Restaurant review: Vanderlyle

There is a lot going on in the Mill Road area of Cambridge right now. So much so that we were distracted by all the places to eat to notice we'd walked right past Vanderlyle, where we were actually meant to be going. We quickly doubled back and hoped no one noticed we had walked by two minutes earlier.

I'll be upfront about this post: this isn't going to be a full review. There is so much information that I would have noted somewhere if I was going to write this up properly, which means I can't tell you which farm the vegetables came from or the variety of asparagus we ate, or the names of everyone we talked to last night (they were all very lovely, by the way.) What I wanted to do was write down everything that I thought made this place so incredibly special, and a tweet or an Instagram post just wouldn't suffice.

I booked a table at the pass, which would be called the "chef's table" and cost a lot more at London restaurants (it didn't) and I thought might involve a tight squish next to two strangers and awkward small talk until the wine kicked in (it didn't.) What I hoped for was the chance to see how a kitchen runs during service, how food is prepared by people who really know and love what they're doing, and to ask all sorts of banal questions. I got this and so much more. I'm not exaggerating, we asked things like "Where are your extractor fans?" This is the stuff I need to know. I also looked forward to catching up with Alex Rushmer, owner and one of our chefs for the evening. Chefs are normally hidden away in a kitchen and my questions go unanswered or forgotten by the time someone comes back to the table. To be served by our chefs and to be able to talk about the food and many other things with them was, very simply put, a real treat.

Alex Rushmer plating up at the pass

It's a set menu that changes monthly, and if you're like me (I will eat anything, anywhere), this is perfect. It takes away the agony of deciding between ten things that look amazing on the menu, then watching ruefully as something that looks nicer passes by to another table. This is the second menu since Vanderlyle opened last month and both times, the menu has been entirely vegetarian. This wasn't necessarily intentional, Alex told me. It was down to wanting to use local, sustainable ingredients and both months, this happened to be vegetables. Alex said that no one has complained about this or commented negatively about it. It made complete sense to me. How often do you get served a fantastic piece of meat, carefully prepared with a bit of veg thrown on the side as an afterthought? There is nowhere to hide when vegetables are the only ingredients. You can forgive a limp piece of broccoli if the steak is amazing. When it's the main focus of your dish, it has to be the best.

I had the alcoholic pairing (no surprise to anyone there) and Paul/my driver had the non-alcoholic pairing.  The care that went into the non-alcoholic drinks was fantastic. All non-alcoholic drinks for the pairing are made in house, often using ingredients from dishes on the menu, such as the pea pods from the soup. Really bloody clever and economical.

The first three dishes were slices of crunchy bread with a smoked butterbean puree, a warm cauliflower crumpet, and lettuce and pea soup that reminded me of the smell of standing in my veg patch when I'm thinning my tomato plants. There was also homemade rye sourdough bread with yeast butter that I got too excited about to photograph before inhaling.

Then came the asparagus which I could eat again and again. It was sweet, not a trace of fibrous woodiness, and made me realise that I could never, ever eat supermarket asparagus again without feeling deeply sad.  It was cooked on a grill that reminded me of a teppanyaki. "You should do an onion volcano and juggle knives!" I helpfully suggested. The soft boiled egg was perfect (5 minutes, 20 seconds - 10 seconds longer than David Chang's method, Alex pointed out),  I grabbed bread from earlier to wipe up every last bit of the hay mayonnaise, and the polenta made with chickpea flour was crispy and light. 

I can never eat asparagus from Tesco again and this is probably not a bad thing

The wild garlic and parsley risotto was rich and filling, thanks to the generous amount of butter and cheese I watched go into it. Parmesan is added to the risotto and pecorino is grated on top at the pass. An intensely flavoured mushroom reduction is quinelled (did I just make up a verb?) and topped with raw radishes. The fresh, crunchy radishes had none of the harsh pepperiness that you normally find and it cut through the rich risotto. 

A steak-like slice of roasted aubergine was coated in miso and furikake, my go to seasoning for pretty much everything. (I get mine from Ocado, but you can probably find it somewhere on Mill Road.) The most unexpectedly wonderful element of this dish was the roasted onion puree, which was slow roasted under parchment paper for several hours then pureed. How something this simple, albeit time intensive, could taste so complex is some sort of voodoo. The buttery new potatoes were so delicious, we genuinely contemplated drinking the butter out of the bowl when we finished the potatoes. But we are classy and totally didn't do that.

A strawberry and verbena semifreddo with beetroot that didn't taste of beetroot (a plus for us) was exactly what we needed after the risotto and buttery potatoes. The semifreddo was, and I hate to be repetitive, astoundingly simple and delicious. Again, I would happily eat a very large bowl of the semifreddo alone.

But then came the cake. This gorgeously orange-filled cake. I watched as they came out of the oven and I could have eaten five more. 

Finally, sadly, the meal came to an end with a glass of Quady Starboard that was like a tawny port and cookies fresh from the oven and chocolate truffles.

I haven't gone into all the alcoholic pairings because frankly, I know sod all about wine, beer, and fortified wine. I know what I like, and I can say that everything went beautifully with the food. I mentioned that I'm not a beer drinker and Alex was happy to offer me wine instead, but the beer really did go so well with the risotto that it would have been a shame to replace it with something else. The non-alcoholic drinks were also so well done, thoughtfully put together, and not at all what I expected. Most places would give you something sweet and overpowering (elderflower cordial, I'm looking at you), but these drinks were much more complex and interesting. I wish I could be more eloquent about it all, but all I know is that I loved it from start to finish.

Also worth noting is how clean the kitchen was the entire service. I can't even do scrambled eggs without my kitchen looking like something out of "Hoarders" by the end of it. Clean, and quiet. No shouting, no "OUI CHEF!" no "SERVICE!", just calm conversation and laughter.

From a business perspective, this restaurant is ingenious. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that it's all about work/life balance. It's open Tuesdays to Saturdays, tables are prebooked and prepaid, evening service only. No possibility of no shows or a sudden influx of walk-ins, and sociable hours for staff. They know exactly how many covers are coming in, which dishes they're making, and as such, no food is wasted. This was a big problem in other restaurants, Alex said. The amount of food wastage is horrendous. 

Our reservation was for 6:15 and I told our babysitter that we'd probably be back by 8:00. We spent a very, very happy three hours watching the inner workings of a professional kitchen and having a brilliant chat with everyone. Time flew, Alex said we could stay as long as we liked, and I think had we both been on the alcoholic menu, we probably would have stayed longer just to watch the Vanderlyle world go by and ask more questions. 

Oh and to answer the question about the extractor fans, they're actually next to the induction hobs. They suck the steam down, and it's the cleverest thing I've ever seen. 

