Domesticali

Hard shell

Yes, it HAS been quiet around here. I have had the gentlest of kind and friendly prods from some of you asking if all is well. Thank you, and yes, it is really, in the grand scheme of things.

Do you ever have a crisis of confidence? When suddenly you seem to loose sight of quite who you are or what you think or what is important to you. It happens to me every once in a while. And I look round at everyone else and think how sorted and together and assured they seem. How secure in their own skin. And I flounder about feeling out of my depth and over-exposed.

And like a turtle, I long for the security of my own shell. Where I can just read a book or loose myself in a film and not be required to have an opinion about anything at all. The good news is, I have been cracking along with my reading pile and have seen more films in the last fortnight than in the preceding 6 months. 

But at some point, you have to face up to sticking your neck back out. Because really, life is defined by interactions. Some wonderful and life affirming and others less so. But without them it's all a bit pointless. I would never make it as a hermit.

So, hello, waving from my shell and heading back to join the party. I was planning on bringing these walnuts to share.

But once I had hacked off the fibrous exteriors and broken the extremely hard shells open with a hammer (wearing latex gloves,  to protect from the yellow staining), I discovered that they tasted absolutely revolting.

And don't even get me started on the smell. I had to search my memory banks for what it reminded me of - now I think I have it. Bile. Nasty eh?

Too good to be true

It's an odd thing, but despite not having a terribly sweet tooth, I really like baking cakes. And reading about cakes. And drooling over pictures of cakes. So it's not terribly surprising that I bought a cake book.

And I thought I'd try out a very basic recipe first - American Vanilla Cupcakes.

Yes, that is a courgette in the background. Because the book 'Red Velvet and Chocolate Heartache' is unusual in that it uses vegetables - courgettes, swede, tunip, beetroot, butternut squash, parsnip, potato - they're all there. So you get cake, but healthy, virtuous cake, without fat. What's not to be excited about?

The food styling  is sublime - look here or here to see what I mean and the chapters are organized along colour themes (a la Apples for Jam). And I really like the trust me tips which explain things ( in the case of this recipe, why not to worry that the mixture feels looser than a normal cupcake).  Also very interesting were the Cake Diary pages which make it clear quite how many iterations these recipes went through to achieve the end product.

The first nagging doubts came when I licked the bowl. Not nice at all. The rice flour made the mixture unpleasantly gritty and the flavour was not good. But I reserved judgement. They baked beautifully - rising evenly and looked glorious. The great thing about their fat-free-ness is that you don't get any of that seepage of buttery greasyness into your cupcake wrapper.

So I made a batch of the Snow Meringue Icing and soon those cakes were looking even better.

Really, doesn't that just make you want to devour it? So I did, and what a disappointment. The cake was kind of rubbery and tasteless and the icing (which uses icing sugar and egg whites cooked over a bain marie and beaten for 9 mins) wasn't as good as standard seven minuite frosting made with caster sugar.

Now perhaps I just had an off baking day, because all the reviews I've seen of the book have been glowing. And I'm happy to test out a couple more recipes. I might try substituting a proportion of the rice flour specified with plain flour.

But at the back of my head, a little voice is is whispering if it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is.

Writing an equation

Kristina's blackberry ice cream photos propelled us out of the house on Saturday afternoon to go and fill a few tupperware containers with the bounty of the hedgerows from the fields behind our house. They seem early this year and very very plentiful.

The trip is so much speedier now that Mister Johnny has ditched his stabilizers.

So they zoom along while I am designated chief picker. This is largely because blackberry picking success is dependent on a high pain threshold (to ignore the prickles) and a basic level of greed driven determination. Those lightweights of mine are content to scoff a few in the fields with little thought of the potential rewards to be gained from getting enough berries home for a cooking session. I, on the other hand, always have half an eye towards the end goal.

And in this case, the end goal was ice-cream.

So very easy and so wonderfully good. I cooked the berries with some sugar and a couple of tablespoons of water, very gently until they began to give up their juice, then passed them through a sieve. The only downside to blackberries for free is their more extreme pippyness, but a sieve gets round that.

The resulting coulis, spent the night in the fridge getting nice and cold and was then put into the ice cream maker and churned until ice crystals started to form, at which point I poured in 300ml of whipping cream. Actually, I sweetened the cream too as I decided the coulis was still a bit too tart.

Do you find that with ice cream? The mixture has to be a touch over-sweet to come out tasting right after it is frozen.

And how very right this was. The only sad thing was having bog standard kiddy wafer cones instead of something classier. But that's just a good excuse for another batch.

Soul food

Pleasure is not only derived from eating, shopping and friends, but I can't deny the importance of that triumvirate in the pursuit of happiness.

Lunch at Ottolenghi, afternoon tea at Fernandez and Wells. I'd highly recommend the clementine cake.

Shopping all over the place, but especially for me:

They made me buy it. But oh how I love it.

Almost as much as I love spending time with them.

Slow food

It's the change in pace that I appreciate so much during the holidays. When you have very little ones, holiday or no holiday, life continues apace. But now my boys are both of school age, they don't need to much persuading to throttle back and take things a little more sedately.

