Don't Think Ice, It's Alright

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I understand the prevailing trend these days is to profess adoration for dark chocolate, the higher in cocoa mass and the more intensely bitter the better, preferably savoured by candlelight with a perfectly aged red wine. Me, I could take it or leave it. I love it for cooking - rarely use anything else - but in terms of eating, I am the fiendiest fiend for white chocolate. I know, it's not even "real" chocolate, and it's nothing but sugar, and doesn't even have any cocoa mass by which to measure its superiority against other chocolates...but I LOVE it. If I know there's some in the house I can barely concentrate, and find myself blindly standing by the cupboard, stolidly chewing away at whatever's left of my white chocolate resources. Whereas dark chocolate - well, it's pretty telling that I have four blocks of the stuff sitting in my wardrobe (because (a) I stock up if it's on sale and (b) we don't have a lot of cupboard space in the kitchen), and haven't touched the stuff.




But I'm only human. I see chocolate, unwrapped and vulnerable in front of me and I gotta take a bite. This particular stuff - Donovan's 80% cocoa dark chocolate, has its own cromulent gratification, in spite of not being my first choice. Smooth, sharp, with an uncannily refreshing, rather than rich finish, it was the perfect thing to embiggen my otherwise low-rent sorbet...

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I got the idea for this from a Jill Dupleix recipe for "ice cream" made of only two ingredients - bananas and raspberries. Berries being expensive, I thought I could make another version using canned pears. I poshed it up by adding some shards of the aforementioned dark chocolate and changing the name...





Banana, Pear, and Bitter Dark Chocolate Sorbet (see, doesn't sound like something out of a can at all when you put it like that)

3 very ripe, large bananas
1 large or 2 regular sized cans of pears, well drained
45g dark chocolate, chopped roughly

Ideally you should do this in a food processor. But I was feeling lazy...or ecologically minded if you will...and used a fork. Mash the bananas and pears together till they are uniformly smooth. Fold in the chocolate. Freeze, stirring occasionally. This makes about 750mls...I think. If you want more, all you have to do is add more bananas or another can of pears. It could probably do with a blast in the food processor after a certain amount of freezing, but once again, I was being serenely carbon neutral with my fork. I'm sure it would be far superior made in the food processor, but it really depends on whether you want to serve it to people or just eat it by yourself.




It's so healthy you could practically have it for breakfast. Even with the chocolate because you know, antioxidants! If you want to serve it to polite company though you need to leave it on the bench for a while to soften. Because it has no added fat it freezes rock solid and you will get fissures in your teeth trying to eat it. I think I got elbow fissures trying to scrape up a spoonful for this photo. But when I left it out of the fridge (for ages actually, I'd forgotten about it but our kitchen is so arctic that it hadn't melted in the slightest) to soften, I was pleasantly greeted by a delicious flavour combination. The delicate flavour of the pears, the texture of the bananas, the occasional surprise of dark chocolate made for an excellent mouthful. Better yet it cost me diddly squat to make. Supermarkets will sell overripe bananas for a song, canned pears are always cheap, and okay, chocolate is expensive but if you can get it on special it's not too bad. Which is why, when Tim and I trekked to Pak'n'Save to do our groceries and I saw 250g blocks of chocolate for $2 compared to the usual $6, I stocked up.
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When I was up home last weekend, my mother - ever the teacher - gently brought my attention to some misplaced apostrophes in my blog. As I want to be a sub-editor one day...and consider myself pretty au fait with grammatical concepts...I apologise sincerely. By the time I've written and edited these posts and grappled with the screen freezing up and photos uploading I tend to miss a few things. I'll think twice next time I sneer at someone else's poor punctuation. And indeed, feel free to tell me if there is an apostrophe out of place somewhere causing you offense.
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Next time: I attempt to make Peanut Butter and Chocolate Popcorn from the Hot Garlic blog. With not a little trepidation I must admit, as I wasn't born with American tastebuds but the way everyone raved over it...and I do love my popcorn maker...well, my curiosity was piqued.
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Your daily kitty cuteness update:
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He's still doing it.

Block Rockin' Beets

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It is a fine time to be a Renthead (insofar as I am able to consider myself one) in the greater lower North Island region as of late. I don't have time to give a full blow-by-blow review of the production of Rent that I saw in Palmerston North on Friday ("oh no! whatever shall we do!" I hear you cry), well, not yet. Briefly though, it was very good, really quite slickly done with nice attention to detail (I'm 99% sure that the girl who played Mimi had been listening carefully to Daphne Rubin Vega in "Goodbye Love," it matched note for note.) Also I'm happy to report that the photo of the cast that I saw really must have been a bad one - the guy who played Collins was much nicer looking, and Collins-ier in person. The only thing that really annoyed me was that Mark was far too camp and the waiter at the Life Cafe wasn't nearly camp enough. Mark is awkward, not camp, and that's that. All told though, an excellent performance.

Above: Frankly, it's not a bad time to have me cook dinner for you either. I was at the Design campus from 10.30am till 6.15pm yesterday hunched feverishly behind a computer, moving things slowly from left to right on Photoshop. And I'll be back there before and after class today. I was somewhat tempted just to have the chippie cook dinner for me last night after all that but Tim, bless him, had endured the rain to get me free range eggs, spinach, and beetroot from the vege market, plus I thought a proper dinner might be good for the brain (not to mention the thighs). Unfortunately it just won't stop raining which means that it's impossible for me to get my final shots for the assignment due...tomorrow after work. It's raining right now in fact. If you don't hear from me for a while, it's probably because I've hightailed it to Tijuana.