Some practicalities:

• The stools at the pass are incredibly comfortable, even for a shorty like me (I'm 5'4".) They are upholstered and slightly cushioned, and were absolutely fine for our three hour stay.
• We parked at Queen Anne's Terrace car park, which is about a five minute walk from Vanderlyle. We got there at 6:00pm and left at 9:30pm, total cost was £4. Affordable parking is like gold dust in Cambridge. You can certainly take your chances with the side streets off Mill Road, but I can't handle that kind of uncertainty.
• The restaurant will contact you in advance to ask if you have any food intolerances or allergies.
• The lighting is not ideal for food photography, if that sort of thing matters to you. I had the advantage of sitting right next to the lights at the pass, so I stuck my plates underneath to take photos. But really, who cares? Put your phone away and just enjoy it. 

Do I need to put a disclaimer here? Oh, what the hell. This is not a sponsored post, nobody paid me to write this, and we paid for our meal in full. Although I've known Alex for a few years and have enjoyed his food and conversation before, this is an unbiased review of our experience at Vanderlyle. 

for ian

"Look! It's the Boston ducks!" you said to me, as you excitedly pointed at a mug with ducks on it. "The...what?" I looked at my (then) boyfriend and his mum, both shrugging at me. "The ducks! You lived in Boston, right? The Boston ducks! The duck tour? The ducks from the book?" I had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, except that you knew I lived in Boston for 6 months when I was a kid. Even after we eventually got more of an explanation about the Boston ducks, it never really mattered. This would always be our point of reference when we didn't know what you were talking about. We'd all look at each other and say "The Boston ducks!" and you would smile too.

I feel like I need to replay these scenes in my head over and over, recall the sound of your voice, try to remember every single detail of the past 16 years with you as I try to figure out how to do this without you. As I go through each day, I realise that you are everywhere now.

You are your grandson who also has thick, spiky hedgehog hair. You are your granddaughter when she wrinkles her nose at pasta. You are your youngest granddaughter who would happily eat nothing but cookies for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You are your youngest son in a million "it's a Durbin man thing" ways.

Every day when I get my shoes out of the exceptionally clever cupboard you made just for me, you are there.

You are in mind when I look out the window and think about what I'm going to plant this year. I won't have my "toh-may-to" basket from you which, to be honest, was the only thing that ever really thrived in my garden. I will try my best to make something grow out of the advice you gave me. I wish I'd paid more attention.

When I get my morning cereal, I see your big box of Weetabix in my cupboard. I think it's probably out of date now, if such a thing is possible with Weetabix. But I'm not going to get rid of it just yet.

You will be with us in Toronto where you went to summer camp and learned how to swim with a kid called Bobby (or 'baaaah-bee' as you laughed), and you had your first taste of chocolate milk.

I sometimes roll my eyes at how we now only seem to see the world through the lens of a mobile phone, but it means that I don't have to look very hard to find you. You're dotted throughout my camera roll and the folders on my Macbook. Thanks to our online life, a lot of people you never met have been asking about you. I'm proud to introduce you to them.

For as long as these things are around and we remember, you will be here. We will talk about you and smile about you, then our kids will tell their kids, and you will still be here.

And we will always smile about the Boston ducks, even though it still doesn't make any sense to anyone.

review: sticks n sushi cambridge

Right at the start of Meat Street (depending on which direction you're coming from, obviously) is Sticks N Sushi, a Danish chain with restaurants in London and now Cambridge. Yes, Danish. Why the hell not? I'm half Japanese and half Scottish; I'm all for fusion. It's a chain but it's not really a chain. A very short walk down the road leads to two other well known sushi chains, but I wouldn't consider them to be Sticks N Sushi's competitors. I see this as something higher end, a proper restaurant you'd go to for lovely drinks and pretty food.

Sticks N Sushi invited Cambridge area bloggers and writers to come to "preview" lunches and dinners a few days before they officially open on May 7. I took my friend Katie with me, who is my go-to person when I need an opinion on good restaurant food. I think she's eaten at every restaurant on my London wish list.

It was a gloriously sunny Friday, I bypassed the office sausage and bacon rolls that morning in anticipation of a big lunch, and I was in a happy and very hungry mood. We were immediately greeted by several smiling faces and taken to our seats at the bar. Our waiter told us that we would be served a set menu, but gave us the extensive "photo album" menu to look at for future reference. The menu is huge, with photos - 162 of them, to be precise - that helps people like me make food decisions. (I tend to skip over recipes that don't have photos. I'm kind of basic that way.) We started with drinks: a matcha tea for Katie and a lemon and ginger fizz for me. I was pleasantly surprised that the fizz wasn't sweet, and on such a hot day (for England), it was incredibly refreshing.

"Ebi bites" came out first, a sort of tempura prawn dish that was crispy and light. It's actually not at all tempura, I just used that word because it's on the menu. I'm not sure what the coating was, but it was almost like puffed rice. Whatever it was, we ate it in about 15 seconds and it was good.

The sushi was the focus for me, and my expectations were high. Cambridge needs decent sushi. We have Japas Sushi which is the best by far, but you go there to fill a sushi-shaped hole or get takeaway. You don't go there to linger over cocktails. Otherwise, we have chains and one of them is good (fresh, nice variety, not too expensive, great for food on the go) and the other is Yo Sushi. All I will say on the topic is that I only go there when my children clamour for it, and they only go there because food goes by on a conveyor belt and you can push a button to get more food. So when rows and rows of beautiful sushi arrived on two long plates, we both let out a little "Oooooh."

We had a combination of nigiri (fish on rice balls) and rolls. We were given a good variety to try, ranging from the more traditional (shake or salmon nigiri) to the more Westernised versions of rolls (spicy tuna with avocado.) The fish and rice were beautifully fresh, and the rice was seasoned well. Some varieties were more interesting than others, and you need to adjust your excitement levels accordingly. Nothing involving salmon and cream cheese is ever going to be described as "an explosion of flavour" but we liked them anyway. We decided to be sensible (this is a rare thing for me) and take about 1/3 of the sushi home and save room for the sticks.

We had three stick varieties between the two of us, which was good because we were starting to enter Man Vs Food territory with all of the sushi. We had black cod, asparagus in bacon, and as they must have got word about me and my love of bacon ahead of time, scallops in pancetta.  All cooked perfectly and hooray, double bacon!

I don't normally have dessert at Asian restaurants (mostly because we don't tend to do desserts all that well and I've stuffed myself with dumplings and/or rice by that point) but we fit in two small dishes of yuzu sorbet and vanilla ice cream, which were very welcome on a warm day.

The waiter described the provenance of all of the fish on our plates and we had a chat with one of the managers about it after our meal. This is an important factor at this restaurant and it's reflected in the taste - and price. This is the cost of quality, fresh, sushi grade fish. The problem is, Cambridge is used to supermarket and chain sushi that comes cheap. Chewy unseasoned rice topped with a wodge of tasteless fish, but it's all some people know. Even I find it difficult to fathom paying £13 for two pieces of sushi, despite knowing what I'm paying for. If it's a special occasion or we're in a large group (I love meals with lots of sharing dishes), I would be happy to come back here.

