4 weeks ago we were in New York.
4 weeks ago it was 37°C.
4 weeks ago it was the longest day of the year.
4 weeks ago we woke up, got ready, took a cab to city hall and got married.
4 weeks ago was the best.
Thursday, 19 July 2012
4 WEEKS AGO
4 weeks ago we were in New York.
4 weeks ago it was 37°C.
4 weeks ago it was the longest day of the year.
4 weeks ago we woke up, got ready, took a cab to city hall and got married.
4 weeks ago was the best.
Friday, 11 May 2012
OATMEAL BISCUITS
I don't think it's ever going to stop raining.
That may be an exaggeration but I don't care.
I'm fed up of wearing a warm vest every day.
I'm fed up of wearing thick tights.
I'm fed up of curling up at night in my sheepskin slippers and having a cold nose all the time.
I'm fed up of slightly damp feet.
Can you tell I'm over it?
But it's Friday. At 5pm Chris will come to meet me from work. We'll walk down the road, stopping to buy coffee on the way, maybe having a beer before heading home. Tonight we'll watch American Idol because I, without shame (well, without much shame) love it. I suspect Philip will win but think that Jacob should. Then, tomorrow, I'll try, sometimes I succeed, sometimes not, to get up in time for Saturday morning Zumba to jump and turn and shimmy (yes, shimmy) to some truly terrible music that makes me smile nonetheless and by the time I get home Chris will be up. I'll kick my trainers off and we'll sit down with coffee and the papers and I'll put the unbaked biscuits that are sitting in the freezer in the oven to eat with butter and a little of the end of last Summer's strawberry jam.
Oatmeal Biscuits
From The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham
½ cup rolled oats
1 ¼ cups plain (all-purpose) flour
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda (baking soda)
1 tablespoons (½ stick) butter, chilled
¾ cup buttermilk
Preheat the oven to 215°C and grease a baking sheet.
Combine the oats, flour, salt, baking powder, and bicarb in a mixing bowl. Stir and toss to mix and blend all the dry ingredients.
Cut the cold butter into pieces and add to the flour mixture. Using your fingers or a pastry cutter, cut or rub the butter into the flour until the mixture is in coarse, irregular bits. Add the buttermilk and stir the mixture with a fork until the rough mass somewhat holds together.
Gather the dough up and place on a lightly floured board. Knead about 10 times, pushing some of the pieces into the ball of this rather dry dough. Pat or roll into a ½ inch thickness. Cut into 2 inch rounds and place 1 inch apart on the baking sheet.
Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, or until lightly browned. Serve hot.
Makes 12.
Monday, 16 April 2012
SHAVED ASPARAGUS PIZZA
I was going to tell you about oatmeal biscuits today but they'll have to wait. Not because they weren't good but, because, last night, I made these.
It's my usual pizza base, sprinkled with parmesan, topped with mozzarella (a 125g ball between the two of us), dotted with ricotta and chopped wild garlic leaves, then topped with shaved asparagus that had been tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper, before being finished with a final grating of parmesan. The pizza idea (and most of the recipe) came from Smitten Kitchen. The addition of ricotta from memories of last Summer and Brandon's amazing white pie. The wild garlic just because it's abundant here growing along side the Water of Leith, long wide green leaves, small white flowers. When they were cooked we drizzled over a little olive oil and sat down with pizzas that tasted of Spring.
It's my usual pizza base, sprinkled with parmesan, topped with mozzarella (a 125g ball between the two of us), dotted with ricotta and chopped wild garlic leaves, then topped with shaved asparagus that had been tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper, before being finished with a final grating of parmesan. The pizza idea (and most of the recipe) came from Smitten Kitchen. The addition of ricotta from memories of last Summer and Brandon's amazing white pie. The wild garlic just because it's abundant here growing along side the Water of Leith, long wide green leaves, small white flowers. When they were cooked we drizzled over a little olive oil and sat down with pizzas that tasted of Spring.
