Crepe-ity Crepe!

Last night we ate dinner with my mother and I was introduced to the delicious world of frozen crepes. I’ll interject here that I’m not a complete philistine… I’ve long been a lover of all things pancake, waffley and drop scone-ish but those wafer thin French crepes were always a little outside my comfort zone.

No more…  in a perfect world I’d be a soignée home cook with a chignon, stiletto’s and a pencil skirt but for the time being I’m defrosting these little beauties and serving up the quickest, easiest, most delicious pudding ever.

Last night we smothered our crepes with mascarpone and blueberries. Tonight I’m going seasonal with toffee apples and vanilla ice cream… Lordy, I’m drooling! 


If anyone is interested I have an easy-peasy DIY mascarpone recipe?



Blueberry crepes



A fashionably rainy day

Today sees a real turn in the weather. Dark clouds loom overhead and the weatherman warns of a stormy weekend.I pop a whole bucket of corn and liberally sprinkle chilli salt and icing sugar; don't knock it 'til you try it, there is something scarily moreish about this hot, sweet, salty combo. We settle down to a cinematic afternoon of DVD's and snacking whilst the wind rages outside. A break in the clouds lets me rush around the garden gathering tools, washing and tennis racquets forgotten in yesterdays sunshine. Unfortunately, the just raked leaves have escaped their tidy piles and are once again a swirling, crunchy carpet.

With the cat hot on my heels I make it back inside just as the heavens open, not that it matters. An enjoyable film, goodie bowls and a blanket mean I won't be venturing out again for a while.

Saturday night and it's my first real excuse to dress up this year. Does that sound a little sad? It makes me think that I should forgo the excuses and occasionally vacuum in killer heels. We attend a fashion show as part of NZ Fashion week and although the models are easy on the eye, the real entertainment is to be seen in the audience. Free champagne, a smattering of Auckland's beautiful people, a slightly creepy paparazzi, infrequent finger food and badly signposted toilet facilities makes for real theatre.

Sunday pottering becomes a relocation exercise when Olli asks to switch bedrooms. I grunt and heave at an old welsh dresser before realising my teenage removal man has wandered off on his fifth teabreak of the morning. Eventually the hardwork is completed and I settle down to a few happy hours of sorting through old drawers and piles of boxes and paperwork until my new office/studio/stock room emerges.

Cafe society

Half the fun of discovering a new favourite place is sharing it with someone else. As we drive through midday traffic I'm hopeful that Lorraine will enjoy 'Little & Friday' as much as I do.

She does!

This gorgeous little bakery/cafe is owned by Kim Evans and her philosophy of baking to make people feel good is working. Local customers donate cutlery, cups and saucers, and even teapots to the cafe, because they feel so much a part of what Kim is doing.

We devour our tea and cakes before racing home. Driving fast is a must when your car has no roof and rain clouds threaten to drop their load at any minute.

all photo's courtesy of Little & Friday.

A banana and fig day

The veggie plot is newly staked and almost weed free. Tomatoes glisten after their watering and the smell of basil in the late afternoon sun is overwhelming. Autumn means everything has become a little overblown; it feels like time to start cutting back and hunkering down.

I cut a few banana leaves to liven up this evening’s dinner table and as my day in the garden draws to an end I rub my aching back and head for the shower.

An unexpected but much loved guest pops in with a gift of figs, fresh from her garden. We can’t help but eat them straight way. Creamy, slightly salted Havarti cheese, toasted ciabatta and juicy figs, heaven food. I manage to stretch the Thai Chicken Curry a little further and Alfie cuts me an extra leaf. He thinks I’m bonkers, but the table looks pretty.

The figs reappear accompanied by glasses of my favourite dessert wine and we sit outside until the autumnal chill in the air becomes uncomfortable. The washing up can wait; I boil the kettle and hunt for the hot water bottles stored away last spring. I climb into bed, warm, tired and content. A cup of tea and a bedtime story; a good day.

Shoes, spoons and soup...

I'm starving!
This silly summer cold has really knocked me for six. I drag myself out of bed whilst most people are enjoying their morning tea. With the boys all suffering too it means the fridge and pantry have been left bare and at the thought of the supermarket, I want to scuttle straight back to bed. My stomach rumbles and drastic measures are taken with left overs... a potato-ey broth warms me up from the inside and I start to feel a little more human.

