Persiana - Sabrina Ghayour

I'm fairly sure I met Sabrina Ghayour once at a book thing, I definitely have a memory of someone charming and glamorous talking about this kind of food and having one of the rare moments when I  wish I lived in London (or some other similar city) where there is so very much more going on than Leicester (which has it's own charms - though they're not always obvious to me).

I get very excited about Middle Eastern inspired food and perhaps even more excited by books about Middle Eastern food. I love how colourful it can be - jewel like pomegranate seeds, vivid green salads, glowing orange segments, the wonderful deep yellow of saffron, scarlet peppers, dusky pink rose petals, jade green pistachios - it's the sort of exotic I find deeply appealing, it puts me in mind of the Arabian Nights and Oscar Wilde in about equal measures. There's also something very attractive about the way this kind of food quickly builds up into a multi coloured banquet - a bowl of couscous, a salad, something meaty, maybe a couple of dips, or possibly a whole lot of mezze, possibly a bread... it's all the joy of a picnic at the comfort of a table and perfect for sharing. More than that it's food that demands to be shared. Finally the flavours suit me, I'm a wuss when it comes to really spicy food, most of the (really good) Indian food which Leicester excels in is far to hot for me but the gentler spiciness of Middle Eastern food is just right. I'm also a big fan of fruit in savoury dishes (it always surprises me when I find people who really don't like that) along with things that mix honey and citrus - basically I'm a fan.

'Persiana' is billed as recipes from the Middle east and beyond, some of the recipes are traditional others are the result of a cultural exchange which must mirror the authors own life. Her family is Iranian but she grew up in England and as a cook is self taught as it seems nobody in the family was particularly interested in cooking. In terms of learning how to cook that's possibly a bonus, it suggests you get the kitchen to yourself and an audience ready and willing to be experimented on if it saves them having to face an unwelcome chore. Family influences also encompassed Turkish, Arab, Armenian, and Afghani cultures and cuisines, so that along with the more English elements really does make for a cultural exchange. The British bit comes in with the use of some ingredients (fennel, pork, rosemary) which really aren't traditional in Middle Eastern food but the spirit feels authentic. Recipes evolve - another thing I really like about this sort of cooking is that although the ingredient list can be quite long there are elements that can be played around with according to what the cook has on hand and personal preference (I'm not a fan of coriander leaf and will happily do away with it wherever I can).

I've had this book for the past week and have been having a lot of fun with it, I've made a pistachio orange blossom and honey ice-cream which has a brilliant texture, a herby rice dish that's traditionally served with dried fish but which is a meal in itself, a really good orange salad rich with sumac and pomegranate molasses, experimented with herby sugars to go with pineapple and strawberries (I prefer those without sugar, herby or otherwise, but admit that they look considerably more dressed up with) and have any number more things bookmarked. There's a lot of great looking stuff in here, some of it demands a little time but it's all really good tempered food with no unnecessary complications, and there are plenty of really simple (but very effective) bits - like those herby sugars. In short this is a really exciting book from an equally exciting writer.

Kitchen Aid

It's been a while since I last posted about a kitchen item but I'm still inspired by Lindsey Bareham's trifle bowl so here we are again... My Kitchen Aid (which was an unexpectedly generous and very much appreciated birthday present) is easily the most expensive single item in my kitchen. For all the Le Creuset I've acquired I don't think I've spent as much on it as that one item would cost to replace, and though I've undoubtedly spent more on books over the years there are at least a lot of them. If I ever to have to replace the fridge or oven that were already in place when I bought this flat (the oven might need replacing quite soon, but fingers crossed it will carry on for a bit longer) the chances are that I'll buy the cheapest thing that fits in the space and that might well come to less than that one highly decorative food mixer.

Generally I really dislike spending serious money on something that won't last longer than I will (I would infinitely rather spend a thousand pounds on a picture than on a computer - and in the very unlikely event that I find myself with £1000 in hand that's exactly what I would do) but when the Kitchen Aid arrived in my life I was ready to do it. I think they're beautiful as well as functional, I'd wanted one for a very long time, and damn it I felt like I deserved it. In short it was a weak spot, but the tipping point was when I burnt out my 3rd or 4th hand blender (roughly one every 2 years) and decided it had to be something more robust.