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
FROM SUNSHINE TO SNOW
The weather was perfect last week. Not perfect for March. Perfect for March would just mean a few days of cool clear sunshine, daffodils blooming and no rain. This was perfect for June.
Sitting on the grass, the smell of barbecues in the air, the start of a tan. We don't get that many 20-something degree days in July let alone March. The forecast for the weekend was, not bad, but grey, rainy, a little colder. It was a joy when we were still sitting outside eating an ice-cream on Sunday.
It's snowing today, I'm wearing thick tights and socks and my warm waterproof boots. Last week I was digging out summer clothes, today I'm all wrapped up in wool. Last week we were making salads for dinner, last night I went to yoga, came home and made a bit pot of mince. The same big pot of mince that I have made countless times in the last year, the big pot of mince I meant to tell you about, the big pot of mince that is comforting, hearty, easy.
I make about half of the recipe for the 2 of us, 500g of steak mince, 1 litre of chicken stock (because I always have chicken stock and never have beef), about 10 or 12 small mushrooms, an onion, a few carrots and parsnips, I'm heavy handed with the mustard powder and the Worcestershire sauce. On the first night we eat the mince ladled over basmati rice, on the second the leftovers are warmed up to have with pasta and a hefty grating of parmesan. That second day's pasta is one of my favourite meals. I look forward to it all day. I've been looking forward to it all day.
Mince with hidden roots
From Kitchenella by Rose Prince
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped or grated
900g/2lb fresh minced beef or lamb (or minced leftover meat)
20 button mushrooms, grated
2 carrots, grated
about 4 heaped tablespoons grated root vegetables - parsnip, turnip, swede, celeriac (or a mixture)
1 heaped teapoon English mustard powder
1 litre/1 ¾ pints beef stock
sea salt and black pepper
3 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce (optional)
Heat the oil in a large casserole, add the onions and cook for at least 5 minutes over a low heat until lightly browned. Add the minced meat, the mushrooms and all the vegetables and cook, stirring, over a medium heat for 1 minute. Add the mustard, stir a few times and pour in the stock. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to very low and simmer for about 40 minutes to 1 hour, until the beef is tender. Add more stock or water if the braise is becoming dry. Season to taste with salt and pepper, then add the Worcestershire sauce if using.
Serves 6-8.
Sitting on the grass, the smell of barbecues in the air, the start of a tan. We don't get that many 20-something degree days in July let alone March. The forecast for the weekend was, not bad, but grey, rainy, a little colder. It was a joy when we were still sitting outside eating an ice-cream on Sunday.
It's snowing today, I'm wearing thick tights and socks and my warm waterproof boots. Last week I was digging out summer clothes, today I'm all wrapped up in wool. Last week we were making salads for dinner, last night I went to yoga, came home and made a bit pot of mince. The same big pot of mince that I have made countless times in the last year, the big pot of mince I meant to tell you about, the big pot of mince that is comforting, hearty, easy.
I make about half of the recipe for the 2 of us, 500g of steak mince, 1 litre of chicken stock (because I always have chicken stock and never have beef), about 10 or 12 small mushrooms, an onion, a few carrots and parsnips, I'm heavy handed with the mustard powder and the Worcestershire sauce. On the first night we eat the mince ladled over basmati rice, on the second the leftovers are warmed up to have with pasta and a hefty grating of parmesan. That second day's pasta is one of my favourite meals. I look forward to it all day. I've been looking forward to it all day.
Mince with hidden roots
From Kitchenella by Rose Prince
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped or grated
900g/2lb fresh minced beef or lamb (or minced leftover meat)
20 button mushrooms, grated
2 carrots, grated
about 4 heaped tablespoons grated root vegetables - parsnip, turnip, swede, celeriac (or a mixture)
1 heaped teapoon English mustard powder
1 litre/1 ¾ pints beef stock
sea salt and black pepper
3 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce (optional)
Heat the oil in a large casserole, add the onions and cook for at least 5 minutes over a low heat until lightly browned. Add the minced meat, the mushrooms and all the vegetables and cook, stirring, over a medium heat for 1 minute. Add the mustard, stir a few times and pour in the stock. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to very low and simmer for about 40 minutes to 1 hour, until the beef is tender. Add more stock or water if the braise is becoming dry. Season to taste with salt and pepper, then add the Worcestershire sauce if using.