We have all the time in the world to put double cream in a jam jar and shake and shake (and shake) until the alchemy of butter making takes place.
And to eat the butter, with croissants and strawberry jam, as a very late breakfast, still loafing about in our pyjamas.

And then to notice that the strawberry jam is running out rather rapidly.  Plenty of time to put on waterproofs and squelch round the footpaths behind our house to pick teeny tiny cherry plums for the next batch of jam.

To decide that pizza for lunch sounds good. To slowly weigh and measure and mix and knead and let the dough rest. To see if there are a couple of ripe tomatoes outside the back door and to wash the basil really well to get rid of the greenfly.

I might have put the first of our courgettes on there too, but it really is still too tiny to harvest. Let it grow -  we're in no rush at all.

Dream guilt

Woke up this morning with a lingering sense of guilt. I'd had a half-remembered dream about unfulfilled obligations and the feeling was nagging at me. So today, I've resolved to tackle one or two loose ends that are dangling about.

The first involves picnics. And cake. This cake, to be specific - coconut and lime.

My new best friends at Abel and Cole wanted us to taste test some of their summer range. Can you imagine the excitement when I told the resident testers? Cake was top of their wish list and pronounced exceedingly good. It even managed to hold up well in spite of arriving in the middle of that very hot spell we had a while back.  In the spirit of thoroughness,  we did also try some savoury offerings, in the form of White Maize Tortilla Chips (crunch-a-licious and not too salty) and some rather grown up Chilli and Ginger Salsa which was a big hit with the more sophisticated tasters.

The idea of a summer range seems to me to be a thoroughly good one. Novelty is most under-rated - we all like something new for a change. Especially along picnic lines. Because I love picnics, but I miss the feeling of mystery you get when you aren't sure what's coming out of the hamper. This way, I can order a load of stuff in advance and then on my delivery day, pretend it's a surprise for me too!

The second loose end involves making some firm diary dates to spend time with friends we haven't seen in too long. Shockingly, what seemed to be an endless expanse of summer holiday is already becoming full in the diary, so it's time to get our priorities straight. Off to hit the phone... and perhaps plan a picnic or two.

Oh, Abel and Cole have given me 2 offers to pass on to you - one is a free copy of their rather fab recipe book ( as reviewed here by Ms Locket) when you order  a box and the other is a £50 rebate to spend on Abel and Cole if you order 4 consecutive weekly deliveries. If you'd like to take advantage of  either offer, let me know and I'll pass on the details.

Sponsored Nuts

A delivery arrived at my door yesterday, courtesy of Coffee Lady. A box from graze.

Have you heard of these people? They send you a sweet little box through the post, filled with fruit, nuts, seeds, dried fruit, even chocolate, tailored to your preferences. For you to nibble during the day. Mine had fresh cherries, brazils, pecans, almonds and dried cranberries in it. And the cranberries were the yummiest I've ever had.

I shared with the boys (because I am big hearted) and I'd like to share with you too (and not only because it earns me money off my next box). Basically, if you head over to www.graze.com and enter the code R6BT1DLE you can have a box for free to try, sent to any address in the UK.

I wonder if you're out there, on the other side of my computer screen, hating this product-y post. I  have mixed feelings about companies infiltrating our happy little blogland, hijacking our posts for commercial purposes. But hey, they are giving us free fruit and nuts. And I promise never to sell my blogging soul for commercial gain. Scouts honour.

And if I come up with a crafty re-use for the little box, then it's totally legitimate, right?

A little completed knitting project - little, being the operative word. A Pebble vest (pattern from The Thrifty Knitter) for a soon to be newborn. I'm sure my boys were never this tiny.  It took only a single ball of yarn.

And even for me, the slowest knitter in the universe, it was a quick job. In fact, the biggest headache came in finding a model to photograph it on. The bear feels this is not a flattering look for his puku. But he's the best we had.

I am hoping the uber-stylish mother of the intended recipient, will find the vest chic and understated, in a retro, wholesome, White Company sort of way. The wool is a cashmere, merino and silk blend, so at least I know it feels sublime. It's the first time I have ever made a knitted item as a gift for someone outside my immediate family and I am feeling a little nervous and self-conscious about handing it over.

Perhaps I should have waited and just baked something instead. The biscotti, from Dragonfly's recipe would have been guaranteed to hit the spot.  But, on the other hand, it might be best to eat them all myself. Even if my puku is starting to resemble the bear's.

Part timer

Not sure quite how my part time job metamorphosed into working 8 days out of 10, but that does at least explain my absence from these parts of late and my current level of shatteredness. The lead up to summer holidays seems almost as frantic as Advent - perhaps it's a cunning plan.  If we are all really stressed and over-extended now, we will appreciate the change of pace of the school holidays and be blissed out at the thought of a quiet day or two at home. Wonder if the same will be true for the offspring?