It could have been a Kenwood but I have a prejudice against them - not really the Kenwood's fault, the kitchens I worked in as a girl all had knackered ones that were forever breaking down but they were domestic machines being used industrially so that's not really a reflection on the Kenwood's ability, more importantly I just don't find them as pretty. It could have been another hand blender - which would have been cheap and probably sensible, however looking at a hand blender has never given me a thrill of pride or made me feel that one of life's small goals has been achieved. (My mother always said she didn't feel truly grown up until she got her first Kenwood chef).

It qualifies to be mentioned here because it has had a very specific influence on how I cook. One of the, lets call it endearing, traits of a Kitchen Aid is that it needs a regular work out, if it doesn't get them the oil inside it starts to separate and leak (not desirable). Ironically since I got it I'm less inclined to bake cakes, I still make them, just not the cake a week of a few years ago. Nor do I whip a whole lot of stuff in it either - though when I do it's nice to be able to multi task around the kitchen rather than stand over those egg whites or whatever. What I have done though is experiment with more breads and that is a change. Any recipe that warns 'this is quite a wet dough' - which applies to a lot of sweeter bread and buns is much less icky in a food mixer. Chucking everything in the bowl and letting the machine do the initial hard work but still getting the hands on element when you knock back your dough or shape it is the best of both worlds.

It is a functional machine, it is rather nice to be able to put things in it and then turn your back on them for a bit, it does make some things much easier, and it is a thing of beauty if you're that way inclined. I can't really claim it's necessary, or even that it does the job better than anything else can but I love it - it's my pride and joy, and it's very much part of my kitchen.

Curing and Smoking - Steven Lamb

I love the River Cottage handbooks, every time I write about them I find myself enthusing about the same things - they're lovely to handle, look great, are funny and engaging as well as informative, and generally speaking are as useful as any set of books could possibly be. Book number 13 deals with curing and smoking, it's been my bedtime reading for the past few nights and is the reason I've spent the best part of an hour researching salt on the internet this afternoon. I had no idea there was so much to know about salt.

As someone who lives in a city centre flat deep in the Midlands there are titles in this series which are of limited use to me on a day to day basis - the ones about fishing, sea shore foraging, and chickens don't get quite as much use as I'd like - but at least I have enough garden access through D to have found the allotment and fruit tree volumes more than just inspiring. It's the flat dwelling part of my lifestyle which will hold me back from really exploring the world of smoking and curing. I have nowhere to hang sausages to age them, and although I'm still playing with the idea of buying a stove top hot smoker I suspect that it'll just be something that gathers dust. My father and stepmother however have the space, equipment, and expertise to do all these things (my stepmother's pickled herring is amazing, she does one cure with Christmassy spices which is particularly memorable, it has nothing to do with this book - just thought I'd mention it) so perhaps I can experiment a bit more with the smoking element when I'm next up there.

Meanwhile there are still projects (anything that takes more than a few hours to cook is surely a project) that even I can have a go at. There's a recipe for salt beef which looks especially good, theoretically I could make sauerkraut but despite it being a really good probiotic food I've never really taken to it. What I really want to have a go at though is dry cured streaky bacon. It looks like it can basically be done in the fridge, takes about 10 days to have something ready to fry, and seems like a skill it would be good to have. The required pork belly is easily, and reasonably cheaply, available from local butchers so if I somehow make a mess of it at least I won't have spent a fortune in the process. What I feel I can make from this book though is only part of it's charm for me. I like to know how food is put together, there's a world of cured meat products in here which had hitherto passed me by which means all sorts of things to seek out and try even if I never do get the chance to make them.

'Curing and Smoking' also feels slightly different to the other River cottage handbooks - this is the first one that explicitly deals with the possibility that you might want to sell what you're producing with a short but helpful section on commercial considerations. This is a subject dear to my heart, I would love to see more small producers working on a local basis, I want to buy things from people who really understand what they're selling, who know their product inside out, and who care about them because basically I consider it to be a far more sustainable model. Paying a bit more to support small, quality, producers is future proofing.
That section on commercial considerations is only a couple of pages long but in some way it changes the tone of the whole series - the others have essentially been about hobbies and activities (which is no criticism) but 'Curing and Smoking' has the potential to be something more than a hobby or a weekend activity. I'm hopeful that at some point a book about cheese making will be forthcoming - something else I've always wanted to have a go at but won't be able to do in a flat but meanwhile this is an excellent addition to a brilliant series.    

