I'm really going to try this time. Promise!

I can't believe I've neglected my poor, innocent blog for the best part of a year! I've decided I need a hobby to fill a void in my meaningless life and to hopefully make me a bit happier. And really, this (cooking, taking photos, writing) is one of the very few things I enjoy in life. So back to blogging it is! Then there's also my ill-formed plan to start a fatshion blog, but that's a story for another day - or never, as I am spectacularly brilliant at procrastination and avoiding things.

Anyway, before I babble on for much longer, I present you (you as in... god knows who. I occupy a lonely, tiny corner of cyberspace) with a meager offering of scones that I threw together tonight to liven up the prospect of leek and potato soup. Bacon, spring onion and cheddar scones though! But they're still just scones, I know... I promise I'll come back with something more adventurous. Maybe. No. DEFINITELY.

Cheddar, spring onions, crispy bacon. I somehow managed not to eat this awesome concoction by the spoonful. What's wrong with me?

You know the drill. Rub butter into flour. Moisten with enough liquid to create a crumbly dough. Bake. I don't use eggs in my scones, and have even used purely water as the liquid when I've run out of milk. I grate butter straight into the pile of flour, it's so much easier than rubbing it in if you're in a rush (this was a weeknight dinner and there was a hungry, grumpy five year old bugging me). Scones need a hot oven, gas mark 6 - none of this weak-ass gas mark 4 required for dainty cakes. They can be cut individually into rounds or just formed into a rough circle and cut nearly all the way through into trianges before baking.

Sorry about the vaguely sweaty appearance. I totally forgot to take a photo and they
had been in the oven for a few seconds.

Please, please do not forget to slather generously with butter. It's amazing. It's magical. No margarine or 'healthy' alternative can replace it. Have these scones, made with butter and cheese and crispy bacon and topped with more butter, once every so often. Totally worth it.


Oh and I forgot to mention, don't be like me. I didn't use a recipe, I chucked things into a bowl and hoped for the best. If you do them by the book and cut them neatly into rounds they should get a higher rise.

Pork burgers & sweet potatoes.

A super quick, super healthy, super easy, super delicious dinner. SUPER!
If I had been bothered I would have made a tomato sauce, but for some reason the meal still didn't feel dry or incomplete. To keep the burgers moist and give them a lovely texture moosh together a slice of bread (any type, I used wholemeal cos that's what was lying around), one egg and a splash of olive oil into a smooth paste and mix into the pork mince.
To clear the fridge out a bit I also chucked in a yellow pepper, a red onion, coriander, spring onions and a few spices. Chop everything as finely as possible so the burger holds together well.

Bitches be jealous of my mad chopping skills.

Why are sweet potatoes regarded as being so much healthier than white ones? This bad boy had such a high sugar content that it was leaking caramel as it baked.



To make up for being lazy and not making a sauce some tomatoes were roasted. Salt, pepper, olive oil, oven, done.


To make sure you've seasoned correctly, cook off a small amount of burger mixture. Raw pork doesn't taste too good.



Beautiful golden coins of sweet potato and deep red beetroot discs. All these colours mean it's healthy. But also delicious - healthy is good but being tasty is as equally important.

Pavlova.

Yesterday was mother's day, I made a pavlova.

I had to do the whole thing by hand with a tiny, partially broken whisk, but is was worth it - I love the way the slimy yellow-tinged egg whites gradually become thick, white and lustrous with only the addition of sugar and a bit of elbow grease (mmm, delicious).

I don't care what they say - size DOES matter. At least when it comes to whisks.

It took about 45 minutes but after I put on some banging choons and chatted to people coming in and out of the kitchen, I hardly noticed the work. Plus, it kinda sorta counts as some form of exercise right? Ok, maybe eating it totally negated the three calories I burnt making the thing but whatever.



The recipe is easy, it's just two ounces of sugar to each large egg white. Add a pinch of cornflour and a splash of vinegar (or lemon juice) and it becomes a pavlova. Bake in a low oven for around an hour and 20 minutes and leave to cool. Top with whipped cream and whatever fruit you have lying about - I used frozen raspberries.



I planned to make some sort of raspberry sauce with hints of lime and ginger, but unfortuently there was prosecco to be drunk and bubbly stuff gets me tipsy pretty quickly. This was evident when it came to decorating the thing - the cream and raspberries were dumped unceremoniously on top and I accidentally broke the base a little. Oops.