Serves 6-8.
Thursday, 8 March 2012
MORO'S WET BREAD
I made bread last weekend.
I've been saying I would over and over and over again and, on Saturday, I finally did it. I poured flour into a bowl, added salt, yeast and water. I used my fingertips, gradually bringing it together in the bowl. Then I covered it with a cloth, walked away, left it for seven hours. Later I heated a baking sheet, sprinkled it with flour, and poured the dough on.
This is not a neat round ball of dough. It's wet, so wet you think it can't possibly work, rising in the bowl, forming doughy strands that stick to the side of the bowl, strands that stretch as you tip the bowl onto its side, as you try to get the dough to relinquish its hold all the while imagining, wrongly, how horrific it will be to wash up the bowl that this dough has been clinging to with all its might. With a little help from a knife it eventually flops into place on the sheet and goes into the oven to bake.
This isn't a loaf to slice and eat warm, I left it to cool overnight, sliced into it on Sunday morning.
It's a craggy loaf, squat with a good crust.
It turns out that squat with a good crust works pretty well with butter and last summer's strawberry jam.
Wet Bread
From Casa Moro by Sam & Sam Clark
This dough is wet enough to make, knead and prove in one large bowl. Think of it as whisking water (with your fingertips) into flour to make a very thick batter.
Makes 1 x 1kg loaf
600g unbleached strong white bread flour
1 heaped teaspoon fine sea salt
1 level teaspoon dried yeast, dissolved in 1 tablespoon warm water
450ml warm water
semolina flour, for dusting (I used plain flour)
Place the flour and salt in a large bowl. Pour the yeast on to the flour at one side of the bowl where you intend to start working in the water. Add a little water, incorporate a bit of the flour with your fingers until smooth, add more water, mix in, incorporate more flour and knead in. As the dough increases in size, larger amounts of both flour and water can be added. use a beating action with your fingertips, breaking up the lumps that appear; this also kneads the dough at the same time. When all the water is mixed in, beat for a further minute with your fingertips. Cover the bowl with a cloth or oiled clingfilm and leave the dough to rise in a warm place at roughly 20°C/68°F for 4-6 hours.
About 20 minutes before you are ready to bake preheat the oven to 220°C/425°F/Gas 7. Place a large baking sheet or roasting tray (approx 30 x 30cm) on the middle shelf. When hot, sprinkle a liberal handful or two of semolina flour over the tray to prevent the bread sticking. Now gently pour the dough on to the tray and dust the top surface with a little more semolina. Return to the oven, and after 15 minutes, reduce the heat to 200°C/400°F/Gas 6 and bake for a further half-hour.
Lift the bread off the tray, loosening it with a large knife if stuck, then place directly on the middle rack, right side up. Bake for another 15 minutes to crisp up the base. Now turn off the heat and leave the oven door open for the bread to cool completely. Don't be tempted to slice the loaf while it is still hot or it will become stodgy.
I've been saying I would over and over and over again and, on Saturday, I finally did it. I poured flour into a bowl, added salt, yeast and water. I used my fingertips, gradually bringing it together in the bowl. Then I covered it with a cloth, walked away, left it for seven hours. Later I heated a baking sheet, sprinkled it with flour, and poured the dough on.
This is not a neat round ball of dough. It's wet, so wet you think it can't possibly work, rising in the bowl, forming doughy strands that stick to the side of the bowl, strands that stretch as you tip the bowl onto its side, as you try to get the dough to relinquish its hold all the while imagining, wrongly, how horrific it will be to wash up the bowl that this dough has been clinging to with all its might. With a little help from a knife it eventually flops into place on the sheet and goes into the oven to bake.
