A pause

I've had a pause and I'm going to continue pausing for a little while.

I've had some health problems over the past few months and I'm still trying to get to the bottom of them. Nothing serious hopefully but it all centres around my stomach meaning that food-related reading and writing have been a little... off the menu. I'm fed up of feeling permenantly queasy and uncomfortable and, worst of all, the whole thing has put me off one of my very favourite pleasures in life... food! It is hard to enthuse about the cooking when you don't feel much like eating.

On the better days, I have been busy in the kitchen and there is actually much to report. I hope to get back to it very soon. But first, we have the small matter of a house move. We have finally found a permanant home (after a ten month stop-gap) so I'm currently surrounded by packing boxes for the second time in twelve months. It will take a while to get back online but I expect to be back to blogging in a few weeks time!

In the meantime, I hope you like these pictures I took the day my pup, Sinbad, was momentarily reunited with his sister, Bramble, who has spent the past year living in Germany.

Two peas in a pod!

A day in the life of an Aga

As I've already mentioned, our new house has an Aga in the kitchen. The news has been met with a mixture of excitement and trepidation from my husband and I, wedded as we are to the happy combination of gas hob and electric oven. I've always loved the idea of an Aga but have, at the same time, been slightly wary of the reality. No set temperatures, a permanently hot kitchen, no cooking smells to warn you when your cake is starting to burn... On the other hand, I love to see dogs snuggling up to the Aga after a wet and wild walk on a chilly winter day. I love to see sheets carefully folded on the Aga knowing that they will require no ironing. And I love the concept of popping a casserole in the simmering oven and leaving it for hours, knowing it will come to no harm.

Keen to have a go at befriending our new appliance, we decided to visit our local Aga store in search of tips. We were interested to discover that the store held a varied programme of events, cooking demonstrations and classes. I was particularly drawn to a class entitled 'A Day in the Life of an Aga' and yet more delighted when I discovered that it only cost £7.50 to attend (prices seem to vary according to location).

Aga toast: crisp on the outside and soft in the middle

So, on Tuesday night, the two of us turned up at the Aga shop eager to learn whatever we could about Aga cookery. I am pleased to report that it may well prove to be the best £15 ever spent! The evening was ably hosted by Marcia Poole who started by asking each of us to describe our Aga situation. There was an audible gasp from the audience when we mentioned that we had a solid fuel fired Aga and we felt a little more nervous about what we are letting ourselves in for. Oil or gas-fired would definitely be simpler it seems...

Marcia then set to work showing us how to get the best from the Aga. What followed was quite miraculous and highlighted the versatility of Aga cooking. Although she was using a four-door Aga, she did most of the cooking in the roasting and simmering ovens so that those of us with a mere two doors didn't feel too left out. At the peak of her performance she managed to have the following items cooking simultaneously in the ovens: a full English breakfast, a roast chicken, a plum crumble, sweet potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, white sauce for the cauliflower, rice, shortbread, a vegetable curry, an apple sponge cake, two salmon steaks and a quiche. All these items were cooking along happily yet the Aga didn't look as though it was doing a thing. For good measure she also whipped up some Chelsea buns and cooked drop scones and a stir-fry on the hot plates.



The food, almost all of which was cooed in (rather than on) the Aga



This is the trick to successful Aga cookery. Using the ovens as much possible and keeping the lids down in order to keep the heat in. Root vegetables should be started on the hot boiling plate and then should be drained of their water and transferred in their saucepans to the simmering oven where they happily steam away slowly until you are ready for them. The beauty of the simmering oven is that it is very hard to overcook things - you can do the veg ahead of time and stow them out of sight in the oven until your roast is ready. No last minute stress getting hot and bothered over pans of boiling veg! The Aga ovens are deceptive too - they go back a long way and you can fit a surprising number of pans inside. Marcia had six saucepans in the simmering oven at one point.

The simmering oven containing six pans

Another favourite 'trick' she showed us was how to cook a fatless ' fried' egg on the cooler of the two hot plates. You take a sheet of bake-o-glide, crack an egg into the middle and then put the lid down over the egg. In a few minutes, lift the lid to find a perfectly cooked egg without the need for oil or butter. Toasted sandwiches can be made this way too.