What happens when you drunkenly attempt to decorate a pavlova.

So taste wise how was it? Well, honestly, there's only so much you can say about it. Sweet meringue (shatteringly crisp outside, marshmallow soft inside), cool cream, sharp raspberries. Simple but pretty awesome.
But my favourite part of the whole thing was definitely getting lots of gratuitous shots of the silky gleaming mixture:

Oh, and yes, I did do the bowl-over-the-head test. I used my sister for that.

Banana & pecan flapjacks.

Banana, pecan and blueberry flapjacks to be precise.
Although, I actually only added the blueberries because they had to be used up - the result wasn't disastrous, but it did distract you slightly from the harmonious pairing that is banana and pecan.
Still, flapjacks are flapjacks and everyone ate them with gusto regardless of any intruding berries.

I've only made these twice, and both times I made them by melting sugar and butter together in a pot, adding the squished bananas and pecans, and stirring in the oats with a good pinch of salt. This is imperative, becaause otherwise they would be too cloying and sweet. A quick taste and a prod and you'll know whether it needs more of anything. Then bung it in the oven until it's golden brown. Great for breakfast, packed lunches (they're back in fashion now, right? Recession chic and all that) or to have with a cup of tea in the afternoon if you are so inclined.

The lure of the flapjack is that you feel as if you are eating something very healthy indeed. It seems rather angelic on the surface - lovely nutritious and invigorating oats, fruit and nuts. The food equivalent of taking a bracing walk through the countryside. The food equivalent of a guy with a beard wearing a colourful knitted jumper. Of course, the only reason that they're so moreish is not because of the health benefits, but more to do with all that delicious sugar and butter. Hurrah!

Blackurrants.

Apparently we have blackcurrant bushes in the garden.
I wasn't aware of this fact until my brother and sister proudly brandished a large bowl of the things in my face this morning.
Despite my obviously marvellous and astounding talent of being able to eat a lime like an orange, I find blackurrants too sour, so whatever we decided to make with the haul, it had to involve copious amounts of sugar. (And so it did! A whole kilogram, in fact.)

After one initial boiling with just a bit of water, we strained them to remove all the skins and tiny stalks and possibly insects. The thicker stuff that came out was mixed with sugar and combined with cream to make a delightful fool.



The rest was boiled again with sugar and a few pieces of ginger. Whilst skimming, I took the time to enjoy the pyschadelic swirls of colour in the pot.

Okay, so it doesn't look too impressive, but trust me, it was.
Kind of. I'm clearly very easily amused.
Anyway, after the syrup was boiled I squeezed in one lime to make a blackurrant, ginger and lime cordial. It's scarily addictive in its un-watered down form - tart and sweet, slightly hot and tantalising from the ginger, and fragrant with lime. I needed a bigger lime hit however, so I trickled some cordial into the squeezed out lime and sucked it all back out. I love lime, did you know that? My teeth were squeaky and my stomach hurt after repeating this process many times, but it was worth it.


I think I also might have invented my own cocktail. This cordial + gin + tonic water = a good drink? I know nothing about cocktails, but the family seemed appreciative. (The kiddies, of course, got an alcohol free version.) Can I ™ that? I'm going to ™ that.

That's the non-alcoholic version. It was pretty cool the way this foamed right over the top of the glass, and it does make a beautiful - and entirely natural - colour. The parents christened this a Bloody Sophie, which they found hilarious. I most certainly did not, and would love and suggestions for an alternate name before that one sticks..

The last blackurrant related item were some cupcakes with blackcurranty icing. My sister is having a sleepover as I type and apparently children these days require sugary treats at ridiculous hours of the night. We ran out of cupcake cases, so I hedged my bets with some petits fours cases - adorable, but labour intensive. What would have been 12 normal cakes turned into roughly 45 mini ones.

Icing them was not fun, let me tell you. Here is a 10-year-old brother's hand to illustrate the size:

Cute, but annoying.

Bread.

Back from Turkey, sporting some ludicrous tan lines. The worst came from the fact that I was constantly wearing leggings (don't ask), so my legs are ridiculously pale and my feet are beautifully bronzed. How are your holidays coming along?

A while back I had mentioned that I hadn't baked a loaf of bread in all my seventeen years. This fact was unbearable to me so I decided to start making my own bread immediately.