This isn't a loaf to slice and eat warm, I left it to cool overnight, sliced into it on Sunday morning.
It's a craggy loaf, squat with a good crust.
It turns out that squat with a good crust works pretty well with butter and last summer's strawberry jam.
Wet Bread
From Casa Moro by Sam & Sam Clark
This dough is wet enough to make, knead and prove in one large bowl. Think of it as whisking water (with your fingertips) into flour to make a very thick batter.
Makes 1 x 1kg loaf
600g unbleached strong white bread flour
1 heaped teaspoon fine sea salt
1 level teaspoon dried yeast, dissolved in 1 tablespoon warm water
450ml warm water
semolina flour, for dusting (I used plain flour)
Place the flour and salt in a large bowl. Pour the yeast on to the flour at one side of the bowl where you intend to start working in the water. Add a little water, incorporate a bit of the flour with your fingers until smooth, add more water, mix in, incorporate more flour and knead in. As the dough increases in size, larger amounts of both flour and water can be added. use a beating action with your fingertips, breaking up the lumps that appear; this also kneads the dough at the same time. When all the water is mixed in, beat for a further minute with your fingertips. Cover the bowl with a cloth or oiled clingfilm and leave the dough to rise in a warm place at roughly 20°C/68°F for 4-6 hours.
About 20 minutes before you are ready to bake preheat the oven to 220°C/425°F/Gas 7. Place a large baking sheet or roasting tray (approx 30 x 30cm) on the middle shelf. When hot, sprinkle a liberal handful or two of semolina flour over the tray to prevent the bread sticking. Now gently pour the dough on to the tray and dust the top surface with a little more semolina. Return to the oven, and after 15 minutes, reduce the heat to 200°C/400°F/Gas 6 and bake for a further half-hour.
Lift the bread off the tray, loosening it with a large knife if stuck, then place directly on the middle rack, right side up. Bake for another 15 minutes to crisp up the base. Now turn off the heat and leave the oven door open for the bread to cool completely. Don't be tempted to slice the loaf while it is still hot or it will become stodgy.
Thursday, 23 February 2012
BANANA BREAD
On Sunday morning, as we were drinking coffee, and after I had finished painting my nails dark blue, I thumbed through a pile of books to find something to make for dinner, stopping eventually on a lamb, cardomam and cabbage pilav from the first Moro book and pointing it out to Chris. And while I had been thumbing, marking recipes for stews and braises, I was also marking rhubarb cake, muffins, chocolate chip cookies, and this, banana bread.
I didn't think I was going to post this, I've written about banana bread here more than enough times but then, on Monday, when I was sitting at work, I unwrapped my foil wrapped slice, took a bite, and... oops, here I am again.
Banana Bread
From How I Cook by Skye Gyngell
I used regular caster sugar instead of golden and skimmed milk instead of whole without any problems. I also used far less than 75g of muscovado sugar, maybe 30g. You're looking for a coating over the top of the batter, how much sugar you want to use to get that coating is up to you.
125g unsalted butter, softened, plus extra to grease
250g plain flour, plus extra to dust
4 ripe bananas, peeled
a few drops of lemon juice
300g golden caster sugar
2 large eggs
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
125ml whole milk
75g light muscovado sugar
Preheat the oven to 190°C. Butter and flour a loaf tin, measuring approximately 20x10cm, and line the base with baking parchment. Mash the bananas with the lemon juice in a bowl, using a fork.
Beat the butter and caster sugar together in a large bowl until pale and creamy. Beat in the eggs one by one, then incorporate the mashed bananas and vanilla extract.
Sift the flour, salt, bicarbonate of soda and cinnamon together over the mixture. Using a large metal spoon, fold in carefully, until evenly combined. Finally fold in the milk.