Will the people of Cambridge pay a premium for high end food or will this get dismissed as "London prices"? Sticks N Sushi is in an area right next to a large mall and across from a theatre, and many walk-ins will be looking for something quick and cheap. I think as long as you understand what you're in for, you're good to go. Given the demographics of central Cambridge (tourists, students, locals on a lunch break or looking to grab a bite before heading out for the evening), I would like to see some set menu deals, or prix fixe because it sounds a lot nicer in French. There are some nice looking sharing plates and set menus on there already, but the price still may deter some people.

Disclaimer: Look, I've been blogging since 1999 (on a Tripod site that might still exist somewhere in cyberspace) and we never had to do this nonsense back then. You'd just go somewhere and if you liked it, you might write about it on your blog. These days, you've got to put a disclaimer at the end of anything resembling a review or nobody will simply trust that you went somewhere and had a good time. Anyway, Sticks N Sushi picked up the bill and we didn't choose our own dishes. Nobody said "Write a good review or else we'll tell everyone that you're an asshole and make you pay for your meal." We genuinely liked it. Okay? Okay.

Preview: Cambridge Gin Laboratory

In addition to my husband, children, and a really good steak, there are two other ways into my heart: gin and Labrador Retrievers. You know those Saint Bernard dogs in cartoons that rescue people stranded in mountains with a small barrel of spirits attached to their collars? If someone could send me a Labrador bearing a G&T, that would be awesome.

I was watching "Great British Menu" the other night and Rich Bainbridge (a Norwich-based chef) wanted to make a Victoria sponge cocktail to go with his dessert course. For this, he created a bespoke vanilla gin. The next thing we know, we're in Will and Lucy Lowe's house in Cambridge where they distill their own gin. (Side note: when people ask about the benefits of working from home, this is the sort of thing I have in mind.) Their Cambridge Distillery works with restaurants such as Alimentum and Morston Hall, businesses, and (if you're very lucky) individuals to create tailored gins. On a busy week, Will says, they can produce up to 60 bottles of gin. They are award-winning, world renowned distillers and I had no idea that this was happening a few miles from my house.

Lucy and Will are in the process of opening the Cambridge Gin Laboratory in central Cambridge, offering gin lovers a lesson in gin history, a behind the scenes look at how it is produced, and the opportunity to blend their own gin. There will be various experiences available, which you will be able to view and book on their site.

 

Will is not only a Master Distiller, he is also studying to become a Master of Wine - a combination that is a rare breed. I asked him how wine tasting compares to gin tasting and he said that it all comes down to detecting flavours. "I even eat foods I don't like just to experience different flavours," he said. I learned more about gin in the few minutes I spoke to Will than I have in the many years I've been drinking it.

One of the gins they produce is a seasonal gin that changes annually depending on what's been growing in their garden or available to forage that particular year. It is, without wanting to sound horribly cliche, Cambridge in bottle. Each vintage's report is a story about what was happening in Cambridge that season. We had the pleasure of tasting three drinks yesterday evening at the Gin Lab: a Cambridge Dry gin and tonic, a Japanese Gin martini, and a summery Basil Smash. You're probably supposed delicately sip and savour it, but I took great mouthfuls and said things like "OHMYGOD THIS IS SO GOOD."

How do Labradors fit into all of this? I have an unapologetic, extremely biased love for Labs and Lucy and Will have a very lovely one called Darcy. She graces the labels and if you visit the distillery, you'll get to meet this gorgeous lady yourself. Darcy is key to Lucy and Will's foraging, as they find botanicals to use in their gin during their walks. Also, it's rather lovely to sip a remarkable gin and tonic while giving her ears a little scratch.

Gin seems to have evolved from your grandmother's tipple to a spirit we are starting to care much more about. My heart sinks a little when I walk into a pub and all they have is Gordon's and tonic out of a nozzle. It's not snobbery, it's the knowledge that there is something so much better out there. To know that there is exceptional gin being produced right here in Cambridge is cause for celebration indeed.

The Cambridge Gin Laboratory aims to open at the end of October. We were invited to visit before the opening, and other than the really amazing G&T, the only compensation I received for my visit was the extreme joy in having gin on a school night. This is not a sponsored post because I don't do that sort of nonsense.

Penang soup

I have a cold, but just a little cold. Not enough to knock me right out, but enough to be really annoying. I can't cough with much vigour because my abdominal muscles (who knew I even had any?) still hurt from my Wednesday workout. I'm doing tiny little lady coughs that aren't actually accomplishing anything, and I sound like an idiot. It's a good thing that I'm working from home today.

My lovely friend Georgia posted a recipe yesterday for a Thai-inspired soup, and it sounded like the perfect remedy for a cold. One of the benefits of having a terrible short term memory is being pleasantly surprised by things I find in my cupboard that I forgot I bought - like a tub of Penang curry paste. I'd just made some chicken stock to help knock out Jack's cold, the weather turned cold and rainy today, so soup was the sensible lunchtime conclusion. I made this recipe up based on what I'd usually add to my standard Thai curry, with a little nod to laksa.

I only needed to feed me today, so I made the full batch of soup but didn't add the noodles, prawns, or lime juice to the pot. I added these to my bowl and ladled the hot stock on top, and put the rest of the soup in the fridge for another day. The paste I used was pretty hot, so not only are my sinuses clearer, I can see through time. (Thank you for that reference, Lisa Simpson.) If you've got leftover chicken or some other form of animal protein, by all means use that instead of prawns.

This isn't even remotely authentic. It's like a thinned out Thai curry on rice noodles instead of rice. I'm not really selling this, am I? It's good. Trust me.

Where are the prawns?

Oh look, there they are.

Thai Penang Curry Soup

(Serves 4)

50g/3 heaped tablespoons Penang curry paste

1 tbsp oil

400 ml/1 tin coconut milk

1 litre/4 cups of chicken or fish stock (unsalted, because you're adding fish sauce for seasoning)

4 "nests" of rice vermicelli (I used the Mama Noodles brand at 45g for each portion)

2 tbsp fish sauce

2 tbsp palm sugar (You can also use dark brown sugar or raw cane sugar)

200g/about 20 king prawns

Juice of 1 lime, or more to taste

Garnishes: bean sprouts, coriander/cilantro, spring onions/green onions, or whatever else strikes your fancy.

Fry the curry paste in the oil over medium heat for about 2-3 minutes. Add the coconut milk and stock, and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down and simmer for 15 minutes or so. 

While the soup is simmering, add boiling water to the vermicelli and let stand according to package instructions. Mine only took three minutes, so you can do this near the end. Drain and set aside.

