tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50600080164219673312024-02-07T12:35:12.182+00:00love and a licked spoonCooking, growing and living in London.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger171125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-29032075637407403572019-02-04T00:22:00.000+00:002019-02-04T16:35:41.910+00:00Moving on...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyM_P0laMc27SaciMZ8CnCwpL26O07cJ4lu2cQuWff7MSSrPta9esjeTp54TWtHgcwGQ8AUMIxhbXhKhdDfe5dKS_ZedZOP3cuVqFoQ5ml-Nu9ZdDuvKpS__v1j6HtImmWtVDF7n_W-U/s1600/CameraZOOM-20180519173246038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyM_P0laMc27SaciMZ8CnCwpL26O07cJ4lu2cQuWff7MSSrPta9esjeTp54TWtHgcwGQ8AUMIxhbXhKhdDfe5dKS_ZedZOP3cuVqFoQ5ml-Nu9ZdDuvKpS__v1j6HtImmWtVDF7n_W-U/s400/CameraZOOM-20180519173246038.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
Thank you for looking up my <b>Lickedspoon </b>blog.<br />
<br />
We've moved to a new shiny home at <a href="http://www.deborarobertson.com/"><b>www.deborarobertson.com</b></a>. <br />
All the posts and comments from here have also moved across.<br />
Do come and visit!<br />
<br />
You can still find me on <a href="http://www.twitter.com/lickedspoon" target="_blank">Twitter</a> and <a href="http://www.instagram.com/lickedspoon" target="_blank">Instagram</a>.<br />
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I hope to see you soon, I've baked a cake.<br />
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Dx<br />
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<br />Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-44653256286342445572017-11-06T12:07:00.000+00:002017-11-06T12:09:15.026+00:00The new dinner party rules<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZpUzqONWxhlcO7zrqKsL_dtev8Wq4EwHikMA-F9uEvFZb00ldOLcg9IMyEGHGP39wi1B5LcPDOUr8xVI9O0FGZxRAizOn7dMz-8AhoSECtjUbsZZt_ykoJgB781nx5hQN2voetI8wubW/s1600/20171105_125621_edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="All nice and neat" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1022" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZpUzqONWxhlcO7zrqKsL_dtev8Wq4EwHikMA-F9uEvFZb00ldOLcg9IMyEGHGP39wi1B5LcPDOUr8xVI9O0FGZxRAizOn7dMz-8AhoSECtjUbsZZt_ykoJgB781nx5hQN2voetI8wubW/s640/20171105_125621_edit.jpg" title="" width="408" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The simple request, “You must come to dinner,” once a cheerful indication of intimacy, has become fraught with social dangers. How straightforward it was when all you needed to do was put on your best suit or frock, spend the first half of the evening speaking to the person on your right, the second half to the person on your left, jump into a cab by midnight, scribble a thank you note the next day, and we all got out of there alive. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our newly casual way of living means we hardly know when we’ve strayed over some mysterious line in the sisal matting. In the latest edition of The Lady magazine, etiquette and modern manners expert, Thomas Blaikie, describes the new dinner party rules, which include leaving by 10.30pm on a weeknight and 11.15pm at weekends, never bringing wine that costs less than a tenner, and, if you’re the host, never making plated starters.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Personally, I’ve thrown so many dinner parties, my dishwasher should be receiving some sort of award for its contribution to community relations. Here are my notes from the dinner party front, to ensure both happy hosts and guests.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ten dinner party commandments</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. Don’t be on time</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This is the act of a monster. The only people worse than those who arrive bang on time are those who arrive early, when you’re still in your pinny and haven’t had time to soften your more frazzled edges with your first cocktail. For the very best in civilised behaviour, arrive between 10 to 15 minutes after the appointed time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: 24px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. Bring wine if you must</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> but now it’s highly acceptable, not to say fashionable, to bring craft beer or cider instead. You look terribly cutting edge and no one has to drink it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. Don’t take flowers</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Because rattling out dinner for eight isn’t soothing enough, let’s add having to find a suitable vase to this evil game of party peril? Send flowers afterwards, or take a potted plant – no cacti though, chances are there are enough pricks at the table as it is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: 24px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4. No one cares what you like</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> If you are vegan, vegetarian or have a deadly food allergy, of course you should let your host know beforehand. If you’re just not eating dairy this week, flirting with gluten-free or drearily carb-phobic, do keep it to yourself, there’s a love. There’s honestly nothing more boring than the pick-and-mix culinary peccadillos of others.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">5. Do talk politics and religion</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. It’s so prissy to skirt around the really interesting stuff in favour of what? House prices and minor illnesses? Do also pay close attention when speaking about your children to anyone who is not a blood relative in case of terminal eyeglazeoveritis. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">6. Don’t help</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Of course, do offer, but you can be too casual. Unless invited, don’t start clearing tables or washing up. It’s your job as a guest to sit there and be absolutely fascinating, damn it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">7. Accept that last drink</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> If I’m pouring the hard stuff, or that weird digestif I dragged back from my hols, it’s because I want you to stay. If I suggest tea or coffee, I am mentally calling you a cab. Please don’t expect me to actually make the tea or coffee.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">8. What time to leave?</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Mr Blaikie speaks perfect sense when he says weeknight dinners should be over by 10.30pm. We aren’t 20 anymore and being in (you own) bed by midnight is one of the cornerstones of civilised life. But if anyone left my house at 11.15pm on a Saturday night, I would hang up my hostess apron forever. Do stay. Have another drink. Laugh. Gossip. Drag out the old vinyl and let’s dance around the kitchen. Don’t leave me this way. Not just yet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">9. Do say thank you</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Of course, a letter is delicious and people will remember your impeccable guestitude forever; a postcard is good and an email is fine. The most dreadful thing you can do is to resist sending an email or making a phone call as you absolutely, positively are going to write that letter. Just as soon as you track down the perfect stationery, buy an ink pen, find a stamp and master calligraphy. And suddenly you’re bumping into your hosts at another event and it’s 10 months later and they’re wondering why they never heard from you again and is it because you hated their cousin Bert or the syllabub, or, in fact, them. Send the bloody email.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: 24px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">10. If you’re the host</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, don’t show off. You need to make it look - or at least feel - effortless if you want your guests to be relaxed and have a good time. No one cares that you spent the whole weekend watching YouTube videos of how to make swans from choux pastry. Bowls of bought ice cream taste sweeter than any amount of culinary braggadocio. </span><br />
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Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-69922289317994533672017-11-06T11:36:00.000+00:002018-07-17T18:29:52.347+01:00It’s not thunder, it’s tutting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqToAa6pf-4AHAHuejYlybGEdZmIbNVPyqq3aXS3oHrl25lywFWan3CMbid24AflovfJDw49_SSq3YTMmWxYZ38n_D_4IIPaEmo3SbtdFtpLJiGAOeNoHFOLLrk423MHxGMsIE8dA4zE9k/s1600/IMG_20170326_093614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqToAa6pf-4AHAHuejYlybGEdZmIbNVPyqq3aXS3oHrl25lywFWan3CMbid24AflovfJDw49_SSq3YTMmWxYZ38n_D_4IIPaEmo3SbtdFtpLJiGAOeNoHFOLLrk423MHxGMsIE8dA4zE9k/s320/IMG_20170326_093614.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What’s that
low but persistent rumble in the distance? It’s not thunder, it’s tutting.
Waitrose has announced that from April 3, they will no longer serve free coffee
to their customers and the British middle classes haven’t been so affronted by
anything since the Chelsea Flower Show lifted its ban on gnomes. (For one year
only, 2013. Dark times. Let us never speak of this again.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This development
has been greeted with glee by some, delighted at the prospect of aisles no
longer cluttered with purchase-free caffeine junkies. Their happiness will no
doubt be short lived as plucky little chancers cram the tills, queuing to pay
for a single grape or green bean (take THAT! capitalist oppressors) in order to
collect their ‘free’ refreshment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For others, Waitrose’s
greatest crime against the smooth running of civilisation comes from their insistence
you now complete your transaction before you can collect your free coffee. What
fresh hell. For many of us, caffeine is the only legal substance that will get
us through the Big Shop. You need it to spur you on as you steer through fresh
produce, dairy and beyond, not when you’re trying to wrangle ten bags for life
into the back of a Volvo.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But Waitrose,
at the risk of sounding churlish, you’ve brought this grumpiness entirely on
yourselves. I’ve watched enough legal dramas to know that you should never ask
a question in open court to which you don’t already know the answer. Similarly,
you should never give a treat which you later withdraw. Ungrateful humans will
only remember the removal of privilege, not your generosity in having granted
it in the first place. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The truth is
Waitrose, and you should know this, you can forget about decent schools, many
of us fork out a premium to live within the catchment area of your wholesome,
artisanal, organic embrace. We’ve scrimped on the square footage and convinced
ourselves we don’t mind about the lack of view/parking/en suite so we never have
to be more than a mile from cooking chorizo and Fevertree tonic ever, ever
again. </span><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That, dear
Waitrose, your ‘essentials’ range includes amber bath foam, profiteroles, gooseberry
fruit fool and champagne flutes makes us feel a little less alone in the world.
We don’t even mind that the accident in the alliteration factory lead you to
name perfectly innocent herbs ‘Simple Sage’, ‘Romantic Rosemary’ and
‘Tantalising Tarragon’. We thought we were friends. We had an understanding.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For those of
us who feel bereft, betrayed, there is hope. Rumours spread quickly yesterday,
at school gates and on dog walks, in offices and factories, in all places where
slightly tired people gather, that Pret </span></span><span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">à</span></span><span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Manger’s staff still have discretion
to give you free coffee if they like you. Charm offensive over the beetroot and
radish on rye in 3, 2, 1…</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But there is
another way. My father, a tolerant person in all other respects, is continually
appalled at the dreadful modern affectation of being unable to walk more than
20 yards without clutching flat whites in our feebly under-caffeinated hands.
Perhaps he has a point. How can we chastise toddlers who remain too long
dependent on their dummies when we’re unable to complete the most simple of
tasks without holding a cup in a death grip? We’re better than this. </span></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Perhaps, after all – and as I have often
suspected - Waitrose is here to save us from our baser selves.</span></span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-79692493448789066882016-05-30T21:30:00.000+01:002016-05-30T21:37:40.975+01:00Stoke Newington Literary Festival<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eKHB5aFtDh7JBq4eIaiv5UmMdH90GSm5OVjc1UWqeKBsxTeFMu_OGrBfPY7mjs5N_UMJth9yc2PQTo1Itl2mwjkeEF1vJqClG8izg5k2Bex5BHtq-oyL4VVLGSka98XXxjOmk5FB5h_Z/s1600/Large+Logo.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eKHB5aFtDh7JBq4eIaiv5UmMdH90GSm5OVjc1UWqeKBsxTeFMu_OGrBfPY7mjs5N_UMJth9yc2PQTo1Itl2mwjkeEF1vJqClG8izg5k2Bex5BHtq-oyL4VVLGSka98XXxjOmk5FB5h_Z/s640/Large+Logo.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Next weekend, 3-5 June, Stoke Newington
comes alive with writers and all manner of creative types for the seventh Stoke
Newington Literary festival. If you’re the hungry or thirsty sort, which of
course you are, do come to any and all of the events I’m helping to run in <a href="http://www.stpaulswesthackney.org/" target="_blank">St. Paul’s West Hackney</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We kick off with A Taste of Honey on Saturday, with
Hattie Ellis, Hannah Rhodes and Paul Webb, then Sabrina Ghayour joins us to
talk about her delicious new book Sirocco, the follow up to her smash hit
bestseller, Persiana. We round off
Saturday afternoon with chocolate brought to us by Cocoa Runners and
philosopher Julian Baggini. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">On Sunday, Rachel McCormack hosts her popular
Gastro Salon, with cocktail queen Kay Plunkett-Hogge, Hackney food writer
Yasmin Khan and local resident and former Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer, Ed
Balls, and then on Sunday afternoon Itamar Srulovich and Sarit Packer join us
to talk about running their deliciously successful restaurant, Honey & Co.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Do come! It would be wonderful to see
you.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://stokenewingtonlitfest.eventcube.io/events/3809/a-taste-of-honey/" target="_blank"><b>A Taste of Honey.</b></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Saturday 4th June, 11:00 - £6.00</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'helvetica neue', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Have you ever thought about becoming a
bee keeper? Fancy having your own hives or simply mad about honey? Then join us
as we talk all things honey with Hattie Ellis, author of Spoonfuls of Honey,
Hannah Rhodes, founder of Hiver Beer, and urban beekeeper Paul Webb.</span></div>
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<a href="https://stokenewingtonlitfest.eventcube.io/events/3808/fabulous-flavours-from-the-east-with-sabrina-ghayour/" target="_blank"><br /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://stokenewingtonlitfest.eventcube.io/events/3808/fabulous-flavours-from-the-east-with-sabrina-ghayour/" target="_blank">Fabulous Flavours from the East with Sabrina Ghayour</a>. </b></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Saturday 4th June, 15:00 - £6.00</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Join Sabrina Ghayour, the award-winning
author of the bestselling Persiana, as she talks food, cooking and her eagerly
anticipated new book Sirocco. Discover what fuels Sabrina’s passion for food,
the inspiration behind her new book and the key ingredients that are always in
her shopping basket. There will be samples of one of the dishes from the book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://stokenewingtonlitfest.eventcube.io/events/3815/the-philosophy-of-chocolate/" target="_blank">The Philosophy of Chocolate.</a><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Saturday 4th June, 17:00 - £6.00</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'helvetica neue', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Philosopher Julian Baggini’s essay, an epilogue
to the acclaimed The Virtues of the Table, extends his thoughts on our
relationship with food to cover one of the greatest food groups of all,
chocolate. The essay was exclusively written for Cocoa Runners, a chocolate
club who are passionate about the chocolate they source and how it is produced.
Both Julian and the Cocoa Runners team will be joining us for chocolate,
discussions on chocolate, and more chocolate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Chocolate will be provided...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://stokenewingtonlitfest.eventcube.io/events/3772/gastrosalon/" target="_blank"><b>Gastrosalon</b>.</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'helvetica neue', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Host Rachel McCormack (BBC Radio 4’s
Kitchen Cabinet) talks to former model booker, cocktail queen and food writer
Kay Plunkett-Hogge (Heat: Cooking With Chillies), Hackney-based author Yasmin
Khan (The Saffron Tales) and former Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer and
self-confessed foodie Ed Balls (Sport Relief Bake Off) about road trips. They
dish up stories of the best – and worst – food they’ve eaten whilst travelling.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://stokenewingtonlitfest.eventcube.io/events/3810/a-love-affair-with-food/" target="_blank">A Love Affair With Food.</a> </b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sunday 5th June, 15:00 - £6.00</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGka6ZH3etHgGi7JPx3xkowbzReJxzOQi7yKOXDDFBjO3DpcJUeKIByQtEUopkHi3G9ICEyRhAdzbUCqQgpfrkuhZ0oSteApAW-kM2UZ7oML0V5s72zwFrFYtohUUs6KRQa9UgSW7CDhXW/s1600/Honey+%2526+Co.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGka6ZH3etHgGi7JPx3xkowbzReJxzOQi7yKOXDDFBjO3DpcJUeKIByQtEUopkHi3G9ICEyRhAdzbUCqQgpfrkuhZ0oSteApAW-kM2UZ7oML0V5s72zwFrFYtohUUs6KRQa9UgSW7CDhXW/s320/Honey+%2526+Co.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'helvetica neue', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since it first opened its doors in 2012,
Honey & Co has attracted an intensely loyal following who pack the tiny
restaurant every day. At the heart of this success are owners Itamar Srulovich
and Sarit Packer – partners in business and life. Join them as they talk about
how they got started, what inspires them in the kitchen, and how they navigate
a delicious path in work and life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">There will be samples of cake from their
baking book.</span><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The full Literary Festival programme can be found <a href="http://www.stokenewingtonliteraryfestival.com/the-programme/" target="_blank">here</a>, or downloaded in pdf format <a href="http://www.stokenewingtonliteraryfestival.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/snlf_2016.pdf" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div>
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Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-2316391702338385462016-03-21T16:32:00.000+00:002016-03-21T16:32:13.125+00:00A little birdy told me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhOWpc4dW1SNOYVY9IR8zMgjneud6mk6KvLtGWhFZjdAbk41xuYsI7jY9r0W9Vne9s0EQmFkprj3vtx9RBfxlv_5pdRWLObZ9A4kYGxzUF5WVR9CNXfTjnlv9kQZ1UkJMr8OVMDVx_0YZt/s1600/Twitter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="@Lickedspoon on Twitter" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhOWpc4dW1SNOYVY9IR8zMgjneud6mk6KvLtGWhFZjdAbk41xuYsI7jY9r0W9Vne9s0EQmFkprj3vtx9RBfxlv_5pdRWLObZ9A4kYGxzUF5WVR9CNXfTjnlv9kQZ1UkJMr8OVMDVx_0YZt/s400/Twitter.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Hard at work, on that Twitter</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today, Twitter is 10 years old. To celebrate I’m baking the little birdy a </span><span style="font-size: large;">cake. Not really. But I have such affection for the real-time microblogging site, I </span><span style="font-size: large;">feel like I should mark the occasion in some way. Perhaps during Anniversary </span><span style="font-size: large;">Monday I will attempt to speak only in sentences of 140 characters or fewer, </span><span style="font-size: large;">like this one, as a special tribute?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I love Twitter. This seems this is an increasingly unfashionable point of view. If </span><span style="font-size: large;">you listen to various media reports (and my dad), you’d think that to tap into </span><span style="font-size: large;">Twitter is to ensure the wrath of the mighty - or at least the sweaty, typing </span><span style="font-size: large;">away in dusty, unaired bedrooms, possibly </span><span style="font-size: large;">in their pants – will fall upon your head. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That’s certainly true for some. If you are famous, especially famous while female, have an opinion, or have made a mistake, said something strong or perhaps a bit silly, friendly interaction can be drowned out by an avalanche of grimness, bile, appalling spelling and unresolved mummy issues.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But for the rest of us, it’s still possible for Twitter to open up the world in a rather wonderful way. As a journalist working from home, the only thing I miss about office life is the cosy, helpful, sometimes scandalous chat each day. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My cat is a very poor substitute. Dixie has few opinions on the Real Housewives of New York. She cares not if a certain chef does or doesn’t have a gastric band, or whether the roadworks at Old Street roundabout will be completed in our lifetimes. She doesn’t know if the Sugar Tax will make any difference, who might win the Man Booker Prize, the possibility of Spurs ending the season higher than Arsenal in the League, or which mascara is absolutely, positively waterproof. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Twitter can be like the most useful and friendly drinks party, one where no one cares that you haven’t brushed your hair or changed out of yesterday’s ancient top. My Twitter pals provide me with a constantly evolving list of books, plays and exhibitions I must fit into my life, advise me on how to prune my roses or what malevolent creature is eating my gooseberries (sawfly), where to find a new dog groomer or a person brave enough to come and clean my oven. If I want to discover why that helicopter has been hovering over my house for two hours, Twitter’s the first place I turn. And wherever I am in the world, I use Twitter to find out where to stay or to eat from people who live there. It’s like TripAdvisor without the latent psychopathy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">At its best, Twitter has the power to bring out people’s fundamental need to be kind. On many occasions, it has figuratively and literally helped me with my shopping. I even got a book deal out of it, when a gardening writer I know only from Twitter put me in touch with her publisher who was looking for someone who could write about both cooking and gardening. So thank you for that, <a href="https://twitter.com/alexmitchelleg" target="_blank">@alexmitchelleg</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I’m fascinated by the way it demonstrates human complexity. I love how Irish novelist Marian Keyes, (<a href="https://twitter.com/MarianKeyes" target="_blank">@MarianKeyes</a>) follows her traditional greeting of ‘Lads!’ with everything from nail varnish, to Strictly, Irish Tayto crisps, her Mammy and unflinching honesty about her depression. That actor Sam West (<a href="https://twitter.com/exitthelemming" target="_blank">@exitthelemming</a>) tweets beautifully about birds and nature, that Ian Martin (<a href="https://twitter.com/IanMartin" target="_blank">@IanMartin</a>), Emmy-award winning writer on Veep and The Thick of It, is so knowledgeable about architecture. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In a world which seems increasingly to want to pigeon hole people, to allow them only to be one thing - often not of their own choosing - it’s a useful reminder that you can be interested in Syria and lipstick, Beowulf and Happy Valley, restaurants and kayaking. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It’s wrong to assume that all keen tweeters are eschewing the real world for a cosy or combative virtual one. For me, the opposite is true. I flip through my diary and see that half a dozen or so of the people I’m seeing this week are some of those I first met in communications limited to 140 characters. Now we sometimes talk for hours, share stories, laughs, drinks and problems, give each other career tips and romantic advice. Just like proper friends because we have become proper friends. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For me, communicating with people I would never have got to know in a life before Twitter, has been unequivocally life enhancing. It’s egalitarian and fun, the easiest way to find your faraway tribe, wherever you are and whoever you are. Whether you’re interested in rare breed sheep or mediaeval manuscripts, or just want someone to listen along to <a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%23archers" target="_blank">#TheArchers</a> with, you just have to find the right @s for you. And for that, we all owe a friendly debt to the little blue bird.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I tweet as <a href="https://twitter.com/lickedspoon" target="_blank">@lickedspoon</a>. Come and help me procrastinate.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">PEOPLE WHO ARE SURPRISINGLY GOOD AT TWITTER</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Kathy Burke <a href="https://twitter.com/KathyBurke" target="_blank">@KathyBurke</a> Upliftingly sweary and funny. Passionate supporter of the NHS. Kind and consistent retweeter of lost people and dogs. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Carrie Fischer <a href="https://twitter.com/carrieffisher" target="_blank">@carrieffisher</a> I want whatever she and her French bulldog Gary are having. Gives great emoticon.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Cher <a href="https://twitter.com/Cher" target="_blank">@Cher</a> Hard to know what she’s going on about sometimes, but you wouldn’t want to miss it. You know when she’s awake. Loves capital letters.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Reverend Richard Coles <a href="https://twitter.com/RevRichardColes" target="_blank">@RevRichardColes</a> Presenter of BBC Radio 4’s Saturday Live, former Communard, priest of the parish of Finedon. Follow him for his wry look at the world and excellent pictures of dachshunds. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Joanne Harris <a href="https://twitter.com/Joannechocolat" target="_blank">@Joannechocolat</a> Award-winning author of Chocolat and many other novels, short stories and cookbooks. Generous with advice to writers; admirably, patiently ruthless with sexists and any other form of bigot. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jeremy Lee <a href="https://twitter.com/JLQuoVadis" target="_blank">@JLQuoVadis</a> Lively tweets from the charismatic chef at London’s Quo Vadis; part food, part flowers, part flirt. Generous and heartwarming stuff with edge of wickedness.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Gary Linekar <a href="https://twitter.com/garylinekar" target="_blank">@garylinekar</a> Come for the football, stay for the Piers Morgan put downs and self-deprecating funnies.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Alison Moyet <a href="https://twitter.com/AlisonMoyet" target="_blank">@AlisonMoyet</a> Engaging, chatty, funny and kind. Essentially you want her to be your best pal in a total FanGirl way.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Nigella <a href="https://twitter.com/Nigella" target="_blank">@Nigella</a> Warm, informative and responsive to her followers, unlike some. Good on recipe tips and pointers to the latest cookbooks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Richard Osman <a href="https://twitter.com/richardosman" target="_blank">@richardosman</a> The co-presenter of quiz show Pointless, or ‘You know, that guy fr</span><span style="font-size: large;">om that thing,’ as his Twitter biography would have it. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Prolific, funny and generous.</span>Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-19868678386767965922016-01-31T10:10:00.000+00:002016-01-31T10:10:22.989+00:00In praise of The Pauper’s Cookbook<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdp4ofOLaAEr1jZmGyd6n37ClCdOzOWn4fEZux1I1s_fEZKeyvQ6JNWxushSrNRuFj_IHG2PUz4vfQ0qDiFOnbUvqhq1TP-rYPVRJDFXETNg9SM2c6i_zZ5aO0TYZATM5GitQEkkQwUm4/s1600/IMG_20160130_141218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdp4ofOLaAEr1jZmGyd6n37ClCdOzOWn4fEZux1I1s_fEZKeyvQ6JNWxushSrNRuFj_IHG2PUz4vfQ0qDiFOnbUvqhq1TP-rYPVRJDFXETNg9SM2c6i_zZ5aO0TYZATM5GitQEkkQwUm4/s400/IMG_20160130_141218.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I often tell people that I can cook because my <a href="http://www.wendyrobertson.com/" target="_blank">mother</a> couldn’t, or <a href="http://lickedspoon.blogspot.co.uk/2009/03/i-capture-kitchen.html" target="_blank">wouldn’t</a>. She was far more interested in studying, writing, teaching and taking us to museums and bookshops, on walks along the riverbank in Durham and, importantly, instilling in my brother and me a love of whiling away afternoons in cafés. All of these are very important life skills.</div>
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But she did sometimes cook more than the usual, hasty beans on toast or egg and chips, and when she did, it was from Jocasta Innes’s The Pauper’s Cookbook. <br />
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I was just writing something about <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/food-and-drink/features/is-70s-food-making-a-comeback/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">70s food</a>, which made me pick up my old, yellowing copy for the first time in years. Flipping through it, I can see it through my mother’s young eyes and understand why it must have been so appealing. <br />
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This book is about as far away from the 70s housewife world of perfect garnishes and dainty hors d’oeuvres as it’s possible to get. It’s crammed with recipes for the hurried, harried and skint. It has a let’s-get-on-with-it tone and a spirit of adventure, with recipes such as brandade of tuna fish, tortilla, and Suleiman’s Pilaff (bits of leftover cooked lamb, mixed with garlic, patna rice, tinned tomatoes and ‘a pinch of thyme or rosemary’ – the ‘pinch’ makes me think that the assumption is they’re inevitably dried, not fresh).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9qx5pIuHdbPRPWaB47MSi8ww7zTCjCveuzB7oDFMJXS5IEMy-kPre3D6qMZi-RW1HpXE3jqefhoiboJzcWenHX6M8MYY5kf4klYbRkqdjBsxhhJkkllOZ5iHqSWKI-fZLRfe1r3BjaFW/s1600/IMG_20160130_180038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9qx5pIuHdbPRPWaB47MSi8ww7zTCjCveuzB7oDFMJXS5IEMy-kPre3D6qMZi-RW1HpXE3jqefhoiboJzcWenHX6M8MYY5kf4klYbRkqdjBsxhhJkkllOZ5iHqSWKI-fZLRfe1r3BjaFW/s400/IMG_20160130_180038.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<em>Welcome to the 70s, so many beans, so much brown earthenware. </em></div>
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I love the cover photograph, with its earthenware dish which would look quite at home in many of today’s faux-rustic East London restaurants. I love the trickle of burnt-on sauce from the pork and beans, and I love, love, love the blurb on the back cover:<br />
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<em>‘So leave it to the affluent to court indigestion at the Waldorf-Ritz: here’s how to live it up in your own squalid tenement without recourse to poaching, rustling, guddling, scrumping or shop-lifting.’ </em><em>How could you possibly resist? And now I need to go and find out what the hell ‘guddling’ is.</em><br />
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<strong>French onion soup</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdCiq5REmaHSqBABIGTchAJsfUFejLAlpoVtj3h0pl7GU1ATywmezrRMViIzcRDGwjMunoUkWMlofG2cCw0UVWpw5d6ezb3pvrC0EanFNQ9oGnxAtE8UPiyfKebPNu1k_i6OcLvWQnk4E/s1600/2016-01-30+14.11.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdCiq5REmaHSqBABIGTchAJsfUFejLAlpoVtj3h0pl7GU1ATywmezrRMViIzcRDGwjMunoUkWMlofG2cCw0UVWpw5d6ezb3pvrC0EanFNQ9oGnxAtE8UPiyfKebPNu1k_i6OcLvWQnk4E/s400/2016-01-30+14.11.42.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I wanted to make something from the book without having to run out to the shops (too cold, too lazy), so my eyes fell on Jocasta’s recipe for French onion soup. Her recipe was much simpler than the one I create here. Its ingredients are 1 quart basic stock, 4 large or 6 small onions, knob of butter, 1/4lb grated Cheddar, 4 slices toast, salt and pepper. But with my Twenty-First-Century fancy London ways, I have at my disposal wine and brandy, Gruyère cheese and an end of slightly stale baguette. But it is absolutely in the spirit of Jocasta, if not to the letter. <br />
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<strong>SERVES 4-6</strong><br />
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80g butter <br />4 large yellow or white onions, about 1kg prepared weight, halved and thinly sliced <br />100ml white wine <br />1 litre beef stock <br />1 tbsp brandy <br />About ¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg <br />4-6 slices of baguette, about 1cm thick <br />100g Gruyère cheese, grated <br />Salt and freshly ground black pepper<br /><br />Warm the butter over a medium heat in a heavy-bottomed saucepan<br /> or casserole. When it stops foaming, add the onions and a good pinch of salt. Fry gently, stirring often, until they are just beginning to turn golden - they shouldn’t caramelise at all. This could take at least 30 minutes, up to 45 minutes. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5r3QGYwS5GgCXXDFrMyzVWALhg7y0KakWRGLJc3RteVhP_lL7B_YTvl1Om63teDY0xSkfNxYLhpnMZYf1eIwVmpxATVaUGVMlK84VDsepeGMXzhaYqJ8PxrNcM736QqFXdPKs-IEF7yj/s1600/IMG_20160130_131544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5r3QGYwS5GgCXXDFrMyzVWALhg7y0KakWRGLJc3RteVhP_lL7B_YTvl1Om63teDY0xSkfNxYLhpnMZYf1eIwVmpxATVaUGVMlK84VDsepeGMXzhaYqJ8PxrNcM736QqFXdPKs-IEF7yj/s400/IMG_20160130_131544.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<em>The raw sliced onions…</em></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52F7pjRIGn_ii4mt0BvaNF8RvTIID50bIgIql4h-hmMU91VqwFMXkMT4M8oxO5XVXNzrkE3_nk8GN5VeancVHfAEkRijPFbwrzUyOby0xoRZbvnHyM9BxqqvEtHNdvjGdlVJk1IBTRtar/s1600/IMG_20160130_134606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52F7pjRIGn_ii4mt0BvaNF8RvTIID50bIgIql4h-hmMU91VqwFMXkMT4M8oxO5XVXNzrkE3_nk8GN5VeancVHfAEkRijPFbwrzUyOby0xoRZbvnHyM9BxqqvEtHNdvjGdlVJk1IBTRtar/s400/IMG_20160130_134606.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<em>...transform into these soft, golden ones.</em></div>
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Pour in the wine and stir again for a couple of minutes until almost completely evaporated. Next add the stock and some salt and pepper and simmer, uncovered, for 30 minutes. Grate in the nutmeg, pour in the brandy and season with more salt and pepper if necessary. <br />
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Heat up the grill. <br />
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Ladle the soup into heatproof bowls. Place a slice of bread on top and scatter the cheese over the top. Grill until golden and bubbling. Serve immediately. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBmTJxg1ftQKaq4sBPqHAciw4bU2tGTY0-Qg66rgIZSPbUPqpYoVM0B5nSBam8Zpgi3cgkn0zTJnGuyLpwLxKy3sInRHRFozZjQpAAzQGKadvWeXFFCD0qmi18qBLY_revcANcfC51BeQ0/s1600/2016-01-30+14.13.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBmTJxg1ftQKaq4sBPqHAciw4bU2tGTY0-Qg66rgIZSPbUPqpYoVM0B5nSBam8Zpgi3cgkn0zTJnGuyLpwLxKy3sInRHRFozZjQpAAzQGKadvWeXFFCD0qmi18qBLY_revcANcfC51BeQ0/s400/2016-01-30+14.13.10.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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<em>I love the way Gruyère melts into delicious stringiness. </em></div>
Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-29955259123989984982015-11-28T01:01:00.002+00:002015-11-28T01:02:11.425+00:00Something for the weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYw4haX-8P0eMpVFkxuT9HnTEKZzSHH9S_J5OcVuoYh-RcDIEm5xCSa_wLl6hC5rucc3z3tbZg8G-iBuTLXIkAO1DtHoOm6dydrOljhy8RWOSSCLWIk07s2aXVkCl8DKOtQZaj8vTNrFL-/s1600/IMG_20151011_163624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYw4haX-8P0eMpVFkxuT9HnTEKZzSHH9S_J5OcVuoYh-RcDIEm5xCSa_wLl6hC5rucc3z3tbZg8G-iBuTLXIkAO1DtHoOm6dydrOljhy8RWOSSCLWIk07s2aXVkCl8DKOtQZaj8vTNrFL-/s400/IMG_20151011_163624.jpg" title="Pumpkin pancakes" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Weekend breakfasts, specifically Saturday morning breakfasts, are among my favourite of all meals. I love the easy, freewheeling slide into the pleasure of the weekend, slummocking about in pyjamas, spreading out the newspapers, flipping through a stack of new magazines with a wad of Post-Its, catching up on favourite telly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Séan usually makes the breakfast at weekends (A Very Good Thing), so it was in a rare burst of Saturday morning activity that I whisked together these pancakes. I had some roasted squash left over from dinner the night before and the slightly charred edges added a caramelised note to the end result which I liked, but you could certainly use simply steamed or lightly roasted and mashed veg. You could also mash and freeze small amounts of leftover roast squash so you have the essential ingredient ready to go should the mood strike. I used buckwheat flour but just use plain flour if that’s what you have to hand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I served the pancakes with Toulouse sausages, fried eggs, a bit of fried sage and a splodge of apple sauce, but they would be great with anything of the things you like to fuel you through the weekend. Apart from baked beans. Please don’t do that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Squash and sage pancakes</b></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Makes 8-10 pancakes</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">300g cooked pumpkin or squash, mashed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">150g buckwheat flour</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">5-6 sage leaves, finely shredded</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 tsps baking powder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tsp fine sea salt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tsp freshly ground black pepper</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">¼ tsp nutmeg</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">260ml buttermilk</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">4 tbsp melted butter, cooled </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 egg and 1 egg yolk</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some oil for frying</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Mix together the first seven ingredients in a bowl until well blended. Make a well in the middle. Whisk together the remaining three ingredients in a jug. Pour the buttermilk mixture into the pumpkin mixture, stirring as you go until just combined.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Warm a splash of oil into a non-stick frying pan and warm over a medium-high heat. Spoon small ladelfuls of the batter into the frying pan – you will probably need to do this in batches. Cook each pancake for about 3-4 minutes per side, until golden and cooked through. Keep the first batch warm while you cook the rest of the mixture.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Serve immediately, with eggs, sausages, bacon, whatever you like for breakfast.</span><br />
Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-56687857127850299912015-11-17T21:30:00.000+00:002015-11-18T21:40:38.398+00:00A plain walnut cake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaz95f9dSh1e6VURFwQT0Kr9av0zM249Uo7BwrRnd6B4wTBVOZi4bD9nufohMeCkVrfUjLo5aBdVqKDZTOgwNbAifrqd6mCgNtY3N8C9Q-wLINgxoi6RX6NMwR3rsTkPiOmSPm6FMqfUJu/s1600/IMG_20151117_155059_edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaz95f9dSh1e6VURFwQT0Kr9av0zM249Uo7BwrRnd6B4wTBVOZi4bD9nufohMeCkVrfUjLo5aBdVqKDZTOgwNbAifrqd6mCgNtY3N8C9Q-wLINgxoi6RX6NMwR3rsTkPiOmSPm6FMqfUJu/s400/IMG_20151117_155059_edit.jpg" title="Walnut Cake" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When we came back from our trip to France two weeks ago, along with the copper kugelhopf tins, bottles of olive oil and plaits of pink garlic, I stuffed into my luggage a plastic bag filled with walnuts – a gift from the man at the brocante from whom I’d bought the cake tins. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">They’ve been sitting in a bowl in the kitchen ever since, a nutcracker poised hopefully on top. I’ve made the odd crack-and-grab raid, snatching one or two as I walk past, or nibbled a few after dinner with some cheese. But I have been longing to make a cake. Not a classic coffee and walnut cake - though I love that - but a very simple thing. I wanted a low, plain cake, one that would allow the creamy lusciousness of the fresh walnuts to shine – at least enough to make the shelling of them worth it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So on Saturday, I sat in my kitchen, rhythmically shelling 500g or so of walnuts, sending shards of shell onto high shelves and skittering across the floor, much to the excitement of the cat. As I cracked, and picked and extracted the meat from the nuts, I watched the news from Paris on the television. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have loved France, the fantasy of it and the complicated reality of it, ever since I first visited Paris with my school when I was 10. I sit here typing and deleting, typing and deleting, finding it impossible to convey my deep affection for a country which has helped form me almost as much as the one that birthed me. What Ian McEwen had to say <a href="http://edge.org/conversation/ian_mcewan-a-message-from-paris" target="_blank">here</a> expresses it. And this much-shared <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glxh9ZgP7kc" target="_blank">segment</a> from John Oliver’s Last Week Tonight on HBO... well, I was just cheering my head off at this.</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>‘If you are in a war of culture and lifestyle with France, good fucking luck. Go ahead. Bring your bankrupt ideology. They’ll bring Jean Paul Sartre, Edith Piaf, fine wine, Gauloise cigarettes, Camus, Camembert, madeleines, macarons, Marcel Proust and the fucking croquembouche.’ </i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>For the cake:</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSqMjltGVYrhuOil4Cj7b9Z9Qy8MOT5cj2SbOvly-EUFgawof-0c_MlJlWAyvR_uU_eMg9iZO1fUximIvvd-SOdkOv65htXpI0XyXDThQ4B-A1bnbQwbOqipx5ulmQC93E-ysQFbLrcdV/s1600/IMG_20151115_120715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSqMjltGVYrhuOil4Cj7b9Z9Qy8MOT5cj2SbOvly-EUFgawof-0c_MlJlWAyvR_uU_eMg9iZO1fUximIvvd-SOdkOv65htXpI0XyXDThQ4B-A1bnbQwbOqipx5ulmQC93E-ysQFbLrcdV/s400/IMG_20151115_120715.jpg" title="Walnut Cake" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I took my inspiration from this <a href="http://www.marmiton.org/recettes/recette_gateau-aux-noix-de-tante-mouche_24542.aspx" target="_blank">recipe </a>from the very useful site of the French food magazine <i>Marmiton</i>. I love it. I hope you do too. I tried serving it in several ways. With poached quince and quince ice cream after Sunday lunch, with cream and then with thick Turkish yoghurt, but really it's best with nothing at all, just by itself, with perhaps a glass of sweet wine or rum to sip along with it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">100g unsalted butter, softened, plus a little more for greasing the tin</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">160g shelled walnuts, from about 500g whole nuts if you’re shelling them yourself</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">140g caster sugar or vanilla sugar</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">40g plain flour</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">½ tsp flaky sea salt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">3 eggs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 tbsps rum</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Preheat the oven to 180°C/160°C Fan/Gas 4.Lightly butter the bottom and sides of a loose-bottomed 21cm cake tin. Line the base with parchment and butter the parchment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Reserve 8-10 perfect walnut halves to finish the cake – if you like, leave them off if you think this is just far too much adornment. Put the rest of the walnuts into a food processor and pulse until most of the mixture is quite fine (you still want a few small chunks in it). Tip a third of the sugar into the processor and pulse once to blend. It should have the texture of slightly gritty sand. Of course, you can chop the nuts finely on a chopping board with a large knife if you like.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Beat together the butter and remaining sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the walnut mixture, then add the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Stir in the rum then gently fold in the flour and salt until just combined.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Spoon the mixture into the prepared tin and arrange the walnut halves on top. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean. It should be lightly golden on the surface but don’t overbake it – you want it to remain soft in the middle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Place the tin on a rack and leave the cake to cool completely before removing it. It keeps quite well for a few days in an airtight container.</span>Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-91721366403595846322015-11-11T23:54:00.001+00:002015-11-11T23:54:24.391+00:00Welcome to the Elevenses Revival Society<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Eic6q2LyitN1m5LAj_wfQ7TFMabJWlNcLQ0zWzDSRdwtbTOT95xM2-d8qAiD2E6em-R35sqZWKiiEJUPbFi_iweWP52DXB7GolcJ6Ao5f19fZ8i0jZJYNeJep2u3BmxoMVTYSb0oe8Zr/s1600/IMG_20151109_100500_hdr_edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Eic6q2LyitN1m5LAj_wfQ7TFMabJWlNcLQ0zWzDSRdwtbTOT95xM2-d8qAiD2E6em-R35sqZWKiiEJUPbFi_iweWP52DXB7GolcJ6Ao5f19fZ8i0jZJYNeJep2u3BmxoMVTYSb0oe8Zr/s400/IMG_20151109_100500_hdr_edit.jpg" title="Cherry, chocolate and orange bundt" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I love the idea of elevenses. I feel a tremble of sadness that it’s now virtually extinct, but then I still write with a fountain pen and keep a dodo as a pet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The first thing on my To Do list this week was to revive elevenses. The second thing was to have, tantalisingly on Monday at 11am, the first meeting about the food events for next year’s <a href="http://www.stokenewingtonliteraryfestival.com/" target="_blank">Stoke Newington Literary Festival</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What better reason to bring on the cake than a morning spent talking about books and food, two of my favourite things, with two of my favourite women? Julia, Chattanooga’s finest daughter, is one of my dearest friends and absolutely the sort of person you’d want by your side at the barricades. If your speaker were to arrive late, drunk and naked, she wouldn’t bat an eye. And <a href="http://www.hackneygazette.co.uk/news/literary_festival_returns_to_stoke_newington_for_fifth_year_with_top_line_up_1_3604492" target="_blank">Liz </a>founded the festival five years ago on a hunch and a credit card. She’s a force of nature whose modesty is matched only by boundless sense of what’s possible. If anyone deserves cake it’s these two. I’m making them founder members and trustees of my Elevenses Revival Society, an arduous responsibility but I think they’re up to it.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Cherry, chocolate and orange bundt</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbotGo_x00ZMGsvW5HRh4jLDvnDEaDwHJVRrytEvCjPB0170YPvbszlsX6PqmNauFkqB8dVOiqeBH9XN9arWot7TniKIwKgaL_YdmUlqQpxQmqDk_G1egukWqhGqCVqvXW3si4nWoConz/s1600/IMG_20151109_112250_hdr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbotGo_x00ZMGsvW5HRh4jLDvnDEaDwHJVRrytEvCjPB0170YPvbszlsX6PqmNauFkqB8dVOiqeBH9XN9arWot7TniKIwKgaL_YdmUlqQpxQmqDk_G1egukWqhGqCVqvXW3si4nWoConz/s400/IMG_20151109_112250_hdr.jpg" title="Inaugural meeting of the Elevenses Revival Society." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Inaugural meeting of the Elevenses Revival Society.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I used dried morello cherries in this cake because I love them and I throw them into as many things I possibly can, from breakfast porridge to salads and cakes. If you don’t have them or don’t like them, cranberries, raisins or sultanas would also be good. You could substitute brandy or sherry for the kirsch, too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I posted a picture of this on instagram, a lot of people asked me about the plate. It’s Chinoiserie Green, a design that Jasper Conran did for Wedgwood a few years ago. It was a birthday present from my best friend Victoria and remains a great favourite of mine.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For the cake:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">100g dried cherries </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">About 150ml kirsch, just enough to cover the cherries in a small pan</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">130g cocoa powder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">250g plain flour</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tsp bicarbonate of soda</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tsp baking powder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tsp salt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">220g unsalted butter, softened</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">350g caster sugar</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3 large eggs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">160ml whole milk, you may need a little more</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">125ml sour cream</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finely grated zest of an unwaxed orange</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For the icing:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">80g dark chocolate, about 70% cocoa solids, broken into pieces</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">125ml double cream</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">30g butter</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 tbsps kirsch, reserved from soaking the cherries</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Put the cherries into a small saucepan and pour on just enough kirsch to cover. Bring to a very gentle simmer, then simmer for a couple of minutes. Remove from the heat and let the cherries fatten and cool completely. You can leave them for several hours if you like. Drain the cherries, reserving the liquid. Gently pat them dry with kitchen paper.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Preheat the oven to 170°C/150°C Fan/Gas 3. Grease a 2 litre Bundt tin with butter, sprinkle with flour, place in a plastic bag and shake shake shake until every part of the tin is lightly coated with the flour. Tap off any excess. Alternatively brush with Wilton Cake Release – this stuff is great for intricately shaped Bundt pans.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In a bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa, bicarbonate of soda, baking powder and salt until very well combined and light, with no lumps. Sprinkle a couple of tablespoons of the mixture on a plate and toss the cherries in it lightly to coat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In a separate bowl or a jug, whisk together the milk, sour cream and 1 tbsp of the reserved kirsch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In a stand mixer with the paddle attachment (of course you can do this in a large mixing bowl with a wooden spoon), beat together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the orange zest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">With the mixer on very low, beat in a third of the flour then half the milk mixture, then repeat, ending with flour – be careful not to overprocess the mixture or the cake will be tough. If the mixture seems a little stiff, add a splash or two of milk until it has a consistency which drops easily from a wooden spoon. Fold in the cherries with a spatula.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Spoon the mixture into the pan and smooth the top with a palette knife or the back of a spoon – it shouldn’t come more than two thirds of the way up the tin. Bake for 65-70 minutes until a toothpick inserted into the thickest part of the cake comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes in the tin. Remove the cake from the tin then place on a cooling rack lined with a sheet of baking parchment. Cool completely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When the cake is completely cold, make the icing. Place the chocolate in a heatproof bowl. Bring the cream to a simmer in a small saucepan. Pour the cream over the chocolate and leave to stand for a couple of minutes. Tip the butter and 2 tbsps of the remaining reserved kirsch (just swig any that’s leftover – it’s delicious) into the bowl and mix until smooth. Leave for a couple of minutes so that it thickens slightly. Pour over the cake and let the icing set before serving in thick slices, ideally at 11am.</span><br />
