Dark chocolate, chopped, I used about 100g
Dark chocolate, chopped, I used about 100g
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In one week Tim and I will, bar a couple of exams a-looming, have finished our penultimate semester at university. Scary stuff. Almost as scary as watching how much oil felafels absorb. Good grief. There I was thinking they were practically health food.
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My blog is six months old! In a time where technology moves so eye-wateringly fast, I feel I’m justified in getting a little misty-eyed over the half-year existence of my little blog that could. It feels like just last week that I was getting excited over my 200th hit!
Speaking of milestones, our weekend in Hawke’s Bay (for Tim’s grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary) was a fantastic time, a large part of which was spent solidly grazing. We were also able to reap the benefits of one of life’s happiest pairings – someone who has a massive feijoa tree but doesn’t like to eat them. The feijoa is one of my very favourite fruits, and for some reason in my mind they are one of those fruits you don’t actually go out of your way to buy – you should just know someone who has a windfall. When living in a damp city full of apathetic university students though, one can’t expect to find them that easily. While up north we managed to get two shopping bags full of this wonderful fruit, by pillaging a family friend’s trees, and I absolutely can’t wait to do something with them – feijoa ice cream mayhaps – slices perched atop a pavlova – maybe some kind of pork-adorning salsa – or just eaten one after the other after the other after the other, cut in half and scooped out with a teaspoon.
For some odd reason, the feijoa is only really widely known in New Zealand, which seems a nice enough trade-off for all the things we don’t have here (Primark, Minstrel chocolates, access to Neil Young, 12th century cathedrals) It has a dense, gritty, pear-like texture and an elusive fragrance not unlike passionfruit. Heavenly.
Speaking of our weekend away, I completely forgot to post about the gluten free peanut butter biscuits I took up along with the Quince Loaf. This is the third time I’ve made these biscuits and the third time I’ve forgotten to blog about them…and the third time I’ve been solemnly staggered by how quick, easy and delicious they are. The recipe can be found here, from when I made them a few weeks ago.
Above: I ended up with two-tone biscuits, because the ones on the tray on the top shelf of the oven browned faster than those on the bottom shelf. Rigorous testing proved that there was no difference in taste though. Equally fab.
By way of further illustrating why you should always write things down (or is that, why I should write things down), I give you tonight’s dinner. I thought that I could use my creme fraiche in a simple pasta dish loaded with vegetables and garlic, and only realised after eating it that I’d forgotten half the things I was planning to put into it.
Above: There was carrot, courgette, and capsicum, but my brain mislaid the information about adding tomatoes, frozen peas (even though I bought them specially after work!) and pine nuts.
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I began by julienning the carrots and capsicum (all the while imagining I was a sous-chef in New York – inexplicably the words “julienne” and “sous-chef” are intertwined to me), and blanching them in a pan full of water in which I also placed about five cloves of garlic. The garlic simmered away and became soft and mellow, rather than burning and acrid. After fishing out the vegetables, I cooked the pasta in the same water and then drained it, stirring in some creme fraiche and the cooked vegetables. The garlic cloves I chopped roughly and mixed in too. It was certainly good – the creme fraiche made a kind of instant sauce – but all I can think about is what it would have been like had I not forgotten half the components.
This weekend we are flying up home for my best friend’s 21st, and next weekend I hope that we can go to Levin (in all honesty, the first time I’ve used “Levin” and “I hope that we can go to” in the same sentence) to catch a performance of Rent. I can’t find a review online for love nor money so it’s a bit of a gamble, but the idea of finally seeing this show onstage, no matter where, is too exciting to miss out on. In what seems like positively providencial circumstances, Palmerston North will be having their own production of Rent in May. I’m trying to convince Tim that two productions so very close to Wellington means this is a sign that it’s all meant to be but he’s still not quite buying it. Never mind, my birthday is a-pending which means he is obliged to humour me (if only briefly, for his sanity’s sake.) Oh and did I mention that Puccini’s La Boheme, the opera which inspired the very musical of which I speak, is coming to Wellington?
<.twilightzonevoice/.> “Doo-dee-do do, Do-dee-do do”
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Baby, it’s cold outside…in Wellington, at least. Talk about hungry and frozen. I didn’t plan on making vegetable soup this early on in the year but what else can you do in this situation?