I self medicate. Watermelon bursts with anti oxidants and now is the season to buy them in bulk. Half now and half in the freezer, where the cold turns my slice into an enormous ice lolly.

Whilst I have my camera in hand I take a picture of handles. These old kitchen tools have been collected over the years and are still regularly used. I'm not sure what appeals to me so much about this tiny corner of my kitchen, I don't analyse it.

Incredibly, new shoes have the ability to make my red nose and saggy pyjamas look almost stylish! I parade around the laundry before admitting that they're too pointy for my flip flop feet. I sell them in my shop, my loss will be someone else's gain.

Have a fantastic weekend!

Calling all cheesemakers

This has been a bumper treasure hunting week!
Beautiful enamel bowls in pretty shades of cream and green, a buttery yellow swing jacket, a heidi blouse and Hornsea pottery.

The piece de resistance though is... a floating dairy thermometer
Still in it's original packaging, this must have been a serious bit of kit for Mary from the Dairy. When I first spied it the words stamped on the box put me off a little. Doesn't Mercury Dairy Thermometer make you think of cows bums too?

I'm popping my precious in the shop today... please note I've changed the name of my tiny emporium. I had a couple of visits from a strange man who must have typed slap and tickle into his search engine for reasons other than vintage homewares... hmmm!

On a happier note I've been keeping my strength up with meals from another of my bumper hauls... Jamie's Italy... bellissimo!

it definitely starts tomorrow...

Why is it the minute you go on a diet you just can't stop thinking, dreaming, talking about cake?




eating it too...did I mention eating... cake, mmmmmmmmmmm!

rain rain go away...

When it rains in New Zealand, it properly rains!
No grey drizzle downunder... we've been lashed by tropical, steamy downpours; but they've passed as most things always do and I found these beauties lurking amongst the drooping leaves of the veggie patch.



Tomatoes are in the news here at present, which is something you don't get to say everyday.
With poor Queensland still in recovery mode after all that furious weather and flooding, farmers are predicting fewer crops, which of course leads to price hikes further on down the line. The fallout from this dreadful event just keeps on coming and our hearts go out to all those affected.
If you want to help please click

As to what I did with the tomatoes... there was a lunchdate where we were joined by bocconcini, basil, red onion and some mild garlic oil. A large hunk of bread rushed in at the very last minute but as my Nana always said, the more the merrier...

P.S. Just wanted to say 'Kia Ora' to all the new readers, commentators and followers (when I told Slap I had followers he looked at me with disdain and called me a big head... there's nobody quite like a loving man to keep you grounded)... you are all very welcome and I'm looking forward to leaving 'weird or what' comments on your blogs soon... you have been warned!

P.P.S. Also wanted to say 'Churrr Bro!' to all the gorgeous lovelies who have been visiting for a while now, x

P.P.P.S. Does anyone else think that William Shatner is a comic genius?

life is a minestrone...

and a loaf of homemade bread and an apricot tarte tatin...

It's been a very mixed up bag of nice and nasty in the tiny bit of 2011 experienced so far... the nice completely outweighs the nasty so I'm taking that as an omen; a sign that my spidey senses, which promised an auspicious 12 months, aren't totally off.

I didn't bother with resolutions this year... instead I'm awarding each month with it's own goal. January is all about order and organisation, so far, so do-able. I'm hoping that by doing all the crappy clutterbug jobs early in the year I'll be able to devote June to hedonism and sloth. Actually, my lifestyle detox is leaving me feeling rather jolly; I'm a massive fan of the list and such a concerted effort to erase a few lines is making my heart sing...

Today a tidy cutlery drawer... tomorrow world domination!

monday morning news...

I thought I was going to have to live 'til a hundred before I ever received a telegram, but No!

Look what was waiting for me in the mailbox this morning. How cool is that?... I was planning to send my new penpal a letter in return but now I'm going to have to find a carrier Kiwi bird that can manage the round trip to the U.S. (before you tut tut at my lack of ornithological knowledge, I realise Kiwi's can't fly... I plan to buy it a canoe!)



Happy house move Heather!

So, what else have I been doing recently...

My cinema chum and I have enjoyed a couple of excellent English movies, Four Lions and Made in Dagenham.

I've linked above to the relevant websites in case you're interested, I recommend them both, wholeheartedly.