I had really been looking forward to the Children's Food Festival, both as a punter and because Mostly Books were doing book signings with all the celebrity chefs. This meant a large amount of book ordering, book unpacking, book re-packing, book counting, panicking about books that weren't in the right place and humping of boxes full of books. A lot. But it did also mean that I got to decorate a 'Princess Baking' themed table for some Annabel Karmel stock.

It's a well known fact that I am always up for a bit of 'pink and sparkly', given that my house abounds with testosterone, so I had fun with pink tablecloths, decorated with raggy ribbon flowers (this one loosely based on my beautiful peonies - now long dead)

And a farmyard full of piggy cupcakes

To go with a dozen eggs worth of meringues and a batch of tiara, gown and high heeled iced biscuits.

I have to confess, a third of the meringues didn't see active display (and it wasn't just that the helpers were scoffing them). I thought we'd go for a soft pastel meringue palette - pink (fine), pistachio green (fine, if a little lurid), lilac (hmmm). What was an appealing lavender shade mixture, somehow transformed itself into dingy underwear grey coloured during the course of baking. Not a good food look.

And I am sad to say, I didn't take my camera on Saturday, so there are no pictures. But there are a few celebrity signers in evidence on the shop blog. And I did manage to have it with me on Sunday, when I braved the whole thing again, with my own offspring. They had a ball making ice cream sundaes and doing plenty of sampling in the Chocolate Tent.
 
Getting back to the farm, pricking out seedlings and climbing on tractors, watching sheepdogs and making and tasting butter.

But in a bizarre turn of events, the most popular bit of fun was the Dyson airblade tent. Where you could wash your hands and dry them! In a tent in a field. What will they think of next?

Roast chicken

Sometimes your friends can really shock you. My neighbour casually informed me recently that she'd never roasted a chicken before. If she wants one, she buys it ready cooked from the supermarket. And for some reason, it made me want to cry. Because the scent of a bird roasting in the oven is one of the smells of home to me.

Mind you, I think I shocked her by revealing that my children have clean pyjamas every night. I never really thought that was wierd, but everyone present assured me that it is. Hey ho.

So, to even things up a bit, I made roast chicken last night and put the boys in dirty pyjamas.

Roast dinner, midweek? How decadent! But the nice Abel and Cole folks sent me some organic meat to try. And if you are going to test drive a chicken, it has to be roasted really. Mine always gets a squeeze of lemon juice, half the lemon in the cavity and thyme butter under the skin of the breast. Salt, pepper, oven and voila!

Nothing is going to persuade me that ready-cooked from the supermarket comes anywhere close. That was a very tasty bird.

Though I am prepared to  be swayed on the clean pyjama thing. Maybe two nights. Maybe.  If you want to reveal a shocking something, now would be the time. Just so I don't feel like an odd bod.

Melissa biscuits

I baked and thought today, of friends I've never met. She calls them sun egg cookies, but in our house, they will always be Melissa biscuits.

Exit plan from the food rut

When the seasons change, I find it takes a little while to get in sync food-wise. And how miserable to find on your plate something which though delicious in the dark days of February, feels somehow like punishment when the sun is shining on a beautiful April afternoon.

But deliverance has arrived and it came in a cardboard box. See, a kindly soul wondered if I'd care to review a  veg box from Abel and Cole.


Delighted! Even if it was ever so slightly embarrassing to be caught by the neighbours piling produce into bowls in the middle of the lawn in order to take pictures. Well, they were very good looking fruit and veg. It's that clean organic living.

 
Now these don't claim to be the cheapest products you can stock your larder with. But in a way, the fact that they are a bit more expensive made me all the more determined to derive maximum value from them. Because it is so easy to treat cheap food in a careless manner. These babies, on the other hand, are first class all the way. We even fancied up the potatoes:

 

Rosti is one of those things that I don't make for ages and them make and wonder why not. Peel spuds and par boil gently for 5 mins. Drain and allow to cool a little. Coarsely grate, season with salt and pepper and pour in some melted butter. Mix around, then fry in a non stick pan with a little olive oil and another knob of butter. Use a plate to flip it halfway through cooking - you're aiming for cooked through with a lovely crunchy surface. Mine took around 15 mins on a fairly gentle heat, but obviously it depends on how thick your rosti is. Very moreish. You can stop licking your lips now. We're meant to be reviewing produce, not salivating.

Somehow, the idea of a mystery food parcel appeals to me - the creative challenge of feeding everyone from what lies inside. And not wasting it. Which is not a problem with fruit, which gets hoovered up fairly swiftly round here, with no fancification required. But the cauliflower was in danger of languishing, so ended up becoming  Sarah Raven's Cauliflower soup with ground almonds for supper later on in the week.

Based on my sample box, the fruit and veg were excellent quality. I'm not sure I would get a box every week, because I like to go to support our local farm shop and inevitably a box will not always cater to your specific larder requirements. But as a once in a while, and particularly as an injection of inspiration, it was a brilliant thing. And Abel and Cole delivered exactly when they promised and have an easy-to-use website, complete with very good recipie ideas.

I like this product reviewing thing.