Damson Thursday and a couple of links

Yesterday when I was all energetic after a half day at work and with the prospect of a whole day off today I dragged one friend out to the country after a hard day at the office to evict another friend from the place on the sofa she'd earned after a whole days teaching so that we could go and bother her father who has a damson tree in his garden... I love damsons, I love them more than enough to impose on the good will of anyone who has access to them, and I even love them enough to be sanguine about the fact that I came home with something like 10 kilos of them which turns out to be 5 kilos more than I know what to do with tonight especially know I've run out of jam jars. 

After an exhaustive search of the county revealed that jam jars are apparently more precious than gold (when did it become acceptable to charge £2 or more for an empty jar? I could buy crappy jam and throw it away for less) I was more than grateful to discover that WH Smiths have 'River Cottage Fruit Every Day' in stock (I think this is early) even better they have it quite keenly priced so I didn't feel at all guilty about not being Salt Sugar Smoke' for Damson and Gin jam, this is the perfect jam if, like me, you prefer sweet things with a tart edge and believe that gin is A Very Good Thing (in moderation).

able to come home without a copy. I love River Cottage books almost as much as I love damsons, a River Cottage book with a good selection of recipes for damsons... Well you can imagine how happy I am (there will be ice-cream, for which there is a recipe). Meanwhile it was back to Diana Henry's brilliant '

Out in the wider world Thomas at My Porch has compiled a list of his top 80 most enjoyable novels by women. It's a great list with links to other lists and is an excellent reminder of just how many great books there are out there (by both men and women). I really like that Thomas had a list of 80 books that had scored more than 8 out of 10 on his personal rating system - somehow a satisfactory sort of number. I see too that Lyn at I Prefer Reading has been reading Georgette Heyer... And not just any Heyer but 'Sylvester' which judging from the comments is everybody's favourite (mine as well). 

Fudge and Sweet Things

There's a distinct nip in the air of a morning and evening this week (and a cold dull grey day of rain in-between) which makes it very clear that Summer is over and as any retailer knows that means Christmas is almost upon us. Evidence to that effect is stacking up at work in the form of tins of Quality Street outside my wine store and the first customers have been asking for stout and barley wine which means they're making their Christmas puddings. At home I'm sorting out jam jars, stockpiling sugar, idly sketching out possible decorative ideas for Christmas cakes, and thinking about trying out recipes.

I bought a copy of Annie Rigg's 'Sweet Things' as a birthday present (and was really loathe to give it away) I really liked 'Gifts From The Kitchen' a couple of years ago and really want a copy of 'Sweet Things' of my own but have settled for sneakily copying down a couple of recipes from it for now, one of which was for the fudge I made last night. The thing with Annie's books (you surely have to be on first name terms with an Annie) is that she's an amazing stylist 'Gifts From The Kitchen' made me think as much about presentation as it did actually cooking, and 'Sweet Things' looked to have something of the same aesthetic about it.

Home made fudge is much better than any I've ever bought and is the perfect thing for making to share as no one person could reasonably get through a whole batch on their own. Last night's effort was maple pecan (or in my case walnut) fudge and is possibly the sweetest thing I've ever eaten. There was also a recipe for cherry and brandy fudge as an alternative for rum and raisin which sounds good and one for candied almonds rolled in chocolate and freeze dried cherry powder which sounds very good. The maple walnut fudge is interesting, I will make it again but was unprepared for just how rich and sweet it would be, it was also quite different from any other fudge I've made...

Maple Walnut Fudge

150g of caster sugar

300g of maple syrup (thank god for Costco or this wouldn't be financially viable)

2 tablespoons of golden syrup

150ml of double cream

75ml of full cream milk

2 tablespoons of whisky (Annie says bourbon but I'm a scotch girl and used Highland Park 12 for it's slightly smoky edge, I might try something really peaty next time...)

1 teaspoon of Vanilla extract

25g unsalted putter

100g pecans toasted and roughly chopped

A 17cm square tin lined with baking paper.

Combine everything but the butter and nuts in a heavy based saucepan (one that can be plunged in cold water later, so not a preferred and prized Le Creuset which really objected to this treatment) and cook gently over a medium heat to dissolve the sugar, stir frequently.

Stick a thermometer in the pan, bring to a gentle boil, and continue to cook until it reaches 114 degrees C, Keep stirring to prevent it from catching and burning. When it's ready take it off the heat and plunge the pan into a sink of cold water to stop it cooking any more. Add the butter and gently stir before scooping it into a large heatproof mixing bowl. Leave undisturbed for 15-20 mins (I don't think I waited long enough which has possibly affected the texture as I couldn't get the lovely grainy crumbly finish I prefer).