Spoon the mixture into the prepared loaf tin, gently spread level and scatter the muscovado sugar evenly over the surface. Bake on the middle shelf of the oven for 45 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean.
Leave the banana bread to cool in the tin for 10 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack to cool further.
Make 8-9 slices.
I didn't think I was going to post this, I've written about banana bread here more than enough times but then, on Monday, when I was sitting at work, I unwrapped my foil wrapped slice, took a bite, and... oops, here I am again.
Banana Bread
From How I Cook by Skye Gyngell
I used regular caster sugar instead of golden and skimmed milk instead of whole without any problems. I also used far less than 75g of muscovado sugar, maybe 30g. You're looking for a coating over the top of the batter, how much sugar you want to use to get that coating is up to you.
125g unsalted butter, softened, plus extra to grease
250g plain flour, plus extra to dust
4 ripe bananas, peeled
a few drops of lemon juice
300g golden caster sugar
2 large eggs
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
125ml whole milk
75g light muscovado sugar
Preheat the oven to 190°C. Butter and flour a loaf tin, measuring approximately 20x10cm, and line the base with baking parchment. Mash the bananas with the lemon juice in a bowl, using a fork.
Beat the butter and caster sugar together in a large bowl until pale and creamy. Beat in the eggs one by one, then incorporate the mashed bananas and vanilla extract.
Sift the flour, salt, bicarbonate of soda and cinnamon together over the mixture. Using a large metal spoon, fold in carefully, until evenly combined. Finally fold in the milk.
Spoon the mixture into the prepared loaf tin, gently spread level and scatter the muscovado sugar evenly over the surface. Bake on the middle shelf of the oven for 45 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean.
Leave the banana bread to cool in the tin for 10 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack to cool further.
Make 8-9 slices.
Saturday, 18 February 2012
PIZZA
I've been meaning to write about pizza for, well, for as long as I've been making it at home. Those first few times were sporadic. I would stand in our old Edinburgh flat kneading dough on the worktop and then we would sit at the table in the red walled kitchen, the table where we used to sit listening to the radio or to music that Chris would put on in the box room and which would reach us through the little high up window that connected the two rooms. I don't think I ever made pizza in London. I always meant to but maybe there wasn't enough space, maybe there were just other options.
Last Summer I decided to start again, using the recipe from Jamie's Italy that I had always used, making a half batch of dough for three pizzas, mixing the dough in my biggest bowl, topping them with tomato sauce, prosciutto, courgette slices, mozzarella and basil.
I made pizza when Brian came to stay, arriving on the train, tired, hungry, and thoroughly fed up after being forced to stand for too long, cheered by slices of pizza and a giant cookie. I went from making three pizzas to four much thinner ones with that same half batch of dough when we made dinner for friends. There were pizzas when Molly and Brian came to stay, followed by some oddly textured brownies, granular but edible. At New Year, pizzas and brownies again (the latter just because I needed to redeem myself).
And on Valentine's Day I made pizza for the two of us, one of them turning out wonkily heart shaped, by accident (sort of), the rest of the dough sitting in the freezer for next time.
Last Summer I decided to start again, using the recipe from Jamie's Italy that I had always used, making a half batch of dough for three pizzas, mixing the dough in my biggest bowl, topping them with tomato sauce, prosciutto, courgette slices, mozzarella and basil.
I made pizza when Brian came to stay, arriving on the train, tired, hungry, and thoroughly fed up after being forced to stand for too long, cheered by slices of pizza and a giant cookie. I went from making three pizzas to four much thinner ones with that same half batch of dough when we made dinner for friends. There were pizzas when Molly and Brian came to stay, followed by some oddly textured brownies, granular but edible. At New Year, pizzas and brownies again (the latter just because I needed to redeem myself).
And on Valentine's Day I made pizza for the two of us, one of them turning out wonkily heart shaped, by accident (sort of), the rest of the dough sitting in the freezer for next time.
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