Timmy time tribute

Shaun the Sheep was Johnny's hero, but now he has discovered Timmy, who is , whisper, *possibly even better* and has his very own show.

 Strangely, I feel myself often in need of a coffee and 10 minute break at around the 9am mark. Nothing to do with watching his antics. Oh no.

Inspiration from Waitrose freebie magazine, faces from marzipan, cakes are my cupcake standards and buttercream wool swirled on with a fine nozzle. Child's play.

When my mother asked me to bring a cake for Easter, I'm not sure these were what she had in mind. But they are very spring-like! The flock is headed south for the long weekend. Enjoy yours.

Eating dangerously

Reading blogs sometimes encourages risk-taking behaviour. See, Diana is a bit of a forager, and so when I saw her post about nettle soup, I wasn't surprised. Unlike the boys, who were downright horrified when I announced were going to eat the products of our after school weeding session.

Nettles? Noooo way!

But when they tasted it, they loved it. So much so that there was a quick chorus of "Nettle Soup, the best you ever tasted. None of this soup is going to be wasted." Which will only make sense to you if this book is part of your library.
 
If you've got fussy eaters, I highly recommend it (and the others in the trilogy A Pipkin of Salt and Pumpkin Soup). You can read some excerpts on Helen Cooper's website.

I wrote ‘Delicious’ to enchant the palate of unadventurous eaters with succulent words and aromatic pictures. May the scrumptious colours of vegetables, the riotous food gathering, and the rituals of culinary preparation in the old white cabin, encourage an appetite for exploring new foods, and even in cooking them. I also hope the story will be a comfort to faddy eaters like the Duck, while giving them just a little insight into how it feels if – like the Cat and the Squirrel- you are cooking for someone who is a little bit fussy.

Fairly early on in the process of feeding my offspring, I discovered that the perfect response to the whiny 'ewww, what's that?' suppertime refrain, was to come up with the most unlikely, disgusting names for food. A swift reply of 'boiled bats brains' - a delicacy, don't you know' usually produced enough giggling to get the first forkful of mashed potato past their lips. So perhaps they thought I was kidding when I said nettle soup. But it truly was delicious.

School dinners

Many a school dinner has passed my lips (and plenty of breakfasts and suppers too). I was nine when I went to boarding school. We sat to eat at long tables - four down each side and a prefect at the head, who served the food. In my case, this was Jael Johnson and my first meal there was tinned ravioli in tomato sauce. Each table had a plate stacked high with Mothers Pride sliced white - I suppose providing copious quantities of bread was a sure way of making sure children were full by the end of each meal. I took a slice and mopped up the sauce, unaware that her eagle eyes were upon me. "What do you think you're doing? We're not Spanish here you know".

A somewhat brutal, but effective lesson learned - to keep your head down and watch how other people do things first. To conform for an easy life. To speedily dispatch whatever happened to present itself on your plate. It wasn't how things were at home, but it was clear that certain adjustments would need to be made.

Before boarding school I had never encountered tinned ravioli, or Findus crispy pancakes. Even Arctic roll was unchartered waters. My mother cooked from scratch - that was the way it was done.   And coming home for the holidays was such a blessed dietary relief. Because food really is love, especially if it doesn't come out of a cardboard box.

Pip over at Meet Me at Mikes is running a School lunches writing challenge, and this post is my way of joining in. Hey, it worked for Eliza Beynon, author of The Vicar's Wife's Cook Book. She got a book deal out of a Waitrose Food Illustrated competition.

And I found a copy of her book  in the library this morning (a fresh, new, first borrower copy no less). Wow, that woman can write a good meal.  Something from it's pages will be landing on our table very soon.

Yellow week: 3

How old Johnny?

Not such a little one's birthday today. Sweet boy.

Before and after

We like routines in our household - they help life tick along more smoothly. But with their many benefits, there does come a risk of things getting a little stale. And sometimes, it's good to take a step back and mix it up a little bit. So this weekend, it was out with the regular pancakes for breakfast and in with a batch of cinnamon buns.

And voila, a new routine is born. The recipe is here (thank you Emily). I've baked cinnamon buns before using a Nigella recipe, but they make such a ridiculously large batch that we waste loads and they always seem to catch on the top before they are cooked through.
In contrast, these were the perfect amount for the 4 of us, cooked perfectly in 15 minutes and were delicious. As evidenced by the plate.
 
The plate which my children are now responsible for loading into the dishwasher. Yes, we had a serious chore allocation discussion over the buns. Do you like my tactics? Sweeten them up and then go for the jugular.

So Johnny is on cutlery loading and rounding up all dirty laundry and Mark does cups and glasses and puts the bins in and out. We'll see if those new routines are as popular as the buns in due course!

Kung hey fat choi

***** Now edited to include recipe! I aim to please...****

Yeah, bet you didn't know about my Cantonese prowess. I had a room mate from Hong Kong pretty much all through senior school. I can also count, swear very fluently and enquire as to who has broken wind. One day these skills will prove useful.