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Today – Saturday – was just as wet and miserable as last weekend. Luckily I love rainy weekends – cosying up with a blanket, becoming engrossed in a book, lazily browsing the internet…However with breakfast and lunch lamentably comprising only of Chocolate Guinness Cake, I forced myself to leave the house to get some fresh air, and found myself at Moore Wilson’s. Wherein I bought some organic buttermilk, some feta, a tub of white miso paste, and two quinces.
Oh I wish it could be Easter, every day. Friday AND Monday off feels like untold luxury now that I’m dipping my toe into what they call “the real world.” For those of you who have been somewhat alarmed by the increasingly saggy faces of various rockstars gracing this blog over the last couple of days, I offer hot cross buns to soothe you:
Ah, Valentine’s Day. The day where I say to Tim: “It’s just a commercialised, Americanised cold-hearted event thought up by Hallmark in order to sell more cards” while inside I’m thinking “pleeease do something for me!!” I honestly don’t want much. I meant what I said about it being commercial and tacky. Well Tim, bless him, completely exceeded expectations and not only got me a card but also got me (even though I told him not to) a beautiful bunch of flowers – delivered at work! So, for one of the few times in my life, I got to be that smug gal who walks home clutching a bouquet.
Above: Admit it. If you took this photo yourself, you’d be quite proud. I don’t think I’m too forward in thinking it would not look out of place on a much more chi chi food blog. Especially when you take into account the fact that I don’t take particularly good photos in the first place. I like this so much that I’d better actually tell you what it is – Pomegranate Ice Cream. Monumentally easier to make than the name would suggest, you merely stir icing sugar in the juice of a couple of ruby-red pomegranates, add some cream, stir some more, and freeze. It tastes heavenly. Almost unfathomably good. And it comes out a very pretty, Valentine-y pink colour.
With a lot of butter, to paraphrase the old TV ads. Tim still isn’t back, which makes cooking a little interesting, not because I can’t eat without him (quite the opposite, unfortunately) but because I can’t do a big grocery shop. I’ve moved on from bags of twisties for dinner but am still requiring comfort food it would seem, to wit – starch. Ange and I went to the vege market this morning, and came back via New World Metro, where I purchased about 12 different varieties of carbohydrate (tortillas, egg noodles, arborio rice…okay that’s it really.) I’ll just deviate briefly here to rant about how unbelievably expensive dairy is at the moment! $15 for a kilo of cheese! You could get a kilo of ground almonds for that price (trust me, you can!) In this land of milk and honey, it’s no wonder parents are giving their children coca cola to drink, because the milk is too expensive. Dairy me! (but really.) Don’t even get me started on the insultingly non-summery Wellington weather.
I have finished reading Nigella Express, and despite being a trifle apprehensive at first (it has recieved a mixed reception) I am in love. What a fantastic, practical book, positively brimming with recipe after recipe, perfect for midweek dinner. Everything looks so inspiring and fresh and delicious. There has been a bit of brouhaha (or fooforah?) over her use of canned foods and prepackaged things; I think this is rediculous. Firstly, she explains that she does this because it saves time, secondly she stipulates that you use excellent quality canned stuff, thirdly, she does it so self-deprecatingly that you know she hasn’t completely turned into some kind of person shilling for microwaved meals. Again, this book is so practical I could see myself using it every day of the week. I still haven’t cooked anything from it though – I’m waiting till Tim gets back, whenever that may be.

Above: Sorry the photo of my mushroom risotto is a little psychedelic; I had to borrow Stephan’s camera and for some reason the flash was very intense.
For dinner tonight I made myself Nigella’s Restrained Mushroom Risotto from How To Eat. I had some button mushrooms from the market, some dried porcini and Knorr porcini stock cubes from my aunty Lynn, and some Porcini powder from the lovely Linda. A ‘shroom extravaganza, you could say. I decided in the end to leave out the whole porcini, I thought it might be a little strong, and opted for a more mellow triple-shroom combo of buttons, stock, and powder. Indeed, this risotto would have been titularly restrained, healthful even, were it not for…the mountains of butter I kept stirring through it. I can’t even blame this on Tim’s absense, I am just pathologically drawn towards the stuff it would seem. The risotto tasted incredible though – definitely something I will make again. It was rich, creamy, and intensely flavoursome, and the porcini powder – although essentially glorified dust – gave it a genuine, woodsy kick.
I made a cake yesterday: The Damp Apple and Almond cake from Feast, which is presented as a pudding option for a Passover feast. There were no such celebrations at Casa Hadfield, but the cake was enjoyed all the same. It is gluten-free, incredibly moist, and very easy to make. Not a cheap cake – 8 eggs and 300g ground almonds – but as I’d bought a kilo of them from Moore Wilsons before Christmas (telling myself it was cheaper in the long run) I figured I was halfway there.