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Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-5883655427224977722015-11-07T11:32:00.001+00:002015-11-07T11:51:14.507+00:00Home again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYcP1pSj3qE6Wpoz-O3C_rHLFqGRBl7y14yObyx5If2Z0dc-ivkdHJaeyH3VvDEf6sq-tuYie81dAFVPsAVDvurD_TCu85BDBkMsOVKcV3bG3q7Is0LFuxykHzdzGZLQ8KMP7C6OhWxu3S/s1600/IMG_20151106_145217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYcP1pSj3qE6Wpoz-O3C_rHLFqGRBl7y14yObyx5If2Z0dc-ivkdHJaeyH3VvDEf6sq-tuYie81dAFVPsAVDvurD_TCu85BDBkMsOVKcV3bG3q7Is0LFuxykHzdzGZLQ8KMP7C6OhWxu3S/s400/IMG_20151106_145217.jpg" title="Liptauer, an easy and delicious snack." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Liptauer, an easy and delicious snack.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">London is dark and damp. Walking Barney in Abney Park on Friday morning, the bitter smell of sulphur from the previous night’s fireworks hung in the air.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6P7kjk4UgFrjjL5siDZ0-GEv5H0E5vPFj94FuezxUQQkza4kd4VvWH0cknOVk3jllBQ1GN3JPSJ868S63aCUsRfWbEwj2J3wWU1gQn0lyGvD0ZeWpTw2ol3exSgEIbD_fQkcB600iiwfe/s1600/IMG_20151105_093802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6P7kjk4UgFrjjL5siDZ0-GEv5H0E5vPFj94FuezxUQQkza4kd4VvWH0cknOVk3jllBQ1GN3JPSJ868S63aCUsRfWbEwj2J3wWU1gQn0lyGvD0ZeWpTw2ol3exSgEIbD_fQkcB600iiwfe/s400/IMG_20151105_093802.jpg" title="A damp dog walk in Abney Park." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A damp dog walk in Abney Park.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But all is not dreary. Our local <a href="http://www.stpaulswesthackney.org/" target="_blank">church </a>hall is hosting an evening of Sing Along A Sound of Music to raise money for UNICEF’s Sing for Syria appeal and my friend Liz has signed me up to help decorate the entrance to the hall in a suitably Austria en fête fashion. So last night, in Episode 1127 of my <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/profiles/4rM4c9FlBBJJMRmZxHdpsR0/jill-archer" target="_blank">Jill Archer</a> life, Liz came round to discuss the suitability of floral fabrics pulled messily from my craft cupboard and how many fairy lights was too many fairy lights. And by discuss I mean drink, and by fabric I mean wine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>The Sound of Music </i>is the first film I remember seeing, with my dad and my grandmother, aged about five or six, back in the day when small market towns still had cinemas, so it’s always had a special place in my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I also spent part of the summer I was 15 staying with friends of my parents in Vienna. My strongest memory of that trip is seeing women wearing dirndls in an entirely unironic fashion, to go to the office or walk to the post box. But I also remember eating liptauer, the hummus of the Austro-Hungarian empire, as a mid-afternoon snack. This spicy, paprika-spiked spread is terribly easy to make and I thought it would see Liz and I through our important decoration discussions. And it goes well with wine.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Liptauer</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0fzYOZC3YtFBuYvfzeFma9M2vCB_Et5MxjuKIM_CVOjxDnEjazkRjEhbQ_iU5ZTlunFHefD3xE7v-kRPxXJuvppjDTffhbKEYO5l4k4bSwi_C_matZrQhbo4CA3PXxk1yFXV0v8nWR2D/s1600/IMG_20151106_142257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0fzYOZC3YtFBuYvfzeFma9M2vCB_Et5MxjuKIM_CVOjxDnEjazkRjEhbQ_iU5ZTlunFHefD3xE7v-kRPxXJuvppjDTffhbKEYO5l4k4bSwi_C_matZrQhbo4CA3PXxk1yFXV0v8nWR2D/s400/IMG_20151106_142257.jpg" title="The things that make liptauer taste so good." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The things that make liptauer taste so good.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You can leave the butter out of this if you like (that’s not something I often say), and just make up the weight with more cream cheese or quark. Or you can substitute some cottage cheese for either. Just make sure it’s mixed until very well blended.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Serves 4 as a snack, or more as part of a selection of starters</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">100g butter, softened</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">200g quark (or cottage cheese, if that’s your thing)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">180g tub of cream cheese</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">3-4 cornichons, diced</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">3 spring onions, white and pale green part only, finely diced</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tbsp sweet paprika</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tbsp capers, rinsed if salted, roughly chopped</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 tsps white wine vinegar, cider vinegar or juice from the cornichon jar</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tsp caraway seeds</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A good pinch of hot paprika</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Salt and freshly ground black pepper</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To serve</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rye bread, more cornichons and other pickles, chopped boiled egg</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In a mixer or with a wooden spoon, beat the butter until smooth then beat in the quark and cream cheese a little at a time until very smooth. Beat the rest of the ingredients until well combined. Taste and season with more salt, pepper and/or vinegar or cornichon juice if required.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgarCO-95cTsO7vUj__Y2KXnpNbhnvNOXMew6l49lNoAM0S_3Xe0JXZDPRDy_jHvVlQxzRDpz8RkAqGAOcuzkHVKlfQVQT3EOG2gWukVzn2P1aR1r78ys5wzeE5VxHCN-OPVisVCT8QQFXA/s1600/IMG_20151106_143113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgarCO-95cTsO7vUj__Y2KXnpNbhnvNOXMew6l49lNoAM0S_3Xe0JXZDPRDy_jHvVlQxzRDpz8RkAqGAOcuzkHVKlfQVQT3EOG2gWukVzn2P1aR1r78ys5wzeE5VxHCN-OPVisVCT8QQFXA/s400/IMG_20151106_143113.jpg" title="Beating everything together." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Beating everything together.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You can make the liptauer up to a couple of days ahead. I suggest you make it at least a couple of hours ahead for the flavours to develop. Seal in a tub or in a bowl with clingfilm and remove from the fridge about an hour before you want to serve it. Give it a good stir, spoon it into a serving bowl and sprinkle over some hot paprika.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Serve with rye bread (you can lightly toast this if you like) and more pickles, and/or some chopped boiled egg.</span>Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-6656177792737290762015-11-03T16:52:00.000+00:002015-11-03T16:57:53.949+00:00I give you this on one condition...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ie4tqy73yTsG_THFoY0_nxj7dB36GLND-4PHzyt62-BNSSg-qMbOtyquSIrXCgQU00kpfzE4cVVIAXLywB_EaJQ3SGKqwcY1bODB_42eL-JJH80Lurqjzuu9vnWiNX49GQrLGi6J4Iln/s1600/IMG_20151102_131955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ie4tqy73yTsG_THFoY0_nxj7dB36GLND-4PHzyt62-BNSSg-qMbOtyquSIrXCgQU00kpfzE4cVVIAXLywB_EaJQ3SGKqwcY1bODB_42eL-JJH80Lurqjzuu9vnWiNX49GQrLGi6J4Iln/s400/IMG_20151102_131955.jpg" title="Mon petit potimarron." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mon petit potimarron.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I will only share this recipe with you on condition you do not use wretched leftover Hallowe’en pumpkin to make it. Yes, I know the world is noisy with magazines and papers and websites telling you, coaxing you, pleading with you - practically ordering you - to use this pitiful gourd in soups, cakes, curries and stir fries right now. But don’t. You’re better than that. Pumpkin ‘Jack of All Trades’, for it often he, is but tasteless, watery misery. His finest hour came when you shoved a candle into its sticky orifice and lit it. Let him go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Instead, use practically any other small pumpkin or squash. I used a small, heavy potimarron (this would be an excellent name for a proud but accident prone dog), often sold as uchiki kuri or onion squash in England. Crown Prince or butternut squash would also be excellent.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A trip to Pézenas market</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ljKIKiTXx4SuINLQFEwstD8SNfjqbbGrZRjot16ZKXRx6c776GPX4_mDHRH-y_rTY_W2De44yfKDNZe5P_YL_F-49I1tSAB7ZxPYQjBtKMUFKA9tK1YSMIJk5Xk66I0dZLE9QnGZzPog/s1600/2015-10-31+14.06.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ljKIKiTXx4SuINLQFEwstD8SNfjqbbGrZRjot16ZKXRx6c776GPX4_mDHRH-y_rTY_W2De44yfKDNZe5P_YL_F-49I1tSAB7ZxPYQjBtKMUFKA9tK1YSMIJk5Xk66I0dZLE9QnGZzPog/s320/2015-10-31+14.06.02.jpg" title="Across the vines to the oyster sheds and the sea." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Across the vines to the oyster sheds and the sea.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnf0K9ef0tZfMd0S0Q1MfeHufJO_fXApTFZQ6ZkK5LF0M1B7dWboU5iLYk481EboGiJ-SFZIcG6qwwY8ZeBqV-2C8Y7Jixj6wgFtqfJ0Uz_U-CVmV5SLpPMcYFzFYKg6EEVZvpWuce36QV/s1600/IMG_20151031_103055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnf0K9ef0tZfMd0S0Q1MfeHufJO_fXApTFZQ6ZkK5LF0M1B7dWboU5iLYk481EboGiJ-SFZIcG6qwwY8ZeBqV-2C8Y7Jixj6wgFtqfJ0Uz_U-CVmV5SLpPMcYFzFYKg6EEVZvpWuce36QV/s320/IMG_20151031_103055.jpg" title="So many beautiful mushrooms." width="314" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So many beautiful mushrooms.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQzRpxmBKj5VEEQphD4YhDWJAP04hS8HQWyBXBqk9AUPhiuRHHsZteRYXPuxgmqn6jMe0qPNTxVuyZaFiYHvQxdLfXJoMRmXgU7XmeeLBi7BjUEtRIdHKGzXjUXzOk2glGcJU3-W93zq8/s1600/IMG_20151031_103544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQzRpxmBKj5VEEQphD4YhDWJAP04hS8HQWyBXBqk9AUPhiuRHHsZteRYXPuxgmqn6jMe0qPNTxVuyZaFiYHvQxdLfXJoMRmXgU7XmeeLBi7BjUEtRIdHKGzXjUXzOk2glGcJU3-W93zq8/s320/IMG_20151031_103544.jpg" title="Gorgeous pink garlic." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Gorgeous pink garlic.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-J6TGzHO_dVjRraLSuw3Zp0hd1ZKq9jxPSdXBkWEOT3soWZJl1KXlQUBJeCBzeA40cFzjewdg-zy4g6cF28uU2L9UCvj2NPl6xzQumN0KtcijFUV6Qjq4AdWbG8LPh6Gnj_xm9UGX_nv/s1600/IMG_20151031_103207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-J6TGzHO_dVjRraLSuw3Zp0hd1ZKq9jxPSdXBkWEOT3soWZJl1KXlQUBJeCBzeA40cFzjewdg-zy4g6cF28uU2L9UCvj2NPl6xzQumN0KtcijFUV6Qjq4AdWbG8LPh6Gnj_xm9UGX_nv/s320/IMG_20151031_103207.jpg" title="If I were ever to be a princess, I would dearly love to be Princess Potato." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If I were ever to be a princess, I would dearly love to be Princess Potato.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7n6bHv6Nn-lPDBXZjE8V5dozb9_jiANY7XbEyXujbYbSnTA5Xm9k4QQuh1a9Yj9z6kFL3Gp54qvdgLnt0jtiU8fjLBc5rAGxwYlq1GTRzcwlLCUjiwREhS78bMspuGGp_wg3Q9utzDwoV/s1600/IMG_20151031_103305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7n6bHv6Nn-lPDBXZjE8V5dozb9_jiANY7XbEyXujbYbSnTA5Xm9k4QQuh1a9Yj9z6kFL3Gp54qvdgLnt0jtiU8fjLBc5rAGxwYlq1GTRzcwlLCUjiwREhS78bMspuGGp_wg3Q9utzDwoV/s320/IMG_20151031_103305.jpg" title="There has to be something wonderful about a region that has famous turnips. That’s my kind of celebrity obsession." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There has to be something wonderful about a region that has famous turnips. That’s my kind of celebrity obsession.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQBC-ZPysPrhXOq08nlpC6vrH9R9QoQUtNYFrtmSNNv96MZP0pF5acsFuiplg-mUfxZPU6_OsSSDYFZILzx0gpEDl9LSCTh-WnQ0US2OVB_0Zhz6bdNuawutPoId2WCO-s_mbPCsbcZ4TC/s1600/IMG_20151031_101714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQBC-ZPysPrhXOq08nlpC6vrH9R9QoQUtNYFrtmSNNv96MZP0pF5acsFuiplg-mUfxZPU6_OsSSDYFZILzx0gpEDl9LSCTh-WnQ0US2OVB_0Zhz6bdNuawutPoId2WCO-s_mbPCsbcZ4TC/s320/IMG_20151031_101714.jpg" title="I love the colourful Chinese cushions and bedspreads you find on market stalls here. Their bright patterns remind me a little of traditional Provençal prints" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I love the colourful Chinese cushions and bedspreads you find on market stalls here. Their bright patterns remind me a little of traditional Provençal prints.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Pumpkin, mushroom and chard gratin</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNkz4pQO0Py3ctSYdpNBkxCCPh4KqtPxOr84QZpuPT5we5fNHFbwtSGzN298IZekIHGZdv2d_mwYvR2TIJbOxOsIfEWLpHkRQ8woM64akWBzAZNiX4lJXAlpJadeXdFmN0fXktLYlP8yM/s1600/IMG_20151102_160959_hdr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNkz4pQO0Py3ctSYdpNBkxCCPh4KqtPxOr84QZpuPT5we5fNHFbwtSGzN298IZekIHGZdv2d_mwYvR2TIJbOxOsIfEWLpHkRQ8woM64akWBzAZNiX4lJXAlpJadeXdFmN0fXktLYlP8yM/s400/IMG_20151102_160959_hdr.jpg" title="Pumpkin, mushroom and chard gratin" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Serve hot, with a salad.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Remember, I’m on holiday so I’ve neither the inclination nor the equipment to weigh anything. These are approximate measurements but I’m pretty good at guessing. Just make sure you have enough crème fraiche mixture to lightly coat the vegetables and enough cheese to cover the top well and you’ll be fine</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Serves 4-8, depending on whether it’s the main event or a side dish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Butter, about 80g</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">About 600g prepared weight of pumpkin, a good-sized bowlful, peeled, deseeded and cut into cubes of about 1.5cm square</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 medium-large onion, diced</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A couple of sprigs of thyme if you have them</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The leaves from 2-3 pieces of chard (reserve the white part for another dish), shredded</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A couple of handfuls of mushrooms, wiped clean, any tough ends trimmed, and larger ones halved</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 garlic cloves, minced</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some crème fraîche, about 250g</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 eggs, lightly beaten</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 tsps Dijon mustard</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">About ½ tsp freshly ground nutmeg</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">About 140g gruyère cheese, coarsely grated</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Salt and freshly ground black pepper</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Melt a generous knob of butter in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add the pumpkin, onion, thyme if using, and some salt and pepper and sauté, partially covered and stirring from time to time, until the pumpkin is softened but still holds its shape. This should take about 20 minutes. Stir in the chard and stir until just wilted. Remove from the heat and set aside.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Preheat the oven to 190°C/170°C Fan/Gas 5. Butter a large gratin dish or Pyrex dish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In a separate frying pan, warm another generous chunk of butter over a medium-high heat and when it stops foaming, toss in the mushrooms and a generous pinch of salt. Cook until a lot of their moisture has evaporated and they start to take on some colour. Add the garlic, fry for a further minute and remove from the heat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In a bowl, beat together the crème fraîche, eggs, mustard and nutmeg. Season well with salt and pepper. Tip the pumpkin mixture into the gratin dish (remove the thyme sprigs if you’re using them) and scatter the mushrooms on top. Pour the crème fraiche mixture over evenly and give the dish a shake and a tap on the table to distribute the liquid evenly. Scatter the gruyère on top. Bake for about 30-35 minutes, until the mixture is bubbling and golden brown on top. Serve hot, with a green salad and some bread.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2EdRXyT_sx9kzTYYqTEpfqrkN2ZMgIAGHNIrEl6kJ43b-YqksJ0tSe682tUrKwO-bjLjWjyxAGjjO7uut9KcRWz6i2mG3Vy3WZfQvh7hD_GH9lTyFn3JCX7o39il5KE6oSkt4whUJlC10/s1600/2015-11-02+15.38.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2EdRXyT_sx9kzTYYqTEpfqrkN2ZMgIAGHNIrEl6kJ43b-YqksJ0tSe682tUrKwO-bjLjWjyxAGjjO7uut9KcRWz6i2mG3Vy3WZfQvh7hD_GH9lTyFn3JCX7o39il5KE6oSkt4whUJlC10/s400/2015-11-02+15.38.27.jpg" title="Pour on the crème fraiche mixture evenly." width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Pour on the crème fraiche mixture evenly.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH-uASDuJfo1nkwYG2TcokFNknNrIvJ0lH05bZPfiGQLYMMhiVDpDfqO9Vu__Xyd4eUskse6mh4MK4kU1AMHz2VT9ttIlylHMLvjAaHpKkkbVpS2qC7Qa5lBKNt0MFiNe0Iwsb5aiAufwb/s1600/2015-11-02+15.40.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH-uASDuJfo1nkwYG2TcokFNknNrIvJ0lH05bZPfiGQLYMMhiVDpDfqO9Vu__Xyd4eUskse6mh4MK4kU1AMHz2VT9ttIlylHMLvjAaHpKkkbVpS2qC7Qa5lBKNt0MFiNe0Iwsb5aiAufwb/s400/2015-11-02+15.40.46.jpg" title="Scatter on the cheese." width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Scatter on the cheese.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2p2Y9zFUTmaGYo9G-Wk6nMWYzdN66EHL6zPSeKbxlCxx3WMM-o1przaS4sukppGK5sPL5IebvaDijJaDO8RZHeTeD53f6BrtpmujDpC7HSeJqsWzdVXXIPJb-6Z6BmYBzBOUVvzjugaB/s1600/2015-11-02+16.06.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2p2Y9zFUTmaGYo9G-Wk6nMWYzdN66EHL6zPSeKbxlCxx3WMM-o1przaS4sukppGK5sPL5IebvaDijJaDO8RZHeTeD53f6BrtpmujDpC7HSeJqsWzdVXXIPJb-6Z6BmYBzBOUVvzjugaB/s400/2015-11-02+16.06.37.jpg" title="Remove from the oven when golden and bubbling." width="255" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Remove from the oven when golden and bubbling.</i></span></div>
Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-45156864003347851652015-11-01T17:06:00.000+00:002015-11-01T22:44:18.130+00:00Weightless Cooking Part Two: Not squirrel soup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhD5NflE-1NjvPKrnHoE-4Vf4EJBJw5_9P9b0u-CKmbOC6cSMqgbf1-icXQT35ukCQBHw_sIxz86tTM1OAfV28f_BnGmDC-8DsYTY-c6efoj5IkGLx6GOcY-GEdnQakVU52f4jx353l-4/s1600/IMG_20151030_101006_edit1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhD5NflE-1NjvPKrnHoE-4Vf4EJBJw5_9P9b0u-CKmbOC6cSMqgbf1-icXQT35ukCQBHw_sIxz86tTM1OAfV28f_BnGmDC-8DsYTY-c6efoj5IkGLx6GOcY-GEdnQakVU52f4jx353l-4/s400/IMG_20151030_101006_edit1.jpg" title="Cheesy advertising in Beziers" width="373" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I liked this cheesy advertising in Beziers.</span></i></div>
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Beziers is the closest city to us. It’s hilly. Even the water has to climb upward. Beziers is famous for the remarkable <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fonserannes_Lock" target="_blank">Fonserannes Lock</a>, a staircase of eight locks which allows boats to rise more than 20m up the Canal du Midi in the least possible distance, with the least possible fuss. Every August over a million visitors come here to the Feria, the bull fighting festival, just one of the reminders of how close we are to Spain, and that this part of France perhaps has more in common with its southern neighbour than the buttery, apple-y North.</span><br />
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On Friday morning we drove the 20 or so kilometres to town, to do some shopping, have some lunch. We started with the covered market, where we bought two kinds of olive oil and some honey vinegar. We managed to steer clear of the magnificently-flagoned bottle of vinegar ‘de région’ which cost 80€, which, incidentally, is the price of a kilo of pine nuts these days. </span><br />
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We walked down to the allées Paul Riquet, to explore the Friday flower market. Pierre-Paul Riquet was the mastermind behind the Canal du Midi, and Beziers favoured son. He certainly deserves his eponymous allées and the statue of him which stands proudly in the middle of the boulevard. </span><br />
