Bright days, dark cabbage

Cavolo nero is my new thing. It seems strange to see this dark, wintry vegetable under such bright, cloudless skies at my local farmers market. It's brooding beauty juts from boxes of fresh-bought produce and jostles for space in my boot alongside a body board and various towels and bathers - our ever-ready kit for impromptu swims. Yet this is August, it is as cold as it's going to get all year - and I'm in sandals!

Australia!

 Home. It has been a long while between posts as moving has taken up so much energy and time. But here I am, finally putting together my favourite sights and tastes of Australia for this blog.

Australia! It starts with the coffee. Superb, creamy milk, lovingly made, fanatically devoured by the locals; a gone trendy coffee shop in Oz is as ubiquitous as a Tesco Express refurb of heritage buildings in the UK.

Pumpkin risotto with a fancy crumb

The thing about this risotto is the combination of sweetness and creaminess offset against salty crunch. Honestly, it is a perfectly balanced bowl of comfort and health. So easy to eat, methodical mouthful after mouthful, a meditation in texture and satisfaction. Don't be fooled if I'm watching TV with this on my lap (ahem) - I am awake to every tumble of silky coated grain of rice on my tongue. I so badly wanted another bowl but my hips are always in conversation with my conscience these days.

A month in food, chicken pies, endings and return

  
The weather has been nothing like spring for all of March. Only now, as we edge into April, it is getting sunnier and warmer by increments, but it is still undoubtedly cold. I am responding to even a one degree change from say, 4 Celsius to 5, with gusto, rocking the (as featured in Paris Vogue for those that dare mock) socks and Birkentstocks combo and making salads most nights to balance out our steady diet of pasta, pies and paella.

The organic grocery store is an Eden of bunched leafy beauties, pinks, reds, even violets.  There is something in the name of blood oranges that compels me, cutting in to their flesh is a moment of anticipation - how red will it be? The delicate ends of fennel are making their way into a Sicilian pasta of sundried tomato paste, raisins and tuna and the feminine beauty of cerise radishes make me try even harder to like them.

It's my 40th birthday!

Happy birthday to me.

Rather than mourning my youth (I did that with a terrible flourish at 36) I am mostly grateful. Grateful for the two gorgeous children who were so excited for me today, waking me with their fight for a premium  spot in bed for cuddles and card reading. Gareth, with his usual kooky humour bought a bizarre hedgehog shaped cake from Marks and Spencer and I blew out candles with bed hair and cheers.

No knead bread's needs are few

This bread may be old news to many, but it's a revelation to me - the recipe was first printed in the New York Times circa 2006 (yeah, a little late on the trend, I know) based on a recipe from Sullivan Street Bakery. What makes it so amazing is not only the fab crust and light spongy interior, but the fact that it is so easy to make - no tricky techniques, no fiddly stretching and massaging, countless knocking backs and folding. It is a dough that needs no kneading! And I can say that it is better than any of the breads I have made - it could easily be passed off as an artisan loaf from a master baker - seriously, it's that good.

Not-so Fat Tuesday Pancakes

When I was a child my favourite breakfast was pancakes with maple syrup. My mother made it for me every birthday. Her pancakes were thick and fluffy American style and she always served them with pure maple syrup. I loved smearing the little wedge of butter around the pancake, watching it slowly melt, then pouring the deep rich gold syrup (that comes from a tree!!) on top.