Add the fish sauce and palm sugar to the soup and stir until the sugar dissolves. Add the prawns* and noodles, stir and heat the soup through for a minute or two. Squeeze the lime juice on top.

Ladle/pour/slop the soup into bowls and top with your garnishes. Say goodbye to your cold.

*If you're using raw prawns, throw them in at the end for about two minutes, and cook until they're thoroughly pink.

Per serving: 499 calories, 23g fat, 24g protein, 48g carbs.

sunday best at gog magog farm shop with guerilla kitchen: Eat Cambridge

I had neither the time nor calorie allowance to go to any of the Eat Cambridge events this year with one exception: Sunday Best at Gog Magog Farm Shop. I couldn't pass up the chance to have food cooked by one of my favourite chefs, and Sunday roast is one of the best things I've discovered since moving to England. It's also one of the trickiest meals to do for mass catering. Jay Scrimshaw not only managed to feed us all with a couple of green eggs and his truck, he gave us one of the best Sunday lunches I've ever had.

I first heard about Jay in 2009 when he and his wife Taffeta ran The Pheasant in Keyston, shortly before their appearance on Gordon Ramsay's "F Word" where they came in second place overall. I went with a couple of friends to check it out before it got hugely popular from their TV appearance, and we loved it. The Scrimshaws eventually moved on, focussing on pop-ups. I spoke to Taffeta about it for an article and had the chance to enjoy Jay's food again at two subsequent pop-ups. Jay now brings his food (specifically, his incredible steamed buns) to Cambridge via his food truck Myrtle and did a special one-off roast dinner as part of the Eat Cambridge food festival.

There are so many things I love about a Sunday roast: the gathering of family around the table after a week of speed eating and uncoordinated meal times, crispy roast potatoes, big hunks of meat, the excuse to have wine in the afternoon. Although I do love making a weekly roast for our family, it's very, very nice when someone else does the job for me every now and then.




We sat in tables of six (or in our case, four adults, two children, and one 5-year-old diva who demanded a scotch egg) in "The Shack", a covered outdoor area next to the cafe. We started with charred leeks with romesco sauce, a dish we devoured at one of Jay's pop-ups a little while ago. There's no photo because we hoovered it all up in minutes. It came with a massive salad with apple, hazelnut, and blue cheese dressing.

The main course was pure heaven. Meat. Lots and lots and lots of meat. Even better, meat with perfectly cooked side dishes: beetroot, apple, and fennel slaw (no filter needed), roast potato cooked in dripping, crispy asparagus, and Yorkshire puddings.

But the meat. We need to talk about the meat. LOOK AT THIS MOTHER LOVIN' MEAT.



Lamb shoulder and pork belly that had a beautifully smoky taste that you can only get with charcoal cooking. I ate way too much meat. I had to go have a little walk outside for a few minutes before I could contemplate dessert.


The sun came out, the kids ran in the fields, and I finished my glass of Sauvignon Blanc listening to some chilled vintage (i.e. songs by people who were alive when I was a kid) tunes. The stress and chaos of a very hectic week melted away. If there weren't other people around who could see me, I probably would have had a little nap.


By the time the pavolva came out, I was actually ready and able to cram a bit more into my stomach. It was like a giant marshmallow slathered in whipped cream and fresh, flavoursome strawberries I've been waiting for since last summer. We all had a huge slice. Then Isla wanted more. And Grandad wanted more. And Jack wanted more. And Isla started to have a hissy fit so Grandad shared his piece with Isla.

This was a wonderfully perfect Sunday and as an added bonus, we came home with a bag full of leftovers*. Thanks Jay and the lovely people at Gogs. I will happily let you take the Sunday roast shift for our family again anytime.

Full photo set here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/lisadurbin/sets/72157653368766202

*(I may have stolen a bit of pork belly from the bag before putting it in the freezer, and I might be feeling a little bit like Mr. Creosote right now.)

banana muffins

I wish I had an interesting story about this recipe, but I don't. Sorry about that. 

I had some very ripe bananas and Jack asked me to make him some muffins to take in his lunchbox. He's not allowed to bring in anything with nuts and I wanted to have some as well, so I went with this nut-free and wheat-free recipe: http://wellnessmama.com/2637/grain-free-banana-bread-muffins/

I didn't add any milk as the batter was runny enough and I used butter instead of coconut oil. And they were really good. The end.

Per muffin: 153 calories, 9g fat, 12g carbs, 6g protein.

frittata 4 dayz

Paul and I can't say the word "fritatta" without sounding like the angry Scottish bloke in this advert:



Which happens quite a lot because I make it often. Also known as a Spanish tortilla (or maybe it's not exactly the same thing; I have no idea), it's like a crustless quiche that you start off on the stove top and finish off in the oven. You can put anything you want in it, but the one I made last week had grilled red peppers, potatoes, onion, cheese, and bacon inside. I cut mine into six pieces, and it was a very handy and delicious breakfast at the office that week. You can eat it hot, cold, or at room temperature. Isn't that lovely? What a great dish you are, fritatta.

Here's how I made mine, but I'm going to tell you again, put what you want inside. Just follow the instructions for cooking and egg quantities, but the rest is up to you. I want you to have a fritatta you can love.

Red Pepper and Potato Fritatta

(Serves 6)

Per serving: 331 calories, 20g fat, 18g carbs, 19g protein.

8 large (US extra large) eggs, at room temperature

100g (about a cup) of grated cheddar cheese

salt and pepper

1 tbsp olive oil

300g (about 3) potatoes, sliced thinly

1 onion, sliced thinly

4 streaky bacon rashers/slices of bacon, diced

Roasted red peppers that I got out of a jar, chopped. Don't judge.

Preheat the grill/broiler.

Heat a large, oven-proof frying pan with the olive oil over medium heat. Whisk the eggs and cheese with a bit of salt and pepper and set aside. 

Add the onions and potatoes to the frying pan, turn down the heat, cover, and simmer gently for about 15 minutes. Poke the potatoes with a knife to see if they're tender. If not, slap the lid back on and simmer for another 5 minutes or so. 

Take the lid off, turn the heat back up to medium-high, and add the diced bacon. Fry until crispy. Add the peppers until they're heated through. 

Pour in the egg mixture, stir it around a bit, and let it cook until you see the sides start to set. Put the frying pan under the grill/broiler until the fritatta goes lovely and brown on top (about 5 minutes.) 

Leave to cool for a couple of minutes before slicing into six pieces. Put it somewhere in the fridge where your husband can't see it because he will eat all of it before you get a chance to take it into the office for breakfast. 

avocado and smoked salmon on toast

I want to create a series of recipes entitled "Diet Food That Doesn't Suck" but really, this is just food that happens to be pretty good for you. I'm terrible at dieting because I love to eat. A lot. The food I eat isn't bad for me; I just eat far too much of it. Add that to the fact that I hate exercise and you've got a happy but rotund Canadian on your hands.