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At this time of year, the market’s dominated by fat cushions of chrysanths, traditionally the flower of All Saints Day which falls on November 1. This is when French families remember their dead relatives by placing bouquets on their graves and, for this reason, in France chrysanthemums are associated with death. Tip: Do not take them as a gift for your host when invited to dinner in a French house and expect a warm reception. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsT0zbQpuPSrn24V8KOLHC2DpqSCivZPATWHjUaAy7Fp6123dC7dWqU8aQCu1VJpjlywuj9l8TbDdWNqgh284kQzEPSQaFmD-R_FGoT2z3TN8myzLalivV03ihsqSO5An93rUI__k9su8p/s1600/IMG_20151030_122915.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsT0zbQpuPSrn24V8KOLHC2DpqSCivZPATWHjUaAy7Fp6123dC7dWqU8aQCu1VJpjlywuj9l8TbDdWNqgh284kQzEPSQaFmD-R_FGoT2z3TN8myzLalivV03ihsqSO5An93rUI__k9su8p/s320/IMG_20151030_122915.jpg" title="Fat cushions of chrysanthemums, destined for family graves." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fat cushions of chrysanthemums, destined for family graves.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9U6t-r9YSnbYpVkgYLOt3UT6Cgo6H4nx-hKRJE2F9FiFqytHXvDBeldVygqEFykbbrKYGM8OlbE5pp0y-qEcLPkrQkyWUps9o0dHhjItagkZ7TQY_6xZlzmg6Zk5JqmVisUrSjicbP7YB/s1600/IMG_20151030_123031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9U6t-r9YSnbYpVkgYLOt3UT6Cgo6H4nx-hKRJE2F9FiFqytHXvDBeldVygqEFykbbrKYGM8OlbE5pp0y-qEcLPkrQkyWUps9o0dHhjItagkZ7TQY_6xZlzmg6Zk5JqmVisUrSjicbP7YB/s320/IMG_20151030_123031.jpg" title="Our word ‘pansy’ comes from the French word, ‘pensée’" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our word ‘pansy’ comes from the French word, ‘pensée’, which means thought, probably because their pretty, velvety petals look like thoughtful little faces.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcIXLDWBHOwBL2njy8lq6Vynqgcvsjp0edxt8f-9fwdy39YXnCpTOQXRcowA6PrugdYiWI14-5HIdOV5h7uhm8v6IZn_YrqqNB4y_2fAwt6SIsO7fC1hhyphenhyphen9r_P030JFxnPX11BMHxCWAU/s1600/IMG_20151030_122544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcIXLDWBHOwBL2njy8lq6Vynqgcvsjp0edxt8f-9fwdy39YXnCpTOQXRcowA6PrugdYiWI14-5HIdOV5h7uhm8v6IZn_YrqqNB4y_2fAwt6SIsO7fC1hhyphenhyphen9r_P030JFxnPX11BMHxCWAU/s320/IMG_20151030_122544.jpg" title="I like the French phrase for perennials, plantes vivaces. " width="289" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like the French phrase for perennials, plantes vivaces. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSOc_9SGwblWoxUdmOQGkyxr56D6ltfjkJ-iAyy15SBBx9sdJnDjaxFD6lGmjH3nhK97fpS0afcybLCGUlbuLxAOEj-D7KBYCbpXMGa2fyZDkHMSzfIx8ZkFJ8VfugtH8tMR5YFZ0SbJv/s1600/IMG_20151030_122657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSOc_9SGwblWoxUdmOQGkyxr56D6ltfjkJ-iAyy15SBBx9sdJnDjaxFD6lGmjH3nhK97fpS0afcybLCGUlbuLxAOEj-D7KBYCbpXMGa2fyZDkHMSzfIx8ZkFJ8VfugtH8tMR5YFZ0SbJv/s320/IMG_20151030_122657.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <i style="text-align: center;">Having previously found them redolent of dusty offices and school art rooms, I suddenly find myself yearning for a spider plant. The heart wants what it wants.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Walking back to the car, Séan lingered by the jewellery shop and then the posh handbag shop we’d passed on the way to lunch (steak frites at <a href="http://www.herault-tourisme.com/restauration/l-orangerie/tourisme-RESLAR0340070157-1.html" target="_blank">L’Orangerie</a>. I highly recommend it). Would I like something, an anniversary present? I clutched the bunch of anemones we’d bought at the flower market and told him no, really, these were enough. I am not a saintly person. I had already ascertained that a puppy was out of the question. But what I wanted in that minute, more than pearls and fine, supple leather, was to lie on our bed with the doors open onto the balcony, to breathe the soft air from the étang until I fell asleep. Sleeping in the day is something I never do at home and it seems such a holiday luxury, I try to sneak a nap in whenever I can. It’s absolutely more precious than rubies. Nothing I desire can compare with it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCOLODLULBZf5vMgPvf1cesgm6IOwBWNqa1vZFJn0R_c6i6VlfEGI4sAj026569Az7kUYPCHZbHThXkSyLC8hesplGe-DYqMJl8_s4mWs2vpGq2wDWVHAC_oJLX7YotXGbYk1IajBwd2P/s1600/IMG_20151030_131833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCOLODLULBZf5vMgPvf1cesgm6IOwBWNqa1vZFJn0R_c6i6VlfEGI4sAj026569Az7kUYPCHZbHThXkSyLC8hesplGe-DYqMJl8_s4mWs2vpGq2wDWVHAC_oJLX7YotXGbYk1IajBwd2P/s320/IMG_20151030_131833.jpg" title="Proper coloured chips at L’Orangerie." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Proper coloured chips at L’Orangerie.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9oQ9Au_oRLzafiZN01k2FUZqXrbQ0GZJyu7BmD0ZquDf1LOQpKQ1qIQUH2iHppT0szNgRX_pcFEYN-epO2-FkLw0X1nq8yHA2EI6baL9fEQRTkLt-KYoCDtHlnJKDES-Z8EslhOb3zskm/s1600/IMG_20151030_172921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9oQ9Au_oRLzafiZN01k2FUZqXrbQ0GZJyu7BmD0ZquDf1LOQpKQ1qIQUH2iHppT0szNgRX_pcFEYN-epO2-FkLw0X1nq8yHA2EI6baL9fEQRTkLt-KYoCDtHlnJKDES-Z8EslhOb3zskm/s320/IMG_20151030_172921.jpg" title="My anniversary bunch of anemones." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My anniversary bunch of anemones.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A couple of hours later, revived by sleep, entrecôte digested, it was time to think about dinner. I had some squid we’d bought in Agde market on Thursday, but I have none of the arsenal I have at home -the hundred or so pots of herbs and spices, the freezer bags of long-simmered stock, and every possible appliance to blend, grate, purée any ingredient to my will. Here I am in a kitchen with no stock, very few herbs, and because we’re only here for a week I don’t want to buy too much. </span><br />
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This is when it becomes important to sauté the onions properly and for long enough to round out their flavour, to use the skin and seeds of the tomato to profit from their fresh sweetness, to simmer the wine until it’s properly reduced, to season with salt and pepper throughout the cooking, and not just at the end. If you build flavour like this, you can get away with not using stock and it will still taste wonderful. </span><br />
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I think we can get too hung up on recipes and forget to trust our senses - does it look good, smell good and, most importantly, does it taste good? Does it need to simmer a bit more to intensify the flavours? Does it need some more salt (often it needs more salt – this is one of the reasons good restaurant food tastes so delicious)? Perhaps a pinch of sugar? Use-what-you-have cooking is the very best lesson I know in squeezing every atom of flavour out of your ingredients. And it’s a lesson we can carry into our full-arsenal everyday cooking too.</span><br />
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Things I have learned today:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJW2Os6Auwke0SUhXqc8I2fAFshqZu1CKJxDhLExSIHCEj4hga0QJp7NXcsQLNqbT0L-FKv2vZmqDOUSyjEfKcfW3sPjScpsu9fGlFhHKuiQfOXQ8q88hPVScr6LSpwawvc9L-1Qg13id/s1600/IMG_20151030_072356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJW2Os6Auwke0SUhXqc8I2fAFshqZu1CKJxDhLExSIHCEj4hga0QJp7NXcsQLNqbT0L-FKv2vZmqDOUSyjEfKcfW3sPjScpsu9fGlFhHKuiQfOXQ8q88hPVScr6LSpwawvc9L-1Qg13id/s320/IMG_20151030_072356.jpg" title="Dawn, Port Rive Gauche Apartments, Marseillan" width="270" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the view from our bed as the sun comes up.</span></i></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The sun comes up between 7.19am and 7.23am, rising swiftly from across the water and the road to Sète, turning the sky from pink to apricot to primrose, and filling the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89tang_de_Thau" target="_blank">étang</a> with rippled golden light.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the autumn, none of the markets sell baskets, even in Pézenas, possibly the most basket-tucked-firmly-into-the-crook-of-an-arm place on the planet. This can only be because no one shops between <a href="https://www.frenchentree.com/living-in-france/culture/la-rentree-frances-fourth-season/" target="_blank">la Rentrée</a> and Easter. I am a fool not to know this.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Squid, sorrel and potato soup</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih5KZKN3cLl-GIn_ZJzIGz2rY_GGuNEElsIQMS_6hV-bprssCsB4IZksQMrV7EODHkyYJYdMmxRro5Hp2f0ynCSv0AP8FCWgJzq1P5_k8uCXGkEu7RnpBjR7Ch7fHKRQB7Ly1uYaowNiKa/s1600/IMG_20151030_174744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih5KZKN3cLl-GIn_ZJzIGz2rY_GGuNEElsIQMS_6hV-bprssCsB4IZksQMrV7EODHkyYJYdMmxRro5Hp2f0ynCSv0AP8FCWgJzq1P5_k8uCXGkEu7RnpBjR7Ch7fHKRQB7Ly1uYaowNiKa/s400/IMG_20151030_174744.jpg" title="Squid, sorrel and potato soup" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />When I posted a picture of this on Twitter, half a dozen people tweeted me ‘When I first saw that, I read it as squirrel’, something to do with the SQUId soRREL thing I imagine. It made me think about how we name recipes. I suppose the convention with recipe titles is: most important ingredient first, most interesting ingredient second and then a workhorse ingredient that’s seldom going to be the headliner but puts in a full shift to make it delicious. So there you have it: squid, sorrel and potato. No squirrels were harmed in the making of this soup.</span><br />
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The sorrel adds a deliciously sharp flavour which is terrific with the squid. If you can’t find sorrel, use spinach and finish with a good squeeze of lemon juice.</span><br />
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<b>Serves 4-6</b></span><br />
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A slosh of olive oil</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 large-ish onion, halved and thinly sliced</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A few sprigs of thyme</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A bay leaf, if you have one</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 celery stick, finely diced, leaves reserved if you have them to use in the bouquet garni</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 large, ripe tomato, finely diced, skin, seeds and all – there’s lots of flavour in the skin and seeds</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">About 200ml white wine</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">About 750ml fish or light chicken stock, or water (I used water)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A bouquet garni of a few sprigs of thyme, some parsley stalks, and a few leaves of celery and a bay leaf if you have them, tied together with kitchen string</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 kg squid, well cleaned and cut into thick slices, tentacles left whole if small (about 750-800g prepared weight)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 large potato, peeled and cut into 1cm cubes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3-4 tbsps crème fraîche</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 bunch of sorrel, finely shredded, stalks and all</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3-4 tbsps roughly chopped parsley leaves</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Salt and freshly ground black pepper</span><br />
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In a medium-large, heavy-bottomed pan, warm the olive oil over a medium-low heat. Add the onions, thyme, bay leaf if you have one, and a good pinch of salt. Cook until the onions are translucent, stirring from time to time, about 20 minutes. Add the celery and cook for a further 5 minutes, until it’s softened slightly, then add the tomato and garlic and stir for 5 minutes. Pour in the wine and simmer, stirring, until it’s reduced by half. Add the squid, then the water or stock – you want enough just to cover the quid by a couple of centimetres or so. Throw in the bouquet garni, season with salt and pepper, and simmer gently, partly covered, until the squid is tender, about an hour to an hour and 15 to 20 minutes. Add the potato and cook until soft, about 15 minutes or so. Turn off the heat and stir in the crème fraîche, sorrel and parsley. The heat of the soup is enough to wilt the sorrel. You don’t need to cook it further.</span><br />
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Remove the thyme, bay leaf and bouquet garni. Taste and season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately, in warmed bowls.</span>Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-23968445521564622712015-10-29T23:06:00.002+00:002015-11-01T17:47:24.744+00:00The weightless salad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNZzm90hfxpDep_j9hTEX4FxuANBs87DtIq4-ympJy0UcNQW5P8toAfpkB_Bo5pJ4OJWgQOUuIW2NzJKU-VNrq5rj7OR-V_sZaRUdhwiwtPpiHxCW3RzT6aJvpAoqTtrCbs8i_YyfuNxZ/s1600/IMG_20151029_133516_hdr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNZzm90hfxpDep_j9hTEX4FxuANBs87DtIq4-ympJy0UcNQW5P8toAfpkB_Bo5pJ4OJWgQOUuIW2NzJKU-VNrq5rj7OR-V_sZaRUdhwiwtPpiHxCW3RzT6aJvpAoqTtrCbs8i_YyfuNxZ/s400/IMG_20151029_133516_hdr.jpg" title="Autumn: This morning’s haul from Agde market." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Autumn: This morning’s haul from Agde market.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A couple of weeks ago, I wrote this piece for the <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/food-and-drink/features/what-it-s-like-to-be-a-recipe-tester-culinary-secrets-celebrity-chefs-foibles-and-what-happens-if-a6695476.html" target="_blank">Independent on Sunday</a> about my life as a recipe tester and food editor. I described the seemingly endless weighing, measuring, washing, drying, retesting, the tearing of hair and rending of garments (#MyStruggle) in pursuit of the flawless, foolproof recipe for something you might want to make for your dinner. (Or not. There’s a horrifying statistic - no doubt created by an especially sadistic manufacturer of ready meals – that readers never make more than three or four recipes from any book they buy.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the things I love about being on holiday – along with sleeping late, reading a novel in a single gulp, and slummocking about with my hair lazily pulled back into a pony tail - is that holiday cooking is the opposite of work cooking. No measuring, note taking or trying to guess someone else’s intention, just the gentle pursuit of pleasure, inspired by wandering around the market or putting my nose round the cheese shop door and taking a good, life-affirming sniff. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, on the first day of our little holiday, we got up early and made the short trip to Agde for market day. It’s a journey we’ve made many times before, but we’re always here in spring or summer. As we drove through fields of golden-leaved vines, it was almost like visiting a different place. In the market, instead of summer’s peaches, cherries, melons and asparagus there were crates of pumpkins, walnuts and quince. And I bought what I liked, with no idea of what I was going to do with it and no scales to weigh it on when I did, I was cooking by instinct and inclination, changing the recipe as I chopped and grilled. The culinary equivalent of a lie in and a messy pony tail, and certainly none the less delicious for that.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1728gkURLu57KNaCYtYC4NmOeVtcWLxFtXO5qRSaDCJRGcG_iicT7XAg3ebmi0RV_fR2LPOYYhlLp_DeyUX_TX2yWvftBgk2fEL25HVx6ehH7eyUAHbWJ_1RG2FMy_fpYqpDojBzHVHNk/s1600/IMG_20151029_112535_hdr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1728gkURLu57KNaCYtYC4NmOeVtcWLxFtXO5qRSaDCJRGcG_iicT7XAg3ebmi0RV_fR2LPOYYhlLp_DeyUX_TX2yWvftBgk2fEL25HVx6ehH7eyUAHbWJ_1RG2FMy_fpYqpDojBzHVHNk/s320/IMG_20151029_112535_hdr.jpg" title="Cabbages and turnips" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cabbages and turnips</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikkOO6doX-ZF9-h5tcRvMNYuU4P6SVh7gwBJ8c6zyC0a_NWZTzOx67XLIS3aIuNgn2kML8iBn9WtXdkLcjLvEVRy9QqpBVSp098prCNZ37Y7Ty35eyjC0x4Ir9tkVFmob6rr1rvCdn203P/s1600/IMG_20151029_112341_hdr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikkOO6doX-ZF9-h5tcRvMNYuU4P6SVh7gwBJ8c6zyC0a_NWZTzOx67XLIS3aIuNgn2kML8iBn9WtXdkLcjLvEVRy9QqpBVSp098prCNZ37Y7Ty35eyjC0x4Ir9tkVFmob6rr1rvCdn203P/s320/IMG_20151029_112341_hdr.jpg" title="Pumkins and chard" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Pumpkins and chard.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgZQSVvdvNIdQ53HmMr3g8xKdxeKwq_pFTw1AQpBGmnctyMP0X4QVmYC5yK8Cjzb5Tktfsa4k3k04edFMpgvAsLRhRryOdlI65kP5UhYuXmlBXOBP-qEbRVw3IGqSwVwCLD2UYoNsVk4D/s1600/IMG_20151029_114724_hdr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgZQSVvdvNIdQ53HmMr3g8xKdxeKwq_pFTw1AQpBGmnctyMP0X4QVmYC5yK8Cjzb5Tktfsa4k3k04edFMpgvAsLRhRryOdlI65kP5UhYuXmlBXOBP-qEbRVw3IGqSwVwCLD2UYoNsVk4D/s320/IMG_20151029_114724_hdr.jpg" title="Beautiful dates" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Beautiful dates.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY0xVDtJLobwhCcSKH6NAQt56WhwIQRED3yl2iOSSDs34bp5FVQQF9tBKuz9utYzpXbaz6R1bDXdeeu1HALWpp4rWs9GSMrEmivPTti6CxzenSyFI_2MNHUD2_1AFK13LJlOhNUJBfbtmA/s1600/20151029_113011+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY0xVDtJLobwhCcSKH6NAQt56WhwIQRED3yl2iOSSDs34bp5FVQQF9tBKuz9utYzpXbaz6R1bDXdeeu1HALWpp4rWs9GSMrEmivPTti6CxzenSyFI_2MNHUD2_1AFK13LJlOhNUJBfbtmA/s320/20151029_113011+%25282%2529.jpg" title="Rose and violet garlic." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rose and violet garlic.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjTy5VzDAqsXiLmp4ED67VJkZTAB1uDyukwfMa3k6t7WXrzt2gSSp6UAIkmis5FDXGxyLy5wX1dR9jXaPCVjPcCMowafJwA6z9zywlC_hVD8sIyIOiqiRWDlDO4lWmmP0lZ-Eou7Y-xSH/s1600/IMG_20151029_111813_hdr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjTy5VzDAqsXiLmp4ED67VJkZTAB1uDyukwfMa3k6t7WXrzt2gSSp6UAIkmis5FDXGxyLy5wX1dR9jXaPCVjPcCMowafJwA6z9zywlC_hVD8sIyIOiqiRWDlDO4lWmmP0lZ-Eou7Y-xSH/s320/IMG_20151029_111813_hdr.jpg" title="My basket of greens and thyme." width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My basket of greens and thyme.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIX2YjdV7-PGOUGbWwfgMQuV_wScB03h5PffkKedjRB-KktpakohmhTlNDgprdM02LNhWtOpPPLor2Ut1os-QvlRdo-Ht5N4wMgcrmm3FVcXkgQVo3wjfaUXvwwU1GFdNLt0ZrbjtW4eVM/s1600/20151029_120256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIX2YjdV7-PGOUGbWwfgMQuV_wScB03h5PffkKedjRB-KktpakohmhTlNDgprdM02LNhWtOpPPLor2Ut1os-QvlRdo-Ht5N4wMgcrmm3FVcXkgQVo3wjfaUXvwwU1GFdNLt0ZrbjtW4eVM/s320/20151029_120256.jpg" title="Considerably cheaper than coffee." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>After the market, the traditional 10.30am glasses of</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>beer and wine at the Plazza.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Considerably cheaper than coffee.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbH1C70quTOtt__FpwM5RmimD9o3mVpobScXy3xilsbsxS7xBBwdRJkoXDEU77o3qoM5qQTBG9JDRr1i_8OhdDShswDG9-UOgXuBK2h7hdT6qHqybXkjmxYs-7ldXcUT1hRR4ZBocwU4XM/s1600/IMG_20151029_133701_hdr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbH1C70quTOtt__FpwM5RmimD9o3mVpobScXy3xilsbsxS7xBBwdRJkoXDEU77o3qoM5qQTBG9JDRr1i_8OhdDShswDG9-UOgXuBK2h7hdT6qHqybXkjmxYs-7ldXcUT1hRR4ZBocwU4XM/s320/IMG_20151029_133701_hdr.jpg" title="I’m matching my shoes and my vegetables." width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From now on, I’m matching my shoes and my vegetables. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I suggest you do too.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzn8xwY6xqErArmRNNgjnZtu4I2CT-67VjTAD5MTjOB8yDpVr5ay3BUgklw9kQ5H9QJWkYIsJDbMaY87s_xvsV6gp1RdLXiAciYkiWcQLOkuUSGLznLc_fHBoFdQPIGhuRvScVPofkz-0h/s1600/IMG_20151029_175213_hdr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzn8xwY6xqErArmRNNgjnZtu4I2CT-67VjTAD5MTjOB8yDpVr5ay3BUgklw9kQ5H9QJWkYIsJDbMaY87s_xvsV6gp1RdLXiAciYkiWcQLOkuUSGLznLc_fHBoFdQPIGhuRvScVPofkz-0h/s320/IMG_20151029_175213_hdr.jpg" title="Evening view from the apartment" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I’m not cooking, I’m mostly looking out at this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Stargazy salad, AKA Sardine, black radish and mustard greens</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_LSTcURRCAjsEQZa1gWKRHbrDrD4jFz1Midy3FdxGI8wHn5YlcefTI_EPpiqaFOL9hLq8y4vj9dlNfLa4lE3hpFCQoZW4D0nLrc_GYLDUrdID4Ki00yERHg7rBpg7N0fjSOa1N_67U3A/s1600/IMG_20151029_152739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_LSTcURRCAjsEQZa1gWKRHbrDrD4jFz1Midy3FdxGI8wHn5YlcefTI_EPpiqaFOL9hLq8y4vj9dlNfLa4lE3hpFCQoZW4D0nLrc_GYLDUrdID4Ki00yERHg7rBpg7N0fjSOa1N_67U3A/s400/IMG_20151029_152739.jpg" title="Stargazy Salad" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Stargazy salad</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I arranged this salad on the plate, it reminded me of Stargazy pie, the Cornish dish where the heads of the fish poke out of the pastry lid as if caught mid leap. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am the very last person to send a salad to do a pie’s job, but if it’s salad you’re after this is a good one. The rich flesh of the fish goes well with the peppery mustard greens and crunchy, fiery black radish. If you can’t find black radish, just use pretty breakfast radishes sliced as thinly as you can.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Serves 2-4, depending on how hungry you are and how much bread you might be inclined to eat along with it.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2g_T-Hf7W21_lvk6SOLVsh937Q_If8wl4tyYtt2Sg6BrEXE7Wx9K33fbkGY1YO-XKJgTmF3SXFg1rDF4t6B3S1TZId09JD58baHzKdrup-QO23fdbFagiUuV2I8ptFE5Xox_WvaNXbtVz/s1600/20151029_152945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2g_T-Hf7W21_lvk6SOLVsh937Q_If8wl4tyYtt2Sg6BrEXE7Wx9K33fbkGY1YO-XKJgTmF3SXFg1rDF4t6B3S1TZId09JD58baHzKdrup-QO23fdbFagiUuV2I8ptFE5Xox_WvaNXbtVz/s400/20151029_152945.jpg" title="Stargazy Salad" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 smallish black radish, about 120g</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Juice of half a lemon</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Olive oil, not too strongly flavoured </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">About 3 tbsps finely chopped parsley leaves</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finely grated zest of a small lemon </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 garlic clove, minced </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">10-12 sardines</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A small bunch thyme or lemon thyme </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 lemons </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The finely grated zest of a lemon plus couple of squeezes of lemon juice</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">80g pinenuts, lightly toasted, roughly chopped </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A handful of mustard greens, roughly torn</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Flaky sea salt and freshly ground black pepper </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>To serve </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bread and butter, if you like</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">First, make the salad. Peel the black radish and either julienne it very finely or grate it on the coarse side of a box grater. Dress it with a couple of squeezes of lemon juice and a trickle of olive oil. Toss it with the parsley, lemon zest and garlic, and some salt and pepper. Set aside while you cook the sardines.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Preheat the grill as hot as it will go (turn it on at least 5 minutes before you want to cook the fish). You can also cook these on a barbecue if you like.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic_8H7STZf48ANSQRh6mX-cjz-2RfVxbARsSL80brZU_sHBL1uZsqgmIy8uR6mXju2hEtuLVNw-HR4nUARJqQGZeXzKoUb5iT2nHRcRKYxU4coq0o3D27wRtTk2E87NqMcwt2Ki07vQdOA/s1600/IMG_20151029_150407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic_8H7STZf48ANSQRh6mX-cjz-2RfVxbARsSL80brZU_sHBL1uZsqgmIy8uR6mXju2hEtuLVNw-HR4nUARJqQGZeXzKoUb5iT2nHRcRKYxU4coq0o3D27wRtTk2E87NqMcwt2Ki07vQdOA/s400/IMG_20151029_150407.jpg" title="Ready to go under a hot grill" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ready to go under a hot grill</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Line a baking tin with foil. Cut one of the lemons into thick slices and arrange them on the tin. Scatter some sprigs of thyme over the top (save a tablespoon or two of fresh, soft thyme leaves to finish the salad with). Place the sardines on top of the lemon and herbs, trickle over a little olive oil and sprinkle on some salt and pepper. Grill the sardines until just cooked through – this should take about 3-4 minutes per side, depending on their size.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dress the mustard leaves very lightly in olive oil. Arrange them on a large plate. Heap the black radish salad in the middle and arrange the sardines around it. Scatter over the reserved thyme leaves, pine nuts and a good pinch or two of flaky sea salt. Serve immediately, with wedges of lemon.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqwe3aduEZEzuyeA2Bixhge9qM1uUgRdIq6-EZhJm4OXy0vEFx1L0t1RBeOU-Rl1ybY9lHVBqmYxLupEKSZ80tPg4msv5Ie5uX78cxocjvAa1QbvQYExMhMN43WhJ6hIbKTEzAm2YSREu/s1600/IMG_20151029_153239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqwe3aduEZEzuyeA2Bixhge9qM1uUgRdIq6-EZhJm4OXy0vEFx1L0t1RBeOU-Rl1ybY9lHVBqmYxLupEKSZ80tPg4msv5Ie5uX78cxocjvAa1QbvQYExMhMN43WhJ6hIbKTEzAm2YSREu/s400/IMG_20151029_153239.jpg" title="Looks heavenly doesn’t it?" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Looks heavenly doesn’t it? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I never quite lost fear that seagulls would </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">swoop in and steal our lunch...</span></div>