Above: Told you it was eggy…Wooden spoon courtesy of my younger brother who got me a bunch for Christmas – I can never have enough wooden spoons. Like I said, this is a very easy cake to make – all you do is cook some apples to mush, then the rest is light stirring. The mixture is very dense, as you could imagine with all those almonds.
Above: The cake was delicious, very grown up tasting and quite filling – it’s not often you’ll see me stopping at one slice.
In other news, Ange and I watched Rent the other day and…she loved it. I could not be happier with this turn of events, indeed it gives me hope that one day Tim will like it too. I also like this movie better than ever – some movies grow worse for repeat viewings but this one actually gets better every time.
As the above quote shows, Rent, though written in the nineties and set in the eighties, can still be relevant to people today. Well, me, at least. My parents’ house – the place I grew up in – is mere pit-spitting distance from what used to be the local tavern, back when tiny country villages patronised such premises. It has long been closed down, but now a company wants to turn it into an enormous, chugging oil-rerefinery, which will mean that as we look out our windows the spectre of sky-high silos will greet us. So, the small community is doing its Erin Brockovich Darn’dest to oppose this, but unfortunately, like Maureen’s laboured protest in Rent, we don’t have all that much to fight with.
Meanwhile, camping is blissful, and I am spending a brief hiatus at home in order to pick up Tim, who is travelling up to join us today. I realise Christmas is old news now, but because I have been a trifle busy/lazy, I haven’t got around to posting the pictures till now. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were both a complete flurry of mad cooking in the midday sun.
Above: Nigella’s Frangipane Christmas Mince Tarts. Any smugness I felt at actually making my own fruit mince to put in the pastry cases was swiftly obliterated as I grappled with the nightmare that was the pastry. My parents don’t own a food processor (they do have a blender, so they aren’t complete heathens) so I had to make it by hand, which in the oppressive heat doesn’t make for cooperative pastry. I ended up patching bits onto each other, praying that it wouldn’t stick to the tins, and couldn’t roll it out for love nor money so I only got to make a half batch.
Above: Luckily the sodding things were delicious…all smugness returned.
Above: I made two of the Marzipan Fruit Cakes from How To Be A Domestic Goddess, to give away as presents. They are very easy to make, and the mixture is delicious, all orange scented and rummy. The only difficult thing was lining the sides of the tins with baking paper. Nearly ended up throwing the whole thing out the window.
Above: The baked cake, paper lining and all. Chunks of real marzipan and dried pears make this rather different and luxe, but also make it a mission to stir without flinging chunks of batter into one’s hair.
I don’t seem to have any photos of the Christmas lunch itself, which must have been on a different camera. It was a very relaxed, joyfully low-key affair, and we feasted upon roasted lamb with Za’tar (Christmas present!!), roast chicken, new potatoes, and roasted capsicum, beetroot, and zucchini .
Above: Nigella’s Pomegranate Jewel Cake, from Feast. The perfect cake for (a) a family with members dabbling in Gluten-free, and (b) a family whose members uncharacteristically do not want anything tooo rich for pudding. It is also perfect for Rosh Hashana, for that is the chapter in Feast it came from. It is not, however, a cake to make when you are stressed and have fifty thousand other things that need baking too and you suspect your oven is on the blink. Miraculously everything got cooked in the end, and I even managed to turn this slightly fragile cake out onto its own plate (not having the right-sized springform tin.) Pomegranates are expensive in Waiuku so I only used one, not the two that the recipe stipulated, but I think this still looks gorgeously rubied and very, (although not obviously intentionally), Christmassy.
So that was Christmas Day, and we did the whole shebang again on Christmas Night with a family who have been our neighbours, one way or another, for many many generations, and who are exactly the sort of people you would want to have second pudding of the day with. Now that we are out camping we are still eating very well; I would be able to show you photos as evidence but Blogger won’t upload for some reason. We have been camping there for 21 years now, and each year it gets better and better, but also more crowded unfortunately. I have already read four-and-a-half books – what more could one want for their summer?
It is hard to contemplate (A) that it is exactly one week till Christmas and (B) that Outrageous Fortune has really finished- it just doesn’t feel like a Tuesday without it. Tim and I are getting up super early tomorrow to go Christmas shopping, so hopefully there is nice weather for it – there were massive wintry rainfalls today which was a bit worrisome.