I am such a fan of roasting beetroot, and they're very cheap at the moment. Paired with soft, crumbling, blindingly white feta cheese it enters the realms of "ridiculously delicious." Seriously, you know how a while ago (perhaps coinciding with the lamentable "cranberry and camembert" trend) it was wildly fashionable to pair spinach and feta together? Well beetroot is feta's newer, better accessory, as though it had discarded its floor length boho skirt (NB - I loved boho skirts. Flattering, comfy, thigh-concealing...) and picked up...you know I don't have any clue what is even fashionable these days. A shemagh? Passe already? My point being, beetroot and feta are meant to be together, and you'll see it everywhere soon, trust me. I'm not even sure if I invented this salad that I made for dinner last night- I mean, I didn't have a recipe for it but I'm sure I'm not the first to eat it- but here's what I did, if you're interested. Shrewdly, Tim bought a LOT of beetroot, so I'm sure they will appear regularly over the next couple of posts (as will carmine splotches over anything I'm wearing while making dinner...)

Above: Hey, why not look at it again. I'm tired, and it's not a great photo, (though I like how you can see the slice mark in the pistachio) so I guess you could consider this filler material.

Roasted Beetroot, Feta and Pistachio Salad with Sumac and Roasted Red Chilli Dressing.

(How cafe does that sound?!)

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2 good-sized beetroot

1 large red chilli, halved and seeded (I used my lovely Orcona chillis)

Feta Cheese (only you know how much you want)

2 or so tablespoons pistachios (I used some from my precious stash that Mum sent me)

Heat oven to 200 C. I never bother to peel or wrap the beetroot, but if this is how you like it then be my guest. I just chop them into chunks, tip them into a roasting dish, (add the chilli here) and leave them in the oven for about 3/4 of an hour. Heating the chilli, funnily enough, seems to take out all the fire but leave behind that magical, smoky flavour. Since I can't handle much in the way of actual chilli, this suits me perfectly. Once the beetroot is tender, mix together 2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil, 1 teaspoon ground sumac, 2 tablespoons of water, and the red chilli, finely chopped. Tip the beetroot into a bowl and pour over the dressing, leave to cool. Finally, tumble over your chopped feta and pistachio nuts. I also biffed in the last of the organic sprouts from the Wellington Food Show. This serves two, although I could, without a doubt, eat the whole thing alone. It is a good recipe if you have bought some Sumac and are thinking "now what?!" There's also something about the red, green and white of the salad that makes me think it would be nice at Christmas...perhaps with some chopped mint sprinkled over.

Above: Because doing uni work all day makes me feel listless and needy, I decided to indulge in some form of pudding. I don't know who I thought I was kidding by combining a low fat option (Jill Dupleix' Banana Berry Ice Cream with brown-sugared yoghurt) and a blatantly not option (Vanilla Apples with Sweetheart Croutes from Nigella Express,) in the hopes that the former might cancel out the latter...

Above: The flavours actually went marvelously well together. The cold zing of the icecream lifted the buttery apples (literally - you chop them then stew them in butter) and the sweetheart croutes were, if kitchly named, a pleasantly crunchy contrast to everything else. But if you are going to make the ice cream - and I highly recommend you do - you should know it sets rock hard. I guess this is because there's no fat and barely any sugar to keep things mellow. So, take it out of the freezer a good 25 minutes before you want to serve it or you'll just have a bright pink slab that you can pick up with your hands and take a bite out of (how do I know this...?)

Above: I don't tend to go in for that whole "million photos of the same dish from different angles" approach on this blog but I couldn't help myself with this. It really is quite pretty.

My brain is so tired from all this uni stuff, and I really don't want to go back to the design campus (located handily in the throbbing heart of Wellington's red light district!) but I'm going to have to. It has been cold, windy and rainy here and I just want to lie in bed all day, watch DVDs, and bake (simultaneously, natch.) Soon, soon though. At any rate I'm sure I've learned some kind of important life lesson from this photog paper. More than I learned from that compulsory school trip in sixth form to the Outdoor Pursuits Centre, which I still bear the mental scars from. Why does everyone insist you have to go abseiling or climb an insurmountable hill in order to grow emotionally as a person?

One thing that has shaken me awake though was the discovery of some more videos of The Wild Party on Youtube, including - oh frabjous day - a clip of Idina Menzel singing The Life Of The Party. Seriously, I nearly fainted when I watched the video. She is incredible! For those of you who can't be bothered looking on Wikipedia, The Wild Party is - was - an off-Broadway show from 2000 based on the Joseph Moncure March poem, and is set in the 1920s. It bears the dubious distinction of being what got me into Rent (Idina Menzel and Taye Diggs originated roles in both musicals.) And for those of you who like it old-school, I also found an amazing clip of her singing Cornet Man from Funny Girl. Go on, indulge me. I'm feeling fragile. And it was my birthday recently...ish...or something.

"Some Things I Cannot Change..."

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..."But till I try I'll never know..." Argh. I mean, I posted those Tetris photos last time breezily saying how I was prepared for them to be criticised. Heck, I even quoted Back To The Future. But secretly I thought they were cool. The teacher absolutely hated them and told me as much in our interim presentation on Wednesday (worth 20% of the assignment's grade!) I kid you not, I actually started to tear up right there in class. My throat got tight, my nose got prickly, and I could only but sullenly nod at her before racing out of the class to sob in the girls' loo for 20 minutes. Once again; she was well within her rights to say that, also, they probably were "technically awful," but how the heck am I supposed to pick up the camera and carry on with the assignment now? On top of that everything negative that she said about the last assignment in class applied directly to what I had done. I felt like I was twelve years old again. I felt like hugging my mother. I felt made of fail.


So yeah, I hit the butter pretty hard.