I had my first personal training session on Monday and I still can't walk. "You'll get addicted to it!", friends say. To what, being in agony? You're all masochists, clearly. I hate gyms. I hate exercising in front of other people (which is why I took up jogging and I actually grew to love it even though I'm still really bad at it.) Why the hell am I not only going to a gym but exercising while being scrutinised by a much younger and incredibly buff guy? Because it's the only way I'll be motivated to actually get off my ass. I hate letting people down so I won't want to skip training sessions or go off track. That's the theory, anyway.

I'm attempting to eat normal, human-sized portions and keeping track of what I consume so I can get healthier. If I make something that I think is tasty and remember to take a photo of it, I'll post the recipe. This morning, I made a breakfast based on something a friend of mine had for brunch recently. It was lacking capers and possibly dill or some other green leafy thing, but it was fine. I used BFree bread because wheat and I don't get along all that well. Look, I've had food intolerances long before they became trendy so don't give me any lip. I was subjected to carob in the late 70s, I'll have you know.

Anyway, here's the recipe. It was filling and it didn't suck.

Avocado and Smoked Salmon on Toast

(Serves 1)

Per serving: 364 calories, 18g carbs, 19g fat, 27g protein.

1/2 avocado, sliced

100g smoked salmon

2 slices of whatever bread takes your fancy (a darker bread works well with this, like rye)

1/2 red onion, sliced thinly

8 thin slices of cucumber

About 1/4 cup or 50ml white wine vinegar

1 tsp sea salt

Pepper

2 tsp capers

Dill or whatever leafy green herby thing that goes with salmon that you have

Put the onions and cucumbers in a small dish and cover with the vinegar and salt. Set aside for about 10 minutes but you can do this the night before as well. Drain.

Toast the bread then top with the salmon, avocado, onions, cucumber, capers, herbs, and a good grind of pepper. I also love smoked paprika on avocado and toast, so give that a go as well. If you have any onion leftover, keep it in the fridge covered a little bit of vinegar.

bagels for non-bread makers

After spending 11 years in Montreal, all other bagels are just not the same to me anymore. Maybe it's the wood ovens or genetics or Montreal tap water. I'm not sure what kind of voodoo Montreal bakers do to make their bagels taste like they do, but I haven't found another variety that I like as much and I can't replicate them at home.

The closest I've come is this recipe from Serious Eats: http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2011/03/how-to-make-homemade-bagels-a-la-jo-goldenberg-recipe.html It's a great one for those of us who should never be allowed to make bread because Bad Things happen. The kids love helping me make these, especially rolling them out.

Don't be put off by all the steps and the weird ass instruction to boil your bagels. They're not having a laugh, it really is the secret to making a great bagel. The only change I make to this recipe is the addition of 1tsp of baking soda to the boiling water. I have no idea what it does but I heard somewhere that this is what makes Montreal bagels so distinct; I throw it in there for good luck. Oh and I don't bother flipping them when baking and I bake for 20 minutes in total.

It does look labour intensive when you read through the recipe, but it really isn't. The process takes time because you have to let the dough rise, but the actual hands-on work is brief.

Here, let me break it down to help illustrate this:

-Chuck everything in a food processor. Blitz for about 1-2 minutes.

-Chuck dough in an oiled bowl with cling film on top. Stick it in the airing cupboard. Faff about on the Internet for an hour. 

-Divide dough into 10 pieces, make wriggly worms, drape around your hand and roll the ends on a counter so they seal. Go faff about on the Internet again for about 10 minutes.

-Boil the water/sugar/baking soda in a large pan, simmer bagels in batches for 1 minute (I usually do this in three batches, so it takes maybe 5 minutes.) The girls do the timing because small children get really excited about crap like that.

-Use child labour to brush the bagels with egg wash and to sprinkle seeds on top. Internet faffing optional at this stage.

-Bake for 20 minutes and play a few rounds of Candy Crush. Leave to cool. 

Slice and freeze if you've got some self control and won't devour all 10 bagels in the same day.

ain't nobody got time for that: weekday recipe roundup

I'm boring myself with my own cooking. I'm limited in what I can make during the week because I'm either in the office or we do All The Things after school on my non-office days. Add this to the fact that two of my kids are relatively picky eaters (thank you Jack for being a human Hoover) and I am NEVER going to cook separate meals for everyone so don't even suggest it, okay?

So this means having to do the rather soul-destroying task of weekly meal planning. I can't just bung things together when I get home, or at least I can't make a regular habit of it. Weekends and Mondays are good because I have more time to cook. The rest of the week is like a food-based game show in which the prize is children that aren't screaming and hungry.

Here is a list of some recipes I've tried out lately that were not only incredibly delicious and fit into my schedule, but the kids actually loved them. Well, except the pasta one because Mia doesn't do pasta. What kid doesn't like pasta? Honestly.

• Buttermilk roast chicken from the fabulous Smitten Kitchen: based on a Nigella recipe, this does something magical that makes it taste a million times better than plain roasted chicken pieces. You can marinate it up to two days and just whack it in the oven after work for about 35-40 minutes. I serve this with a ready made mash from Tesco that doesn't have any crap in it and just requires a quick trip in the microwave. 
• Quinoa with things on top (here's a link for some great tips on cooking quinoa): okay look, don't get all arsey with me because I'm mentioning a super trendy food. This quinoa is good stuff if you cook it properly and it holds up very well for a day or two afterwards, unlike its clumpy wannabe twin couscous. Bring to the boil in stock, simmer 15 minutes, drain, put a lid on it and let it sit for another 15 minutes. Job's done. You can get grilled peppers and things you can stick on top with chicken or whatever else you've got. I toss in a little olive oil, lemon juice, and sometimes feta.
• Slow cooker meatballs: looks labour intensive but isn't, and you can prepare the meatballs the day before. An incredibly rich sauce with flavourful meatballs that made enough to feed four of us (Mia wouldn't entertain the idea) with plenty of leftovers. So, so good.
• Slow cooker chicken tortilla soup: don't be put off by all the strange and wonderful peppers needed for this soup. I get mine online from http://www.capsicana.co.uk/ or a Mexican online grocer - stock up and keep a bunch in the cupboard. Even Tesco is now stocking dried chipotles and poblanos these days. The most work needed for this one was the toppings because I lovingly organised them all into a lazy susan. The kids LOVED this soup. I'm tempted to add beans to it next time to bulk it out a bit. The soup was delicious and a great remedy to a weekend of overindulgence, but probably not filling enough for a normal meal (for adults) on its own. 

Just don't tell anyone that this week two of my kids had frozen chicken nuggets because I couldn't be bothered to figure out one meal that would make everyone happy. 