'Fried' breakfast with no added fat

We watched in awe as she raced through the method for cooking perfect rice and pasta and listed carefully when she explained that Aga casseroles need less liquid than usual. I was particularly interested in the way she cooked her quiche - no need for blind baking as you can fill a raw pastry case and place it on the floor of the Aga ensuring a perfectly crisp pastry on the bottom.

After the whirlwind session we were allowed to sample the food - delicious, all of it - and had a chance to ask further questions. We'd learnt a huge amount in a short space of time and returned home totally sold on Aga cookery and ownership and dying to get our Aga up and running (we are currently waiting for a chimney sweep to come and clean the flue and check it over as it hasn't been used in an age).

Drop scones cooking directly on the simmering plate

We are slightly dismayed to find that our Aga does not come with the standard bits of Aga equipment and it looks as though we are going to have to start saving as the roasting tins, kettle and toast rack are fairly essential (and not exactly cheap). The Aga saucepans are cleverly designed to stack on top of each other in the ovens to make most use of the space and certainly a desirable extra but sadly a little expensive for us (and we do have very good new pans which can go in the ovens).

Overall, we are more excited than ever about the Aga and, with a little practice, firmly believe that cooking on it will be a great pleasure. If you own an Aga, or are thinking of intalling one, I would thoroughly reccomend the in-store classes. This was a basic class for 'beginners' really but could be a useful refresher for seasoned Aga cooks. However, there are many other sessions to choose from including classes on baking and cooking the Christmas lunch!

Aga saga

I've had a fairly serious break from blogging. The past 18 months have seen some fairly serious changes in my life and, to be honest, I haven't much had the time (or inclination) for my blog. First there was the flower-sender. We met just 19 months ago, were engaged after four months and in May we got married...

Prior to the wedding, we took stock and decided that we both needed to lose weight. We've lost over 6 stone between us and I am feeling decidedly lighter on my feet. Our diet is certainly much healthier but, fear not, I still enjoy the occasional treat! For some reason, I didn't much feel like blogging during this period. I wish I had though as I miss having all my recipes in one place for reference.

In the midst of the wedding preparations, Sinbad arrived. Deeply naughty, very cute and completely lovable, we were totally unprepared for the chaos that comes with an eight week old puppy. We wouldn't have it any other way though and he is now a fully-fledged member of our pack.

Whilst all this was going on, we decided it would be a good idea to move house. I've lost count of the number people who told me that moving house is one of the most stressful things one can do and was I really sure that getting married, changing job and moving house all in the same year was a good idea. I suspect they may have had a point. Particularly as we were moving to a whole new area. From start to finish the process took almost a year but I'm pleased to say that we've finally sold my London flat and are now renting a house in a chocolate-box village in the Cotswolds.

In London I woke to the sound of planes coming in to land and opened my curtains to the charming view of a brick wall. Now I wake to the sound of silence and open my curtains to this...

The trees in the garden are laden with apples, pears and plums. I finally feel like I can breathe out after all the mahem of the past year. Above all, I feel reinvigorated and newly inspired. I can't wait to gather in the autumn produce from the garden, forage in the hedgerows which are laden with blackberries and sloes and install myself in the kitchen.

The kitchen. The new kitchen. It is twice the size of the London one, plus it opens out onto a large dining area. It is a proper, sociable kitchen which is flooded with light. I look out onto the garden. Installed in the 1970's, it is not the most attractive kitchen in the world but I love the feeling of space.

There is however, one rather large problem standing between me and a coruncopia of culinary delights. Let me introduce our Aga...

Many people dream of a kitchen with a range such as this. Until we moved here, I considered myself one of them. What could be nicer than a permenantly warm stove? The heart of the home. I pictured myself as domestic goddess extraordinaire gliding around the Aga with the dog at my feet, casserole in the bottom oven simmering away. Life would be good.

But then I realised that I didn't actually know how to use an Aga. It couldn't be too complicated, surely. My husband kindly gave me a book on the subject for my birthday. I read that the secret to successful Aga cooking seems to lie in never opening the top lids and investing in a whole new set of expensive pans. Not good.