The boys' school has been embracing Chinese New Year - Johnny's class made a dragon and have been parading about scaring away bad spirits. And as our contribution to the festivities, I made some fortune cookies.

It's quite tricky inventing suitable fortunes for 4 and 5 year olds. Apart from the obvious Happy Year of the Ox, we managed the educational Look out for the number 8, the socially aware A smile can make a new friend and the mystical Tuesday will be your lucky day.

Sadly, my favourite, Eat your vegetables! was vetoed by the fortune approval committee.

I offered to make hubby some for work as I thought they could use a bit of cheering up (there's yet another bout of re-structuring on the cards). And I kept thinking of some corkers Beware the letter P and the number 45, but for some reason, he declined.

I really should know by now, that a foodie post without a recipe is not really much good. So here it is - from The Australian Women's Weekly Biscuits, Brownies and Biscotti.

Coconut Fortune Cookies

Ingredients

2 egg whites

55g icing sugar

1 tsp coconut essence

30g butter (melted)

50g plain flour

20g dessicated coconut (toasted)

Write fortunes on slips of greaseproof paper. Preheat oven to 170 centigrade. Have 2 baking sheets to hand (I used my non stick liners which meant no greasing and flouring faff).

Beat egg whites till just foamy. Beat in sifted icing sugar, essence and butter. Stir in sifted flour and mix until smooth. Put a generous tsp of mixture on mat and spread out evenly to make a circle about 8cm wide. Sprinkle with a little coconut. I did 2 circles per baking tray. If you do more, you won't get them shaped before they cool.

Bake in the oven until lightly browned around the edges. Remove and quickly fold in half over a fortune. Bend over the rim of a glass to make the right fortune cookie shape. Once they have cooled for about 30 secs, they will set in position. Work fast!

Repeat until your mixture is used up. I managed about 30 from a batch of mixture.

A warning for those in the UK - coconut essence is very hard to find over here - mine came back from NY with me. But if you can't get hold of any, substitute vanilla or almond, depending on your preference. You can then leave out the dessicated coconut.

Lunchtime kindness

So often I get the kids home from school and find myself at the rattiest point of the day. Such a waste, given that is pretty much the only period of contact with them during the course of the week that doesn't involve a necessary activity such as feeding, bathing, dressing or sleeping.

I have always laid the blame for the trials of that part of the day firmly at their door - and there is no doubt, the boys do return home hungry and tired after school. But perhaps a part of the answer lies with me. So I'm making an effort this week, to eat a better lunch.

During the week, lunchtime is not my finest hour. I have either rushed in from work and am starving and just want something instantly, or breaking off from what I'm doing feels like an intrusion into my day. And face it, by lunchtime, the productively adult portion of my day is coming towards an end. So it's too easy to skip it, or grab a few random leftovers from the fridge. Or have some fruit and yet another cup of coffee.

But not today. Today I made lunch and sat at the table and ate it. And we will see, in a couple of hours if it has made any difference to the toxic hour. And even if it doesn't, it was still very tasty indeed - tangy chicken and toasted bread salad.

Here's the recipe (from  Waitrose Seasons magazine) if you're inclined to follow suit. You should be able to click and zoom to read it (I hope!)

Baking

There was much kitchen activity here this weekend. The Christmas goodies for teachers bake-fest, the hi-light of which was, as ever, the Mandarin Macadamia Shortbread Sticks. Those suckers are just too good.

I'm going to generously share the recipe (Because Jen's been drooling over them on Flickr and I like to please):

250 g butter (room temp)
80 g icing sugar
2 tbsp rice flour (got mine at the health food shop, but I' sure it wouldn't matter too much if you left it out - it just gives them a touch more 'snap')
300g plain flour
2tbsp grated mandarin rind
60ml mandarin juice
75g macadamias, toasted and finely chopped
60g dark melted chocolate

Preheat oven to 170 degrees. Beat butter and sugar till light and fluffy. Fold in other ingredients.
Knead gently on a floured surface till smooth.
Roll tablespoons into sticks roughly 15cm long.
Place on a lightly greased oven tray or a non stick mat.
Bake for 15 to 20 mins until firm. Stand on tray for 5 mins before moving onto a wire rack to cool.
Pipe or drizzle the chocolate onto the shortbread.

They keep for about a week (I think - ours never linger that long) and the recipe makes about 30.

But even though these are my favourite seasonal biscuits to bake for others, there really is nothing to beat cookies made, wrapped and delivered in person by friends who stop by for tea.

Caramel Apple Bites

Everything was ready:

I had promised the boys the mini toffee apple bites I'd seen here. I'd heard rumours that you could melt down Werther's originals as a coating (if you could get past the mental block of that pervy advert). I was sure I could cobble this together. And then I chanced across Molly's post, and the cold finger of doubt crept across my kitchen. But a promise is a promise.

Now, I wouldn't exactly say they were a breeze, but they are very more-ish. That salty sweet thing gets me every time.

I melted a fifty fifty mix of hard and soft Werthers in a pan over a low heat. The hard ones I bashed a bit with a rolling pin to break them into smaller chunks first.