Above: After watching a performance on youtube of 'Popular' from the musical Wicked, featuring Kristen Chenoweth and the ever-ridiculously-astounding Idina Menzel, (yes, my fangirl-ness extends to youtubing musicals I've never even seen), I felt like creating some pink and green iced cupcakes. After all, as Glinda says, "Pink goes good with green." I don't know why I thought cupcakes would be a good way of expressing this, or indeed that it needed to be expressed at all, but it certainly filled my baking-as-catharsis brief for the time being...




Above: And looked rather cute to boot, no?
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I've made these so many times and in so many forms that I don't need a recipe, but you might: Take 125g each of soft butter and caster sugar, beat till fluffy with a wooden spoon, add two eggs, (beat beat beat) a little vanilla extract (beat beat) and 125g flour (still beating with your wooden spoon). Finally, you scoop the mixture into a 12-bun muffin tin, (with paper liners in each indentation) or into 12 or so endearingly pretty silicon cupcake holders like mine. Bake at 180 for about 15 minutes. This recipe is courtesy of Nigella, and is actually in every single book she has done, in one guise or another. Double the recipe and add baking powder and it becomes a Victoria Sponge recipe, to be baked for about 30-ish minutes in two paper-lined 20cm springform tins, and sandwiched together with any number of combinations of things...cream, lemon curd, jam, mascarpone, stewed rhubarb, banana slices, dulce de leche...




Above: I've made these biscuits/cookies (choose as applicable depending on hemisphere) and seriously loved them. Just to show how versatile the recipe is, in the book they are called chocolate chip fruit and nut cookies. In the ones I made there were none of these components (apart from a certain necessary amount of cookie!) and instead I doubled the oats, loaded in pumkin seeds, and then threw caution to the wind by adding linseeds (some throw caution to the wind by, I don't know, skydiving. I add linseeds.)


I managed to refrain from eating all the mixture this time.


And yes, I did manage to get some study done yesterday, but I truly had hit a brick wall when it came to the photography assignment and couldn't bring myself to get started on it again. I'll need to harden up soon and get on with it, but yesterday I couldn't help but wallow, walrus-like, in the solace of the kitchen for a little longer...



Above: It just occured to me that if you zoomed in on this picture, maybe upped the saturation somewhat, it might look like an early Pink Floyd record sleeve. This technicolour mix is actually an uber-wholesome combo of ripe bananas and frozen berries, plus a spoonful of brown sugar, which I turned into ice cream. Well, is it ice cream if there is no cream in it? Jill Dupleix thinks so, and I salute her for coming up with such a splendidly delicious recipe, but the finished product has more of a sorbet-like granular, slushy texture. No matter, it tastes pretty incredible and can claim to be gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free, almost sugar free (one tablespoon! and it was my idea, not the recipe), and even vegan. Who would have thought I'd ever make something vegan?


This came to be, not only because I had a whole lot of cheaply bought baking bananas that I couldn't get rid of fast enough, but because Tim and Paul (with a little help from the rest of us) valiantly cleaned out our fridge (well, one of them; we are a two-fridge family in this flat) which was so bung that the ice growth on the back wall had literally grown over some of our food and encased it. Anyway, they found a half-bag of frozen berries that I'd bought and were going to biff them (I know) but luckily thought I might want them. And so, to justify their existense, and to get rid of the scary bananas, I made Jill Dupleix' icecream from Lighten Up.



Above: I don't go in for bananas in a huge way, but good grief this is delicious. And not because of all that it lacks, or even because of all the vitamins and potassium it contains (though I believe they do add that extra zing) but because of what it has: a gorgeous, deeply pink hue; an amazing sorbet-like texture, and the intense flavour of fruit, unadulterated and allowed to taste of itself. (I know, I know, I've totally been drinking her Kool-Aid)


I think (lazily) that Dupleix' recipe is a little unnecessarily complicated, so here's what I did: Take six or so ripe bananas (cut away any brown bits) and chop them very roughly into a bowl. I mean, cutting them in two is fine. Tumble in 150g of frozen raspberries (I had a berry mix which gives a lovely purple tinge to the pink mixture) or more if you like, I didn't bother to measure what I had but I think it was actually more than that. I also added a tablespoon of brown sugar to add a little sweetness; Dupleix specifies fresh berries which are sweeter. Leave them for twenty or so minutes for the berries to soften. Throw the whole lot in the food processor, blend till thoroughly smooth. Tip back into the bowl, or an icecream container, and freeze, stirring to break up ice particles at some stage of the proceedings. You won't be sorry.

Whither the dinner in all this?




Above: On Wednesday night I put sausages, potatoes, onions (love roast onions) yellow peppers and beetroot into a couple of roasting dishes, shoved them in the oven, and came back maybe an hour later to find dinner ready. Although Tim likes his sausages fried, they are so much easier done in the oven and I admit I rather like the hard, crispy exoskeleton they acquire after roasting. You probably already know how I feel about roasted beetroot; if not: LOVE IT.


This weekend is going to be instensely busy, what with extended family driving down from home, old-but-not-forgotten flatmate Kieran showing up on our doorstep yesterday with several bottles of hard liquor, creative differences with my photography teacher to sort out, tests to study for, mini-essays to write, and The Food Show. You can guess which of these things I am excited about. I have been practising for the Food Show (Hello, I'm a food blogger in the Wellington region. May I take a photo? Hello, I'm a food blogger....)
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Oh and I booked a ticket to see Rent in Palmerston North next Friday. Am very excited, even if I'm going alone. Tim wouldn't be tricked by reverse psychology ("didn't want you to come anyway!") and there was no pending birthday to use an excuse, in fairness to him he was a very good sport about it last time. As luck would have it our recent flatmate Stefan has moved to The Palm so I have a spare room to crash in. All's I am saying is, they'd better not kill off Mimi like Levin did...that's right, I'm still not over it.