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Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-49301440640358341712015-10-26T01:34:00.000+00:002015-11-30T13:06:36.975+00:00Something for the train<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIX6EqfwbYYMk6qianddAcaN2V36Z16zURlXoV6Gf57WGsVoq8vhbIkJzH_-wfvd1IayZFlfZwz_ItnoIjVxOwV4YD32R3XKyj9CGS0y2CPHCzvj_uPi8hltbDgO3AZbelCxScVeG56Gp/s1600/20151023_174525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIX6EqfwbYYMk6qianddAcaN2V36Z16zURlXoV6Gf57WGsVoq8vhbIkJzH_-wfvd1IayZFlfZwz_ItnoIjVxOwV4YD32R3XKyj9CGS0y2CPHCzvj_uPi8hltbDgO3AZbelCxScVeG56Gp/s400/20151023_174525.jpg" title="The English seaside. Not for the faint hearted. " width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The English seaside. Not for the faint hearted. </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know those conversations. You’ve had them. Sitting around in the pub with your mates and someone suggests you club together to buy a barge, or take up Morris dancing, or go part shares in a racehorse. It’s going to be brilliant. And then it’s tomorrow and no one ever mentions the barge, or the jingle bells or the horse ever again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Only this time, Nick was at the table and he’s the most efficient person on the planet. When he suggested a trip to Blackpool, his hometown, to see the <a href="http://www.blackpool-illuminations.net/" target="_blank">Illuminations </a>and we said yes, the tickets were booked and the day planned before the condensation had even dried on those craft ale glasses. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">On Friday we took the 8.30am train from Euston. I’d packed a bacon and egg pie and an iced thermos of Bloody Marys. The six of us were in a high old state of excitement and I felt a little sorry for the people surrounding us, clearly on their way to work, hoping to get a few hours on their laptop to catch up with their emails or play games or whatever. We were definitely the people you didn’t want in your carriage. We’d made a good inroad into pie and bloodies and laughing when Kirstin said ‘Is it even 9 0’clock yet?’. It wasn’t. I was worried we’d peaked too early.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_W3ldli8TyyIKkd-Rj3MPqZJBc86oRtc0Dhp9RcXRJjvZxlovL9AjkpHR3X53mORJs5gHvn-xZu_tKP2mRof971qhHDmwKIIvaHy7f0fowZjtMDQL-xoxKviBDZnb5Uq450uTXN0_hLG/s1600/IMG_20151023_090737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_W3ldli8TyyIKkd-Rj3MPqZJBc86oRtc0Dhp9RcXRJjvZxlovL9AjkpHR3X53mORJs5gHvn-xZu_tKP2mRof971qhHDmwKIIvaHy7f0fowZjtMDQL-xoxKviBDZnb5Uq450uTXN0_hLG/s400/IMG_20151023_090737.jpg" title="Pie on a train." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pie on a train.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NxwEWTO_dxixkauEdaYfZSFmhrkZVT-sanPKRLBYQnUSFgPTry5muczTp3_RUDSqSDwFCCRPGDnI5ZoevcYCzO0weGxlQBKIs1p9aqh3Mdkg04p22y-PYxUYzM8p7Lgv3yJh_IanTIsW/s1600/IMG_20151023_005357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NxwEWTO_dxixkauEdaYfZSFmhrkZVT-sanPKRLBYQnUSFgPTry5muczTp3_RUDSqSDwFCCRPGDnI5ZoevcYCzO0weGxlQBKIs1p9aqh3Mdkg04p22y-PYxUYzM8p7Lgv3yJh_IanTIsW/s400/IMG_20151023_005357.jpg" title="Pie at midnight." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pie at midnight – last minute preparations for our train breakfast.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3DobEhTElC53_6DpUspZWMem8e15cpyjhy1kWDeekwO6rPgf1pDm5wPO_jjK18LJLtl5Q374vaV7VT7z7p0KiZ-4_GpiodL6txcOvtCdIEOunMMyHr_LUEolUZ44LohhldCVrjOXSYbF/s1600/20151023_101649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3DobEhTElC53_6DpUspZWMem8e15cpyjhy1kWDeekwO6rPgf1pDm5wPO_jjK18LJLtl5Q374vaV7VT7z7p0KiZ-4_GpiodL6txcOvtCdIEOunMMyHr_LUEolUZ44LohhldCVrjOXSYbF/s400/20151023_101649.jpg" title="Eccles cake v Chorley" width="225" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Train picnic: the Eccles cake v Chorley cake taste off, with some Lancashire cheese, naturally.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We hadn’t. We had a blissful day. This is what happened:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our bus got stuck in the funeral cortege of the <a href="http://www.blackpoolgazette.co.uk/news/local/updated-final-farewell-to-mixie-the-man-who-scared-off-the-krays-1-7533346" target="_blank">man </a>who allegedly kept the Krays out of Blackpool. Inside the vintage Austin hearse, his trilby sat on top of his coffin along with a huge cross of white chrysanths. On the side of the coffin, in foot-high letters, more white chrysanths spelled out ‘MIXIE’.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A delicious fish and chip lunch at <a href="http://www.seniorsfishandchips.co.uk/blackpool.php" target="_blank">Seniors </a>(National Fish and Chip Award winner, 2012). I highly recommend it. The fish is super fresh, the batter light, the chips a proper shade (not the pale, sad things which’ve barely flirted with the fryer you get in the South), and the staff are charming.</span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawa2BoWDLrMaYaORC7kQfAQy_XrbL_9z4fdYdBvOKXj-JlJ_awWlTAEfmTGbMmpj83PaO1-Zc0RonczfIXIpaQwM7qDNyqccYu7ZMT1iY28rcZaMDhLClEdM4jWpkR9qUNuaFFEm6lDWN/s1600/IMG_20151023_122650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawa2BoWDLrMaYaORC7kQfAQy_XrbL_9z4fdYdBvOKXj-JlJ_awWlTAEfmTGbMmpj83PaO1-Zc0RonczfIXIpaQwM7qDNyqccYu7ZMT1iY28rcZaMDhLClEdM4jWpkR9qUNuaFFEm6lDWN/s320/IMG_20151023_122650.jpg" title="Seniors for lunch." width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Seniors for lunch. Cod, chips, gravy, mushy peas and tea. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Note the correct colour of the chips.</span></i></div>
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<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I tried (very hard) and failed to win a pony key ring on the penny falls slot machine.</span></li>
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<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I got far too goosebumpy at the sight of elderly couples waltzing around the <a href="https://www.theblackpooltower.com/attractions/the-blackpool-tower-ballroom.aspx" target="_blank">Tower Ballroom</a> in their best shoes, so nimbly and with so much mutual devotion in their eyes, as the Wurlitzer played Sunny Side of the Street.</span></li>
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<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We whizzed up to the top of the <a href="https://www.theblackpooltower.com/attractions/the-blackpool-tower-eye.aspx" target="_blank">Tower</a>. I loved the views over the frigid North Sea and the rows of colourful Blackpool terraces. Nothing would induce me to step foot on the clear glass floor and look 380ft below to My Certain Death.</span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSoAnrXU-QB9E7d1Hk1tMLeHGRh_yDiD_leorM3cHJUTs0cxa9P0uPf-55hM4DllzHorc5fAfWifNeY_PhQkcluDmAtKEmHoDHLer-2tDuIcYCszqZqCp-UVVGl3y_RVdQpAeZZ7IG8m4/s1600/20151023_1542152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSoAnrXU-QB9E7d1Hk1tMLeHGRh_yDiD_leorM3cHJUTs0cxa9P0uPf-55hM4DllzHorc5fAfWifNeY_PhQkcluDmAtKEmHoDHLer-2tDuIcYCszqZqCp-UVVGl3y_RVdQpAeZZ7IG8m4/s400/20151023_1542152.jpg" title="Nothing would have got me onto the glass floor." width="225" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nothing would have got me onto the glass floor.</span></i></div>
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<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We skipped across the <a href="http://www.comedycarpet.com/about/" target="_blank">Comedy Carpet</a>, Gordon Young’s tribute to English variety. A pleasing number of terrible food-based gags.</span></li>
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<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We saw a murmuration of starlings swirling above our heads as we walked along the wide, wooden pier in the grey, growing dusk.</span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjn8H8uUf1v2o86NiVIb2hiJzz6YHjN6UbIZc9t1tbL-KcJM4T4L3NdGko_1vgYSjqJltCWKDggUJ_4eyyleb_JDDRJrkk7VjE2PUlmvY2Ff6IGzNpfLZc8Vt3x-B9mO3vIOJXT-CA-s2/s1600/20151023_175012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjn8H8uUf1v2o86NiVIb2hiJzz6YHjN6UbIZc9t1tbL-KcJM4T4L3NdGko_1vgYSjqJltCWKDggUJ_4eyyleb_JDDRJrkk7VjE2PUlmvY2Ff6IGzNpfLZc8Vt3x-B9mO3vIOJXT-CA-s2/s400/20151023_175012.jpg" title="We saw a murmuration of starlings swirling above our heads as we walked along the wide, wooden pier in the grey, growing dusk." width="225" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Pier</span></i></div>
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<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We rattled up and down the sea front on the tram, any city cynicism evaporating as the lights twinkled all around us.</span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYC9S06a-Sm2GVItM1-H0t40PrX5NPtN2I4drpW57UB1NCqqA9-01iQ4d4z9l54E3A6VkGVePga6xfm5QN1XlZG7NSCyndy4e0Pi8r52bvRBX-qMO5KQJwZz_nR5lSdDhhYrguSxccmUED/s1600/IMG_20151023_192204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYC9S06a-Sm2GVItM1-H0t40PrX5NPtN2I4drpW57UB1NCqqA9-01iQ4d4z9l54E3A6VkGVePga6xfm5QN1XlZG7NSCyndy4e0Pi8r52bvRBX-qMO5KQJwZz_nR5lSdDhhYrguSxccmUED/s400/IMG_20151023_192204.jpg" title="A tram, decked out with lights and dressed as an ocean liner." width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A tram, decked out with lights and dressed as an ocean liner.</span></i></div>
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<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We walked along the last part, enjoying the tableaux, listening to grandparents tell their grandchildren about the light shows they remembered from their own childhoods, reciting nursery rhymes, holding on tightly to tiny gloved hands.</span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lmJmx5G-Uhlyd41uvQGr7dXk3z7R7x8t3J8EIScXHoL4pah_ruxpIT3Z1rlxuJ8-vnqfBm3_Z9Ar20WSXCVlSlusWNdLLZdmR9IqjzagygI0KnQUxNNmtOjg-SYBMC3bNftgr3mJICv0/s1600/20151023_190551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lmJmx5G-Uhlyd41uvQGr7dXk3z7R7x8t3J8EIScXHoL4pah_ruxpIT3Z1rlxuJ8-vnqfBm3_Z9Ar20WSXCVlSlusWNdLLZdmR9IqjzagygI0KnQUxNNmtOjg-SYBMC3bNftgr3mJICv0/s400/20151023_190551.jpg" title="Alice in Wonderland." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Alice in Wonderland.</span></i></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Wine and cheese at Nick’s mum’s. We all agreed she looks like Helen Mirren.</span></li>
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<i><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What didn’t happen…</span></b></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I didn’t have candy floss, whelks, a hot dog or my fortune told by Madame Petulengro. I also still want that pony key ring from the penny falls. For these reasons I must go back.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Breakfast pie</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDXMLDztjZ7_s9cBqCHqMMgZ5KocALXL1-KMoOc0bcBcmZspa4vlcHuOaoE8nN4nQKRjo7QT1YAzh27prrEfbt215c00a-GDbBYNFDL0DGcvvahSrSqTG8x5sLzQIpt5XXMe0sSUkt3Kw/s1600/IMG_20151023_091120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDXMLDztjZ7_s9cBqCHqMMgZ5KocALXL1-KMoOc0bcBcmZspa4vlcHuOaoE8nN4nQKRjo7QT1YAzh27prrEfbt215c00a-GDbBYNFDL0DGcvvahSrSqTG8x5sLzQIpt5XXMe0sSUkt3Kw/s400/IMG_20151023_091120.jpg" title="Breakfast Pie - Note the whole eggs." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Breakfast pie - Note the whole eggs.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My great auntie Louie was an excellent baker and made delicious bacon and egg pies. Hers most definitely did not have pancetta in them, but I was trying to use up some things from the fridge and I had a nice chunk hogging a corner of the deli drawer. You can use just bacon if you like – just cook a bit of it to render out the fat to fry the onions in, and leave the rest raw to bake in the pie.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">SERVES 6-8 </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">For the pastry </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">400g plain flour, plus more for flouring the surface and rolling pin</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">¾ tsp fine sea salt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">100g lard, chilled and cut into cubes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">100g unsalted butter, chilled and cut into cubes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 eggs, lightly beaten</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2-3 tbsps iced water</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">For the filling</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">20g butter</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">80-100g pancetta, cut into small cubes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 onion, diced</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bay leaf</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">5-6 new potatoes, cooked and thickly sliced</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">4 slices streaky bacon, unsmoked or smoked, whichever you prefer, rind cut off and cut into small pieces</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">4 spring onions, white and pale green part only, finely sliced</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">6 eggs, plus 1 more for glazing and filling</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">80ml double cream</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 tbsps finely chopped parsley</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tbsp finely chopped sage leaves</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A few gratings of nutmeg</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To finish</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A couple of pinches of flaky sea salt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 tbsp finely chopped sage leaves</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To serve</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">HP sauce, if you like</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">First make the pastry. Whisk together the flour and salt in a bowl then rub in the lard and butter until it resembles coarse breadcrumbs – you still want some lumps of fat in the dough to ensure a nice, flaky pastry. Make a well in the middle and add the eggs a little at a time, using a knife to cut them into the mixture. Add just enough water to bring it together into a dough, kneading very lightly with your hands to bring it together into a smooth disc. Wrap in clingfilm and chill in the fridge for at least an hour. You can make this a day or so before you want to make the pie if you like. Of course, you can make this in a food processor but be very careful not to over process it – use the pulse button and only work it until it just comes together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lightly flour a clean surface and a rolling pin. Cut the dough in half and roll one piece out into a circle of approximately 30cm diameter. Use the pastry to line a 23cm loose-bottomed flan tin, pressing it gently into the corners, then trim and crimp the edges. Put it back into the fridge to chill. Roll the second half of the pastry out and trim into a 23cm circle (use a plate or the base of a flan tin as a template); place on a baking sheet and put it in the fridge. Chill the lined flan tin and the top for at least 30 minutes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">While the pastry is chilling, prepare the filling. Warm the butter gently over a medium heat and when it stops foaming, add the pancetta. Cook until it’s rendered some of its fat and turns lightly golden. Remove to a plate with a slotted spoon. Tip the onions into the pan with a pinch of salt and a bay leaf and reduce the temperature to medium low. Cook, stirring from time to time, until the onions are soft and translucent, about 15 minutes. Put the potatoes into the pan along with the reserved pancetta. Turn everything over for a couple of minutes then remove from the heat and discard the bay leaf. Cool.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Preheat the oven to 180°C/160°C Fan/Gas 4. Place the lined flan tin on a baking sheet. Prick the base and sides with a fork. Line the tin with crumpled baking parchment and fill with baking beans and/or uncooked rice or pulses. Bake for 18 minutes. Remove the parchment and baking beans. Return the flan tin to the oven and bake for 7-10 minutes until the base is completely dried out and beginning to turn golden.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Increase the oven temperature to 200°C/180°C Fan/Gas 6.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Spoon half of the pancetta, onion and potato mixture into the bottom of the pie. Scatter on the bacon and spring onions, then spoon the remaining pancetta mixture over the top. Using the back of a spoon, make six evenly-spaced hollows around the edge of the pie. Crack a raw egg into each of the hollows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining egg with the cream. Tip a couple of tablespoons of this mixture into a small bowl and reserve it to glaze the pie. Stir the sage, parsley and nutmeg into the remaining mixture and season well with salt and pepper. Pour over the top of the pie filling and give the tin a little shake to distribute it evenly. Brush the edge of the pie with some of the egg and cream wash. Carefully place on the remaining disc of pastry. It should be a good fit, with no overhanging pastry. Press it down firmly with your thumb or a fork to seal. Brush the top of the pie with the egg wash then sprinkle on the chopped sage and a little flaky sea salt. Cut three short slits in the middle of the pie to allow the steam to escape. Return the pie to the oven and cook for 30-35 minutes, until the pie is golden brown all over. Serve warm or cold, with brown sauce if you like.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">From the Comedy Carpet, some food-based gags…</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAHsjKoTprgZZbn-Dxv95Goh6sjsLvtMBZmk-H2c_zV77xftuRdnYSDQahB_md5dnYiuRY9ipv8hqF4xQoxRATKv_5Jn0tNbRNpK_2KL_1YsnP00VCbh8BsaOz2On7Pm7xYrxGqY6yQVh/s1600/20151023_161322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAHsjKoTprgZZbn-Dxv95Goh6sjsLvtMBZmk-H2c_zV77xftuRdnYSDQahB_md5dnYiuRY9ipv8hqF4xQoxRATKv_5Jn0tNbRNpK_2KL_1YsnP00VCbh8BsaOz2On7Pm7xYrxGqY6yQVh/s400/20151023_161322.jpg" title="Comedy Carpet - Coq au vin" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEK60OvrCfqsZYAb11zDykVXnsY7_Mqboytemohvrx_tUFuK7bJCRmB1arlpIHfR5-TCmV1zBuZt9S6BmLV6o0y0Z3LDFb1bUXjtLnWEvmm3aiSrAM6kM1q2tpc1fqeDMFPNfE-sSuDr-f/s1600/20151023_161406.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEK60OvrCfqsZYAb11zDykVXnsY7_Mqboytemohvrx_tUFuK7bJCRmB1arlpIHfR5-TCmV1zBuZt9S6BmLV6o0y0Z3LDFb1bUXjtLnWEvmm3aiSrAM6kM1q2tpc1fqeDMFPNfE-sSuDr-f/s400/20151023_161406.jpg" title="Comedy Carpet - Octopus" width="400" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNs9AIlocyPdhAik1ZuALHLM9cCxp5BnJyID561jqdsh3P-pUPnw3_IcKZLt_6A2LKXoSGGq7e05N_oTpHdhZ8knLP7Hgud3kL5H_5Gbe7EcpZ7qheXr8Gd2mjD7aqtBwcdEjSyZ-sH63a/s1600/IMG_20151023_161102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNs9AIlocyPdhAik1ZuALHLM9cCxp5BnJyID561jqdsh3P-pUPnw3_IcKZLt_6A2LKXoSGGq7e05N_oTpHdhZ8knLP7Hgud3kL5H_5Gbe7EcpZ7qheXr8Gd2mjD7aqtBwcdEjSyZ-sH63a/s400/IMG_20151023_161102.jpg" title="Comedy Carpet - Custard" width="400" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8wkV2URIrQqvHCucmwKNUbjbjTe4pZ3Sa5RzOtrW5v2Grs2T6z5O9mKpJnOMoP4nsLbhtDXyP64-qF7TS4qzN3qeM6urdhwdv7CDKrJmeELoLbuK1TCOhYwUYd526VtxxGCiV1EN871se/s1600/IMG_20151023_161218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8wkV2URIrQqvHCucmwKNUbjbjTe4pZ3Sa5RzOtrW5v2Grs2T6z5O9mKpJnOMoP4nsLbhtDXyP64-qF7TS4qzN3qeM6urdhwdv7CDKrJmeELoLbuK1TCOhYwUYd526VtxxGCiV1EN871se/s400/IMG_20151023_161218.jpg" title="Comedy Carpet - Chip Shop" width="400" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfVzcGHHWMWVAi9jB7KRYVyJ7E2nR1lTOyp0ene01X4YvuNd7IVHDQeJyvCsDrQia3hY-7T645XMsf1Ym-I6mHMOG2trO6Savtf_xBItsGlmJg31RMwif1Imh1EQ1mD_E-n4I459zsFZ2S/s1600/IMG_20151023_161255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfVzcGHHWMWVAi9jB7KRYVyJ7E2nR1lTOyp0ene01X4YvuNd7IVHDQeJyvCsDrQia3hY-7T645XMsf1Ym-I6mHMOG2trO6Savtf_xBItsGlmJg31RMwif1Imh1EQ1mD_E-n4I459zsFZ2S/s400/IMG_20151023_161255.jpg" title="Comedy Carpet - Reincarnation" width="400" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7C2HgyWGLWQUkqx_pbvAtWy7uG-5EpCZqsDXhNWXVbadLLNSDpLOqG7nAYyGFZvYEmXEMoMwkpyYwIxWxiAZbzZjRwlfzobDHt4kNLEFWTKTDbi8rDNC2TwIicdiCxQ6tR-ER8Qv3u0xo/s1600/IMG_20151023_162053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7C2HgyWGLWQUkqx_pbvAtWy7uG-5EpCZqsDXhNWXVbadLLNSDpLOqG7nAYyGFZvYEmXEMoMwkpyYwIxWxiAZbzZjRwlfzobDHt4kNLEFWTKTDbi8rDNC2TwIicdiCxQ6tR-ER8Qv3u0xo/s400/IMG_20151023_162053.jpg" title="Comedy Carpet - Beef & Soup" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-52044966373375007562015-10-22T00:36:00.001+01:002015-11-01T23:42:53.103+00:00An apple cake, to eat warm or cold<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5l7uYMt9W8IclUiJrkBywAi8EXgTM2GcoUbQltOxKcI2ioVXcjIIAEcv35fS8bLwprzvtuXO0hlWviqja2_lCYklK8aKMs1px4t76VCX5U1lYSSLK9p9AaMyXP8B8rBqO6PxU_iHtw2n/s1600/IMG_20151020_143714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5l7uYMt9W8IclUiJrkBywAi8EXgTM2GcoUbQltOxKcI2ioVXcjIIAEcv35fS8bLwprzvtuXO0hlWviqja2_lCYklK8aKMs1px4t76VCX5U1lYSSLK9p9AaMyXP8B8rBqO6PxU_iHtw2n/s400/IMG_20151020_143714.jpg" title="Cake and Ice cream" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">You know about my surfeit of apples.
This is one of the other ways I’ve been using them up, with a recipe that
wobbles tenderly between pudding and cake, something to be eaten warm at the
end of an autumn dinner or cold with a cup of something, either at tea time or
better yet, at breakfast like a sybaritic bircher muesli.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">When the cake comes out of the oven
its quite soft. That’s the moment to serve it with some good vanilla ice cream or
clotted cream. As it cools, it firms up a little and then it’s good with thick
cream or yoghurt (or simply on its own, if it’s Lent or something).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">When I was thinking about this
recipe, I had in my mind a simple apple cake, with chunks of apple and just
enough sweet cake mixture to hold them together. This I based on Marie-Hélène’s
Apple Cake from Dorrie Greenspan’s </span><a href="http://doriegreenspan.com/around-my-french-table.html" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: blue;">Around My French
Table</span></a><span style="line-height: 115%;"> (if you have even the tiniest of a glimmer of a Francophile in you,
you should have this book. It’s a treasure), adding a bit of cardamom because I
love it with apples, and a slosh of applesauce for texture and because I have
jars and jars of it. Then I thought scattering on a streusel topping would be
good, partly because I just like the word streusel and also because adding a
little walnut crunch to the sweetness is always a good thing.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHvQfobDnignBCl4ox6o5WXgswKCEQUsIsemhVXnXtREvhfKlOFy-LcDICoaQ0ifUQqb7HsnW72dUGUNURVTSrFG2YH_8r8TAinw7Q-CF3CQjvqOvjH2qf25spGXFgVaFKR_Rj9ETHwE3/s1600/IMG_20151020_141021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHvQfobDnignBCl4ox6o5WXgswKCEQUsIsemhVXnXtREvhfKlOFy-LcDICoaQ0ifUQqb7HsnW72dUGUNURVTSrFG2YH_8r8TAinw7Q-CF3CQjvqOvjH2qf25spGXFgVaFKR_Rj9ETHwE3/s320/IMG_20151020_141021.jpg" title="Warm, it's more like a pudding, cold it's more like a cake" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 18.4px;">Warm, it’s more like a pudding, cold it’s more like a cake.</span></i></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">For the cake:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">140g plain flour</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">1 tsp baking powder<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">1 tsp ground cardamom<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">½ tsp salt<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">4 apples* <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">2 large eggs<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">150g caster sugar<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">3 tbsps dark rum<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">1 tsp vanilla extract<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">120g unsalted butter, melted and
cooled, plus a little more for greasing the tin<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">150g cooked, puréed apple</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">For the streusel:</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">60g plain flour</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">60g unsalted butter, cut into small
cubes<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">60g light muscovado sugar<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">60g shelled walnuts, chopped</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">* It’s good to use a combination of
apples if you can, for the combination of textures and flavours. I used a
Bramley, a James Grieve and a couple of Cox’s.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Preheat the oven to 190°C/170°C
Fan/Gas 5. Grease a 23cm springform tin with some of the butter. Line with
baking parchment and butter the parchment. Place the tin on a baking tray.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">To make the streusel, in a small bowl rub together the flour
and butter until roughly combined – you still want the butter to be in quite
big pieces - then mix in the rest of the ingredients. Set aside. </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">In a separate bowl, whisk the flour, baking powder,
cardamom and salt together in a bowl until well combined and aerated.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Peel the apples, core them and cut
them into large-ish chunks. Wedges of about 3-4cm are about right.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Put the eggs and sugar into the bowl
of a stand mixer with the whisk attached (of course, you can do this by hand if
you prefer. It’s not one of those cakes which is terribly arduous). On a medium
speed, whisk them together until light and foamy – a ribbon of batter should
remain on the top of the mixture for a second or two when you lift up the
beaters. Whisk in the rum and vanilla.</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Remove the bowl from the stand
mixture and with a spatula, first stir in half of the flour then half of the
butter. Gently fold in the remaining flour, then the butter until only just
combined. Fold in the applesauce, then the cut apples just until they’re evenly
coated with batter. Scrape the mixture into the tin and smooth it down gently.