Kate Bush: Before the Dawn, Eventim Apollo (review)

28/08: Following on from people who are getting silly money for this, I've put four pieces of confetti from the Kate Bush concert on eBay - all proceeds will go to charity (TBD - am thinking along the lines of Amnesty Int'l, Oxfam, or British Red Cross.) Auctions end this evening at 8:30ish UK time.

29/08: The auction has ended and £50 is now in the hands of Medecins Sans Frontiers/Doctors Without Borders! I'm floored that people will pay £10-15 for one piece of confetti, but really pleased I was able to raise this much for charity. Bless you, you crazed Kate fans!


In case it's not obvious, this post will contain spoilers and information that people who don't know/care about Kate Bush may find utterly pointless. I won't list all the tracks, although if you're curious, here is the setlist: http://www.wonderingsound.com/news/kate-bush-setlist-2014/  Also, this isn't really a proper review; it's a collection of ramblings from a middle-aged Kate fan who has a terrible short term memory and needs to write this stuff down before she forgets.

Right, let's carry on.

We had tickets in row E, and I was absolutely astounded to learn that this was the front row. They had removed rows A-D to accommodate the deeper stage; I had expected to be peering between the heads of the four rows ahead of me (as often happens when you're only 5'4".) We followed the letters along and when they stopped at E, I had Paul check the tickets to make sure I wasn't misreading something. A woman a couple of rows back called over, "Congratulations - you're in the front row!" as other people around her smiled at my shocked face. Hands shaking, I took a few photos of the stage. You cannot take a panoramic shot with your iPhone when you have the shakes, just FYI. We tucked our phones away knowing that we'd been asked not to view the show through a lens, and remarkably, everyone else did the same. Not one glowing screen appeared (that I could see), just like in the olden days when I used to go to concerts as a teen and all we had were chalkboards and quills.

The show started promptly at 7:45 with a barefooted Kate leading her background singers out on the stage. No opening act, no messing about, here's bloody well Kate fucking Bush. We erupted into applause, roaring at the sight of this woman we've waited so very long to see. "Where have you been?" she joked with us. She seemed a bit tentative, which may be just my interpretation based on what we know about her reluctance to perform live, and the audience seemed to cheer her on in encouragement. It was like 8,000 people were saying "It's alright, Kate - come on out now."

Once I got over the fact that I was looking at actual real life Kate Bush (about four songs in), I worried a bit. Although she could have come out and burped the phone book and I would have been elated, the fact that the show started out so...normally was troubling. She stood, she sang, she twirled around a bit. She thanked the lighting director (which seemed a somewhat awkward thing to do after only the second song) and then thanked her son Bertie for encouraging her to do this tour, who stood in front of us with the other backing vocalists. She talked a bit between songs, punctuated by enthusiastic applause throughout. She launched into "Running Up That Hill" and the place imploded. It was amazing and exciting, but where were the theatrics?

The lights suddenly dimmed and French percussionist Mino Cinelu stepped forward, whirling an object around his head that made an ethereal humming sound. Cannons shot yellow slips of tissue paper with words from Tennyson on them at us. A screen dropped down to show a short film about an astronomer reporting a ship in distress. Well okay then, this was the show I was looking for.

"The Ninth Wave" was performed in its entirety, combining film, dialogue, and dance. Huge billowing sheets were swept across the stage by performers draped in alien-like fish skeletons (stay with me, here), falling over the front of the stage like a waterfall. Frantic rescuers chopped at the ice with axes, finally making an opening with a chainsaw, as Kate momentarily bobbed up to the surface from underneath the stage. A film of Kate projected on a screen at the back of the stage was her "reality"; a woman in a lifejacket struggling to stay afloat in icy water. On stage was the "dream". A fairly rudimentary (i.e. it was controlled by a couple of blokes pulling on ropes) but incredibly effective helicopter sort of contraption moved across the audience, puffing out fog and panning its search light over us. Paddy Bush's tinny voice reported the loss of one female overboard to the rescue team back at the base. The following songs told the rest of the story from drowning to rebirth, ending with the lights brightening in sunrise and an utterly joyful, soul-lifting rendition of "The Morning Fog."

After a 20 minute intermission, during which we all blinked in a daze trying to register what we've just seen, the second half led us through "A(n Endless) Sky of Honey." A wooden puppet that looked like an artist's model, a child, wandered around the set observing everything and everyone in wonder. I felt less connected (what a pretentious word) to this half simply because "Hounds of Love" was such a big part of my teenage life and the later albums happened a little more quietly in the background of my adult life. I got a similar sense from the audience around me; there was less head-bobbing, chair dancing, and singing along. I feel like this section created a different atmosphere, similar to watching a West End show in which you aren't overly familiar with the songs. This is not a bad thing, by any means. I just had to switch gears and take it in differently.

Kate's son Bertie was central to this half, although he was very much present throughout. It's obvious that he was the main motivation and inspiration to do this tour (is it a tour when it's only at one venue? I dunno.) I often caught him casting a close eye over his mother during the performance, non-verbally reassuring her. Bertie fit into the show perfectly, and performed a solo with a new song called "Tawny Moon."

In between the polished, powerful two main performances she was just Kate - for example she remarked "Oh, there's a tree!" when a piece of the set was still lodged in her piano from an earlier scene and "It wasn't even for real!" with a large smile when we all cheered her return to life before "Morning Fog." She thanked us for receiving her so positively and seemed to visibly relax by the end of the show, which went out with a bang with "Cloudbusting." Being able to stand a few feet from one of my idols while singing at the top of my lungs "Yay-e-yay-e-yay-e ohhhh!" along with her will be a moment I will cherish for a very long time. We whooped and we waited, but that really was the end of the show. That lasted for three hours.

I don't want to call this a "comeback tour" because her last album "50 Words for Snow" is a relatively new release. The fact that she hasn't been on stage for so many years doesn't negate what she's been doing in the studio. She's not being hauled out at Newmarket Races to sing the three hits she had in the 80s with five other ageing, balding bands from the same era. I don't really feel like she's been absent, this is simply a new tour. A very long overdue tour, but a just a tour nonetheless. I think this is reflected in the songs she chose to perform. This isn't a "Kate's Greatest Hits" show, it's an intricate piece of theatre.

I'm glad that there were no special guests (despite rumours of Peter Gabriel hopping up on stage to sing "Don't Give Up" with her), a huge chorus of professional dancers, or a rendition of "Wuthering Heights". After I saw the show, I knew that would have been out of place. It was an elaborate production however it was simple in that the stage only ever contained the musicians, Kate, her vocalists, and a very small number of performers to help with some elements such as the fabric sea and the wooden puppet.

It was mostly what I expected but still surprising and amazing. The hamsters that run my brain are still making the wheels whizz round in my head as I try to take it all in. And the Internet is undoubtedly billowing smoke as we all post our thoughts about the show over the past twelve hours.