"I've Said It Once Before But It Bears Repeating"

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To liberally paraphrase Elton John, Saturday night's alright for writing essays. It has to be. I shouldn't even be here, but I've allowed myself a break from wrangling Renaissance English. It's not a good sign when I can't even understand any of the essay questions...I can't be hating on this though, even when it means I'm stuck behind the computer typing feverishly all weekend. How could you possibly dislike a play (Jonson's The Alchemist) whose very second line is "I fart at thee?" A play which contains the phrase: "Thou look'st like Antichrist, in that lewd hat?" (which makes me long to find something fitting the description of a lewd hat.) Of course you couldn't. But still, 2500 pithy, succinct, brilliant words need to be produced asap.
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Don't even get me started (truly, I said plenty enough in the last post) on the interim photographs I'm supposed to present on Wednesday for my next photog assignment, which is, just for kicks, worth 20 percent of the final grade of said assignment. Who knows when I'll have time to do them, between classes, essays and work - perhaps if, Yorkshireman-style, I get up half an hour before I go to bed and work for 29 hours, I might just get it done.


As I mentioned ruefully in my last post, it seems that whenever I swear off pudding I always end up waist deep in the stuff. I wonder if I vowed solemnly only to eat pudding, would I be wearing a size zero by the end of the week? Sheer luxury indeed.



Above: Now, I know using the microwave to actually, y'know, cook, basically means you forfeit your right to consider yourself a decent human being in some circles. Oh, I won't lie, I don't think the microwave is that brilliant as a sole means of producing meals. It sure helps though.
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When I was younger - maybe ten? - there was a lengthy stretch of time where we didn't have an oven for some reason (seriously, Mum, why?) and we cooked all our meals with -brace yourself- an electric frypan and the microwave. I still remember this amazingly good "feather pudding" that Mum used to whip up occasionally, golden syrup on the bottom and sponge on top...anyway, snapping out of that radioactive haze of reminiscence, surely a microwave can't be that bad if it managed to produce something like the chocolate pudding pictured above. This pudding is just stupidly chocolatey and rich. And it cooks in 5 minutes...literally.




Above: The batter is magically delicious too. Don't lose a finger (or your tongue!) on the processor blades.


Microwave Chocolate Pudding (from Nigella's How To Eat)

• 120g butter
• 250g dark chocolate, roughly chopped
• 100g light brown sugar
• 1t vanilla extract (if it's essence then don't bother)
• 125ml cream (yes, cream)
• 40g plain flour
• 1/2 t baking powder
• 3 eggs

Butter a 1 litre bowl generously. In the food processor, whizz up the chocolate till it is in rubbly, small chunks. I'm warning you, this will make the most unholy sound, so be ready. Don't make this beside a sleeping baby or in a monastery or something. Add the butter, whizzing again, and the sugar, and then the rest of the ingredients. Scrape into the bowl, cover tightly with microwave safe clingfilm. Cook on high for 5 minutes, or until set - it might take an extra minute or so as ovens vary, don't put it in for too long though or it could turn to delicious rubber. Remove from the oven, pierce the clingfilm and then cover the bowl with a plate and sit for ten minutes. I don't know why, this is just what Nigella says. Who am I to argue. Serve. Feel your thighs expanding with every mouthful.

Above: Once more, with feeling.

I was obviously seriously frazzled while writing my last post as I didn't even add a "Lentil Power" tag to it though we had demonstrably consumed lentils. We haven't had any since, but I did make another dish from Jill Dupleix' Lighten Up. This book has proven to be very useful, I mean, I wasn't that fussed when I first flicked through it at the bookshop but I have used it heaps so far. Can't judge a book by its cover...bwah! (sorry)



Above: Not a great photo sorry, but it was getting cold and I couldn't seem to get rid of my own shadow!


This is a very, very simple lamb tagine. On Thursday morning Tim and I went to the store to spend a grocery voucher I got given for my birthday (thanks Mum and Dad! We'd be eating dust otherwise..."zoom in on my empty wallet.") We took a calculator to make sure we didn't go over and were very discerning and frugal, but I found some stewing lamb for very cheap so bought a heap of it to make various slow-cooked things over winter. This recipe involved sauteeing an onion, carrot, and lamb with various spices - ginger, tumeric, paprika, saffron - before stirring in honey, dates and dried apricots. I didn't have the apricots, and I added some spinach at the very end, but I think it doesn't matter too much. I served it over an earnest pile of brown rice and it was delicious. Not terribly innovative - I daresay I could have come up with this on my own eventually - but a simple, unfussy combination of flavours that take care of themselves and taste reliably good together. Also it's nice to have ideas for healthier things to cook in winter to distract from my desire for something dripping in butter and cheese.




Above: While we are in vaguely North African mode, I give you Pasta with Sauce A-la-Marrakesh, from The Accidental Vegetarian by Simon Rimmer. I soaked the chickpeas on Thursday night (proactive lady is proactive) and simmered them as soon as I got home from work on Friday. The spaghetti sauce is made up of all sorts of good things - tomatoes, (tinned in my case), a shake of cumin, cinnamon and tumeric - I added a diced carrot but completely forgot the flipping flaked almonds even though I knew that I had some. Welcome to my brain.


So the production of Rent in Palmerston North (two hours from here by bus/train) got a positive if disappointingly vague review, and I gotta say that I feel honour-bound to see it, if only because it's there, you know? How it will pan out I don't know. I am a little concerned that from the promotional picture I saw, Collins looks rather old and white and Mark appears to be balding (Levin 1, PN 0) but...maybe it was badly lit or something. "We'll see, boys!"