Wanting to take things easy for the first couple of attempts, I decided on a no-knead recipe (the laptop is broken so I've lost the link but I'll try and track it down somehow). Suffice to say, I'm utterly hooked. There is now a permanent, on-going bowl of dough in the fridge just begging to be baked at any given moment. Basically, you chuck together a basic dough (something along the lines of 6 cups of flour, 3 cups of water, 3 tsps of yeast and 3tsps of salt, but don't hold me to it), leave it to rise, then stick it in the fridge for up to a week until you fancy bunging it in the oven. The bread itself is very airy and chewy, with a lovely dark crust. When it gets a bit stale after a few days - if it lasts that long - it makes brilliant toast.

Since there's no kneading involved, the dough is very wet and incredibly hard to handle. Eventually though, after much wrestling with a ball of gloop that loves adhering to your fingers, you will manage to get it onto the tray. I dust mine with flour or semolina usually, but always find that I have to chisel and prise the finished product off the metal. Therefore, I find baking parchment to be the best option.

One day I was feeling particularly energetic so decided to do a bit of kneading. Same formulation, very different dough. Much easier to handle, and of course the baked loaf was different in texture - softer and with less big air bubbles in it.




There were also some experiments with a brown loaf.



And, everyone's favourite, an olive and chilli bread. This particular loaf was gone by the time I woke up the next morning.


Bread machines: Just Say No!

Basil, minestrone & veg box fury.

Mother is on the verge of cancelling the organic veg box we get every Wednesday.
I would believe her but for the fact she has said this every week for about 2 months now. Granted, it is rather annoying - it's summer and we're still getting rubbish potatoes, wizened carrots and massive smelly onions, just with the odd gnat-infested lettuce chucked in as a sign of 'summer' produce.
I know for a fact that not all organic produce is as crappy as this. We used to have an allotment, and the stuff we got out of there was 100 times better. It's just a theory, but we're almost certain they save the best produce for the market - everything was so fresh and crisp and enticing enough at their stall to make us sign up for the scheme in the first place.
That being said, we did get some utterly charming little broad beans this week, so maybe we'll hang on in there and see if it gets any better!
They were shelled by little hands (sibling no.4) and added to the minestrone.


Weirdly, I've never actually made this before, but I wasn't too worried since soup is one of the easiest things to cook.


I sauteed one large onion and three cloves of garlic and added two courgettes, a red pepper, two carrots and a handful of wholewheat spaghetti. On top of that went a whole load of water, one chicken and one mushroom stockcube, and a tin of tomatoes.
The ubiquitous squirt of ketchup and dash of soy (in my cooking at least!) also went into the pot.
Our purple basil is growing wonderfully, so a handful was finely chopped into lovely ribbons and added last of all. Yes, yes, I know - never chop basil, always tear. But to that I say CODSWALLOP.


I won't give a step-by-step recipe as it seems a bit condescending to be honest. Soup is lovely and forgiving because it is completely open to interpretation, so is pretty hard to get wrong.
Please forgive the photos, it looks rather awful but tasted fantastic - savoury and tomato-ey and fragrant with basil which was intensified with a little pesto and handful of freshly grated parmesan. Even the veg hater of the family managed a whole bowl! (And no, that's not me..)
I just wished we had an old hunk of parmesan rind to chuck in the pot, because it makes the broth lovely and silky and provides a beautiful savoury undertone.



I'll definitely be making more of this in the future. It's a fantastic way of using up odds and ends, tastes great and is exceptionally good for you.
Huzzah!

Chicken macaroni soup, revisited.

So, waaaaaay back (well, okay, only a month ago, but doesn't it feel a lot longer?) I promised to get a better shot of my chicken macaroni soup, since the last photo, frankly, sucked.
If you've read that post you'll know just how much I adore this. I mean, I will love it irrevocably until I die. True story.
Anyway, if you haven't eaten this before, I must implore you to do so. It's really easy to do and can be tailored to your own taste with ease.
(Clickety click on the link above to get the recipe.)

Hummus, pitta bread and spiced beef patties.

With the abundance of steak mince that arrived yesterday it made sense to make something with it tonight.
Since we had pizza yesterday it seemed a bit wrong to have pasta, which unfortuently ruled out the obvious and easy options of lasagne, bolognese and meatballs.
Instead the mince was turned into little patties to go with hummus and pitta bread - two things we eat often, so I was glad to have the oppertunity to make them from scratch. The meat was coarsely ground, which made it perfect for the job of making sure the finished product had lots of texture.
If you can't find sumac, it can be replaced with some lemon zest.

