My parents are amazing gardeners and I couldn’t resist this little scallopini left over from their crop. Mainly because, what a cute vegetable, everyone! How could you not want to take it home? Little and frilly and kind of like a flying saucer. I’ve eaten …
Butternut is such a sweet little name that, even if I didn’t much fancy the taste, I would still have to create a recipe or two in its honour. So, luckily I find it delicious as well as cutely named. Butternut is lighter, softer and …
It was a pretty crappy Summer season in my garden overall, with the grand total of 12 manky-looking tomatoes and two cucumbers (there were three cucumbers, but something ate one of them). The outlier here has been my herb collection. These little guys have gone gang-busters. Verdant is not a word I use often, but it’s wholly appropriate in this case.
My oregano has been particularly enthusiastic and we were unable to eat or give away all of it. Seeing as I hate to let anything go to waste (just ask my husband about my left-over wrapping paper collection), I’ve had a go at drying it so I can enjoy it in warming, hearty dishes as we slip into Autumn.
I began this little exercise five weeks ago as this is the recommended length of time for drying out herbs, according to far better gardeners than I online (how lush and gorgeous do the herbs in these photos look? Definitely a candidate for ‘verdant’). Harvesting several bunches of my oregano provided a thoroughly gratifying and pastoral afternoon down in my little courtyard. The bees were all over the oregano flowers which made me feel happy, thinking that somewhere out there, someone could be in line for some honey assisted by my oregano crop.
The method is pretty simple. Cut stems of oregano and tie into bunches, with 2-3 stems per bunch. When knotting the string or whatever you are using to tie the stems together, leaving 5-10 centimetres of string before cutting. Suspend the bunch or bunches upside down from a rail or ceiling, using the extra length of string from the knot. I suspended mine from a curtain rail, over some sheets of paper to catch any early-falling leaves. Check after 4 weeks and leave until thoroughly dry (mine took 5 weeks). Once dry, harvest by holding each branch over a piece of paper or cloth and brushing downwards to remove the leaves from the branches. Rub the leaves with your fingers to break up into smaller fragments and store in an airtight container. Use in cooking or as a garnish.
For the second recipe in my ground-breaking series on the humble carrot I bring you…honey and balsamic roasted carrots. This recipe is especially useful if you have a number of the little orange critters languishing in your vegetable drawer and they’re getting on the soft …
Happy New Year! Munching on carrot sticks, brimming with enthusiasm for a year of healthful habits? Nope, me neither. And I need to tell you right now that if that’s what you’re after, you’re probably reading the wrong blog. But, I am enjoying some carrot …
I invented these bad guys because I really dislike making traditional pancakes. Delicate thin batter getting stuck to the pan, wedging itself into odd shapes, lumps, burnt bits. The whole experience makes me hot, sweaty and angry. Especially as I am usually over-caffeinated, flapping around in my dressing-gown and burn myself on the fry pan at least once. It’s not a relaxing start to the day in my book, and unless I include something filling alongisde or on top, I find I have had a sugar crash by mid-morning and need something else to eat.
So, welcome to these guys, which I find give me the pleasure of something hot and cakey at breakfast time but without the angst. The batter is much thicker and chunkier than a traditional pancake or crepe mixture which makes them a lot more predictable in the frypan and has greatly reduced my burning incidents. And another bonus – all of those oats and fruit keep me feeling well-fed until lunch. If all of this seems too healthy to you, you can certainly top them with cream or Nutella or a whole lot of syrup, and accompany them with some crispy fried bacon or vegetarian-friendly protein. Indeed, these examples in the pictures have a healthy dollop of old-school golden syrup on top of the Greek yoghurt.
This recipe makes four hotcakes, so enough for one by themselves or for two with some sides.
Ingredients: 1 mashed banana; 1 lightly beaten egg, 1 cup of rolled oats; 1 teaspoon of baking powder. You will also need oil spray or a little fat for the frypan.