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In other news, Paul managed to come within pit-spitting distance of my Tetris score (he got to level 41, I got level 45) proving once again that the Vincent genes are pure, distilled excellence. Tetris has become so entrenched in our routine that I composed WWF-style stage names for us: Paul "The Suth" Sutherland, Laura "Two Hands" Vincent, and Timothy "Tim" Herbert. Aw, I need to get out more. Can't though, because of all these essays and assignments...which brings me full circle. Have a good weekend!


PS: 10,000 hits! I'm a real blogger!

"And Wednesday, don't mention Wednesday..."

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In the words of our Dave Dobbyn, "not a good one at all!" Yesterday was a bad day for me. Oh sure, a decent enough day in a global sense (still trying to get my head around the nightmarish Myanmar disaster) but, on my own terms it was pretty rough. .


I had Photography. This was all well and good until we had to display our assignment photos (that we'd handed in on Tuesday) and get critiqued, one at a time, by the teacher. The teacher told me that my photos were completely unsuccessful, in front of the entire class, and now I guess I'm just waiting to see if I failed or not. I wasn't the only one, she didn't seem to like anyone's efforts, which made for an incredibly uncomfortable 3 hours. After all the time I put into the photos it was all I could do not to burst into tears (which I am wont to do at inopportune moments) and run screaming from the class. Mercifully I held it together, but really what do you say to someone when they tell you that your photos are terrible? Are you supposed to say "thankyou so much for that valuable insight! Now I'm all fired up for the next project!" The point is, she may well have been right - the photos probably weren't that great - it is a bloody beginner paper after all- but her opinion counts because she's doing the marking.


Catharsis over! On the upside I was pleased enough with my Media essay that I handed in yesterday (managed to slip in "the subordination of women" although didn't find a place for "juxtaposed") and I saw the Magic Dog on my way back to the flat. The magic dog is this snowy white Samoyed that lives down the road from us and Tim and I get a bit worked up when we see it. Trust me, it's one majestic beast. Tim and I decided this dog was magic and assigned it properties as such - you know, if it sniffs you, you will never die from drowning, where it urinates shall spring forth an ancient oak tree, that sort of thing.




When I was a lot younger I had this nightmare about the Donny and Marie Show, which is odd because I've never in my life seen an episode. They starting singing I'm a Little Bit Country and A Little Bit Rock'n'Roll. Marie then sang "I'm a little bit crunchy," turned into a giant Crunchie bar and Donny bit her head off. It was this that I reminisced still-nervously about as I made homespun Crunchie bars.

By the way - oh the irony! - the above is a very special photo for me because it's the first one ever where I've managed to manually do that sharp-foreground-blurry-background thing that has so long eluded me. Hello macro button! I've finally found you! No more complaining about it, I promise. Thanks for all the advice, too :) If it wasn't for that I wouldn't have known that the macro button was capable of such wizardry.

This recipe is so easy yet so rewarding. First of all, the kitchen smells like caramel while the sugar is cooking. Then you get to watch the mixture whoosh up when you add the baking powder. It's fun, and stress-releasing, to bash the finished product into shards and chunks with a rolling pin. It tastes amazing. Oh, and there's only three ingredients...


Cinder Toffee (Nigella's words, not mine) from How To Be A Domestic Goddess

200g caster sugar (I used regular to no obvious ill effect)
4 T golden syrup
1 T baking soda



Above: does making this for a Type-1 diabetic with sore teeth make me a bad person?

Liberally butter a 21cm square tin, although this will fit into whatever you've got around that size to be honest. Mix the golden syrup and sugar to a granular paste in a heavy bottomed saucepan, and then cook it over a low heat. This takes a wee while but it is fun to watch the sugar go all melty and ripply like in the picture above. Simmer gently for about 3 minutes, it will darken but you don't want it to be too dark. Once it has bubbled away for a while take it off the heat and using a fork or something stir in your tablespoon of baking soda. It's a bore, but it might pay to sift the soda into a small bowl first so you don't end up with lumps. The caramel will foam up awesomely. Quickly spread into your tin and leave it to set, which will take at least an hour. Tip out of the tin, bash with a rolling pin (don't even try to slice it!) and dip or drizzle with chocolate as desired.




Above: It tastes so good, just like proper Crunchie bars. Which I happen to love.

Now that I've put the kibosh on baking and puddings it seems I'm making more than ever. Isn't that the way? But I had this idea that folding some honeycomb into the batter for one of those self-saucing puddings (or as I knew it as a child, "Chocolate Floating Pudding") might be kinda cool. It wasn't, I have to admit, entirely successful - I think I had unnattainable dreams of a butterscotchy sauce with chunks of still-crunchy honeycomb in the finished product - but it still tasted rather good.




Above: Mmm, gooey and calorific. I had planned to make a pudding last night as a "Yay Wednesday's Over For Another Week" kind of thing but was too exhausted in the end. Mayhaps tonight...Oh and just in case you're worried I've been spending the last couple of days cleaning my teeth with muscovado and washing my hair with treacle: We have been having worthy, healthy dinners. Not quite soul food, but definitely brain food.




Above: This lentil and pumpkin take on shepherd's pie came from Jill Dupleix' Lighten Up, and while it can't replace the real thing, it was very pleasant and warming and just stupidly healthy. It had five vegetables in it. And if lentils weren't enough...I'm a little ashamed to admit this...I added a handful of rolled oats to the mixture. Well, they sort of disappear, so it's not like I was being insanely militant. It's just that if I'm eating pudding I like my dinners to be exponentially healthy. The good thing about this dish was that between the lentils, the pumpkin, and the oats, there were more than enough long lasting carbs for Tim so I didn't have to boil up some rice or anything. We had this with roasted cauliflower, just to bring another vegetable to the party and to make me feel better about the ever-decreasing pile of honeycomb...