"Does that mean you liked it?", she asked at the end. Yes, very much so, Kate. Please come back and do it again sometime.

Mamta's/Kavey's lamb biryani: AKA what to do with leftover lamb

A very well-loved Mamta recipe I printed up in 2010

I've used and loved the recipes from the wonderful Mamta's Kitchen site for ages now. When I want an Indian recipe, I head to Mamta's because I know it'll be failsafe and delicious.

I stumbled upon her daughter Kavey on Twitter and discovered that she's been posting recipes, too. I had a lot of leftover lamb from Easter dinner and remembered Kavey's post about her mum's lamb biryani (http://www.kaveyeats.com/2014/03/mamtas-delicious-lucknowi-style-lamb-biryani.html), which happened to be posted the same week I made the Worst Biryani Ever.

I should have realised when I read the recipe that it was never going to even remotely resemble biryani. It was sort of like a pilau rice dish or maybe a distant relative of paella if you used your imagination, but whatever it was, it was not biryani. It was incredibly sloppy due to far too much stock. How it got 337 five star reviews on the BBC Food site is beyond me. And don't even get me started about people giving recipes five stars when they have to amend most of it to make it edible.

This is totally not biryani and I can only apologise.

So anyway, proper biryani. Had I done two more minutes of Googling I would have realised that it is a dish of two parts that are layered and baked. Kavey's recipe reinforced this, and I bookmarked it with a promise to give it a go one day. Enter my copious amounts of leftover lamb and a need to get at least one more meal out of it without resorting to shepherd's pie. I used leg of lamb, but I think shoulder would be much better (and cheaper.) 

I didn't stray far from Kavey's recipe; I didn't have saffron or rose water for the rice and used coconut oil to saute everything instead of ghee. As I used cooked lamb, I only simmered it for about 20 minutes. The final dish was absolutely, gloriously scrumptious and I would very happily eat the lamb curry on its own. 

I prepared it ahead of time so I only had to pop it in the oven when I got home from work. Kavey asked her mum about preparing it in advance, and Mamta advised that I chill the rice quickly under cold water before assembling to prevent any nasty bacteria from setting up house in my baking dish overnight. I would add that once you've made this dish, don't reheat it again to avoid the nasties. You ever wonder what often causes "Delhi Belly"? Rice that's been sitting around too long or has been reheated too many times. It ain't pretty. 

The onions do take a while to brown, so heed Kavey's note about it taking about 20-30 minutes until it goes sticky and lovely like this:

 

And don't freak out about using so many onions because they will shrink big time. There is a Japanese word that escapes me for the crunchy layer of rice that forms at the bottom of the pan, but it is one of my favourite things in the world. I greedily scooped out all of this golden layer for myself. Oh yes I did.

So, thank you Kavey for sharing your mum's beautiful recipe and for giving me something more creative to make with my leftover lamb. All five of us loved it and I would make it again in a heartbeat.

review, sort of: savion glover, sole sanctuary

It's not often you'll find one of my reviews on this site but as no one asked me to review Savion Glover's latest show "SoLe Sanctuary" (currently at Sadler's Wells theatre in London), here it is. Actually, this isn't a proper review; it's more of a response to the lukewarm reviews I came across on t'internet (of which there were only two, but both for major British newspapers.)

So here's the thing - most people here will know Savion Glover as the tap dancer who was digitally tracked to animate the feet of Mumble, the penguin from "Happy Feet". For those of us from North America, we also know him from the wildly popular production "Bring in Da Noise, Bring in Da Funk" that had a good run on Broadway in the 90s. We also know him from the films "Jelly's Last Jam" and "Tap". And yeah, probably "Sesame Street", too. The point is, we know what to expect when we see him tap.

We know he's not going to leap into the air and turn a sofa on its side or shuffle his way up a grand staircase. He's not going to do jazz hands and big-toothed smiles to big band music. He's going to use his feet like percussive instruments, moving very little else. He is going to blow us away with his intricate rhythms and make us wonder how he's making any sound because we can't really see his feet  moving.

His latest show, SoLe Sanctuary, does exactly this. It's 80 minutes of percussion, sometimes with music or singing, but mostly just his and Marshall Davis Jr's taps. He strips tap down to its essence: sound. He doesn't look out into the audience because he doesn't need to; I spent the entire show staring at his feet, my jaw on the floor.

His segments with Davis Jr were like conversations, moving between finishing each other's sentences and trying to outdo each other. They smiled broadly as the other danced, showing a longtime familiarity but also marking respect. It was difficult to tell if these segments were ad libbed; their faces made us believe that some of the steps were being seen for the first time on that stage.

I think drummers would enjoy this show or at least get something more out of it. I don't think I fully appreciated how intricate these rhythms were and my rudimentary understanding of tap didn't help much, either. Still, I was transfixed. I found myself shaking my head at these impossible steps and nodding along to the sounds. The audience erupted with applause and whoops at the end of each segment and gave a standing ovation at the finale.

There was no intermission but I think a break would have disrupted the flow of the show. It also left us wondering how the hell these men could tap for that long without collapsing. It was, in a word, astounding.

Thank you Savion for educating me about traditional African American tap and for blowing me away with the sounds that came out of your feet. I am inspired.

and then the kate bush ticket gods smiled upon me

My first year at York university was in 1986. I had really big hair and I thought I was pretty cool because I was a Fine Arts Student. I was on my way to get my BFA (or as most of us fondly called it, a "Bachelor's of Fuck All") and I wore a lot of black and was very, very deep.

I made friends with a guy called Tony during the first week on campus. He was gay, so don't get all excited - this story doesn't involve true love or anything like that. It mostly involves nose piercing, hair dying in the co-ed residential bathrooms, and Kate Bush.

Tony was a massive Kate Bush fan and a vegetarian. "I'm vegetarian too," I blurted out. I wasn't, but from that point on, I was. I did know who Kate Bush was thanks to "Hounds of Love" becoming a huge hit that year, and I was already a fan. So Tony and I became inseparable, did a lot of very silly things at university, and I was now a Kate-loving vegetarian because I was incredibly impressionable and keen to please. Good thing I didn't bond with a heroin-smoking Kajagoogoo fan, really.

Tony introduced me to Kate's back catalogue along with some B sides from his "The Singles File" boxed set. I made cassette recordings of everything and Kate became my soundtrack to my weekend job; the graveyard shift at the Shell station. Her music was also a handy way to coax my uni roommate out of our room. Playing this at full blast usually had the desired effect:



I fell in love with her music. I still know every word to every song and certain songs always evoke specific memories. "The Dreaming" will always remind me of my job at Shell because it was my favourite album and I played it over and over during my shifts.