We actually saw the films in two different cinemas... Four Lions was in one of those old school theatres where the seats are a little lumpy but you don't have to sneak your wine in a drink bottle; Made in Dagenham was a multi plex monster affair, run by twelve year olds with a delicious array of pik n mix lollies and ice cream. Both enjoyable in their own way, although this time I really enjoyed the multi plex because we went during the afternoon and walking out of a cinema into bright, shiny sunshine always makes me feel I've cheated time somehow.

I'm drowning in sweetpeas... which as a way to go would actually be quite nice I think... preferable to a shark attack anyway.


I'm eating rather a lot of asparagus with hollandaise, salt and pepper and I'm baking bread... from scratch... without a breadmaker... this is a big deal... believe me! The recipe is one from Nigella and involves no kneading, yum, gobble, yum,yum, chew!


What have you been up to?

the moral of the story is...

... never eat a man sized portion of steak and kidney pie before you zumba.



Actually, there are many rules attached to the crazy world of zumba:

...keep your eyes shut at all times when in front of a dance studio mirror. It's only in your head you look like Shakira.

... never look the instructor straight in the eye. It's only in his head that he looks like Patrick Swayze, and I am one baby who is happy to stay in my corner.

... no matter how inebriated, never, NEVER take your zumba moves to a work conference dance floor... Dear God, will I ever live it down.

... as my Nana used to say, 'just because you can, doesn't mean you should'.
Crumping, when you're an over forty, mother of three is not good for your pelvic muscle (or your career, see above)

Finally however, I'd just like to say that I am enormously enamoured of a fitness regime that allows me to whirl like a dervish whilst screaming 'ai ai ai ai Rrrrriba!' at the top of my lungs.



That's me in the middle!

just another day....

Man alive, sometimes it takes a complete stranger to remind you that taking life for granted is a crime!

Yesterday I was walking down this beach...



on my way to the old homestead that sits at the very end of the bay.

Whilst I was taking this photo...



a very sweaty man on a bicycle stood next to me upon the verandah and said,
"So you too are visiting this paradise country, ya?"

Not put off by the lycra and perspiration I replied,
"Actually, I live just a few minutes away"

I went home then, all smiley and grateful and ate a bowl of homemade soup.



Good times!!

tea and penguins...

I apply the sort of dedication to buying secondhand that Roy Castle used to sing about on Record Breakers...it's true, if you want to be the best and you want to beat the rest, dedication's what you need...
However, every once in a while an item of unparelleled form and function drops into my peripheral vision and I'm smitten.
What is it about the Penguin? I'm immediately drawn to that multi coloured jacket with its thick creamy stripe; I find it almost impossible to leave behind on an op shop bookshelf a dogeared copy of a book I already own or have read at least twice.
I put it down to a chance encounter on a train circa 1979.
The first Saturday of every month was a time of ritual and tradition during my childhood years. The Whitgift Centre, Croydon was my mothers church of choice and Marks and Spencer's her alter. My brother and I would trail in her wake, supposedly just "TOUCHING WITH OUR EYES", but I have never been able to resist the feel of fabric and my brother would always try and position himself so he could catch a glimpse of middle aged lady flesh through the slight gap in the changing room curtains; strange predilections even at nine.
Rattling home, tucked amongst the carrier bags and sweetened into submission with chocolate, I spotted my stranger seated across the aisle.
He was wearing an old army jacket and an earring, brown hair tumbling a la David Essex he plucked a Penguin from his battered old satchel. He stopped me in mid chomp.
At this point I'd love to say he noticed me staring, winked and twinkled at me a little before asking for a bite of my Curlywurly. Unfortunately, I'd be fibbing... of course he ignored me but I've always remembered him, the epitome of cool who started me down the path of Penguin love and a thing for men with earrings.

Edit: I'm also mad keen on men with speech impediments, but that's another story...



The cookies are a brownie macaroon mix that I have yet to master fully!

the perfect pear...