Speaking of roasted cauliflower, the next night I repeated the Orzotto for dinner - barley being cheap and superhealthy - and managed to cram in spinach, capsicum, and carrots to the mixture. It looked so depressingly earnest that I didn't even bother to get photographic evidence, but it tasted pretty good.


By the time I got home last night I knew I wanted pasta and had decided on carbonara until I realised we had no cream. So instead I used the rest of the bacon that I splashed out on for my birthday, and fried it in butter till crispy. I then added a generous slosh of Marsala, more butter (hey, it had been a bad day and I was feeling needy) and served it over spaghetti to which I'd added some peas. Alongside was roasted beetroot and broccoli, and it was...just what I wanted.




Above: I find pasta SO comforting. I suppose nothing beats a bowl of buttery mashed potatoes, but for low effort, quick balm to the soul, pasta is my carb of choice.


It's not all dire as far as my education goes though. I got an A- for an English essay I did...and if nothing else my photography assignment has introduced me to the awesomeness that is Richard Maxted whose work I was inspired by. Don't try and google him - he has a lamentably low profile on the internet. In a moment of "why the heck not" I sent him an email using the contact address on his site...and *squee!* he replied, was incredibly nice, and even answered some questions to provide quotes for my assignment. Seriously, he's kind of a big deal in the photography world (though he has no Wikipedia page!) so for him to actually reply was very exciting. If you feel like looking at ridiculously good photography go to his website and wait for the red asterisk to turn fuzzy (you then click on it to enter the site.) I had planned on uploading a couple of my own photos here but now I'm far too disillusioned so I'll leave you with one of Maxted's rather more reliable works instead.



Above: Guess what this is a photo of.
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Toothpicks. Clever, yes? Hopefully his help can save my grade...*update* 9/5/08 - Thanks for the kind words! but I'd just like to make clear that (having had a sense of the-teacher-is-always-right instilled into me at an early age by my mother, who teaches) it's not exactly being told I was rubbish that I object to (it sucks! but if they're technically bad photos then that's that) it's the fact that it was done in front of the whole class for three hours. I am sure there was a less heartbreaking way to do it. Didn't want to make it seem like I was on some kind of woe-is-me, heat-of-the-moment vitriolic rampage (heck, I'd cooled off thoroughly by this stage. Can you imagine how worked up I was at the time?) But yeah, the teacher was of course well within her rights to give me her unadulterated opinion. Cheers :)

"I Had A Brain That Felt Like Pancake Batter..."

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I couldn't think of a title for this post. Nothing seemed to work in my head. So, when in doubt, why not quote Jack White? He certainly describes how I currently feel, as you will find out later...Unfortunately I haven't actually cooked any pancakes. Goodness knows what I'll use for a title when I do...
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This is my 100th post! How about that! Between this, and my six-month blog anniversary, and my birthday all occuring recently, I hope you don't think I'm one of those girls who bursts into passive-aggressive tears if my significant other doesn't buy me a diamond pendant to mark the three weeks that have passed since our first date.
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Above: Picadillo, which ended up focussed backwardly. Depth of field, I do not haz it.


There's something about those cheerfully forced "midweek meals" that womens' magazines regularly publish that seem so, well, cheerfully forced. In my line of work I am exposed to a lot of womens' mags and though I keep a keen eye out, it has been a long time since I've been inspired by any of the recipes. They never quite get it sounding right, what with their Thai Pumpkin and Couscous Bake and Sausage Chow Mein with 2-Minute Noodles. I mean, everyone needs those midweek meals, including me, it's just the ones I see seem to be so...colourless. Although I cook dinner at every possible opportunity (sometimes even at lunch) this week has felt particularly practical and magazine-y. Monday: Picadillo, a Cuban mince dish (done in the slow cooker!). Tuesday: Salmon burgers, even the kids will like them! Wednesday - Spaghetti Puttanesca... which Jill Dupleix coyly describes as pasta for "working girls." I like to think of it (rather gleefully I'll admit, but how often do you get a name like this) in its more literal sense - Whores' Pasta. Suddenly things aren't looking so dull after all...In fact happily everything has tasted great so far.


On Monday night, spurred on by a recipe on the Tea and Wheaten Bread blog, which in turn was using a recipe from Culinary Travels of A Kitchen Goddess, I chose to make Picadillo. It looked easy to make, very cheap, and a bit out of the ordinary. Even though it has risen so alarmingly in price that it's not much of a cliched student ingredient anymore, mince would still be what Tim and I eat most of from the meat family. And it is difficult to find new twists on it. So when I saw that this had olives, raisins, and lots of spices in it, not to mention that I could bung it in the Crock Pot and forget about it, I had to try it...unfortunately I forgot to put the raisins in. I always forget one crucial thing it seems, even when the recipe is right in front of me. But it still tasted great. To be honest I didn't initially think there was much point in doing something like mince in a slow cooker - it's not like it's going to get any more tender - but it definitely seemed to enhance the deep, mellow flavour. I'll be making this again for sure this Winter, and hopefully will remember the raisins next time (well, I'd substitute sultanas. I know they're practically the same thing, but I can't stand raisins. Maybe I subconsiously left them out on purpose.)


On Tuesday night I decided that I (rather desperately) needed some brainfood, so attempted to make salmon burgers. Because I was in overachiever mode, I made the buns as well, using a laughably easy recipe from Nigella's Feast, that I have made so many times I know it off by heart. Well at least I hope I do. It is rather late at night that I'm typing this...