Heat a non-stick frypan to medium hot and spray will oil spray or lightly grease.
Combine the egg and banana. Whisk in the baking powder and finally add the oats. Mix until all ingredients are incorporated.
Once the pan is hot, place dollops of the mixture into the pan and spread out with the back of a spoon. I usually get four cakes into the pan. The mixture is not runny, so they will not spread out but you will need to flatten them a little so they cook through evening.
Once you see some bubbles in the cakes, flip them over and cook until brown.
Hey friends, how are you all hanging in there? Okay I do hope. We are trucking along well Ngaio. The cats remain delighted with having their humans on tap. The husband remains delighted with our hard-working craft beer industry and its willingness to home-deliver. And …
Sometimes, despite the best of intentions, fruit can go a little south in the fruit bowl. Things in general feel like they have gone a little south lately. This time a year ago our current COVID circumstances would have been unimaginable to pretty much all …
Last year’s multiple hospital trips were more significant than I realised last time I wrote. It turns out that, in the long-running battle between me and infertility, infertility was winning. Well ahead, in fact.
In hospital, the charge nurse stroked my needle-studded hand protectively. You have to know, she said to the young, overworked house surgeon who was trying to work out my next hormone dosage, that this young lady doesn’t react like other ones. We do something expecting one result and exactly the opposite happens.
I’m sorry, said my kind, optimistic specialist. Thousands of women and I haven’t seen anything like this, it’s about the worst. I cried. He did too, a little bit.
I had a full hysterectomy last October. In the waiting room before the procedure I hunched over, overwhelmed, gasping with nerves and pain and shock. It was the only thing left that we could do.
The inevitable sunk in slowly, lapping at my toes, because realising all at once would have been an intolerable tsunami of grief. I’ve learned to say when people ask, ‘No, I don’t have children. I can’t.’
And now? I’m sad, but also free. We are no longer stuck in a tunnel of grief and what-ifs and the interminable waiting. No more lying waiting in cold hospital beds, desperately hoping. Trying to be brave. I can be someone who makes plans again. My body is my own and it works now.
I love the little things, because actually they are the best and biggest of things. My cat snoring, cute and snuffly. My niece’s silky hair and the fact that she lets me stroke it. Rain. Laughing. Writing.
My husband, because he is still here. For telling me that he wouldn’t want to have gone through the last seven years with anyone else.
So on Valentine’s Day this year I started cooking again in earnest. For love, for happiness, for full tummies, see below for my home-made chicken and chorizo pot pies.
I’ll write again soon. Lots of love to all members of my support crew.
Chicken and chorizo pot pies (makes 2 in 250ml capacity ramekins)
First make the pastry by mixing together 80g flour, 60g very cold butter and 2 tablespoons of cold water. Use your hands to rub the butter into the flour and mix it together into a ball. Refrigerate this for at least half an hour before you intend to start making the filling.
For the filling you will need:
2 x 250ml capacity ramekins, greased
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 skinless and boneless chicken thigh, diced
100 grams of chopped chorizo
2 tablespoons of sherry
3 tablespoons of milk mixed with 2 teaspoons of cornflour
Set the oven to 190 degrees Celsius. To make the filling, warm the olive oil over a medium heat and add the chorizo. Cook it until its lovely orange juices run. Add the sherry, let it bubble up, and then add the chicken. Once the chicken is sealed, turn the heat down to low and simmer for ten minutes.
Meanwhile, remove the pastry from the fridge, roll out and use one of the ramekins upside down as a cookie cutter to make two circles.
Divide the chicken and chorizo mixture between the ramekins.
Top each one with a circle of pastry and brush with a little milk. Crack some fresh pepper over if you like.
Bake for 15 minutes or until the pastry is golden brown.
Serve with something fresh and green.
Wheewwww so another nearly two months since my last post with some more drama in between. Two further hospital admissions, including one particularly gripping visit to the emergency room with nurses running, grabbing wheelchairs and shouting ‘code two, code two’ into the PA system, three …