Beat (Annie says with a wooden spoon or spatula, I say with an electric hand whisk) for 3 or 4 mins until the fudge thickens, looks less glossy, and gets a bit grainy. Stir in most of the nuts saving a few to press into the top and spoon into the tin, leave to cool overnight. This should keep for up to 2 weeks in an air tight container.

Kitchen Stuff - The Sugar Thermometer

Another of those posts about things in my Kitchen... I've been making fudge tonight which I was going to post about in detail but the recipe says I need to leave it overnight to cool and as it's both the oddest fudge recipe I've tried to make and one that I think I might have made a bit of a mess of (I certainly made a mess with it) I guess it would be better to wait for it to be ready and try it before saying much about it. I don't think it's going to beat this fudge recipe from Hope and Greenwoods 'Life Is Sweet' which is so far the best I've found and the bench mark against which all other fudge has been measured for the last 3 years (the salt in that recipe was my own addition and totally unnecessary).

The thing is that without a sugar thermometer I wouldn't be making fudge at all. My sister and I had a go at it many years ago, we wasted a lot of ingredients trying to make 2 batches and totally messing it up. What the recipe failed to adequately explain was just how bloody long it takes, all it said was bring to a rolling boil after the sugar has melted and that it was done when it made a soft ball in cold water. You can get what looked for all the world to us like a soft ball long before we were really at the soft ball stage (somewhere about 112 degrees C) and it's not like you can stick a finger in to see how you're getting on. It was a bit vague on the stirring bit as well - Miss Hope makes it clear that a good ten minutes with an electric beater is called for, a couple of minutes with a wooden spoon (which is as long as any reasonable person is likely to want to beat something with a spoon for) just won't do the job. 

My sugar thermometer is a fairly unsophisticated model (it came with a warning not to expose it to extreme temperatures which was a little bit worrying), I have occasionally hankered after a swish probe sort of a thing which would give exact readings on some sort of easy to see display panel (no more squinting through clouds of steam nose a mere inch or two from a volatile pan of boiling sugar and fat) but I wouldn't swap this one for two reasons. It was a present from my dad who had heard me mention that it's something I wanted so went to the trouble of finding one and posting it down from Shetland as a surprise. It's not the first time he's done something like that but it's enough of a novelty to invest the thermometer with a certain sentimental attachment (I'm also sentimentally attached to a small adjustable spanner, thanks dad!). I also prefer things that aren't battery operated because I can guarantee that the batteries will fail at the most inopportune moment possible. 

It's amazing the difference the right gadget makes. It's not impossible to make jam without a sugar thermometer, all it takes is a cold plate to check for setting points, but it's so much better when you can take the guess work out of it. Watching the thermometer creep towards the magic temperature has given me a far better idea of how long it takes and helped me notice how the textures change (it hasn't stopped me letting things boil over because I turned my back for a moment at a critical stage or was overly optimistic about how much would go in the pan). Fudge, as I've said, is beyond me without one. Post thermometer fudge has become a Christmas staple (everyone gets a bag of it, like it or not), and there's a whole world of other sweets it opens up (for better or worse I swear this will be the year I make Turkish Delight).     

Goan Pork with Potatoes (for Debbie)

This is, so far, the best recipe I've found in the Madhur Jaffrey book. As a pork dish it's great but I like it because I think the sauce part will be extremely versatile - I certainly mean to use it with some sort of white fish (salt cod if I can find it) and possibly with beef or lamb. Jaffrey says it could be described as a simple Vindaloo which is intriguing. 

This quantity serves 4...

2 teaspoons whole brown mustard seeds, 1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds, 2 teaspoons whole coriander seeds, 3 whole cloves, 140g of onions peeled and finely chopped, 5 cloves of garlic peeled and chopped, 2.5 cm piece of fresh garlic peeled and chopped, 2 tablespoons of cider vinegar, 1 teaspoon of cayenne pepper (I halved this), 2 teaspoons of paprika, salt, half a teaspoon ground turmeric, half a teaspoon of freshly ground black pepper, 560g boneless pork shoulder cut into cubes, 3 tablespoons of oil (corn or peanut) 340g of small waxy potatoes, half a teaspoon of sugar.

Put half the mustard seeds, all the cumin seeds, coriander seeds and cloves in a clean coffee grinder and grind as finely as possible. Put this mix with the onions, garlic, ginger, vinegar, cayenne pepper, paprika, and 3 tablespoons water into a blender and blend till smooth. 