Above: the background necessarily blurred because I have carny hands, "neither beautiful nor practical." Hopefully it looks a bit upmarket on top of that.


Nigella's Buns (*titter*)

• 500g high-grade/bread flour
• 1 sachet yeast (the sachets come in little cardboard boxes, I can't deal with any other sort)
• 375mls milk
• 25g butter
• 2t sugar

Place the flour, yeast and sugar in a large bowl. If you use a large enough bowl, you don't even need to get your bench dirty as you can just knead the dough inside it. Well, it works for me...Warm the milk and butter in a small saucepan till the butter has melted and the milk is tepid. You don't want it too cool, but neither should it be anywhere in the neighbourhood of 'hot.' Tip this into the flour, and using one hand (I find it handy - ha! - to just use one) knead this mixture till smooth, cohesive, and elastic. For some reason this mixture comes together remarkably fast. Once it's looking good, tip the mound of dough onto a plate, and grease the bowl it was in. Put the dough back in the bowl, turning so that all sides get a little shiny, then cover tightly with gladwrap and leave in a warmish place for an hour or so.

In an hour's time, punch the now spookily-puffy dough (satisfying!) and then shape into buns. Nigella recommends quite small ones, (these are dinner-roll type thingummies) but because I was using them for burgers I made mine bigger, and therefore got less out of the mix. Now, leave them to sit on a tray, covered with a teatowel, for about 20 minutes. You might as well turn your oven to 200 C and sit the tray on top so as the residual warmth helps them to rise even more. Finally, brush with a beaten egg or melted butter (guess which I plumped for, as it were) and bake for 15-20 minutes. Actual timing is a bit vague, it's dependant on size of bun and type of oven, but reckon on something like that. These babies smell incredible, and though they don't have the staying power of shop-bought stuff, can be recussitated the next day in the microwave.

Above: You're supposed to tap them on the underside to see if they sound hollow, therefore cooked- but fresh-baked bread is one of the hottest things known to man. Use oven mitts, please...don't go down the same sorry path I did (on the upside, should I choose to commit a heinous crime, the police can't fingerprint me!)

Above: Breakage.

While all this was happening, I set about making my Krabby Patties, using a tin of salmon, some bran (hey, why not? You can't even taste it but it's doing you good) an egg, two grated, parboiled potatoes, and a few spoonfuls of Za'atar. I think the lack of flour was what made them a pain to cook - you had to be insanely delicate with the spatula or they'd break. I had two casualties, and four proper ones. Not too bad. You could quite easily have one patty per bun, but I am a greedy, greedy person so Tim and I had two each.

Above: Ooh they were good. The combination of tender, still-warm buns and slightly crunchy salmon was awesome. Worth the effort, I assure you.

Finally, my pasta a la doxy. This came from Jill Dupleix' Lighten Up and was a very easy (ha!) meal. You barely have to think while making it. Unfortunately I didn't have any anchovies to hand, (couldn't justify spending $4 on a tiny tin of them, yes, I know they're good) so I just pretended that I was vegetarian for the moment and meant for it to happen that way. I also used pitted black olives, which I know are basically the devil's snack as far as food purists go, but again, they were much, much, much cheaper than the lovely real thing, and I figured that by roughly squashing them they might look more like something Jamie Oliver would approve of.

Above: Unfortunately this was the best shot I could get, the lens kept steaming up and none of my twirly-fork tricks were working and anyhow pasta seems to get cold and claggy very fast, so I just snapped and served it. Tasted much nicer than the photo looks though. I love how the olives and capers provide an addictive saltiness that is so much more complex than just salt itself.

I am not good at many things - mathmatics, tidiness, committing to a healthy eating and excercise plan - but I am very, very good at Tetris. To paraphrase Stacey from The Baby Sitters Club, it's true, I'm not being conceited! One of my many addictions is online tetris - if you feel like immersing yourself into this heady underworld, go to freetetris.org- and nearly everyone in the flat is quite into it. Basically it is fairly cruisy until level 9, where it gets a lot quicker, and by level 10 it is quicker again. Everyone was amazed when I got to Level 19 while they were floundering round 8. Now most of the flatmates can make it to about 14, but then on Monday night I managed to get to...Level 31. We didn't even know it existed. It was insane. And then guess what happened on Tuesday night. I said to Tim, "If I get a score of quarter of a million will you watch Rent with me?" He said only if I got half a million.

Above: The only way this could have been more triumphant was if I'd managed to get a score of 525,600. Don't worry, I won't force the poor lad to watch the movie again...but there is that production opening in Palmerston North soon...

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I apologise if this post has been a little lacking in my usual lustre, but with all these essays and photos bearing down on my head like the sword of Damocles I'm feeling pretty weary. (*googles sword of Damocles* - okay it's not really a pertinent simile.) I got some not-very-good results back today on a test I did in Photography about aperture and stuff - apparently the test was "too easy" and anyone who got under 75% was very disappointing. I got 65% and felt those disapproval rays loud and clear! Seriously though, there are so many numbers involved in digital photography, and that sort of thing makes my head swim. However I have had some fun taking photos for my current assignment. If I get a decent mark I'll upload a couple for your viewing pleasure, if I don't, I'll just go to sleep until next semester. By the way, to those of you who have noticed out loud my improved photography skillz - mostly due to Picassa and my nifty wee tripod - thank you, it means a lot that you comment on it :)

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And finally, because I like to talk about the weather even though no-one cares about it, by gum it is rainy here in Wellington. I'm talking get yer ark pronto.

Visions of Sugarplums...