I'm being unfair. This isn't really the case. I'm certainly not buying new pans just yet (especially as we were lucky enough to receive some extremely smart ones as a wedding present). But I do need to learn the Aga way of cooking. It is different. I find that I am allowed to open the lids and cook on the top after all. I just have to understand that when the lids are open, I'm losing heat from the ovens. The 80:20 rule is apparantly what I need to follow. 80% of cooking should be done in the ovens, a mere 20% on top. Follow this 'rule' and I will, so I'm told, learn to love my Aga. I don't doubt it. Anyone I've ever met who has one is completely wedded to it. I suspect I will be too in due course.

We are lucky enough that there is another oven to use as a backup and we're waiting for the temperature to drop a little before we fire up the Aga. I'm excited about the challenge and looking forward to sharing the results of my efforts here. I hope you'll enjoy reading about them!

Recipease

Living in London, I'm frequently surprised with the constantly changing face of the streets around me. Every couple of weeks a shop or restaurant will close, only for another to open in its place. Sometimes this is sad, as in the case of the excellent independent toy shop which metamorphosed into a Costa coffee. But sometimes it is exciting, as in the case of the lovely new bakery and cafe which recently opened on the Northcote Road.

Earlier this year, I was intrigued when wooden boards went up around a high street building society. These boards were plastered with Jamie Oliver's name and I wondered what on earth to expect. Surely he wasn't opening the latest branch of Fifteen in the shadow of Clapham Junction tube station?

Indeed, no he wasn't. A few months later and the boards were removed. Behind them was a branch of his new venture 'Recipease'. This shiny new store has been attractively Jamie-fied. At the front, shoppers can buy all kinds of Jamie merchandise, including some rather lovely wooden chopping boards. There is also food for sale, much of it packaged in over-sized Kilner jars. Imagine mustards, chutneys and jams. And bread too. Lots of bread. Foccacia. And the most expensive Chelsea buns you are every likely to eat. The busy shopper can also buy pseudo ready-meals freshly prepared instore to take home and throw in a pan for supper. You can even buy the wine to go with it.

But at the heart of the shop are several huge workstations where you can assemble your own meals. There is a pizza station where you can create your own signature toppings. Or you can select from a changing menu of different dishes to prepare. All the chopping and preparation is done for you - you just book a session, turn up and create one (or two) of Jamie's mouthwatering recipes.

As well as this, you can also book in for cooking lessons focusing on a particular skill - knife skills, risotto, cooking the perfect steak, pasta to name just a few. The best news, these classes are a great deal cheaper than many other cookery demonstrations in the capital.

I haven't sampled the 'ready-meals' and nor have I booked in to assemble my own Jamie recipe. But recently I took part in a very fun hen party that included a pasta-making session at Recipease. Upon arrival, we were greeted with glasses of wine (...tea, coffee and soft drinks were provided too but these were rather ignored in favour of the wine!). We then set to work with our excellent and highly enthusiastic chef. She showed us how to make pasta dough and then we all headed to our own workstations to make our own. Once all twelve of us had enough spaghetti, tagliatelle, ravioli and caramelli to feed an army, we then made a super sage butter sauce to accompany the ricotta and spinach stuffed pasta shapes. Divine!

I would thoroughly recommend a private party at Recipease of this type - it was great fun and a real ice-breaker. I think we could have used another member of staff as twelve novices making pasta was somewhat chaotic and our chef could only help one of us at a time! However, it was great fun and despite making a horribly dry-feeling dough that fell apart in the pasta machine, I ended up with some quite delicious pasta. I clearly need practise...

Recipease, 48-50 St John's Road, Battersea

No ordinary lasagna

This is no ordinary lasagna.

What is different about it, you may well ask. It looks fairly normal. A rich, tomatoey meat sauce on the bottom, a layer of bechamel and then some egg lasagne. Repeat and top with a decent sprinkling of Parmesan. Pop in the oven for a good half an hour and serve with a fresh salad and some garlic bread.

I've been fooling you. There is nothing extraordinary about the make-up of this lasagna. It was good. But nothing particularly unusual. What is special about this lasagna was that it was while I was creating it, the flower-sender asked me to marry him.