Sprinkle on the streusel topping and bake for 50-60 minutes – it should be
golden on the top and feel slightly springy to the touch, but still have some
softness to it.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRz0vCxq5-dZDxpLHeJcLJIhWVbaaXlYwuo7UkqMVxxRyi6E2Jl0v8j-6vkFr6h0bHZxY78BOGBbfTKtnQjg1a57z9piVO_h3z63mE0_GsWNLCDupRaedYwk6hGwDWUcBDWfX-XcnNE4z/s1600/IMG_20151020_125753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRz0vCxq5-dZDxpLHeJcLJIhWVbaaXlYwuo7UkqMVxxRyi6E2Jl0v8j-6vkFr6h0bHZxY78BOGBbfTKtnQjg1a57z9piVO_h3z63mE0_GsWNLCDupRaedYwk6hGwDWUcBDWfX-XcnNE4z/s400/IMG_20151020_125753.jpg" title="Scattering on the streusel" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 18.4px;">Scattering on the streusel.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Cool in the tin for 10 minutes. Run a
thin knife around the edge of the tin, release the catch and carefully remove
the cake. Gently peel off the parchment and either serve warm as a pudding,
with ice cream or clotted cream, or cold, with whatever you like. It will keep,
covered, for a couple of days.</span></div>
Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-73375041129117993752015-10-18T01:41:00.002+01:002015-10-18T23:39:33.521+01:00My favourite apple pie <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn50E9l5d4ny3lrlevWMV7fEJ-tTGROXdtRxVx7-GTF7yQZzvLYwX-qo84YlV4Xz1JqnIOkYvTI-1dhc4x69f3alreezEqgiSu33gDCVOUsQ70My426Xk1IHlYNDG0HDIZWKjFEhyphenhyphenuUgzg/s1600/IMG_20150920_181845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sour cream apple pie" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn50E9l5d4ny3lrlevWMV7fEJ-tTGROXdtRxVx7-GTF7yQZzvLYwX-qo84YlV4Xz1JqnIOkYvTI-1dhc4x69f3alreezEqgiSu33gDCVOUsQ70My426Xk1IHlYNDG0HDIZWKjFEhyphenhyphenuUgzg/s400/IMG_20150920_181845.jpg" title="Sour cream apple pie" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve been going a little crazy with
the apples. The two young trees in our small city garden (a Bramley, because
you have to, and a James Grieve) are bent low with fruit. Friends arrive from
the country, or from their own corners of the city, with more bags of apples.
The whole house smells of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve juiced them and stirred them
into cakes and puddings. At night, I let the dog out, turn on the dishwasher,
lock up the house and spoon another batch of cooked apples into their muslin
hammocks so they can drip drip drip their juice into bowls, to be made into
herb jellies in the morning.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtJiiuZybZVBm5f4Q24UgNDCS_Ob3LnqhxDJBsHjD6z7zposolDS0dgqydE_rNQKjisl9Qu8nRJkLEa7ztPYyFgbe7j85VcpngqoSV0d3zAy4iijiTCGlXNbkqdINHOjK8y9tUxtIRs97/s1600/IMG_20150927_173616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtJiiuZybZVBm5f4Q24UgNDCS_Ob3LnqhxDJBsHjD6z7zposolDS0dgqydE_rNQKjisl9Qu8nRJkLEa7ztPYyFgbe7j85VcpngqoSV0d3zAy4iijiTCGlXNbkqdINHOjK8y9tUxtIRs97/s320/IMG_20150927_173616.jpg" title="Friends arrive with apples." width="320" /></a></div>
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<em>Friends arrive with apples.</em></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And twice now, I’ve made this pie. It
comes from </span><a href="http://www.abebooks.co.uk/book-search/title/the-silver-palate-cookbook/author/rosso-julee-lukins-sheila-mclaughlin-michael/pics/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: Calibri;">TheSilver Palate Cookbook</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, an enormous favourite of mine, picked up on a trip
to America in the 80s and now falling apart from decades of love and overuse. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m terribly keen on the cosy look of
lattice-topped pie, something that would look good cooling on Laura Ingalls’
window sill in Walnut Grove. I could try and tell you how to do it here, but it
would go on for ages and we might fall out. What you need is something from
YouTube like </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ygllxXBySI" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: Calibri;">this</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> (if
only for the use of the word ‘cattywampus’ at 8.05). For happiness, try to
banish from the kitchen anyone who might be inclined to chip in with ‘You’re
doing it wrong!’ at any stage. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Silver Palate Sour-Cream Apple Pie<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg85fa3I5kxpnK1pv5r_epE5H1MRAUqsu-kiAGV9HAn8xFtjMAXc6YicybnryM_9YSlU05bxWiIVZu4uwdOMYb7q3Ci1ogjBhyFwZRIhCLKwnpiQNUakdXFignvaY9ElgoEX8IffCLgow5V/s1600/IMG_20150920_170757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg85fa3I5kxpnK1pv5r_epE5H1MRAUqsu-kiAGV9HAn8xFtjMAXc6YicybnryM_9YSlU05bxWiIVZu4uwdOMYb7q3Ci1ogjBhyFwZRIhCLKwnpiQNUakdXFignvaY9ElgoEX8IffCLgow5V/s320/IMG_20150920_170757.jpg" title="Making the lattice" width="320" /></a></div>
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<em>Making the lattice.</em></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This makes a deep pie with a tender
crust - as it cooks, the topping bubbles and melts into caramelised
lusciousness under the pretty lattice. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Serve it warm or at room temperature with
thick cream, clotted cream or good vanilla ice cream.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve metric’d the ingredients here, because
we’re not actually in Walnut Grove, and I link here to the </span><a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/silver-palate-sour-cream-apple-pie-106665" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: Calibri;">method</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
from </span><a href="http://www.epicurious.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: Calibri;">epicurious</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used a mixture of James Grieve apples and
Cox’s Orange Pippins – you don’t really want the fluffiness of Bramleys here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to toast the walnuts very lightly in
the oven before mixing them into the topping, about 5-6 minutes on an oven tray
at 180°C/160°C Fan/Gas 4 should do it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the crust:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">320g plain flour<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">60g caster sugar<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">¾ tsp salt<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">¾ tsp ground cinnamon<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">90g butter, chilled and cut into
small cubes<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">90g lard, chilled and cut into small
cubes<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4-6 tbsps chilled apple juice or
water<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the filling:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5-7 tart apples<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">160ml sour cream<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">75g caster sugar or vanilla sugar<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 egg, lightly beaten<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">¼ tsp salt<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 tsp vanilla extract<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3 tbsp plain flour<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the topping:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3 tbsps light muscovado sugar<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3 tbsps granulated or demerara sugar<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 tsp ground cinnamon<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">120g shelled walnuts (see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">note</i> in introduction), roughly chopped</span></span><br />
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<em>Filling the pie.</em></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr3uDqI2y7xxCRcuYhOyAH00kctbQh5Pf-XEZhDEvRvjMp8WqJwlvIFXjUsTg6ZpSOZUW7cCShQs9IAMGW06djL-q-0ORlpe8K7qefwb2oDrybxYwDKNzH3J2VPrUgZR6vVkoG9Couz3Vf/s1600/IMG_20150920_171156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr3uDqI2y7xxCRcuYhOyAH00kctbQh5Pf-XEZhDEvRvjMp8WqJwlvIFXjUsTg6ZpSOZUW7cCShQs9IAMGW06djL-q-0ORlpe8K7qefwb2oDrybxYwDKNzH3J2VPrUgZR6vVkoG9Couz3Vf/s320/IMG_20150920_171156.jpg" title="Crimped." width="320" /></a></div>
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<em>Crimped.</em></div>
<br />Lickedspoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629183637890893110noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-30221353351298718792014-12-06T12:18:00.001+00:002015-10-18T13:31:43.306+01:00My favourite cookbooks of 2014 <br />
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-oI0pKC0vLfU/VIL7NJNHkEI/AAAAAAAADzI/q2NK6FBfukM/s1600-h/DSCF2029%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF2029" border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bOXgs7AOqhQ/VIL7N85jwsI/AAAAAAAADzM/dNeCgZvY52I/DSCF2029_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="471" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="My favourite cookbooks of 2014" width="414" /></a> </div>
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I love a list. They are everyday poems. But if there’s one thing I love as much as a list, it’s books, with the subset of cookbooks having a particularly warm place in my heart. These are the books I’ve loved most this year, the ones which have a place on my kitchen shelves rather than the ones upstairs in my office. There’s barely a week that I haven’t reached for them, stuck in another Post-It note, made another shopping list. If you’re looking for inspiration for your Christmas list, either for yourself or others, I hope you find it useful. <br />
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<b><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zXNlnKgDEAk/VIL7ORhrlDI/AAAAAAAADzY/hvV1Z5dWBSo/s1600-h/DSCF2011%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF2011" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JYuHMDrfsQQ/VIL7PCcvMBI/AAAAAAAADzc/JPjb1oeiNvg/DSCF2011_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="A Year at Otter Farm" width="414" /></a></b> </div>
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<b>A Year at Otter Farm: Inspiring recipes through the seasons by Mark Diacono </b><b>(Bloomsbury, £25)</b> <br />
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Mark was the head gardener at River Cottage and is the owner of the country’s first and only climate change garden. In <i>A Year At Otter Farm</i>, he shares stories and recipes from his smallholding with characteristic candour (‘Sheep are a lovable pain in the arse.’) and much joyful optimism, in the face of blight, scab, frost and floods. Though some of the ingredients may seem exotic, most of the recipes are very straightforward. Lots of preserves and cheering flavoured booze too. <br />
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<b>MY MOST-USED RECIPES: </b>Warm salad of Padron peppers, sugar snaps, cherries and halloumi; Pot roast chicken with grapes in milk; Blackcurrant leaf sorbet; Walnut tart. <br />
<b>BEST FOR</b>: Adventurous allotmenteers, those who love to keep their cookbooks on their bedside tables. <br />
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<b>River Cottage: Light and Easy by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall (Bloomsbury, £25)</b> <br />
Great, everyday recipes which happen to be dairy- or wheat free. Perfect for busy cooks who want some inspiration for lively, delicious weekday cooking (though there’s plenty for more celebratory occasions too). <br />
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<b>MY MOST-USED RECIPES: </b>Buckwheat noodles with wakame and ginger; Lamb with cauliflower and chickpeas; Chocolate and avocado mousse with honeyed strawberries. <br />
<b>BEST FOR</b>: Happy eaters who happen to be dairy- or wheat-free, or would like to be. <br />
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<b><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-esz6fl5iJSc/VIL7P62NpfI/AAAAAAAADzo/LzaRuWCDLxU/s1600-h/DSCF2006%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF2006" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-XzuidRPDS9g/VIL7QeCes4I/AAAAAAAADzs/kP_rEzUL0sE/DSCF2006_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Persiana" width="414" /></a></b> <br />
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<b>Persiana: Recipes from the Middle East and beyond by Sabrina Ghayour (Mitchell Beazley, £25)</b> <br />
Some people have hospitality in their DNA and supper-club doyenne, Sabrina Ghayour is one of them. Her lively, punchy, colourful recipes may draw inspiration from her Iranian heritage but they’re filtered through the eyes of a thoroughly modern, busy Londoner.<br />
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<b>MY MOST USEDRECIPES: </b>Persian bejewelled rice; cumin-roasted carrots with honey-lemon dressing and goats’ cheese; lamb and sour cherry meatballs. <br />
<b>BEST FOR</b>: Generous spirits in a hurry. <br />
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<b>A change of Appetite: Where healthy meets delicious by Diana Henry (Mitchell Beazley, £25)</b> <br />
If you love food, sometimes a little too much, then Diana Henry’s latest book is your friend. Lots of gorgeous, colourful recipes - her genius for combining flavours and her friendly, encouraging tone make this one of my most-used books this year. <br />
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<b>MY MOST-USED RECIPES: </b>Japanese ginger and garlic chicken with smashed cucumber; Spiced pork chops with ginger and mango relish; Spiced quail with blood orange and date salad <br />
<b>BEST FOR</b>: Health-by-stealth sybarites <br />
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<b><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QYJRLlnIyVk/VIL7Q1_sr1I/AAAAAAAADz4/6YMa6YYShIQ/s1600-h/DSCF2020%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF2020" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KxauiLGHth4/VIL7RUhmXCI/AAAAAAAADz8/3HxZLgJ_DtY/DSCF2020_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Best Ever Dishes" width="414" /></a></b><br />
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<b>Best Ever Dishes by Tom Kerridge (Bloomsbury, £25)</b> <br />
In the interests of full disclosure, I edited this book by the two-Michelin-star-holding chef patron of The Hand and Flowers in Marlow. Recipe testing for this book was some of the best fun I had in the kitchen this year and instantly made me the most popular person in my street, as I shared out the spoils. Tom is a big guy with a big heart and a love of BIG FLAVOURS. It’s not a book for spur-of-the-moment cooking, but it’s just the thing for weekend kitchen warriors. <br />
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<b>MY MOST-USED RECIPES: </b>Slow-roast harissa lamb with lime couscous; Sticky drumsticks; Raspberry rose water jellies with sweet cheese. <br />
<b>BEST FOR</b>: Adventurous blow-torch-wielding kitchen geeks.<b></b> <br />
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<b>Plenty More by Yotam Ottolenghi (Ebury Press, £27)</b> <br />
More vegetable-and grain-based brilliance from Yotam Ottolenghi, the man who perhaps more than any other taught us that herbs are an ingredient, not a garnish. One of the things I love about this book is that the chapters are divided into cooking method rather than course or ingredient, because often more than a particular food or flavour, what we yearn for is a texture – mashed, grilled, braised or fried, pick the dish to match your mood. <br />
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<b>MY MOST-USED RECIPES: </b>Peas with sorrel and mustard; red onions with walnut salsa; roasted Brussels sprouts with pomelo and star anise; Caramelised fig, orange and feta salad. <br />
<b>BEST FOR</b>: Aesthetes and flavour freaks. <br />
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<b>Honey & Co Food from the Middle East by Sarit Packer and Itamar Srulovich (Salt Yard, £25)</b> <br />
This husband-and-wife team worked at Ottolenghi, went on to open their tiny, charming café off the very un-charming Tottenham Court Road and then created this book, which is full of generous, loving, exuberant dishes with modern Middle Eastern flavours. It’s intensely happy-making food. <br />
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<b>MY MOST-USED RECIPES: </b>Octopus in meshwiya sauce with celery salad; Slow-cooked lamb shoulder with plums and roses; Feta and honey cheesecake on a kadaif pastry base. <br />
<b>BEST FOR</b>: Those happiest feeding a crowd. <br />
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<b><span style="color: red;"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VZhg9VKUPoc/VIL7R4W5AlI/AAAAAAAAD0I/FBWQNZMc0Tw/s1600-h/DSCF1995%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1995" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-82lR2mkUpSE/VIL7SnkTktI/AAAAAAAAD0M/wH3BEXiBz2E/DSCF1995_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Make Mine a Martini" width="414" /></a></span></b><br />
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<b>Make Mine a Martini: 130 cocktails and canapés for fabulous parties by Kay Plunkett-Hogge (Octopus, £14.99)</b> <br />
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A glorious combination of cocktails – from perfectly-made classics, to entirely new inventions, and plenty of non-alcoholic drinks for kids and on-the-waggoners – and food to go with cocktails, all described at a rattling pace in K P-H’s knowledgeable and engaging style. In my house, I vote this book ‘Least Likely To Be Left On The Shelf’. <br />
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<b>MY MOST-USED RECIPES: </b>The gimlet; the fine and dandy; the Somerset leveller; fig anchoïde. <br />
<b>BEST FOR: </b>I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t love this book. That tells you all you need to know about my friends. <br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4orEMhdYAgk-PL0ZPkDIgXWAkyR82IzgCzl3MpBBshmH81ueezhIEo2GkwtBAhr8omjuTJ1-yrSsYF_iDANF7OYntOlG6E5YMx4Jm_xdIw5GeoKm1Q-bs4n_OQ3okGBbcSRvjzpDsl5E/s1600-h/DSCF1996%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1996" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-EQoCMk9W5jw/VIL7T9NiULI/AAAAAAAAD0c/WlyX7n05SNc/DSCF1996_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Perfect Preserves" width="414" /></a></b> <br />
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<b>Perfect Preserves: 100 delicious ways to preserve fruit and vegetables by Thane Prince (Hodder & Stoughton, £25)</b> <br />
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If you want one book to help you ride the fashionable preserving wave, make it this one. Thane is the preserving expert on <i>The Big Allotment Challenge</i> and knows her curd from her butters, her relishes from her chutneys. My friend Fi and I call her Obi-Jam Kenobi. She knows all. <br />
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<b>MY MOST-USED RECIPES: </b>Quince jelly with cardamom and vanilla; Bread and butter pickles; Blackcurrant cordial. <br />
<b>BEST FOR: </b>The well preserved, or those who would like to be. <br />
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<b><span style="color: red;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zq7chwkvZ6Y/VIL7UWLq9II/AAAAAAAAD0o/wqitClzUaok/s1600-h/DSCF2002%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF2002" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ENSxVXJD4_I/VIL7VBX7NdI/AAAAAAAAD0s/yB0gs0IyQZ4/DSCF2002_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Made in India" width="414" /></a></span></b> <br />
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<b>Made in India, Cooked in Britain: Recipes from an Indian family kitchen by Meera Sodha (Penguin/Fig Tree, £20)</b> <br />
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This is home cooking at its very best, heart- and soul-warming recipes, many of them satisfyingly simple and swift. Meerha Sodha grew up in Lincolnshire watching her mother cook the family dishes of her Gujarati heritage and she shares some of them here, along with other dishes she’s learned or created along the way. Pleasingly you can have lots of them on the table in less time than it would take to order a take away. <br />
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<b>MY MOST-USED RECIPES: </b>Aubergine and cherry tomato curry, masala omelette, Roasted cauliflower with cumin, turmeric and lemon; mussels in coconut and ginger sauce; Grimsby smoked haddock kedgeree. <br />
<b>BEST FOR: </b>Maximum impact, minimum effort cooks.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-54658953525510975422014-11-03T18:44:00.001+00:002015-10-18T03:10:02.070+01:00A day out: Petersham Nurseries<b></b> <br />
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<b><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-96LsaXy1SY8/VFfMx_l9gMI/AAAAAAAADus/SWmypQqj3zU/s1600-h/DSCF1713%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1713" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HL_4abr9CHw/VFfMyjRO24I/AAAAAAAADuw/e2EOj93Seiw/DSCF1713_thumb%25255B9%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="315" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Petersham nurseries" width="414" /></a></b> <br />
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<i>Maidenhair ferns, squash, yellow dirt floor and tattie mats lining the ceiling.</i> <br />
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You know I seldom leave the comforting bosom of London N16, especially not at weekends when there is so much pottering about to be done, between park and market, coffee shop and pub, garden and kitchen. But a couple of weekends ago, I went all the way to Richmond which, though it is still technically London I suppose, is a completely different city altogether. The bustle and noise of the Kingsland Road gives way to leafy lanes, church spires and artful interior design shops, selling the scrubbed-up-and-pressed version of Dalston’s many vintage emporia. <br />
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I was going to meet my friends Fi and <a href="http://rsgardendesign.co.uk/" target="_blank">Rebecca</a> at <a href="http://petershamnurseries.com/" target="_blank">Petersham Nurseries</a> for lunch. I’d been here before, years ago, when Skye Gyngell was in charge of the kitchen, didn’t manage to get there in the Greg Malouf era, and hadn’t yet tried Lucy Boyd’s food. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Kitchen-Memories-Lucy-Boyd/dp/0007485638" target="_blank">Lucy</a> is the daughter of the late Rose Gray of the River Café and began her career at Petersham Nurseries as the head gardener before becoming culinary director too, so her plot-to-plate credentials are impeccable. Today, with Damian Clisby as head chef, the food is as pretty as it is delicious. <br />
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<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-RXYEhvl-d14/VFfMzX8eeQI/AAAAAAAADu8/kjEpJrcodQI/s1600-h/IMG_20141004_141936%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_20141004_141936" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-f4JiynFk-lo/VFfMz9w7-2I/AAAAAAAADvA/ofrtNNBhRrg/IMG_20141004_141936_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="235" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="scallop salad" width="414" /></a> <br />
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<i>My starter of scallops, watermelon radish, sea purslane and Amalfi lemon zest.</i> <br />
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jk-4mdxKxlc/VFfM0aCFV-I/AAAAAAAADvM/dXaE_QisWLI/s1600-h/IMG_20141004_144437%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_20141004_144437" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnNS1gpycsZ2Kf3yWYnWqKGAe_6GQoTnkmgvA9MS5lorWqgxoIyRJxFZyq7KUN5ARDLZKT_3obY-uaFtmKjDF_ka_rXgt_KjdzxUukUOeCaBTzU7UthtCqPcLf0nG29NzANiTHGnj7Gs/?imgmax=800" height="235" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="venison with salsify and kale" width="414" /></a> <br />
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<i>My main course of loin of venison, white salsify, kale and sparkling crab apple jelly.</i> <br />
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<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-o1WtprlTGGQ/VFfM1sF-jUI/AAAAAAAADvc/lrZ-fZqaQRA/s1600-h/IMG_20141004_154335%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_20141004_154335" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qZTdQDsuMYs/VFfM2Bc3KxI/AAAAAAAADvg/VFHUaxj1wC8/IMG_20141004_154335_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="235" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="amalfi lemon ice cream" width="414" /></a> <br />
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<i>Amalfi lemon and mascarpone ice cream.</i> <br />
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<i><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gk0YTp58GsE/VFfM2xyqc_I/AAAAAAAADvs/snWgkx1jJoI/s1600-h/IMG_20141004_141947%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_20141004_141947" border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MmMUwEy7oDw/VFfM3RE4Z-I/AAAAAAAADvw/AWu0dhAbgS0/IMG_20141004_141947_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="235" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="lunch table at Petersham nurseries" width="414" /></a></i> <br />
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<i>Raggy dahlias from the garden decorate the tables.</i> <br />
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It was like eating in the middle of the poshest village fête ever, as rain pattered down on the roof, vines twirled above our heads and a fierce little robin hopped about on the yellow dirt floor. We ate and drank and talked, before wandering around admiring the breathlessly tasteful bibelots in the greenhouses and the end of the dahlias in the garden. <br />