Serves 4
Ingredients:
1kg steak mince
1 shallot
3 cloves garlic
coriander
sumac
paprika
1 red chilli
salt
mustard seeds
breadcrumbs
1 egg

How to do it:
1. Finely chop the shallot, coriander, red chilli and garlic.
2. Lightly toast the mustard seeds in a dry pan.
3. In a big bowl combine the mince, shallot, coriander, garlic, chilli, mustard seeds, spices, salt, egg and breadcrumbs.
4. Shape into tiny burgers or 'sausages', kofta-style, and cook in the oven, a pan, or on the barbeque.


You can of course omit or add any flavourings you wish. These would also work with minced lamb.
Another variation would be using pork mince (with red chilli, coriander, garlic and ginger) and rolling them up in big lettuce leaves with a chilli, lime and nam pla dipping sauce on the side. Yum!
Go vegetarian - for a chickpea overload, make little falafels instead of the meat patties.




Hummus is very rewarding to make from scratch, because it requires only a few minutes of your time, costs pennies and is absurdly easy to do, but what you get out of it tastes fantastic. Remember the salt - chickpeas are a delicious but bland canvas and need to be seasoned well. This recipe is hummus at its most basic, and can therefore adapt to any additions you may choose to throw at it - black pepper, coriander, paprika, chilli...

Ingredients:
chickpeas
garlic cloves
lemon juice
tahini
olive oil
salt

How to do it:
It couldn't be simpler - go blender-happy and blitz the stuff into oblivion!
Well, okay, not quite. I blended the chickpeas, garlic, salt and tahini first for a bit and gradually added the lemon juice and olive oil. This ensures you get the texture you like best.
I didn't put any measurements down, because it's one of those things that does not require a recipe. You just blend away, and taste as you go along until you're happy with it.
I ended up using five cloves of garlic and the juice of 1 & 1/2 lemons, when I thought it would only come to about two cloves and half a lemon.
Point is, it's all down to personal taste so just go with it!


And lastly, onto the pittas. I used Jill Dupleix's recipe, which can be found here.
I'm assuming I rolled them too thickly, because they weren't slightly hollow as pittas should be. Also, I added some coriander to them to echo the coriander in the meat which is why you can see some weird dark green flecks in the dough.
They tasted really good though, and I would urge you to try making them - people are very impressed but they're so easy to do! I'll just have to remember to roll them thinner next time!


All in all, a very successful dinner. I felt all glowy and ethereal from cooking all day. I love being in the kitchen when it's quiet, just slowly and calmly working through everything.

Orange cake and summer eating.

Tonight two American scientists came to our house for dinner.
I think their accents are funny.
They have trouble understanding mine.
It's silly, at school I was teased for my accent being too 'English' and 'posh', but to the rest of the world I might as well be wearing a kilt and swilling whisky.

It was really hot here today, round about 25°C.
Dinner was simple as mother had no time to shop or cook, because she came home straight from work with the Americans in tow.
As an impromptu starter, we had houmous with a dusting of paprika and a drizzle of olive oil, olives, vividly pink radishes, crusty baguettes and a pressed ham hock terrine.




As the 'main course' there were prawns with garlic, red chilli and finely shredded basil, fish done on the barbeque (which unfortuently managed to fall apart spectacularly) and potatoes baked in cream and shallots which contrasted rather oddly with the otherwise light meal, but in my defence I had no idea what was happening and was instructed to make something, anything, with the mountain of spuds that had arrived with the veg box on wednesday.


For dessert it was yet another concoction I managed to bluff my way through - a rosewater, almond and orange cake with a honey and orange syrup poured over it. Very similar to the orange and poppyseed one in fact, but better.
It was extraordinarily dumb of me to completely make up a recipe when I was supposed to be impressing guests. Ah well, it ended up being delicious so that's all that really matters I suppose. I have no idea what the measurements were, but I basically creamed together butter and sugar (not too much sugar, as it would have been hideously saccharine with the syrup), added two egg yolks, ground almonds, rosewater, the juice of an orange + the zest. Flour was folded in and then the egg whites were beaten and stirred in gently. The syrup was the juice of one orange, half a lime, muscavado sugar and honey.


Annoyingly, there was an absence of any icing sugar in the house, so I had to serve the cake all covered in holes from where I had poured in the syrup, with no way to disguise them. Ugh.
It's an ugly looking creation, but one that tastes so, so gooooood.