Then used a melon baller to scoop out chunks of apple and impaled them on a cocktail stick.

I couldn't get a nice thin even caramel layer to stick to the apples, so I drizzled it on (just like making one of those cheffy spun sugar nests - well, ish). This does have the advantage of making them slightly easier to bite too - otherwise you're left going 'obble obble' until you've sucked the caramel off the apple, which defeats the object somewhat.

They only take a little while to cool and harden on the baking mat.

And those boys had better be mighty impressed tomorrow.

Hibernating day

A batch of Lina's Apple Muffins.

A pot of chicken soup all ready for dinnertime.

And motivated by this post over at Shutter Sisters, a first attempt at a Christmas Card photo. I may have to re-visit it on a day with better light, but cloves are better behaved subjects than small boys.

Apple snow

Thimbleina was asking for ideas to use up apples this week.  When faced with this kind of dilemma, I always find myself turning to Nigel Slater's Real Fast Puddings.

My battered paperback version has been with me for many years and is well thumbed. I love the way the book is organized by seasons and driven largely by fruit - Autumn is stuffed full of ideas for blackberries, plums, apples, damsons and pears. So when I returned home with my clutch of Bramleys, I knew Nigel could be relied on to come up with something - and he didn't disappoint.

Apple snow with maple syrup sauce....

First I made an apple puree (3 big bramleys, some ground cinnamon and a pinch of mixed spice, cooked gently with a couple of tablespoons of water until that magical moment when the fruit gives up it's form.

The maple syrup sauce was 150ml of maple syrup, 100ml of double cream and 75g of butter simmered together for 10 mins until slightly thickened. It keeps for a couple of days in the fridge if you don't eat it all at once.

To make the apple snow,  beat 2 large egg whites with half a teaspoon of cream of tartar until the stiff peak stage. Then you can fold in the apple puree and put the snow into glasses or ramekins in the fridge.

When you're ready to eat, pour on the maple syrup sauce.`

They tick every box on my 'successful pudding' checklist. Simple, fast, containing fruit (for a nod to healthy eating), prepare ahead, but somehow with an air of indulgence.

I ate a stray ramekin for lunch today with a new copy of Scaredy Squirrel makes a friend. Sometimes I buy the children books that are really for me. Bit like making them a pudding for the benefit of the leftovers.

Autumn bounty

The transition to Autumn ranks pretty high on my personal Richter scale of good food opportunities. There's something serendipitous about the harvest-time bounty coinciding with tummies needing extra warmth and nourishment as the weather turns cooler.

Here at our house, we've already greedily slurped up the first pumpkin soup of the season, gobbled the stew and anointed the crumble with hot custard. When I got up this morning craving porridge, I knew I'd truly given into the seductive culinary delights of the season.

Autumn home menus pose no problem for me, but I do struggle a little with what to put in the boys' lunchboxes.  We have those clever food flasks, so I can send a soup or stew or something warm from time to time. But it is a faff in the morning, making sure everything is piping hot (and thus still edible by lunchtime).

This week, they should be in for a treat though with a batch of Autumn muffins - apple and blackberry.

Recipe? From Trish Desesine:

2 eggs
125 ml vegetable oil
200 g sugar
250 ml milk
375g plain flour
4 tsp baking powder
3 apples peeled cored and diced
200 g blackberries

Preheat oven to 200 deg C.

Beat together eggs, oil, sugar and milk in a large bowl. Sift in flour and baking owder and beat again. Fold in apple and blackberries.

Fill paper muffin cases in a muffin tin two-thirds full. Bake for 20 - 25 mins. Easy peasy.

My batch made more than 12, so I baked the extra in silicone cases and amazingly, they turned out fab too. I don't have a good track record with silicone, so this was an added bonus. I think putting the cases straight on a baking tray was probably a good move.

So, a new Autumn recipe enters the repertoire. What's your specialty?

Cob nuts

Autumn, they whisper. Autumn is coming.

The Food meme

Stole this from Blackbird - that girl does all the best memes. Please feel free to join in.

1)Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you have eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment here at Very Good Taste linking to your results.