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<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FxpwGCMcaqo/VFfM3_OqqXI/AAAAAAAADv8/ric2Fx7PfhA/s1600-h/DSCF1709%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1709" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWZYcVY87T-4Oqq_s7tlY_vP0lCxSRC2MPSt16En3-JUrU9tXvsnFQHau2lPAqJItY5yLK1Bl3SfefTOqq9ILWdHXsDra8SXlOWQkmSowH46THK1jzvQPW3INyXlAHgPu8kU-1EAH1tY/?imgmax=800" height="551" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="scary cherubs" width="414" /></a> <br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>They wander the tearoom at night. Especially the one on the right.</i> <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-C35UjNHqN5g/VFfM5k6UcPI/AAAAAAAADwM/zauf8gmtXb0/s1600-h/DSCF1710%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1710" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-OGgEA0re_LU/VFfM6It2SII/AAAAAAAADwQ/EUXrFlVY_Jk/DSCF1710_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="white ceramics at Petersham nurseries" width="414" /></a> <br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>Artfully distressed paint and white-glazed ceramics, very much part of the aesthetic.</i> <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Vi7btmuBeM4/VFfM6vchnxI/AAAAAAAADwc/kuJc1bTr-jg/s1600-h/DSCF1714%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1714" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-36JPgp9An7s/VFfM7ULBJXI/AAAAAAAADwk/FYvWo6GjP2o/DSCF1714_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="551" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="chandelier at Petersham Nurseries" width="414" /></a><br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>I can never resist a chandelier.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fCx58h2r04I/VFfM8UZIzNI/AAAAAAAADws/OsFmSSaDLoU/s1600-h/DSCF1726%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1726" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-V6CgcY3TKOo/VFfM81YnMfI/AAAAAAAADww/Q4A7FyAqn8Y/DSCF1726_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="tin planter at Petersham Nurseries" width="414" /></a></i> <br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>A galvanised tin bath, dressed for best.</i> <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6Ajr_rjztVU/VFfM9b_osNI/AAAAAAAADw8/04KzB64uLs0/s1600-h/DSCF1707%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1707" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-4HmvzGx50ZY/VFfM-EECMdI/AAAAAAAADxA/O35TbVG6bfs/DSCF1707_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="angels' wings at Petersham Nurseries" width="414" /></a><br />
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<div align="center">
<i>Angels’ wings.</i> <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KoEByvRjdIo/VFfM-jAFJQI/AAAAAAAADxM/nLS8u-LU8DI/s1600-h/DSCF1708%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1708" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFdtp2x8NHm8WW_pY0arxDSuTKU6wLez925dkHARX3R4dRqNa_RhV3dnnOqckAfYFZVhTAvuyjR7WeLKwewiKpNQhpgd1fpqUX9fG-8cavWUG7QcxL8BCCidbjYycHwxscjZGFSM4OoM/?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="selfie at Petersham Nurseries" width="414" /></a></i><br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>Possibly my first and last selfie, among the hyacinth bulbs.</i> <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PQxf_Jk6SN4/VFfNALaOmvI/AAAAAAAADxc/kbBdG90khNU/s1600-h/DSCF1703%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1703" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lY6inZ-bQak/VFfNAzXXyEI/AAAAAAAADxg/1XiwEUAY5JM/DSCF1703_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="312" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="household things at Petersham Nurseries" width="414" /></a> <br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>A perfect gift for your housekeeper.</i> <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ji6ZkOnn6nk/VFfNBlPQNDI/AAAAAAAADxs/Fdk2wlzkVyE/s1600-h/IMG_20141004_165931%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_20141004_165931" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KaPHsjC9LIQ/VFfNCda2-II/AAAAAAAADx0/v-v85WJl_3E/IMG_20141004_165931_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="235" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="mark's books at Petersham Nurseries" width="414" /></a> <br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>In the greenhouse, we found a stack of our friend <a href="http://www.otterfarm.co.uk/" target="_blank">Mark Diacono’s</a> books.</i> <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SYwieNwbHUk/VFfNDJpQL3I/AAAAAAAADx8/h4ycXETSniI/s1600-h/IMG_20141004_165949%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_20141004_165949" border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FpzDIMjiH1s/VFfNDlQ39hI/AAAAAAAADyA/cglrjRc37TU/IMG_20141004_165949_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="235" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="dahlias at Petersham Nurseries" width="414" /></a> <br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>Dahlias light up a zinc-topped table.</i> <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Lcmu5im58o4/VFfNEgVV6TI/AAAAAAAADyM/Vi_8GhAwBXE/s1600-h/DSCF1721%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1721" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-xZ1-4VT4SOs/VFfNFS1pmeI/AAAAAAAADyU/gq9FAOPSGZM/DSCF1721_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="551" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="garden, late autumn, at Petersham Nurseries" width="414" /></a> <br />
<br /></div>
<em>Gardens are so poignant at this time of year – the last dahlias, verbena bonariensis and cosmos defiantly cling on, before the autumn leaves take over the show.</em> <br />
<em><br /></em>
<em><br /></em>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCjiUCI3cY_zgjvJwYxkuY08dIvcj2e7gLVhf_J98HpQR1lp7wK2oVAnXgI8E6hSoV9lrxVMhu8ZhdvgO9f-LJzovihGSngAGiCl-rxK0PneYuR0pXLHn5Yzo8GtpSGOesrfywfcK4jVU/s1600-h/IMG_20141004_173836%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_20141004_173836" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qMCMas3rFTo/VFfNGg1uMEI/AAAAAAAADyg/tdr-ryZTtok/IMG_20141004_173836_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="235" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="pelergoniums from Petersham Nurseries" width="414" /></a> <br />
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<i>Sitting on the platform at Richmond Station, a bag of pelargoniums on my lap.</i> <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<strong>Petersham Nurseries<br />Church Lane<br />Off Petersham Road<br />Richmond<br />Surrey TW10 7AG</strong> <br />
<strong>020 8940 5230</strong><a href="mailto:info@petershamnurseries.competershamnurseries.com"><strong>info@petershamnurseries.com</strong><cite><br /><strong>petershamnurseries</strong></cite><cite><strong>.com</strong></cite></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-14500069470971710152014-10-09T17:32:00.001+01:002015-10-18T03:10:53.367+01:00Learning to love the muscat (it didn’t take long)<b></b> <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL1vRh8kVyQS_NTSIY_I1GX7THmmpcSiRSNjo0tcjL91KsL8Wnny4QrHTS6glYz8u_mkSRgkzkDNknZPFW9CqXejXjJQ_DIkSq3SbhIogbIpa6n_T2jMFsvKvyCGCvbf-QBtJ7Oo69g7k/s1600-h/DSCF1676%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1676" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FUVdJgLyME8/VDa4neEkX5I/AAAAAAAADs0/Dn__4yb1y_A/DSCF1676_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="plum and muscat cake" width="429" /></a></b></div>
<br />
I now discover I really like the <a href="http://lickedspoon.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/on-not-visiting-vineyards.html" target="_blank">muscat</a>. This is the reverse of that syndrome where you drag home from your holidays a lurid liqueur (it’s almost always a liqueur), the drink that was so delicious over five-hour lunches on the terrace, only to find that back home it has all the charm of a Fairy Liquid daiquiri. I think the Ms Murderous Heels sour puss made the muscat taste of ashes in my mouth. <br />
Anyway, I like it now. So that will teach her. <br />
<br />
I’m always on the hunt for small cookbooks, the sort sold to raise funds for the church roof or the local sanctuary for tap-dancing owls, the ones with four-line recipes and no glossy pictures. So I was very happy to find <i><a href="http://www.librairiegourmande.fr/languedoc-roussillon/3551-recettes-d-un-petit-village-du-languedoc-2-eme-edition.html" target="_blank">Recettes d’un Petit Village en Languedoc.</a></i> It’s a collection of recipes from the residents of Saint Xist, a little village in the Aveyron, collated by Denis Cristol to raise money for their twelfth-century priory. It contains a recipe by Régine Fargier for a simple cake made with muscat which, along with a bowl of very pretty purple plums, inspired a bit of tinkering about and this is the result. Try it. It’s very easy and looks impressive. If you like, you can serve it straight away, warm, as a pudding with cream, crème fraiche or custard. Or serve it cold. Whichever way you serve it, naturally a glass or two of muscat goes very well with it. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b></b> <br />
<b>Plum and muscat cake</b> <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VsXVNMO6sZ4/VDa4oDGA2GI/AAAAAAAADtA/TPGK3VXULs4/s1600-h/DSCF1685%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1685" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-a6h6JW9eZuo/VDa4o5-M9gI/AAAAAAAADtE/pqlvVP6OQOI/DSCF1685_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="plum and muscat cake" width="429" /></a> <br />
<br /></div>
This is really good with the plums, but in summer I imagine it would be really lovely made with peaches or nectarines too. <br />
<br />
<b></b> <br />
<b>For the plums:</b> <br />
4-5 plums, just ripe, not too soft<br />
3 tablespoons demerara sugar <br />
<br />
<b>For the cake:</b> <br />
250g caster sugar, vanilla sugar if you have it<br />
200g unsalted butter, softened, plus a little more for greasing the tin<br />
4 eggs, separated<br />
2 teaspoons vanilla extract<br />
250g plain flour<br />
2 teaspoons baking powder<br />
A good pinch of salt<br />
200ml muscat <br />
<br />
Some icing sugar for dusting, if you like <br />
Serve with crème fraîche or lightly whipped cream <br />
<br />
<br />
Preheat the oven to 180°C/Gas 4. Lightly grease a 23cm springform baking tin and line the bottom with baking parchment. Butter the parchment. <br />
<br />
Halve the plums, stone them, and cut each half into four pieces. Toss them with the demerara sugar and line the tin with the pieces of plum. Try to cram them as closely together as possible. <br />
Beat together the sugar and butter until pale and light. Add the egg yolks one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vanilla. <br />
Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt into a separate bowl.<br />
<br />
In another, scrupulously-clean bowl whisk the egg whites until they form peaks. <br />
Begin to add the muscat and flour mixture to the batter in alternate batches, starting and ending with some of the flour (flour/wine/flour/wine/flour), folding in well with a spatula after each addition. <br />
Fold in a third of the beaten egg whites with a spatula to lighten the batter. Then stir in the rest, lifting the batter with the spatula and gently folding it into the mixture. It should be well combined but you want to keep in as much air as possible. Spoon the mixture over the top of the plums, smooth the top with a spatula, place the tin on a baking tray and bake in the oven for about 55 minutes – a skewer inserted into the middle of the cake should come out clean. It may need a little bit longer. Put it back into the oven and test every 5 minutes. <br />
<br />
Place the cake tin on a cooling rack. Run a palette knife around the sides of the tin but leave it to cool for 15 minutes before releasing the sides of the tin and turning it out onto a plate. Gently remove the base of the tin and the baking parchment; serve warm or cold.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-29884083559167318432014-10-06T16:29:00.001+01:002015-10-18T03:11:46.947+01:00All change<b> </b><br />
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<b><br /><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6BDY6843Ye4/VDK1UqzjPsI/AAAAAAAADrA/xIHU8pCLfkA/s1600-h/DSCF1512%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1512" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CgXvm942m-c/VDK1VPUU0aI/AAAAAAAADrE/GIRO1JWs1dA/DSCF1512_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="305" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="neat plait of violet garlic" width="430" /></a></b></div>
<i><br /></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i>A nice, neat plait of violet garlic, which cost a satisfying €5.</i></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i><br /></i></i></div>
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<i><br /></i>
Here’s the thing. As soon as I arrive in France, I transfer a credit card and some nice, crisp Euro notes from my large, London wallet to my small, zipped holiday purse. Within an hour of running about to buy fruit and yoghurt, loo paper, bottles of wine and water, and stopping to refuel with coffee, rosé or Ricard, with a reasonable aim and a little luck that little purse could take out a rhino. It weighs as much as a brick. <br />
<br />
I suffer from a fear of change. Not merely an antipathy for altering circumstance (though I confess that I was embarrassingly tearful when our beloved hardware shop closed), but a fear of change, monnaie, coin. <br />
<br />
I’ll be standing in a queue with my shopping basket, hopeful that this time I’ll make it, this time I will be able to suffer the patient or impatient gazes of the greengrocer, supermarket checkout man, lady in the newspaper shop, queue of locals snaking along behind me, for long enough to count out €2.87, €4.26 or €1.42. And in this fantasy of coin-based confidence, I will be able to perform these mathematical gymnastics without having to dig my glasses out of the very last, most secret and difficult-to-access compartment in my handbag. Ta da! Watch the amazing counting lady, marvel at her fearlessness. <br />
<br />
Let’s forget for a minute the one, two and five cent coppery pieces, which surely must cost more to manufacture than they’re worth (Tip: they make excellent curtain weights). It’s the brassy 10, 20 and 50 cent pieces that push my queuing anxiety into overdrive. They’re of an almost identical size and colour and yes, yes, I know there is some tricksy system of grooves around the edge, a half-arsed attempt to help you to distinguish one from another, but really? Enough of this coin-based parlour game. Europe, please could you be the change I wish to see in the world and make the coins substantially different from one another? Perhaps cover the tens in glitter, make the twenties into a flower shape, the fifties play a happy tune (I suggest Ode to Joy is something we could all get behind)? <br />
<br />
Until then, I have two choices. One, take on the habit of the very, very young or the very, very old – fill my hand with change and rely on the kindness, patience and honesty of strangers to pick out what the need. Two, my preferred method, just drag out another note and hope for the best. This works, but like all forms of instant gratification, there’s a price. In this case, a little zippy purse overflowing with a pirate’s ransom of coins. <br />
<br />
The other day my mother, who is quite terrifyingly clever, said ‘Oh, I’ve cracked that. <br />
‘What, what?’ I asked, excited over what was no doubt a terrifyingly clever solution. <br />
‘I keep all of my notes in my wallet and five euro coins in my pocket,’ she said. <br />
‘And what about all of the small change?’ I said. <br />
‘That? I just leave all that on my dresser.’ <br />
Sometimes Terrifyingly Clever is no help at all. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Roasted garlic</b> <br />
<div align="center">
<b><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wfbxobnudB0/VDK1V5fl5oI/AAAAAAAADrQ/NFnzFLvkbTM/s1600-h/DSCF1594%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1594" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hZswsw9yHl8/VDK1WeAT0yI/AAAAAAAADrY/lQ_1upyew-c/DSCF1594_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="283" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Roasted garlic" width="430" /><br /><em><br /></em></a></b><i>Roasted garlic. Simply squeeze the softened cloves onto pieces of bread. So good. Don’t forget to mop up the cooking juices with more bread too.</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<i></i> <br />
I was very excited to buy plaits of garlic – rose garlic, violet garlic, regular garlic - from the stall in Agde market on my last trip, not just because it’s delicious, but also because they cost a nice, round €5 each. No change. <br />
<br />
Roasting whole heads of garlic is so easy and it makes a good starter or easy lunch with some salad and bread. <br />
<br />
<b>Per person:</b> <br />
a whole head of garlic, unpeeled but outer papery layer removed<br />
a splash of white wine<br />
a small bay leaf<br />
a sprig or two of thyme or lemon thyme<br />
a knob of butter and/or a splash of olive oil<br />
some salt and pepper <br />
Preheat the oven to 180°C/Gas 4. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq3R7FpvwXPBF-wEAHg4GOuTPEKP0XblXFXX-3rP0Kfm1XN7WN8N0Uh-e20B_jodwbJBCuejHl4FKukhozh97b3Q5izoDq4rMNFWQr0jnBJKdg9WnhPmDIXKtH9XxjK5thyphenhyphen3Wrz5WEPA4/s1600-h/DSCF1566%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1566" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2YpV9Md2cKM/VDK1XncSFHI/AAAAAAAADrk/a_oONzqrTJA/DSCF1566_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Roasted garlic" width="429" /></a></b> <br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Place a small bay leaf, some thyme, a splash of oil and a bit of white wine into the bottom of a small dish. Put a head of garlic on top. Place a knob of butter on top of the garlic or trickle on a little more olive oil. Sprinkle on some salt and pepper. Seal tightly with foil. (My little dishes have lids, so I bung these on top too. Belt and braces.) You can also do quite a few heads of garlic all together in one dish, of course, just make sure you cover it tightly with foil. <br />
<br />
Bake for about 50 minutes to an hour, depending on the size of the cloves. The flesh should be very tender indeed when pierced with a small, sharp knife. If it’s not soft enough, just put it back into the oven for a bit and check again every 5 minutes or so. Remove the foil and lid if your dish has one, and return to the oven for a further 15 minutes. Serve hot. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Fousirt4Bk8/VDK1YdT_YkI/AAAAAAAADrw/ty_LEm9309Q/s1600-h/DSCF1606%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1606" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cEQY1ENpc0k/VDK1ZF8cZwI/AAAAAAAADr4/H-W1Z5CD0Oo/DSCF1606_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Roasted garlic - Out of the oven" width="429" /></a> <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-dAId7lhRYFg/VDK1aE1GJDI/AAAAAAAADsA/bI3YlEFQq4I/s1600-h/DSCF1615%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1615" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-c29SzpcyO_4/VDK1a9TGZfI/AAAAAAAADsE/Y2n6an9uUe0/DSCF1615_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Roasted garlic - finished" width="429" /></a> </div>
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<i>I love the papery skins.</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-63042587976668536862014-10-02T22:57:00.001+01:002015-10-18T03:13:24.725+01:00On not visiting vineyards <br />
<b></b> <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sSF4QN3-bR4/VC3KGTX_agI/AAAAAAAADno/4izRdix161g/s1600-h/DSCF1623%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1623" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AZvuUPENco4/VC3KHCButsI/AAAAAAAADns/hZPlbBl9Jq4/DSCF1623_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Winegrowers’ potatoes" width="429" /></a></b> </div>
<br />
For years and years and years, I’ve spent part of the summer in the south west of France, where the Hérault river and the Canal du Midi tip into the Mediterranean. If I were working for the tourist office, I would tell you this region enjoys more days of sunshine than anywhere else in France. Fat, minerally oysters from the étang du Thau are as cheap as sardines. From the air, dusty terracotta-roofed towns and villages poke out from the ragged corduroy of vineyards. <br />
<br />
In all of these years and years and years, I have never visited a vineyard. Not a single one. I have kept secret from my family that I’d rather do almost anything else, as this revelation most certainly damages my cred d’épicure. <br />
<br />
This is me: ‘Oh, I’d <i>love</i> to, I really would, but I need to finish my book/make something incredibly complicated requiring reductions and foams for lunch/regrout the bathroom tile. No, don’t let me stop you. You go, GO…Have a LOVELY time.’ Wave, slam door,relax. <br />
<br />
In my working life I’ve visited dozens of vineyards, from the vastly vatted to one so adorable that in the movie of her life, the young wine maker would most certainly be played by Juliette Binoche, circa 1998. On these occasions, half a dozen or so crumpled journalists uncrease themselves from air-conditioned mini buses to be greeted by a selection of good vintages, daunting rows of twinkling glasses and sometimes smears of something olive-y on toast or a plate or two of excellent ham. They’re expecting you. They have their game face on. <br />
<br />
When people tell me of their holidays in France or Italy or Spain where they, oh, you know, just drive through the countryside, stopping here and there at these tiny rural places, tasting as they go, picking up wonderful cases of a little-known red or white or sparkling, a bit of me twists with embarrassment. <br />
I would no more zip, unannounced, along the rural lane to someone’s house than I’d knock on your door tonight and expect you to give me my tea. What if, what if, what if? What if you’re feeding a dying kitten with a pipette? Making love to someone irresistible but wholly unsuitable? Mugging up on fractions so you will forever remain a genius in the eyes of your ten-year-old? I wouldn’t want my desire for an inexpensive yet versatile rosé to get in the way of any of that so sorry to bother you, sorry, I’ll be going now. Bye. Bye. Bye. <br />
<br />
But this summer, a friend who knows about these things recommended a local producer who made a really good muscat. It wasn’t one of these up-a-lane places either, so the risk of a kitten/pipette situation was negligible. <br />
<br />
On the last day of the holiday, in between taking the dog to the vet for his €50 pat on the head (seriously, if two minutes on table and a scribble in a book is all it takes to stop rabies, I don’t know what we were all so worried about), buying trays of peaches for jam from the roadside stall and running to the supermarket for cheap sea salt, Marseilles soap flakes and tins of confit de canard, I broke the habit of a holiday and caved in for a cave visit (sorry). <br />
<br />
We pitch up in the neat car park of an office building so bland, in England it might have been the headquarters of somewhere selling air conditioning or paper products. It is clear to anyone with eyes that there are no dying kittens on the premises. Fine. <br />
<br />
Inside, bottles glisten on glass shelves. A young woman (tight white shirt, tailored trousers, murderous heels, oppressively straightened hair - one of those people who, just by breathing in and out, has the capacity to make you feel grubby) taps at a keyboard. It’s very quiet. The slap-slap of our flip flops on the stone floor sounds indecent. <br />
<br />
Murderous Heels Woman looks up but doesn’t move. ‘Can I help you?’ <br />
Séan mutters something about muscat.<br />
‘You want to TASTE it?’ <br />
<br />
Not now, bitch, I’m thinking, but we have set in train a series of events that I realise could easily conclude with me screaming ‘LET’S BUY ALL OF THE WINE. ALL OF IT!’ That’ll show her. <br />
In the end, because I married a good and reasonable man, we bought a single, face-saving case of wine neither of us loved but, as my grandmother would have said, I’m sure will come in handy. And no kittens died which, in the circumstances, is the very best we could have hoped for. <br />
<br />
<b>Winegrowers’ potatoes</b> <br />
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<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ShE1hLTCPPw/VC3KH0QeJhI/AAAAAAAADn4/odHq2G6Xfzs/s1600-h/IMG_20140922_172615%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMG_20140922_172615" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cdv-Eqv99n0/VC3KIf_sZEI/AAAAAAAADn8/hGnCaOtr22E/IMG_20140922_172615_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="251" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Winegrowers’ potatoes" width="430" /></a> <br />
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I first read about this splendid and substantial combination of bacon, potatoes and cheese as something which was fed to workers during the grape harvest to keep them going. I scatter a little sage over mine as I love it with all of the above ingredients, though that’s not traditional. If you love it too, add it. If you don’t, leave it out. It makes a great lunch with a salad of peppery and/or bitter leaves – rocket, watercress, mizuna, raddiccio, frisée are all good – and a dollop of French mustard. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Serves 4</b> <br />
Some butter or goose fat<br />
About 300g streaky bacon, unsmoked or a combination of smoked and unsmoked, rind removed<br />
About 600g potatoes, peeled (I used Maris Piper)<br />
About 130g Gruyère cheese, coarsely grated<br />
4-6 small sage leaves, finely shredded, optional<br />
Salt and freshly-ground black pepper <br />
<br />
Preheat the oven to 200°C/Gas Mark 6. <br />
<br />
Rub the inside of an ovenproof frying pan* of about 20cm diameter with some softened butter or goose fat. Line the pan with the bacon, letting the ends fall over the sides and pressing the rashers together so there are no gaps. <br />
<br />
Slice the potatoes very thinly with a sharp knife or a mandolin, as for dauphinoise. Rinse them in cold water and pat them dry with kitchen paper or a clean tea towel. <br />
<br />
Layer a quarter of the potatoes on top of the bacon. Season and scatter on some sage if you’re using it. Dot with a bit of butter or goose fat and scatter on a third of the grated cheese. Continue with the layers until you've used everything up, finishing with a layer of potatoes. Pull the bacon up over the potatoes and press everything with your hands so it's all quite firmly mushed together. Dot a bit more butter or goose fat over the top. Cover tightly with a couple of layers of foil (I put a lid on it too). <br />
Warm the pan for about 20 seconds on the hob over a high-ish heat so the fat begins to render then place the pan on a baking tray and bake in the oven for about an hour. The potatoes should be really tender when pierced with a small, sharp knife. If they’re not, return it to the oven for a bit, checking every 5 minutes or so. Remove it from the oven and let it stand for 15 minutes before turning out onto a plate or board. <br />
*Or wrap a non-ovenproof handle tightly with a few layers of foil.<br />
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<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-eqT9WW9a29M/VC3KJJ0fMkI/AAAAAAAADoI/iMS7EyvG04U/s1600-h/DSCF1573%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1573" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-lind0ZJ1GAg/VC3KJ8FiYyI/AAAAAAAADoQ/E1DsTe3snEs/DSCF1573_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Winegrowers’ potatoes" width="250" /></a><br />
<br /><i>Line the pan with bacon.</i><br />
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fO-yT9Ut0o0/VC3KLN6YVYI/AAAAAAAADoY/u1BuFtbrzw4/s1600-h/DSCF1574%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1574" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-C9wUsDXkgec/VC3KL4uHeEI/AAAAAAAADog/vn0UlT-4-hs/DSCF1574_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Pat the potatoes dry" width="429" /></a><br />