When I moved to Montreal, "Sensual World" came out which introduced us all to the wonderful Trio Bulgarka. I learned that one of her songs was based on Molly Bloom's words in James Joyce's Ulysses and immediately set out to read it and love it. Which was a really stupid idea because I had absolutely no idea what the book was about (although a later course in Irish literature would help me decipher the story.) And of course there was Book of Dreams by Peter Reich ("Cloudbusting") and millions of other references I would pick up over the years.

28 years later (god, really?) my friend Steph alerted me that Kate is going on tour. WHAT? A quick Google confirmed she was indeed touring for the first time since 1979. Oh. My. Giddy. Aunt.

I knew I had a one in a bazillion chance of getting tickets. She has a huge fanbase and this was to be her only tour, made up of just 22 shows. I cracked my knuckles last Friday morning, opening up a few browser tabs, and hoped for the best. I didn't expect to get tickets, but I had to try. But I did. I got tickets. I got opening night tickets in row E. I just kept refreshing the page and magically the little icon went green and I clicked madly, not even looking at what night or what seats I was getting.

Even with the confirmation page staring back at me, I couldn't believe I actually got tickets. I wouldn't close the window until the confirmation email came in and even then I had to read the email a dozen times to make sure I had indeed secured tickets to Kate Bush.

I don't know how I managed it, but by the gods, I am absolutely thrilled about it. My 45-year-old self is high fiving my 17-year-old self. And telling her to stop smoking and acting like an idiot.

(I'm not vegetarian anymore, sorry Kate.)

cheddar and jalapeno pepper muffins

So what do you do when you're stuck indoors with two poorly children, attempting to work from home, while it's absolutely pissing down with rain? You bake, obviously.

I was looking through the Internet (I like read the whole entire thing when I'm procrastinating) for a grain-free baked good recipe. I was going to make something sweet but as I'm attempting to wean myself off sugar/the need for sugar, I went for something savoury instead. And anyway, healthy substitutes for cakes always taste like a loofah covered in Stevia powder. Don't try to tell me they don't; you're just so ravenous from being on a diet that you think it tastes good. I've been there. I know.

Anyway, I decided to make something resembling cornbread muffins to go with my leftover chilli for lunch. I found this basic almond flour muffin recipe on Elena's Pantry, added some extras, and doubled it: http://www.elanaspantry.com/ratio-rally-quick-breads/ To my huge surprise (see my comment about substitution failures) they turned out to be pretty damned tasty.

They aren't corn muffins because they don't, you know, contain corn. They do have a very similar texture and a little bit of sweetness you'd get with cornbread. They are very passable and tender cheesy muffins that went well with my chilli. And then I ate another just to be sure. It was still good, but I'll have to try another one tomorrow to make sure they're still delicious the next day. Shall keep you posted.

You could add all sorts of things to the basic muffin batter, sweet or savoury. I was thinking of doing a breakfast version with bacon (I know, I know - this will do nothing to dissuade people from posting bacon jokes on my Facebook page), spinach, mushrooms, and cheese or a pizza version with tomatoes, basil, cheese, and pepperoni. It'll just depend on how many deadlines I'm trying to avoid.

Here's the recipe.

Cheddar and Jalapeno Muffins
(Makes 8 large 'Merkin sized muffins)

Ingredients:

8 oz blanched almond flour (approx. two cups)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup shredded mature cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese
1 jalapeno pepper, finely diced (or more if you want more heat)
1 tbsp sea salt
1 tbsp mild chilli powder
8 oz eggs (four large eggs)
2 oz honey (approx. two tablespoons)
1 teaspoon cider vinegar

Preheat the oven to 180C/170C fan assist/350F. Line a muffin tin, or if you've got a very well seasoned tin like I do, just spray a little oil on it.

Put the almond flour, baking soda, cheese, jalapeno peppers, chilli powder, and sea salt in a bowl and combine. In a large bowl, whisk the eggs, honey, and vinegar. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir well.

Bake for around 15 minutes, until the edges are brown and a toothpick comes out clean. Leave to cool in the tin for 30 minutes, then cool completely on a wire rack before storing.

holey tops, batman!

The other day, I noticed my black t-shirt had tiny little holes in the front, just below my belly button. Annoyed, I chucked it thinking it must have been damaged in the washing machine. Then the second t-shirt got holes in the same spot. Then a third. Either some sort of moth was living in my navel (possible as I can't actually see it) or something else was amiss.

Thanks to Google, I found out that this is a common occurrence when you switch to a granite worktop (counter.) It's caused by rubbing up against the edge and seems to affect jersey tops more than others. I cannot even make this stuff up. 

I suppose this means an apron is needed until I lose enough stomach or grow longer arms. 

aubergine (eggplant) with ragu sauce

I stopped writing about food on this blog because I thought people who were here to read all about my thrilling life wouldn't want to read about the food I make. As only about three of you read this blog anymore and food is a huge part of our lives, the food is back.

This is also to help keep me on track with the Not Eating of the Crap. If I blog about the Not Crap I'm eating, I might actually not eat Crap. (I really need to get back to work; my brain has obviously packed it in.)

Yesterday was all about carbs thanks to too much bubbly the night before. And Pringles. And chocolate cake. I made a big batch of spaghetti bolognaise last night, and the world seemed a slightly better place. A little leftover sauce made a healthier lunch for me today, with the addition of one small aubergine and mozzarella balls. I'm feeling all smug and virtuous now. I've stuck to my diet for 6 1/2 hours so far. BOOYAH.

Oh Christ, I'm annoying. Here's the recipe.

Aubergine Bolognaise With Mozzarella

(Serves 4, or less with extras for the next day)

For the bolognaise:

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

1 stalk celery, finely diced

2 carrots, finely diced

1 onion, oh you get the idea. Cut everything up small.

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

500g beef mince/ground beef

1 glass of red wine

1 tin plum tomatoes

1 box (about 2 cups) of passata/tomato sauce
Dash of worcester sauce
Salt and pepper to taste

Handful of fresh basil

For the aubergine/eggplant base:
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 aubergines/eggplants, thinly sliced
250g fresh mozzarella
Fresh basil to garnish

To make the sauce, heat the olive oil in a large shallow pan over medium heat. Fry off the beef until it browns - try not to move it around too much so you get some nice crispy bits (rather than boiling it.) Remove the beef from the pan.
Add the celery, carrots, onion and garlic to the pan, and stir until it starts to soften.
Put the beef back in the pan along with the glass of wine. Let the wine bubble and reduce a bit, then add the tomatoes, passata/tomato sauce, worcester sauce, and salt and pepper.
Let it simmer, covered, for at least half an hour but ideally 1-2 hours. This can also be left to simmer in a slow cooker, or cooked ahead and frozen.

For the aubergines, heat the oil over medium-high heat in a large frying pan. Toss in the aubergines and cook them off until they brown a little. Add the sauce and heat through. Just before serving, tear up the mozzarella and add it to the pan, and let it melt a little. Garnish with fresh basil if you like that sort of thing.