1. Venison - have a great recipe for venison stew with chestnuts. But please note, when the kids ask what's for dinner, under no circumstances should you reply 'Bambi'.
2. Nettle tea - when I was pregnant - it's meant to contain folic acid. But it smells like cat pee.
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare - a memorable meal at the Swiss Centre when I was about 13. I went for a day out by a friend of my mother's - she took me to Harrods and bought me bronzer. Funny how these things lodge in your memory.
5. Crocodile - in a Northumberlad pub. I was so disappointed that it wasn't more exciting.
6. Black pudding - I LOVE black pudding. You can make it into hamburgers with minced pork which are scrummy.
7. Cheese fondue - I am a child of the 70's. Need i say more?
8. Carp - I don't think so. But if Mark's goldfish continues to grow, we may well have to.
9. Borscht - it's great for half a bowlful. Then it makes me want to gag.
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari - for lunch today, co-incidentally.
12. Pho - this is the noise the boys make when I slip something they don't like into their innocent little mouths.
13. PB&J sandwich - comfort food.
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart - well, a football stadium. At one of those stalls where the onions have been frying for about a million years and you can smell them on your jacket for days afterwards.
16. Epoisses - had to look this one up. I'm evidently not very cheese literate.
17. Black truffle - shaved over something or other. Can't see what all the fuss is about, personally.
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes - oh, my teenage years come flooding back. Illegally purchased fruit wine, drunk from the bottle behind one bush or another. Very naughty, but not at all nice.
19. Steamed pork buns - oh yes. Often. We used to go to Chinatown in Yokohama on Sundays when the shops have mobile carts of these outside. The scent on the air made me drool like Pavlov's dogs. I have a six pack in the freezer I think - must liberate them.
20. Pistachio ice cream - a must on any trip to France. Not commonly available in our neck of the woods.
21. Heirloom tomatoes - the weirder the better. I love the stripey ones - mainly for their looks.
22. Fresh wild berries - we're hardened blackberry foragers.
23. Foie gras - it's just pate really, when all's said and done.
24. Rice and beans - yeah, with ribs. My Mum makes a great version.
25. Brawn, or head cheese - if you called it head cheese, I wouldn't have. But I actually really like it. My Mother can make this too, but I never paid close attention as to how (probably no bad thing).
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper - no, I value the surface of my tongue too much. A little in something else is fine. Raw and solo is just a bit silly.
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters - love 'em.
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda - Always thought this sounded fantastic though.
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl - in Boston. At great long communal table with red checked tablecloths and a bib. I make my own, but it's not as good.
33. Salted lassi - I'm not big on yoghurty drinks.
34. Sauerkraut - like it lots. Especially with German sausages.
35. Root beer float - yes, but too sweet for my grown-up self.
36. Cognac with a fat cigar - not going to happen in this lifetime.
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O - we made this in my student flat. So much vodka in it, we were forced to slurp it through straws from the dish because it wouldn't set. I seem to recall it was green, but I could be wrong...
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail - when BSE was rife and on the bone beef was not sold in the UK, my mother would obtain illicit supplies from the back door at the Butcher's.
41. Curried goat - yes, from a Carribean Restaurant in Oxford. There were no prices on the menu, the owner charged you what he thought you could afford to pay. We were students and dressed down. Dinner was always a bargain.
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal - it's not food, it's posturing.
44. Goat’s milk - yup, straight from a goat and still warm.
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more - My Dad's. He's a fan.
46. Fugu - it's terribly expensive to eat Fugu in Japan. So I didn't. Not 'cause I was a scaredy cat. Honest.
47. Chicken tikka masala - It's practicaly our national dish in the UK
48. Eel - Jellied. Not very nice. Unagi (Japanese). Very nice.
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut - would you believe I'm a Krispy Kreme Virgin? I've been tempted, but not fallen (yet).
50. Sea urchin - In Japan, as sushi. Uni - tastes good.
51. Prickly pear - no, but I know how to pick one.
52. Umeboshi - gosh, there are a lot of Japanese foods in this list. Yes, frequently.
53. Abalone - nope.
54. Paneer - another cheezy no.
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle - a big camping trip through Germany fuelled mainly by spaetzle.
57. Dirty gin martini - what is dirty gin?  I'm more of a Gordon's girl. My party trick used to be to identify gins by nose alone. Gordon's for everyday, Bombay Sapphire for best.
58. Beer above 8% ABV - I honestly have not the foggiest idea what the %ABV of any beer I've ever drunk is.  But given that I am a serious beer fan, I'm going to say yes.
59. Poutine - I've never encountered this in real life. Thankfully.
60. Carob chips - why use fake when you can eat the real thing?
61. S’mores - no! Outrageous. Must remedy this.
62. Sweetbreads - they didn't do much for me.
63. Kaolin - clay? Are you kidding? Of course I haven't eaten it. Or coal, or my car or any other things that aren't food.
64. Currywurst - can't say I'm queuing up to sample this one.
65. Durian - I don't think it smells so bad.
66. Frogs’ legs - no, but only because the opportunity has never arisen.
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis - I used to live just down the road from the Macsweens factory in Edinburgh. I love haggis. Even more, I love haggis bubble and squeak with the leftovers the next day. I'm even partial to the veggie version.
69. Fried plantain - my babysitter used to make plantain chips. Yum yum.
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette - I've eaten intestines as Japanes street food (yummy), but I'm not sure if this is the same.
71. Gazpacho - yum.
72. Caviar and blini - only the cheap stuff, sadly.
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost - no. Cheese illiterate, I tell you.
75. Roadkill - Not knowingly. But then you never know if a host is being thrifty do you?
76. Baijiu - no. Sounds like rocket fuel.
77. Hostess Fruit Pie - I read so much about these in my Caspar and Richie Rich comics as a child, but I have never eaten one. Or a Twinkie. I feel deprived.
78. Snail - I like snails a lot - they're a great vehicle for garlic butter.
79. Lapsang souchong - yes, but it's not my favourite.
80. Bellini - not nearly enough though.
81. Tom yum - Thailand's best cold remedy. Gets all bunged up stuffiness flowing.
82. Eggs Benedict - for me, the Hollandaise  is a step too far. Muffin ham and poached egg is better.
83. Pocky - all hail the Pocky. Preferably the almond version.
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant. How much would I like to though. Perhaps The Fat Duck.
85. Kobe beef - everything you've heard and more.
86. Hare - aren't they a protected species?
87. Goulash - oh yes. I have a source of very good smoked paprika.
88. Flowers - they look better than they taste don't they?
89. Horse - yes and it was gorgeous. Sorry.
90. Criollo chocolate - I plan on tasting many more types of chocolate before I'm done.
91. Spam - yes, but not with any pleasure. Mark keeps asking me to buy it in the supermarket. And Smash. Bleurgh.
92. Soft shell crab - one to taste still.
93. Rose harissa - my Dad makes a great couscous dish and I'm sure this is what he uses.
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor - this used to be Sunday night dinner at a beachside restaurant when we lived in Tonga. We ate it so often, I actually got a bit fed up with it. How's that for spoiled?
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake - I'd rather eat it than have it as a pet.