<br />
<i>Pat the potatoes dry.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-taV5L0fO60A/VC3KMVXDhKI/AAAAAAAADoo/zfVjyCOyVfs/s1600-h/DSCF1583%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1583" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-gx929Wki7j8/VC3KNEMgZ4I/AAAAAAAADow/EwibkxHLpYE/DSCF1583_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="567" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Season and add fat" width="430" /></a><br />
<br /><i>Season, then dot the potatoes with sage and goose fat or butter.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GRLpesaze2E/VC3KN7RRclI/AAAAAAAADo4/Zo1SuegqpW0/s1600-h/DSCF1585%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1585" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLytpKp1Fmsb4XKNVCPB8mKegvjQX4qDNLp0-5fVXzZDyplMnSdQ7Sb_63r8Ztasl0gvHhPqsfUfKwkl0JBr8TabQt8CCMbaz_iIJKt6m5wuNGhpL3R8TE3ai4HfFk43zWmySSrxNBfy8/?imgmax=800" height="567" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Scatter with cheese" width="430" /></a><br />
<br /><i>Scatter with cheese.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-49_gGUDe4I4/VC3KP_0pY_I/AAAAAAAADpI/17ihBogGYGo/s1600-h/DSCF1589%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSCF1589" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LpXJvPyhvOI/VC3KQhErXmI/AAAAAAAADpQ/HqLTDE3zj1Y/DSCF1589_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Ready for the oven" width="429" /></a><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Press everything together and dot the top with a little more goose fat or butter.</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-61512168529740920502014-09-30T07:30:00.000+01:002014-09-30T07:30:00.845+01:00Back-of-the-fridge dinners<p><b></b> <p><b><br><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EmCaDbL9QiM/VCnY16hOalI/AAAAAAAADl8/B2hUfS8PGOQ/s1600-h/DSCF1674%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="DSCF1674" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="DSCF1674" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Psw3Mqfev24/VCnY2unBz6I/AAAAAAAADmE/VgRl2Cirnfg/DSCF1674_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="429" height="327"></a></b></p> <p>Sunday is when I run errands. I start early at the <a href="http://lickedspoon.blogspot.co.uk/2010/03/sunday-morning-in-spring.html" target="_blank">flower market</a>, then on to <a href="http://fabrique.co.uk/" target="_blank">Fabrique</a> to pick up some bread for the week and a couple of cardamom buns for Sunday tea, next <a href="http://lickedspoon.blogspot.co.uk/2009/04/old-friends-and-new-discoveries.html" target="_blank">The Turkish Food Centre</a> on Ridley Road for yoghurt, feta, olives, spices and finally - nearly home - the <a href="http://lickedspoon.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/perfectly-purple-in-every-way.html" target="_blank">greengrocers’</a> for big bunches of herbs, fruit and veg. Sorry if this is beginning to sound a bit <a href="http://www.goop.com/journal/most-recent" target="_blank">Goop</a>. I warn you it’s not going to get much better. If it helps, you would almost certainly be horrified at the state of my jump-out-of-bed-and-get-going fashion stylin’. <p>To make room for all of the fresh stuff, on Saturday I rummage through the fridge and cupboards for anything that needs using up. Ends of cheese, wilting half heads of celery, softening spinach, dairy leaping over its sell-by date, olives lurking at the bottom of tubs, a remembrance of drinks parties past, everything short of a biohazard ends up in salads, soups, casseroles or pies. There is a pleasing randomness to Saturday night tea at our house. Here is this weekend’s experiment. <p><b>Saturday night chorizo and fennel</b> <p><b></b> <p><b><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-sowk5iuxGjM/VCnY48S0jAI/AAAAAAAADmM/Pm3oD58pwGc/s1600-h/DSCF1658%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="Saturday night chorizo and fennel " style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="DSCF1658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkJsVYGxFiyYhNzNWvzR9zXtG0GJTXYAvuRXlzpeWWNf6v9tbDHBXs9xrYUBXzeJveQp4MGP00wxqcYn0OW8ngiRygDwOOiwQWW8wCru5d_tv78tuYON_YAjv7L9rkh71AiGsoa48BX8/?imgmax=800" width="429" height="327"></a></b> <p>A few slightly vintage chorizo sausages, some bulbs of less-than-perky fennel, a bendy leek and a stick of celery I could almost certainly have wrapped into a bow if I’d so desired were the inspiration for this supper. Take your time browning the fennel and softening the onions – it really adds to the flavour. If I’d had some feta lurking at the back of the fridge, I’d have crumbled that over the top at the end too. <p><b>Serves 4</b> <p>3 bulbs of fennel <br>A few tablespoons of olive oil <br>250g cooking chorizo, cut into 4cm chunks <br>3 onions, finely diced <br>1 leek, white and pale green part only, finely sliced <br>1 stick of celery, finely diced <br>3-4 garlic cloves, finely minced <br>1 red chilli, finely minced – remove the membrane and seeds if you like a milder flavour <br>2 teaspoons ground cumin <br>200ml white wine <br>100ml red wine vinegar <br>1 tablespoon tomato purée <br>400g tin chopped tomatoes or whole cherry tomatoes <br>400ml chicken stock <br>Small bunch of parsley, tough stalks removed, finely chopped <br>Small bunch of coriander, tough stalks removed, finely chopped <br>Salt and freshly-ground black pepper </p> <p>Trim any brown bits off the fennel and save any fronds to finish the dish. Cut each bulb into 6-8 wedges lengthways, depending on its size. Keep the root and core intact so the wedges hold together. <p>Warm a splash of olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed casserole over a medium heat and sauté the chunks of chorizo until they take on a bit of colour then remove them to a bowl with tongs or a slotted spoon – you want to leave enough of the nice, red, spicy fat in the pan to fry everything else. Raise the heat a bit and put the fennel wedges into the same pan. Sauté on both sides until they take on some colour. You’ll have to do this in a couple of batches. As each wedge is done, put it in the bowl with the chorizo. <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ubkvphrLGPY/VCnY6xeZ3OI/AAAAAAAADmc/eQbtuDkqZrg/s1600-h/DSCF1638%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="Make sure to get the fennel nice and golden. " style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="DSCF1638" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-H2Z77VBm8sM/VCnY7tlyZMI/AAAAAAAADmk/1gE0OP89MOA/DSCF1638_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="429" height="327"><br></a><i>Make sure to get the fennel nice and golden. </i></p> <p><i></i> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-3ElUR-K5CaI/VCnY8YMOkOI/AAAAAAAADms/9Y4wOAq-sms/s1600-h/DSCF1643%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="Cirio Tomatoes" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="DSCF1643" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GAH01V1lgdo/VCnY9PhNHNI/AAAAAAAADm0/B4y27SXOjck/DSCF1643_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="567"><br></a><i>I love these tinned tomatoes.</i> </p> <p><i></i> <p>When you’ve cooked all the chorizo and fennel, lower the heat and tip the onions and leek into the same pan. Add a pinch of salt and cook, stirring from time to time, until very soft, about 30 minutes. Add the celery and sauté for a further 5 minutes. Add the garlic, chilli and cumin and sauté, stirring, for a minute. Pour in the wine and vinegar and simmer quite hard until most of the liquid has evaporated. Stir in the tomato purée, chicken stock and tinned tomatoes. Simmer for 5 minutes. Add the reserved chorizo and fennel, cover and simmer gently for 30 minutes until the fennel is very tender. Simmer, uncovered, for a further 5-10 minutes until thickened slightly. Season, stir in the coriander, parsley and any reserved fennel fronds and serve.</p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-75764652624269223782014-09-28T23:52:00.001+01:002014-09-28T23:59:55.310+01:00Welcome Home Breakfast Eggs<p><b><br><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-UzVFI-k59pg/VCiQ7eMuOyI/AAAAAAAADjg/d7YKWNmeRTw/s1600-h/DSCF1488%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="DSCF1488" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="DSCF1488" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cIw9RNzVKLw/VCiQ8BZeRNI/AAAAAAAADjo/1iZ8zf3W3y0/DSCF1488_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="429" height="327"></a></b> <p>I spent most of the summer, with a little back and forth, in south west France. You’d think a person couldn’t live on oysters, peaches and rosé alone but I’m here to tell you if you try very hard and put in the hours, you really can. As delightful as that sounds and, hell, <i>is,</i> I miss Hackney - my dearest, dirty, cranky and sometimes just plain weird belovèd - when we’re apart too long. I miss being able to eat lunch whenever you want, a petition on every counter and a pop-up on every corner, I miss the bearded boys and the tattooed girls and being able to buy five different kinds of anything you want at midnight. <p>And I definitely miss Turkish food. When I come home, I like to have breakfast at one of the many cafés on Stoke Newington High Street. In summer, I’ll take the trad plate of olives, feta, tomatoes, cucumber, tomato, boiled egg and simit bread with honey. Around about now, I choose menemen, a combination of hot peppers, tomatoes and chillies with scrambled eggs. <p>Even on cold days, I sit at a pavement table. This isn’t just because I usually have my dog with me, but because it’s all the better to watch the neighbourhood theatre: the boys in the barbers’ having precise and elaborate patterns shaved into their hair, skateboarders whizzing past (cue Barney: ‘BARK BARK BARK’), young couples with buggies, old ladies wheeling bags of laundry, the women in the flower shop arranging their pavement display and old men absent-mindedly working colourful <em>tesbih, </em>or worry beads, through their fingers. If I’m really lucky, I might see a Turkish wedding – so much mascara, so much hair, so much satin, so many metres of ribbon looped into festive decoration on newly-polished cars. <p> <p>This weekend, as I sat over my breakfast menemen, I thought about how I always feel more inclined to make new resolutions in autumn than I do in the dreary milk-thistle-laced days of January. I may not have name tapes, new socks and sharpened pencils but I have new ideas and intentions. One of these is to post more here about my favourite things: daily life here in east London and all of the time I spend in France. I hope you’ll come along with me, jump in, comment, and tell me about some of your own favourite things. I’d love to hear about them. <p><b>Autumn in East London</b> <p><b></b> <p align="center"><b><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-v9rjpg9oPS8/VCiQ8y-CEsI/AAAAAAAADjw/9otxv1x2HAw/s1600-h/IMG_20140926_135401%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="Graffiti in Abbot Street" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_20140926_135401" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Dht8WfDpBf4/VCiQ9stB-YI/AAAAAAAADj0/UAqnwgy93OI/IMG_20140926_135401_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="251"></a></b><i><br>Graffiti in Abbot Street, Hackney.</i></p> <p align="center"><b><br><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Rh0V7zNUTGw/VCiQ-TgoiII/AAAAAAAADkA/qB5qG3Rxx-I/s1600-h/IMG_20140922_115733%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="Tree, Clissold Park" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_20140922_115733" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xvH1mBGMHNE/VCiQ-yv5SWI/AAAAAAAADkE/y4QaS9rsn0s/IMG_20140922_115733_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="251"><br></a></b><i>Tree with a hole in it, Clissold Park.<br></i></p> <p><i></i> <p align="center"><b><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-22IE6Ch7Rn4/VCiQ_sihfdI/AAAAAAAADkQ/EO10JqisrgM/s1600-h/IMG_20140927_182711%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="Emirates Stadium, AFC 1-1 THFC" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_20140927_182711" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-0S03-xkNMRk/VCiRAJwUTSI/AAAAAAAADkU/Q68iYDOoRtY/IMG_20140927_182711_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="251"><br></a></b><i>The beginning of the football season, Emirates Stadium, when we still dare to hope.<br></i></p> <p><i></i> <p align="center"><b><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_zCSBWMTYS8/VCiRBeK5DMI/AAAAAAAADkg/UQJgo8mMR20/s1600-h/IMG_20140922_124329%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="Chillies, autumn flowers and leaves" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_20140922_124329" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-NNbICiztros/VCiRB33QLrI/AAAAAAAADko/YjZz4RBrYeI/IMG_20140922_124329_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="251"><br></a></b><i>Chillies, autumn flowers and leaves in the kitchen.</i></p> <p><b><br>Yellows and Golds at Columbia Road Market</b> <p><b></b> <p><b><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2Vof6Alc0Wc/VCiRCuZRlTI/AAAAAAAADkw/vUZZHPSVgVU/s1600-h/2014-09-28%25252013.08.09%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="Yellow & Gold" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="2014-09-28 13.08.09" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-O18wmrn_YlU/VCiRDQPM2kI/AAAAAAAADk4/SUwY6pS6XWc/2014-09-28%25252013.08.09_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="567"></a></b> <p align="center"><b><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-cq88u67DWPY/VCiREFZdU-I/AAAAAAAADlA/eJD5BcubA7I/s1600-h/2014-09-28%25252013.16.35%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="Yellow mums" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="2014-09-28 13.16.35" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wn_fXaBgGsU/VCiRE254ZsI/AAAAAAAADlI/ai6aF-LzEcQ/2014-09-28%25252013.16.35_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="567"><br></a></b><i>Yellow mums.</i><b></b></p> <p align="center"><b><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-T4_TcTZXpnc/VCiRFaWoUlI/AAAAAAAADlQ/QCcGRNkie2c/s1600-h/2014-09-28%25252013.17.27%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="Chinese lanterns" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="2014-09-28 13.17.27" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7Ncu8dbHoW4/VCiRGbzpj0I/AAAAAAAADlY/q2n6hhsygFE/2014-09-28%25252013.17.27_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="567"><br></a></b><i>Chinese lanterns.</i></p> <p><i></i> <p><i></i> <p><i></i> <p><i></i> <p><i></i> <p><b><br>Turkish Breakfast Eggs</b> <p><b><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Dn4yZkDm8rY/VCiRHGNsuII/AAAAAAAADlg/qmwTPD86t3Q/s1600-h/DSCF1485%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="DSCF1485" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="DSCF1485" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-W7ccaNaWqL8/VCiRH4Wha2I/AAAAAAAADlo/B4S9BlbBaT8/DSCF1485_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="429" height="327"></a></b> <p>You can add spicy sausage or bacon to this if you like. You can also poach the eggs in the sauce rather than scramble them. You sometimes see this described as menemen, but it’s really shakshouka. If you’d like to make a poached version, make small wells in the thick sauce with the back of a spoon, tip an egg into each well and put a lid on the pan for a few minutes until the whites are just set. <p>1 tablespoon olive oil<br>A knob of butter<br>2 red onions, halved and finely sliced<br>2 red peppers, halved, cored, deseeded and sliced (it’s more usual to use a combination of red and green, but red its what I had and I prefer it anyway)<br>3 garlic cloves, finely grated<br>1 red chilli, finely chopped – leave in the seeds and membrane if you like a little heat<br>4 large, ripe tomatoes, cored and finely diced – don’t bother to skin or deseed them<br>A good pinch of sugar<br>Some chilli flakes (optional)<br>4 eggs, seasoned and lightly beaten<br>A small handful of parsley, tough stalks removed and chopped<br>Salt and freshly-ground black pepper <p>Warm the olive oil and butter in a frying pan approximately 20cm diameter over a medium heat until the butter has melted and stopped foaming. Add the onion, peppers, garlic, chilli and a pinch of salt and fry, stirring from time to time, until everything is softened. This should take about 10 minutes. <p>Add the tomatoes and sugar. Stir and continue to cook, stirring from time to time, until the mixture is thickened – you want it to be rich, and not watery at all. Taste, season and add a pinch or two of chilli flakes if it’s not fiery enough for you. <p>Season the eggs with salt and pepper and pour them onto the vegetables. Don’t stir them at this point. You want them to set a little before you stir them into the eggs. At the last minute, just before serving, give everything a brief stir, scatter with parsley and eat with bread. </p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-4343378648592095152014-03-03T21:51:00.001+00:002014-03-03T21:51:59.777+00:00A day out<p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-rPdFxYjRN2M/UxT5TpbfG3I/AAAAAAAADQc/Qc3KfF-NT1c/s1600-h/20140217_121753%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="Rye, 2014" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="20140217_121753" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kuceQdHIomQ/UxT5UZ_7D2I/AAAAAAAADQk/2D7Ksa1w--g/20140217_121753_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="429" height="566"></a> <p align="center"><i>An early morning in Rye.</i> <p>Last week, Séan and I took a trip to Rye. It’s an hour and a half or so from London, and in those miles we swapped London brick for black-and-white timbers, shrieking sirens for squawking gulls, organic quinoa muffins for homemade Victoria sponge. <p>I don’t drive and, with the advent of SatNav am no longer called on to assist in the misery of navigation, so I gaze out of the window reading the road signs – local names Peasmarsh, Appledore, Pett, Guestling and Winchelsea, rolling around on my tongue, soft and sweet like honey. <p>We had the good fortune to be there in <a href="http://scallop.org.uk/">Scallop Week</a> so we ate scallops for lunch in a little café and brought some more home to cook for dinner. <p>I don’t know about you, but around about now – the mornings are lighter, afternoons linger, I dare sometimes walk the dog without wearing a hat – I have had quite enough of brown food. All of those stews, daubes, braises and casseroles which were so appealing only a few weeks’ ago no longer appeal. Something sparky. Bright colours. Fresh. So I made this salsa almost as soon as I got through the door. It takes only a few minutes or so and is very good. <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-23ETKgce2no/UxT5VUt778I/AAAAAAAADQs/D_mrNhAwivE/s1600-h/IMG_20140217_123134%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="Church Square, Rye" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_20140217_123134" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EG5ftsZwa3Q/UxT5WHNlosI/AAAAAAAADQ0/DMuFvf8AVbE/IMG_20140217_123134_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="251"></a> <p align="center"><i>Church Square</i> <br> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-n-KVR6X7XQ4/UxT5W-n6DjI/AAAAAAAADQ8/HnzrybrKZpU/s1600-h/20140217_122841%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="Window, St Mary the Virgin Church, Rye" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="20140217_122841" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EbND2Y5_dDw/UxT5Xuo4TeI/AAAAAAAADRE/P1Z-iIU-Oa0/20140217_122841_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="567"></a> <p align="center"><em>Stained glass window, St Mary the Virgin Church</em> <p align="center"><i><br><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VcH6FGCEFzg/UxT5YQ1R2PI/AAAAAAAADRM/hqDlVEeoFC0/s1600-h/20140217_121901%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="Tiny Book Store, Rye" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="20140217_121901" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-pOX3nst0pr0/UxT5ZFci-lI/AAAAAAAADRU/SoyHhcbWrf4/20140217_121901_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="567"></a></i> <p align="center"><i>A more modest window. This lovely bookshop is, indeed, minute.</i> <br> <p><i><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ba01cplNTHI/UxT5aXKgxbI/AAAAAAAADRc/DiIVxWW2XJU/s1600-h/IMG_20140217_123456%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="Rye Window" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_20140217_123456" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-IHyAPxf1HcY/UxT5aycDizI/AAAAAAAADRg/p1AZkmpsS6Q/IMG_20140217_123456_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="251"></a></i> <p align="center"><i>A pretty display of succulents in someone’s front window. I’m never knowingly undernosy.</i> <br> <p><i><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LO_JXNHExPA/UxT5bePLnGI/AAAAAAAADRs/UJH-zueQ_UM/s1600-h/20140217_134555%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="Dogs Welcome, People Tolerated" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="20140217_134555" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-654zRgsbh7g/UxT5cI07xoI/AAAAAAAADR0/xJRfEMHxUHM/20140217_134555_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="567"></a></i> <p align="center"><i>I find myself in agreement with this sign in one of Rye’s many antique shops.</i> <br> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYE5gPRWi_6ywaTdGBuW5qzEk-b_4h23JcOUCRFelvqf4_QQPxEkfYI-HIn6zgPSpaENI4QuY5FDwPMfsOkgkYNU-oj7HGgvoUQCw0hhBw-zlHEtjfWNXubSa9mmRGgeP8nVp_wuGaA5o/s1600-h/IMG_20140217_151327%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="Suttons fishmonger and game dealers’" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_20140217_151327" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-t-8Qs2URE5w/UxT5d9gZ1nI/AAAAAAAADSE/h9-dZYdY0Yo/IMG_20140217_151327_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="348"></a> <p align="center"><i>The fishmonger and game dealers’ where we bought our scallops.</i> <p><b></b> <p><b>Scallops with mango and avocado salsa</b> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxH34DPYJgyRW8dlarn-5B3gH_0oZjczzYJSBEoRe4VXUEDjQvhoqpuzmR7VWFiEveVJY_yxUY4w2UMfAQIL_h_CGnitTFuXHQtftwxKwG-uKNudw6gbjEDNc7vQ-IWzW8Qxuy5ET2Cd4/s1600-h/IMG_20140217_190940_edit%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="Scallops with mango and avocado salsa" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_20140217_190940_edit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWCIoVb1vmc8zi3W_yWGUdVlYbLvKlk-IA77BhNu0S52D3VVH7CSqKFeXUwDDoCw7HDaKo42bcNMgLuCZZ2FuovZ5HEvpKr9aXJrFmw3xyqgfI5ZP0F2cGzWvf5uXfjtfIN0yWcCSa9w/?imgmax=800" width="430" height="251"></a> <p><b>This serves 2</b> <p>3 spring onions, white and pale green part only, finely chopped<br>1 mango, peeled and diced<br>1 avocado, peeled and diced <br>1 small red chilli<br>½ small cucumber, diced<br>Small handful coriander, tough stalks discarded, roughly chopped<br>1 tsp finely minced fresh ginger <br>Juice of a lime<br>Flaky sea salt and freshly ground black pepper <p>As many scallops as you think you can eat - we went for 5 each<br>A bit of oil, a dab of butter <br>Wedges of lime to serve <p>To make the salsa, combine all of the ingredients, season to taste with salt and pepper. Set aside while you cook the scallops. <p>Pat the scallops dry with kitchen paper. You can cut the coral off if you prefer. I don’t. I think it looks pretty, I like the taste and I’m not running a restaurant where such pernickertyness seems important. <p>Warm a large frying pan over a medium-high heat. Melt the butter and oil together. Season the scallops with salt and pepper and put them in the pan. The pan shouldn’t be crowded; do them in two pans if necessary. Fry for a couple of minutes until golden then turn and cook for a couple of minutes more. The most important thing is not to overcook them. <p>Serve the scallops immediately with some of the salsa and wedges of lime.</p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060008016421967331.post-84657853852229223302014-03-03T00:10:00.001+00:002014-03-18T22:56:47.657+00:00Debora and Louise Invite You to a Dog’s Dinner…<br />
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-gOhMUK3mdcY/UxPIaz_0iwI/AAAAAAAADPY/gQW5jySegnQ/s1600-h/012%252520-%25252003%252520-%252520Charlie%252520%252526%252520Barney%252520jumping%25255B13%25255D.jpg"><img alt="012 - 03 - Charlie & Barney jumping" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-uoDHMf2MOBQ/UxPIbkpkA4I/AAAAAAAADPg/9oBB_DTt3Gs/012%252520-%25252003%252520-%252520Charlie%252520%252526%252520Barney%252520jumping_thumb%25255B11%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="746" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Charlie & Barney jumping" width="429" /></a><br />
<br />Every fancied making healthy treats for your dog? Want to learn how best to use them in dog training? Join food writer Debora Robertson and dog behaviourist and trainer <a href="http://www.thedarlingdogcompany.co.uk/" target="_blank">Louise Glazebrook</a> in Debora’s pretty Stoke Newington kitchen for a lively afternoon of dog chat, tea and cake.<br />
<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-aBm2QO0xRkk/UxPIcMSAAzI/AAAAAAAADPo/zfzqgbNPu-E/s1600-h/011%252520-%252520Dog%252520Biscuits%2525201%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img alt="011 - Dog Biscuits 1" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZJs4jlVCHWQ/UxPIcgAA29I/AAAAAAAADPw/h57R8ZqrQ98/011%252520-%252520Dog%252520Biscuits%2525201_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Making Dog Biscuits" width="429" /></a><br />
Watch Debora demonstrate how to make easy snacks such as dog breath bones, dried sweet potato chews, and liver treats. Then Louise will discuss how to make the best use of treats during training, share her thoughts on good nutrition for your pet and answer any questions you may have.<br />
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-D3X6_c8DdHc/UxPIdS_0WyI/AAAAAAAADP4/0YFmXeUWCik/s1600-h/012%252520-%25252001%252520-%252520Doggie%252520Breath%252520Bones%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img alt="012 - 01 - Doggie Breath Bones" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-I-DtPTaGVWU/UxPIdy9J7VI/AAAAAAAADP8/RiHAVV8Vo6A/012%252520-%25252001%252520-%252520Doggie%252520Breath%252520Bones_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="327" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Doggie Breath Bones" width="429" /></a><b></b><br />
<b>Woof!</b><br />
<strong>INCLUDES: </strong>Tea and coffee, cakes and biscuits; a doggy bag which will include a recipe sheet, dog treats and other goodies for you and your dog.<br />
<b>WHEN: March 22, 2pm-5pm</b><b>COSTS: £30</b> <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3