I was greeted by piles of sweet, juicy pears at the greengrocer's yesterday. A delicious autumnal fruit that when perfectly ripe is, I believe, a match for any apple. I bought a paperbag each of Beurre Bosc, Nashi and Packham. The Nashi are perfect lunchbox treats and I'll roast the Packham's with red onion and a spicy olive oil to serve with pork chops. My favourite though has to be the Beurre Bosc; when fully ripe they're gorgeous with blue cheese and walnuts or tossed in a salad with rocket and parmesan. Today, however, they are still a little hard so pudding is a warm tarte tatin (or pear's upside down if you don't fancy rolling your r's)

Recipe-

Peel, quarter and core five or six pears before heating up 4 tablespoons of brown sugar and 100g of unsalted butter in a small frying pan. I use a stainless steel omlette pan as it needs to go from hob to oven.
Stir until the sugar dissolves and the sauce has a runny toffee consistency.
Take off the heat and pack in the pears, I pop them on their sides like domino's.
Cook gently until the caramel darkens to a deep, deep toffee brown but be careful not to burn.
Cut a circle of flaky pastry slighter larger than the pan and drape over the fruit before putting the pan straight into an oven at 180 degrees. Bake for about 20 minutes or until the pastry is golden and puffy.
Leave to cool for at least 5 minutes and then turn out onto a plate being careful not to spill any of the hot caramel.

The kids love it with ice cream, but I can't resist a splash of runny cream and an espresso.

an upside down christmas...

I've been in New Zealand over ten years now but, from time to time an event takes place that really reminds me how far from home I am; Christmas in July is one such occasion. When the invitation came to celebrate mid winter with a slap up turkey dinner, crackers, gifts and all the fun of the fair I was the first one at the table in my flashing Santa hat... Good times!

My donation was a raspberry, white chocolate and vodka trifle, bread sauce, sausages in bacon and a rather frightening hunger attained only by a woman who has not just fallen off the diet wagon but been repeatedly run over by it too...


I made a really simple Victoria Sponge earlier in the week. Cut this into squares and sandwich it together with raspberry jam.
Defrost some juicy raspberries and crush them a little with a heady splash of vodka.
Fill the bottom third of a glass bowl with the jammy sponge and pour over the boozy crushed berries.
Make up a box of raspberry jelly with the juice from a tin of raspberries and hot water and once it has cooled just a little, pour about a cupful over the sponge.
Leave this to set in the fridge whilst you whip up the next layer.

Today, I used a large carton of thick, creamy shop bought custard. I have made my own in the past, either way works for me. When I use a readymade though I add half a bar of melted Green & Black white chocolate to the sauce as it seems to set better. Pour this delicious gloop over the cooled sponge and straight back into the fridge.

Whip up cream into soft peaks and spoon it over the set custard and you're almost finished. Decorate with white chocolate snow and cherry, mint holly or go wild in the aisles and do the sprinkles, sliced almonds and silver ball topping for real holiday cheer!

If you're not a vodka lover don't worry, you don't really taste vodka as such, there is just a depth to the sponge that is rather good amongst all that creamy, sweetness. Alternatively, you could go Amaretto with a chocolate custard or even Limoncello and drop the chocolate completely... just play!

a weekend at the ymca

I don't live under a rock, in fact I pride myself on being rather a hip and happening mother of teens. I can talk drop-ins and ollies, I own a beanie and board shorts and I know it's no longer cool to stick your tongue out and holler 'WAAASSSSUUUPPPPPP!' when your fifteen year old and his posse arrive home from school (although busting out a 'moonwalk' and a 'running man' during the school social may have been a mistake… I'm not sure; the boys have erected a wall of silence around the incident?) However, I'm struggling to come to terms with children's birthday celebrations needing similar event management skills as those of that beardy farmer who looks after Glastonbury.

Karaoke roller disco's, paintballing with the SAS and sleepovers at a sea-life centre…what the bloody hell happened to sausage rolls, ribena and pass the parcel around the dining table with five friends and Abba crackling along in the background? Due to this miserly old grump parent with integrity stance, this weekend has been one of testosterone scented sleepovers, homemade chocolate brownie cake and the odd sniffle and teary eye as my youngest child turns 13 and Slap and I are now totally outnumbered by a teen army that marches on its stomach.

"Standing on the fringes of life offers a unique experience, but there's a time to see what it looks like from the dance floor."
— Chbosky

Go Baby!!

the last of the tomatoes...

Just to prove that I haven't been playing blog all afternoon, here's a quick pic' of the very last of the cherry tomatoes from the garden with a few of the chilli's ripe enough to pick.

