although quite weathered, it still has quite a bit of alkali, so it might turn out be very useful. I’m extending my range, making more flexible choices and hopefully making my life a little more interesting and a little easier.
I have a few different projects in mind for the future.
Best wishes
from the potter making many a slip twixt the mill and the lip

Of cabbages and King

“The time has come the walrus said to speak of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and Kings”
Well, I have both cabbages and a King here right now, so that’s what I’m going to speak about. We are finding ways to eat the flush of red cabbage that is coming on now. Our first idea was to make Japanese okonomiyaki-inspired cabbage pancakes, they are fabulous and a great way to get through a lot of cabbage.
 We don’t have a recipe, we just use what we have at the time. The main ingredient is the cabbage, finely shredded, a small amount of pan-cake batter. i.e. one egg to one table spoon full of flour. We use organic wholemeal, but you will get a lighter result with white or corn flour. I usually add some of my marrow bone and veggie stock form the freezer, but you can use water or even milk to make the pancake batter mix. Sometimes I only add two eggs without using any flour, cracking them directly into the simmering cabbage mix. Some finely sliced spring onions or a few small shallots go well in the mix.
We cook the cabbage and onion in a little oil like a stir-fry, but sometimes with the lid on the frypan for a few minutes to get the whole thing to steam and then add the batter or eggs and stir it through. This binds it all together. When it firms up a little we flip it over and do the other side. Whenever I have had this in Japan it nearly always has some sort of bacon or cured pork added in rashes on one side or cubed chunks mixed through.
As bacon, or any other cured and preserved meat isn’t all that good for you, we keep it to a minimum. But it is a tasty addition when it’s added in there. The other things that we add as the fancy takes us are; a little bit of ginger pickled in cider vinegar with some salt and honey. Ginger turns slightly pink when pickled in vinegar. This is drained and finely chopped before adding it in, or some roughly chopped home-grown and dried tomatoes preserved in oil.
When the pancake is cooked through on both sides. We serve it with a few katsuobushi bonito flakes sprinkled on top. They shimmer and wobble around on top of the hot meal as if they are alive. It’s an uncanny feeling to see your food, there on the plate, moving about.
The first time that I saw bonito flakes on a pancake, when I bought my first okonomiyaki sitting on a train platform waiting for a train in the 80’s In Japan. I hadn’t ever seen anything like it before, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I was used to eating food that didn’t move around on my plate. Okonomiyaki is just so delicious that I instantly got used to it and have bought bonito flakes occasionally, when I see them for sale, ever since.
I Japan, they have a special kind of Okonomiyaki sauce. It more or less tastes like a mix of 3 parts of BBQ sauce to 1 part of Worcestershire sauce, or something a bit close to that, if you can imagine it. They also use a lot of mayonnaise as well. In fact an okonomiyaki pancake is usually decorated with lots of squiggly lines of brown and white sauce in delicate cross-hatch patterns.
These two decorative and tasty sauces seem to be essential in Japan, I have never been served an okonomiyaki without them, but for us they are optional here at home. We don’t buy BBQ sauce and only very rarely have mayonnaise, so we’ve got used to our own version of okonomiyaki inspired cabbage pancake. I did once try adding some Worcestershire sauce to some of our reduced tomato salsa, but it wasn’t the same. Presumably because we didn’t add enough salt, sugar and MSG!
I’m pretty sure that anyone who had lived in Japan for any length of time and was used to okonomiyaki just wouldn’t recognise what we cook as okonomiyaki. It doesn’t matter. To us, it’s just a great way to eat cabbage.
The second way of using a lot of cabbage is in a fresh red cabbage salad. Something that we picked up in the SE Asian restaurants of Cabramatta. The base of the salad is finely shredded cabbage, with other salad green leaves torn and tossed in as available in the season. There is no real recipe, just a fresh idea. I know that both of these aren’t really recipes, more like serving suggestions, but you can imagine.
Shred lots of fresh cabbage. It doesn’t have to be red cabbage, Chinese cabbage or Savoy works just as well. Add whatever other green salad leaves that you have growing in the garden, Lettuce, Mizuma, rocket, radicchio, red mustard leaves, etc.
Add some finely sliced Shallot or any other mild onion and some intensely flavoursome Shiso leaves. The green variety seem to have more essential oils than the red and is more aromatic, but the red one looks so terrific in the mix, especially if you are using green cabbage. Next add in plenty of very finely shredded mint leaves and some grated ginger.
The whole lot is tossed to mix it all up and is seasoned with a sprinkling of white wine vinegar. This gives it a very lively hit when it combines with the shredded ginger and finely chopped mint.
We pick the leaves in the morning and after washing them we put them in the fridge for an hour or two until lunchtime. It makes a cool, crunchy, fresh salad with lots of zing. It’s so good that we have to have seconds.
The other thing that the walrus said was about yellow-matter custard, but he didn’t give a recipe either.
Only a serving suggestion.
Goo Goo Ga-Choo!
fond regards
from the King and her Walrus