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 …
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 I remain delighted that I have all I need right here in my bubble. I am a lucky person indeed.
If I had to pick one treat only to eat for the rest of my life, it would probably be hot chips. I love all things potato. Mounds of buttery mash, crisply goose-fat roasted potatoes, boiled spuds scattered with a little fresh mint. Mmmm.
I love chips and other deep-fried goodies so much that there is absolutely no way I would ever own a deep frier. There is just too much potential for severe and unstoppable weight gain and frankly a whole lot of experimentation in frying things that were never meant to be fried.
So, lucky for me I have devised the following method of preparing potatoes in the oven which produces a very chip-like result and is very tasty, if I do say so myself. The key here is to get the oil nice and hot before you pop the potato in, so take good note of that part of the method even if you don’t want to follow the rest too closely.
Keep on taking care everyone and I will back with more Covid comfort cooking as time allows.
Oven chips (serves 2 or 4 if a side)
Ingredients:
Method:
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 …
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 further blood transfusions, some very strong medication and some rather distressing specialist appointments. During which, in another anaemia fog, it seemed a good idea to send the horrid picture of myself below to my family to reassure them all was fine. Yes, I look awful, or as my sister helpfully put it, like a corpse.
So yes, it’s nice to have a lemon thyme plant in the garden happily doing its thing while its owner it otherwise occupied, and even better to have a nice soothing cordial recipe to hand which takes very little work. Cordials were originally a health tonic prepared by European apothecaries, and then later a liqueur, so all and all I think cordial is a very appropriate thing for me to have to hand at the present time.
It was a delight to do my background reading on cordial because it introduced me to the EUVS online library – a collection of vintage cocktail books for the bar tending profession, carefully sourced, scanned and loaded online so we can all benefit from this treasure trove.
The historical authority on cordial is one William Terrington, author of the definitive “Cooling Cups and Dainty Drinks” and spouter of excellent commentary such as “champagne wine has been recommended by the faculty as a valuable mechanism for keeping up the system during exhaustion” and warning that “bad or fictitious champagne is injurious to health.” If you say so, Mr Terrington. Only the best champagne for me on a regular, medicinal basis from now on.
This recipe is really easy, honestly you pretty much put it all in a bowl and leave it for a bit, then dispense into bottles. You can omit the lemon thyme if you don’t want that extra flavour.
Take care lovelies and I will be back sooner and in even better health next time.
Ingredients
1 teaspoon citric acid
1 cup caster sugar
2 cups lemon thyme
3 lemons – juice and peel
2 cups boiling water
Place the citric acid, caster sugar, lemon thyme, lemon juice and peel into a heat-proof jug or bowl with 2 cups or above capacity.
Pour over the boiling water.
Leave it to cool (perfectly fine to do this in the fridge overnight).
Strain and serve. Keeps well for up to a month.
WOAH. That was a month and a half. The first section was pretty damn fine. My husband and I treated ourselves to a week in Rarotonga to celebrate getting through some rather rubbish stuff over the last wee while, and gosh it was bliss. Rarotonga …
Do you get to feeling nibbly late afternoon? Does your mouth start watering as you fantasise about stuffing large handfuls of salt and vinegar chips into your mouth alongside stacks of delicious lovely cheese? Well, friends, have I got a deal for you. Because while …
I am busy looking after my garden, or is it looking after me? It’s working hard, growing many of my favourite treats, including raspberries, zucchinis and cucumbers.
My rangy, imperfect little beginner’s garden is very restorative. I can nurture my plants and enjoy some success, accompanied by kaka, tui and of course my funny little rescue cats who always appear from nowhere to supervise my activities. We’ve had a sad time with disappointing fertility treatments and I entered summer in a rather glum frame of mind. My garden has helped brighten my spirits.
On Saturday night I had the pleasure of dining at the beautilful Bresolin. There were some truly succulent dishes, including Sichuan-seasoned lamb accompanied by pickled cucumber. My garden is working hard on my own cucumbers but they are not ready yet, and inspired by my dinner at Bresolin, I couldn’t wait to make some pickled cucumber all of my own. 
This is a really simple recipe and it’s great to have a stash of pickled cucumber to jazz up your summer salads or cheese boards. Most of this batch has gone into my work lunches for the week – try it mixed with white beans, diced tomato and fresh parsely for simple, healthy salad.
Ingredients:
1 cucumber, skinned and chopped – I like it diced, but it works equally well in thin rounds
1 cup water
1/3 cup white vinegar
3 T caster sugar
2 t salt
Method:
Mix water, vinegar, sugar and salt together until sugar and salt is dissolved. Add the cucumber and make sure it is all covered with the liquid. Good to go after 30 minutes and will keep for a week, covered in your fridge (as demonstrated here with a lovely beeswax cover I was given for Christmas).
I’m in excellent company – Wallace, Gromit and I all love Wensleydale cheese. Crumbly, dense and savoury, Wensleydale originates from Wensleydale, Yorkshire, where it began life as a ewes milk cheese made by French Cistercian monks. It’s now made across the UK from cow’s milk, …