I thought I'd make the most of a surprisingly warm couple of hours, so I sloshed a little oil over my harvest and left it to dry in the sun. Admittedly, rain stopped play earlier this evening so the veggies are finishing off in a very low oven overnight. Once they're all wrinkled and the flavours are truly concentrated I'll bottle them in extra virgin olive oil and use in salad dressings, pasta or just over toasted bread for a tangy reminder of a beautiful summer.

reggie!

Today I'm having lunch with my father-in-law… He was introduced as 'Meat' over 20 years ago. I laboured under the illusion that he was a butcher for months, my father's Welsh you see and the moniker 'Meat' could only have one explanation; (Barry the Beef, 'Chops' Hughes, Ivor the Engine…you get my drift?) so 'Meat', speaks for itself really. However, I was entering the world of the Cockney and so new rules applied:

1. All woman are called birds…irrespective of age, creed or colour
2. Bingo is an Olympic sport
3. Being posh, a little squiffy and attempting to impersonate a Pearly Queen whilst doing a very poor Lambeth Walk is not how you win over the patrons of a dire pub in The Mile End…Oi!
4. Rhyming slang is not a Dick van Dyke concoction…it's real.
Ergo…Meat = Meat and two veg = Reg = my Father in law, the concrete salesman…Duh!
I love Reg, we share tales of how easy it is to embarrass oneself in the public arena.

Sorry.... you'd like an example.... no problem. So, are we all sitting comfortably… then I'll begin,

Regimental Reg has never been a big believer in the passive style of complaint making, so when his toaster broke for the second time in as many weeks his patience wore thin and he decided the only course of action left open to him was to return said toaster to the manager of the department store from whence it came.
Now this being the 1970's Reggie donned his Trilby, sunglasses and slightly moldy old sheepskin, threw the offending kitchen appliance into his trusty Adidas sports bag and set off into town, his handlebar moustache trembling with consumer outrage.
The Saturday morning crush was no deterrent for this man of action, although it didn't help his mood. He arrived in-store red, sweaty, glowering and demanding to speak with the manager IMMEDIATELY! This is where it all gets a little surreal…
Nothing could have prepared our hero for what happened next. With the fire alarm ringing in his ears he was manhandled into a lift and trapped there whilst the store was evacuated and the bomb squad summoned.
Dressed as he was you could understand Reggie being mistaken for the Manager of Liverpool FC, an extra from the Sweeney or even, at a stretch, an overwrought concrete salesman… alas, the staff at Allders were rather a paranoid bunch and, you've got it, they thought our Reg was a terrorist…
I KID YOU NOT!
He was eventually let out of the lift, his bag was searched and the toaster deemed to be fairly harmless and he was given a warning from the Fashion Police about the dangers of matching a Trilby with a moustache and sheepskin…
For lunch we're having Fattoush….yum!

homegrown ratatouille

I know I'm just showing off now, but check out my crop!

Is there anything nicer than roasted veggies straight from the garden, a slosh of olive oil, herbs from the window sill and a tomato passata made just 3 days ago?

Heaven!

ride 'em cowboy!

It's a holiday roundup y'all!

There now follows a list of things I fell in love with this summer:

Fishing... off rocks, off a boat, off my head with the joy of catching stuff, getting someone else to kill it whilst I close my eyes and sing 'ging gang goolly' (my happy place song) then cooking it immediately in the open air before feasting like kings.

Camping... we managed to erect the tent on a scorching afternoon without a single cross word, we slept like babies, lived in the same funky smelling T-shirts for a week, played backgammon, drank beer, told some very tall tales and partied hard.

I've already booked the same pitch for next year....bliss!

Suntans and an Epilator... I've been sporting golden brown, stubble free legs that really do look longer than the hairy, white versions I was hiding within my woolly tights a few months ago. I realise, like the mayfly, they are only here for a few, heady days as the painful high maintenance needed for this look is frankly, a little beyond me. For now though, I'll continue to mince around the house with my short shorts on.

The Tua Tua Shuffle... a strange little dance reminiscent of the twist; it's carried out in waist deep water on a beach at low tide. You shuffle to the left, you shuffle to the right and when your toes hit the motherload you dive and grab these delicious little shell fish. Collect a bucketful, soak in fresh water overnight before marinating and steaming ...gobble, gobble, gobble.

My man... all over again. 2009 was our very own Annus horribilis and although there are still issues to be worked through we are marching in time, hand in hand, singing ging, gang, goolly at the top of our voices.

x.x.x