Some girls dream of elaborate, romantic proposals involving paths of rose petals, beautiful views or expensive meals. Not me. I could think of nothing more perfect than being asked in my favourite place: my kitchen!

Needless to say, after asking 'are you serious?', I did say 'yes'.

The joy of a fish-finger sandwich

I recently had lunch in a rather good pub in the village of Welwyn in Hertfordshire. The Wellington had a fairly extensive menu featuring all the gastropub classics alongside a few more adventurous choices. On this occasion however I was transfixed by a particular item on the menu. Although my mind kept telling me that I should order the fish pie packed with monkfish and pollock and smoked haddock or the aromatic slow roast pork belly, my heart kept coming back to the same dish. It was wholly inappropriate in so many ways. Yet I couldn't get it out of my head.

The dish that took my fancy that Saturday lunchtime wasn't a slow-cooked stew or even a classic Cesar salad. No folks. I'm (slightly) ashamed to admit that it was... a fish finger sandwich. Described on the menu as 'the chef's treat', I knew I wouldn't be happy unless I ordered it.

The humble fish-finger sandwich holds a place in my heart and takes me back to my student days when it was a regular feature on the menu. The perfect snack late after a night at the pub, the ideal speedy lunch when running out to a lecture, the tasty cheap and cheerful option when student overdraft has been maxed to the limit.

The Wellington had tarted the fish finger sandwich up a little. The bread was rather better than the humble white sliced staple of student days and the tangy tomato relish and homemade tartare sauce were extremely welcome additions. And there was cheese too. My student sandwiches always had cheese.

Sadly I didn't photograph the sandwich but it certainly hit the spot. Last week though, I found I couldn't get the sandwich out of my mind. One lunchtime I found myself strangely lurking in the freezer section of my local corner store. Next thing I knew I was back at home and the fish fingers were cooking under the grill. A quick smear of cream cheese and ketchup plus a few leaves of little gem and I was again in fish-finger heaven.

It felt a bit naughty. I wasn't sure that I'd confess my sin... But it was just too good not to share!

I know that all us food bloggers love to cook from scratch with fresh ingredients but I wonder just how many of you have similar guilty pleasures such as this?!

Excuses, excuses

I've been an exceptionally bad blogger over the past month. I can only apologise. Life seems to have got in the way. I could offer a whole ream of excuses... Too much work, too little time, a holiday, the flower-sender, illness, a broken fridge... All I will say is that I endeavour to be better in April. Spring is in the air and I'm feeling inspired and ready for action in the kitchen once more.

In case you are concerned that I've not been eating this month, I have a few culinary highlights to share. I've been lucky enough to have been cooked for several times this month. Particularly enjoyable was a visit home to the Isle of Wight and a dish of boiled mutton with caper and onion sauce.

This old-fashioned dish made its way onto the table due to my father. This is a surprise as he rarely takes much interest in the cooking - he can just about fry a rasher of bacon but that is about his limit. Fortunately, my mother more than makes up for it by being a wonderful cook. Anyway, he had heard through a friend in the pub (!) that there was good mutton available at the local farmers' market. He was reminded of a dish he used to enjoy at a golf club in Liverpool in his younger days (he is now in his eighties) and had his heart set on my mother recreating this flavour of his youth!

My poor mother. The recipe that she found was one of the most time-consuming, labour-intensive recipes imaginable. When we greedily devoured the finished dish and declared it delicious, she didn't know whether to be pleased or not. She certainly didn't want to have to make it again in a hurry.

It was the first time I'd eaten mutton and I really enjoyed it - the flavour wasn't as strong as I'd imagined and the meat was perfectly moist. The onion and caper sauce went beautifully too - well done Mum!

A couple of weeks ago, I was also treated to a deliciously good lamb curry cooked by the flower-sender. What was unusual about this curry is that it was cooked in the oven in the same way as one might cook a casserole. I've not cooked a curry this way before but it was extremely good.

Other highlights of the month included a lovely day spent at Borough Market - we bought a good-looking joint of venison which I marinated in red wine and crushed juniper berries before sealing in a hot pan and roasting briefly in the oven. Served with dauphinoise potatoes, it was very flavoursome but a little on the tough side.