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It's this time of year -though not exclusively of course - that my thoughts turn to baking, and I have this incredibly strong desire to bake something sugary and smear it thickly with buttercream, preferably tinged mint green or pink, even though I don't even like pink that much...

I mean I do feel like this on a fairly regular basis, but rightaboutnow my proclivity is particularly insistent. What time of year is it exactly? Essay time. And it'll happen again in the midway point of next semester. I have a sqillion lengthy essays to complete in rapid succession, plus a 6-part photo assignment and a 15% test on Photoshop (which is still completely over my head). Instead of being able to concentrate on "The Mediated Nation" and "The Public Sphere" and so on, I keep thinking about baking. With the feijoa cake and Anzac biscuits but a distant memory now, (I know, it was three days ago, aren't I petulant!) it feels like forever since I whipped up a fluffy batch of cupcakes or made a layered sponge, or drizzled white chocolate over something. Gahh!

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Above: It's lucky I enjoy cooking dinner so much. Tim and I are trying to cut back on our spending, another reason I can't bake too much, though it's difficult when food is my main vice and it grows ever more expensive by the day. I mean, I always cook with economy in mind, but I like the finer things in life as far as food is concerned, too. Although they don't soothe my desire for buttercream, lentils are definitely pleasing to the soul - and cheap.

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There aren't many foods left that are this delightfully inexpensive. I love filling my snaplock bag to the brim with red lentils at the bulk food section of the supermarket, only to have the weighing machine eject a price sticker that says something like $0.86.

Because we ate so much junk over the last couple of days - I ate a large bag of twisties on the train to Levin, had KFC for dinner while there (and mighty fine it was), and fish and chips for Friday night's dinner - I was pretty desperate for the presence of some vitamins and minerals at our next possible meal. So on Saturday night I made a lentil curry, which is basically my not-quite-fully-formed lentil soup recipe but with less water. Thick with tomatoes, spicy with cumin, cinnamon, cardamom, garlic, and of course, lentils, I'm not sure how authentic it was (notice I didn't call it dhal) but as Nigella says, it was "authentically good." I'm afraid that even though I covered it hopefully in coriander, the photo of the finished product was so awful that I elected not to show it here. Much as I love them, cooked lentils aren't terribly photogenic and it would take greater skillz than mine to make them so...

Above: The very sight of this dish practically erased any remnant traces of KFC from my system with its chlorophyll-green symphony of...okay I'm getting carried away, but it is healthy and vibrant looking, and if healthy food looks good then that's half the hard work done. Of course, it has to taste fabulous, which this certainly does. I came by this recipe via Healthy Salads From Southeast Asia by Vatcharin Bhumichitr, a book I love, every time I read it I want to make something. And, it was only $11 from Borders on a table with all those other authorless, soulless, step-by-step cookbooks! Kapow!

Green Salad with Coconut and Mint Dressing

100g mange tout, topped, tailed, halved

100g French beans, trimmed and halved

1 small cucumber, halved lengthwise, deseeded, and diced

100g Chinese cabbage, roughly shredded

100g broccoli, cut into small florets.

I should point out here that what I used was a mixture of frozen beans, frozen peas, cucumber, broccoli and regular cabbage. Still kosher, I'd like to think.

Bring a pan of water to the boil and one by one blanch each vegetable - yes, even the cucumber - for about 4 minutes, refreshing in cold water and draining well. Place vegetables in a large bowl and set aside.

For the dressing: Heat 2 T vegetable oil in a pan and fry 1 clove of garlic, crushed, until golden brown. Add 2 small green chillies, finely chopped, 2 t sugar, 3 T coconut milk, 1 T fish sauce, and a few tablespoons of water, and stir well. Remove from the heat and stir in 2 T lime juice and 1 T finely chopped mint. Pour this over the vegetables and stir well. Delish.

I should also point out that because neither Tim nor I are 'ard enough, I reduced the chilli component considerably. Feel free to do so yourself.

Above: I finally made my first recipe from my new Jill Dupleix book, Lighten Up, in the form of her Cauliflower and Barley Risotto. Barley, like lentils, is stupidly cheap, very good for you, and not terribly sexy. However according to Nigella in How To Eat, a risotto made with barley is called an orzotto, and I have to say, giving it an Italian name makes it much more alluring. The recipe was straightforward enough - sauteed onions, carrots, and cauliflower stems, then barley, white wine, cauliflower, stock...simmer...serve. I roasted the cauliflower itself first, because I am pathologically incapable of walking past a floret without shoving it in the oven. I think should I make this again - and I will, it was delicious - I'll stick with this method.

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Above: Surprisingly creamy and delicious, and very 'comfort food' in nature. I didn't have any walnuts, as the recipe specified, so I scattered over pumpkin seeds and flaked almonds instead.

We really cannot afford to spend too much on food, but frankly we don't have any space either. If our kitchen is practically a cupboard in its own right, can you imagine the size of the cupboards within said kitchen? Luckily lentils tend to have a high turnover so I don't worry about buying them in large amounts...

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So, though I long to take a week off to bake lamingtons or purple cupcakes or who knows what, I have to force my sluggish brain to stay focused on the Venture Tripartite and Banal Nationalism. Don't get me wrong, I love university, and learning, and the Venture Tripartite truly are an incredibly charming lot, but I'd like to meet the person who could muster enthusiasm for writing essays...

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PS - not that I'm garnering for praise here - ah heck, I always am to be honest- but I finally did something about my dreary header and uploaded a photo I took in our kitchen and tinkered about with on Picassa. You like?

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PSS - Tomorrow marks 12 years since Rent first moved to Broadway at the Nederlander theatre. If this is significant to anyone here other than me, I'd love to know, and if it's not...did you know that it won a Pulitzer Prize? Thank you, Jonathan Larson...