Rub a generous teaspoon of salt plus all the turmeric, black pepper, and 2 tablespoons of the spice paste over the meat, marinade for at least half an hour.

heat the oil in a large heavy non stick lidded pan over a medium high heat, when the oil is hot add the remaining mustard seeds, after a few seconds they will start to pop at which point add the rest of the spice paste, stir and fry for about 5 mins or until the paste is lightly browned, add the pork and marinade and stir for a minute. Cover and reduce the heat to medium, let the meat cook for about 10 minutes until it's lightly browned, add the potatoes, sugar, and a little more salt, cover with water, reduce the heat to low and cook gently for about an hour or until the meat is tender.   

Madhur Jaffrey's Ultimate Curry Bible

Really? This much spice for one little stew?

Sometimes a thing is so blindingly obvious that I just don't see it, sometimes blind prejudice gets in my way, and sometimes I feel really stupid about it. Leicester is arguably the best place in the country to find and eat an authentic, excellent, curry (people certainly argue about it and I'm prepared to back my city to win on this). The thing is that I really can't handle hot food, anything but the very mildest of heat floors me and because there's no shortage of good (if beyond my pain threshold) curry to be had in the city I'd never thought about cooking it.

spices being heated prior to grinding - very satisfying process

When I was in Shetland earlier in the summer my step mother (who's a chef) was trying recipes for a wedding she was catering, one of them was a bhuna from Jaffey's book and long story short it was delicious - and here's the bit that makes me feel stupid - she'd gone easy on the chilies. Obvious isn't it, catering for a 150 people with wildly different tastes made a very mild heat more desirable and so all you need to do is dial it back a bit. Inspired I tried the same recipe when I came home (happily I had the same book courtesy of a Christmas present a few years ago) and it was pretty good. Since then I've been experimenting with a  few other things in there and again they've been great which is all quiet exciting.

I'm sticking with dishes which are on the milder side anyway - if something is genuinely meant to be hot it would probably lose something fundamental by the time I'd scaled it back to my palate but cooking in a different tradition with a whole new set of spices is something I love doing, and in this case I couldn't be in a better place to do it, there is no ingredient no matter how obscure which I shouldn't be able to get hold of within a 15 minute walk from my flat (or at a push a 5 minute bus journey away). I also understand for the first time why the basic spices for this kind of cooking are so often sold in such epic quantities. I've never cooked anything that demanded so much seasoning or so many different seasonings before so learning my way around these flavours is going to be interesting.        

Pots and Pans

As a change from Georgette Heyer, and because I've spent much of my morning off trying to impose a bit of order on my kitchen (basically a waste of time because it never stays ordered for very long but sometimes I feel like I should make the effort).

Of all my many kitchen obsessions the most expensive is without doubt my passion for Le Creuset and their cast iron products. I love them. Sometimes after I've struggled up the stairs with another newly acquired and long to be cherished piece I get a vivid flash back to when I moved in (the much smaller collection I had back then was enough of a pain to haul upstairs, I frankly dread trying to move the stuff out again one day). I've been lucky with my Le Creuset, my mother had a clear out when she moved house not long after I graduated and decided that orange wouldn't do for her new kitchen so I got all of her old volcanic range (bought in the early 1980's when all I ever remember seeing was orange, and still as good as new).

Had I not liked cooking with these pans it would most likely have stopped there - even though more tempting colours kept appearing on the market, but I do like cooking with them. Initially it was the case that the pots suited the way I cooked but as time has gone on the way I like to cook has probably been more influenced by the pots I love to use than the other way round. An old house mate commented on this when I was making risotto one evening. After a long, slightly critical look at what I was doing she commented that it was no wonder I liked making that dish so much as I got to use all my favourite kitchen things (I recommend a shallow casserole dish for the operation but more of that another day). She was annoying but right.

The rest of my collection has been carefully bought in sales, from the outlet shops as slight seconds, or heavily hinted for as Christmas presents. I have different favourites on different days but a kiwi green casserole that I picked up a couple of years ago from Bicester village. It was an impulse buy based on it's shape which I liked and the assumption that it would probably come in handy for something. It does come in handy and is easily one of the best uses of £40 I could have found. (Le Creuset fans will know that's a bargain). It's a lovely size for making enough of something for 2 - 4 people and is good for any soup or stew. What it's turned out to be best for though is cooking rice. (Rice, an equal amount of water, a knob of butter, bring the lot to the boil and then turn off the heat and leave for 15 mins or until the rice is satisfactorily steamed through and fluffy.) The heavy lid and small heat source to surface ratio make it perfect for this and anything else that might want to be cooked in a similar fashion. I think it also looks good bought to the table. It's a nice looking thing that works very well and will last me forever - basically the three things that make me happiest with any gadget or utensil.