Finally, I must mention the picnic I enjoyed with my niece and nephew a couple of weekends ago. It was a glorious sunny day and so I planned to pick up some goodies in M&S before taking them to Battersea Park for a feast of cheese, cold meats, dips, olives, fruit and chocolate biscuits. No cooking involved - I didn't have time. Upon their arrival, I asked my niece to name her favourite picnic food so that I could be sure to include it in our feast.

Her reply: 'chocolate-covered strawberries'!

Not quite what I had in mind. As I opened my mouth to tell her that we couldn't have her favourite item, I realised that we could make our own before heading off to the park. The children loved dipping the enormous strawberries in the melted chocolate and waiting for them to set on the greaseproof paper. The out-of-season strawberries tasted all the better for their coating of chocolate.

Here's to being a better blogger in April - lots of deliciousness heading this way soon!

Highly unsatisfactory

A very brief post to apologise for the (hopefully) brief interlude. I'm currently on holiday in sunny Florida and had uploaded photos in order to post a little morsel of something while away. However, pretty much as I boarded the plane at Heathrow, I was struck down with some absolutely horrible bug which I have yet to shift.

As the evil bug still has its hold, I can't face so much as a piece of toast and so even looking at the photos is just too much. I shall be returning to normal service as soon as I can face a slice of the Key Lime Pie I travelled all this way to enjoy!

Treacle tart

I apologise for the lack of Valentine's Day greetings. Last year I did at least oblige with a heart-shaped mousse, even though it was through gritted teeth due to my rather negative feelings about February 14th. It is after all, the day most dreaded by single women.

This year things took rather an about turn. Rather than feeling sorry for myself and bristling at the sight of heart shaped goodies invading the usually sane food blogosphere I actually found myself feeling a little more positive about the whole experience. It started with the large bunch of roses that arrived on Friday.

But the flower-sender didn't stop there. The flower-sender then took it upon himself to cook dinner for me on 'the big day'. So essentially, I was thoroughly spoiled. I'm not entirely sure what I did to deserve such special treatment but it was certainly rather lovely to sit back with a glass of Champagne whilst someone else did all the work. This explains the total lack of Valentine posting: I was too busy drinking Champagne. Sorry.

So. No heart-shaped goodies from me. Instead, I offer you treacle tart.

As regular readers will know, I'm pretty partial to traditional British puds. Treacle tart is a total favourite and I will always order it if I spy it on a menu. Invariably I am disappointed though. I'm a little particular about how I like my treacle tart. I like it fairly lemony. I like a little citrus bite to balance the intense sweetness that lashings of golden syrup brings to the tart.

I haven't provided a pastry recipe here. Use your favourite type - it should be nice and short, possibly with some sweetness or perhaps flavoured with some nuts or ginger. If you can't be bothered, I won't tell anyone if you use a block of readymade from the chiller cabinet at your supermarket.

On this occasion I made my tarts in individual tins, but a big one works just as well!

By the way - if anyone can tell me why it is called 'treacle tart' when it is made with golden syrup, I'd love to know!

Treacle Tart
Serves 6

350g shortcrust pastry (see above)

225g/8oz golden syrup
25g/1oz butter
1 large unwaxed lemon
75g/3oz white breadcrumbs

1. Preheat oven to 190C. Roll out the pastry and line an 8 inch loose bottomed fluted flan tin (or use individual tins). Leave a little pastry overhanging the edge to allow for shrinkage. Blind bake the pastry case, having filled with greaseproof paper and baking beans. Trim excess pastry.


2. For the filling, heat syrup and butter over a low heat. Add the juice and finely grated zest of the lemon and stir to combine until you have a nice lemony syrup.

3. Spoon breadcrumbs into the pastry case and pour over the lemon syrup. Bake for 25 minutes, or until filling is set. Leave to cool a little before serving - I like it best when warm but not hot. Serve with ice-cream, cream, custard or even clotted cream.

As you can see, my friend had a slight... slippage... with the cream.

Rhubarb and marzipan cake

I have to say that I honestly never thought that I'd be snowed in whilst living in London.

Ok. Well, perhaps I'm exaggerating just a wee bit. But there was a huge pile of snow blocking the front door when I ventured out today. And with no buses running, the two hour journey to work was a non-starter. I'm told that London hasn't seen snow like this for 18 years and I can well believe it. This is the snow of my childhood. Proper snow. Snow you can build proper snowmen out of.