Amazing how many specific food memories that dredged up for me - very vivid ones too. I am fairly adventurous and largely un-fussy when it comes to food (and reasonably un-squeamish too). Though I think the photo of that Poutine is going to give me nightmares.

The gadget trials

Today's conundrum - are those exceptionally large raspberries, or ridiculously small cupcakes?
And they survived the trip to the park for a picnic too - all hail the cup-a-cake.

Picnic parcels

In a contest between food outdoors and food requiring inconveniences such as cutlery and table manners, there is only ever going to be one winner.  Summer equals a lot of picnic lunches for our household. And though these little beauties were sampled at the table, they're going to make it into the next hamper for sure.

They are filo pastry parcels, filled with a pork and apricot stuffing. I've never used filo pastry before, but it was really very simple.

 

I never quite know what the etiquette is for sharing recipes on blogs. If I can find it on-line, I prefer to use a link. But this was from a Sainsbury's freebie magazine and I can't find it on-line. If I am making some giant recipe stealing faux pas, do tell me please.

Basically, you finely chop and sweat an onion in olive oil until soft. Then toss in a grated carrot and cook for a minuite longer. Then allow to cool and add 250g pork mince, a teaspoon of chopped fresh rosemary and about 5 dried apricots (chopped finely).

Lay out a sheet of filo pastry. Brush with melted butter and fold in half to make a long strip. Put about a tablespoon of pork mix at one end and fold pastry and pork over at right angles to form a neat triangular parcel. Repeat until filling is used up. Brush parcels with more melted butter and sprinkle with sesame seeds and/or poppy seeds. Bake at 180 for 20 - 25 mins until golden. Serve warm, so put them in foil and transport to your picnic site of choice.

The taste testers say we can eat these again any time. Preferably soon. I feel another picnic coming on...

 

Goose Nuts

Picture the scene. It's suppertimetime in our kitchen. The boys have polished off their main course.

Me: What do you guys want for pudding?

Johnny: Goose nuts!

Me: What?

Johnny: Goose nuts.

Me: Do you mean gooseberries?

Johnny: No, goose nuts.

Me: Goose eggs? (Not that we have any.)

Johnny: No, goose nuts.

He points across the room and suddenly, the penny drops.

Ah. These will, for evermore, be known in our household as Goose Nuts.

And did you spy them? My felted pebbles? Very therapeutic. Not sure if they are any practical use, however.

Broad beans are sleeping in a blankety bed*

Having friends with allotments has got to be the next best thing to having one yourself! At the moment there seems to be a glut of broad beans which I have been overjoyed to make use of.

Especially since I came across Sarah Raven's way of preparing them  (from her Garden Cookbook).

Blitz podded and jacketed broad beans with olive oil, lemon zest, mint and salt and pepper.

She suggests using the resulting puree on crostini with a sliver of pecorino, but I reckon Parma Ham would be fab too.

We ate ours as an accompaniment to some roast lamb and cous cous. One of the lovely things was that it didn't loose the bright green zingy colour at all. I would have taken a photo, but we were too greedy.

*Oh, takes me back to Harvest Festival...

Cauliflowers fluffy and cabbages green,
Strawberries sweeter than any I've seen
Beetroot purple and onions white,
All grow steadily day and night

The apples are ripe, the plums are red,
Broad beans are sleeping in a blankety bed

Blackberries juicy and rhubarb sour,
Marrows fattening hour by hour.
Gooseberries hairy and lettuces fat
Radishes round and runner beans flat

The apples are ripe, the plums are red,
Broad beans are sleeping in a blankety bed

Orangey carrots and turnips cream,
Reddening tomatoes that used to be green,
brown potatoes in little heaps,
Down in the darkness where the celery sleeps

The apples are ripe, the plums are red,
Broad beans are sleeping in a blankety bed