Sometimes I think I've had enough of living in London. But today, it was magical. I took a brief walk out onto the Common this afternoon and it was great to see so many people enjoying the simple fact that it was snowing. I must have counted at least 150 snowmen. Well. Ok. Maybe I wasn't actually counting. But there were a lot of snowmen there. A lot.

I know it is pathetic that the country grinds to a halt when there is a bit of snow. But we're not used to it. Our cars aren't designed for ploughing through snow. Our clothes aren't thick enough to keep us warm. Our footwear is totally inappropriate. We just don't get to see proper snow all that often. Forgive us if we all regress to the age of five and come over all a little silly.

(Sadly), I can do my job almost as easily from home so I didn't have much of a chance to get out and be silly (...probably for the best). But I did have a couple of hours to kill this morning before I was able to log on to the work system. I'd got up at the usual time of six and for some reason felt wide-awake (never happens on the days I actually have to set off at that time). So rather than head back to bed for a bit and wait for my new password to be phoned through from the office at nine, I decided to bake a cake. You know, as you do, at six in the morning!

I had some lovely pink early forced rhubarb begging to be used. I searched in the cupboards for other store cupboard ingredients to add to my cake and became rather fixated on a packet of marzipan left over from Christmas. For some reason I couldn't get it out of my mind. I had this burning desire to make a rhubarb and marzipan cake (...this is what happens when you decide to bake at 6am).

I googled. Clearly I was in the minority. Not many 'rhubarb marizpan cakes' out there. But one was all I needed. I had no idea if it would be any good, but I decided to give it a whirl.

I had to tweak the ingredients ever-so-slightly but I have to tell you that the results were pretty delicious! A few things to tell you before you embark on this cake (and clearly, you should do just that. Unless you hate marzipan. Or rhubarb for that matter. But then, maybe it is time to push the boundaries). Firstly, the recipe suggests putting the rhubarb in vertically, creating lovely round patterns. Good idea. Only you couldn't see the pattern once it had been cooked. Maybe that's because I burnt the top... Or maybe my bits of rhubarb should have been longer!

Next thing. As you will see, I kind of slightly burnt the top of my cake. And it sunk a little in the middle as it hadn't quite cooked in the centre. Perhaps the oven was too hot? Still, no problem. A quick dredge of icing sugar and it was instantly disguised. Alternatively, there is the cunning 'turn it over' trick. Again, no one is any the wiser. Apart from you, that is.

As for decoration, this is a plain, un-iced cake. I suddenly thought that it might make a nice Valentine cake. I cut a stencil out of a sheet of white paper and then dusted icing sugar through the hole. Quite pretty I thought.

But then, due to my feelings about Valentine's Day, I decided that the heart would have to go and instead I dredged the lot with a sprinkling of icing sugar and then added some crystallised rose petals. Pretty and springlike I thought!

However you choose to decorate, let me tell you that this is a good cake. Densely almondy with a good balance of sweetness from the marzipan and sugar and bite from the tart rhubarb. It would make a perfect dessert with a little cream too.

Rhubarb and marzipan cake
Original recipe here

Ingredients

4oz softened butter
3 1/2 oz marzipan
4-5 thin sticks of pink forced rhubarb (approx 8oz)
4oz golden caster sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla essence
grated zest of one lemon
2 large eggs (free-range, preferably organic please)
8oz plain flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder

1. Pre-heat oven to 200C. Grease and flour and 8 inch spring form cake tin.

2. In a food processor, cream together the butter, marzipan and sugar. You may have to do a fair bit of scraping and separating as it sticks together rather badly. Add the vanilla and lemon and blitz together.

3. Add the eggs one at a time. Mix the flour with the baking powder and add this, mixing together gently (on slowest setting), until fully combined.

4. Scrape the cake mixture into the prepared tin and arrange the chopped rhubarb in circles (see note above).

5. Bake in the oven for around 45 minutes, until a skewer comes out clean. Cool for five minutes in the tin before turning out onto a wire rack to cool completely. Decorate in any way you see fit (see earlier suggestions).