Notebooks

This isn't so much a celebration of stationary, though who doesn't love a nice notebook, as another dispatch from my kitchen. This pile of notebooks is the result of a quick look round my sitting room and inside my handbag, I know I have as many again somewhere about the place. I have more notebooks than I actually need, I know this because quite a few of them are as yet unsullied by any hint of pencil or ink, but the ones I use - well they're what I would want to rescue from fire or flood. 

Notebooks are great; one of those perfect things - my partner laughs at me for still using a paper diary and organiser but I find it the easiest and most convenient way of keeping track of things, especially when I want to look back for something rather than forward. I'm also extremely attached to my kitchen notebook, so much so that I often take it on holiday with me. 

I've had kitchen notebooks for more than 20 years but this unappealing looking object has proved to be the best of the lot. I've had it for about 6 years now after I decided on a fresh start and binned my old notebook.    I have a lot of cookbooks, not food writer numbers (I read somewhere that Nigella has over 4000, and having seen some of Diana Henry's collection think she must be in the same ball park, I by comparison probably have about 150) but enough to easily forget where I found something good, I also have every intention of getting more (impossible to imagine I'll never want another cookbook). The main purpose of this notebook is to keep a record of recipes that I know work and which I like enough to make again but not every week (there are a lot of cakes in it).

I've always been a fan of following a recipe rather than winging it - I know I can make something that tastes all right when I throw a few things together but I also know that whatever it is will end up tasting much like all the other things I throw together because it'll inevitably use the same ingredients - all the staple things I always have in the kitchen. I don't have all those cookbooks because I want to eat a minor variation of the same thing every night. It helps to because I have a rotten memory for quantities and temperatures, it's also a useful thing to take away to holiday cottages, and it doesn't matter in the least how battered it gets as it wasn't pretty to start with.

I like that it's alphabetical  even if I can't always precisely remember if I would have put something like a rhubarb muffin under rhubarb or muffin, I like that I can scribble all over the thing adding notes and improvements, and the way that I can chart how my understanding of food and flavour is developing over time. Like all the best books this one has become an old friend, I only wish I hadn't written so much in it with a fountain pen - not waterproof. 

Spurtle

Inspired  by a continued enjoyment of Lindsey Bareham's 'The Trifle Bowl and Other Tales' I thought it

would be fun to occasionally share some of the things from my kitchen that make it my kitchen. It seems logical to start with a breakfast tool (not least because as I write this I've only just finished mine).

My spurtle is a relatively recently acquired utensil - my father got it for me back in October from an amazing hardware shop in Jedburgh so it's a genuinely Scottish artefact by grace of a scant 10 miles and it was really meant as a souvenir rather than something useful, I think I used it once and then it sat neglected for the next 3 months . At Christmas I got a copy of Nigel Slater's  'The Kitchen Diaries II', and in it he mentions porridge - he uses salt which is probably blindingly obvious to everyone else, but I spent a year cooking in a nursery where you're specifically forbidden from adding salt to anything which it left it's mark on me, I was also bought up to understand that you had your porridge salt or sweet but not both and that was that. Nigel also said he'd been using his spurtle the wrong way round, but didn't say which way round - intrigued I took another look at mine and tried to work out which way was up. A couple of breakfasts later I was hooked on the spurtle and the porridge - the salt really does bring out a nuttiness in the oats and the spurtle gets right into the sides of the pan which stops it sticking. It's also a nice thing to hold in your hand.

Maple syrup and cinnamon is my preferred porridge topping (just in case anyone was considering inviting me to stay) and though there's something faintly depressing about still eating such a wintry breakfast in June the joy of using a tool so perfectly adapted for it's job more than makes up for it (also porridge with maple syrup and cinnamon is deliciously perfect at banishing any disappointment that yet again it's quite a cold grey day). I like the ritual sprinkling of a couple of handfuls of oats into a pan, purists wouldn't approve but I use the largish rolled kind which don't need soaking overnight (though if anybody can tell me where I can find steel cut pinhead oatmeal I'd be really pleased to know), adding a pinch of salt and milk then stirring for 5 minutes or so until it's ready. Cornflakes don't allow you those few minutes of contemplation to finish waking up in and settle what needs to be done in the day. It might be newish still, but I wouldn't be without that spurtle now, a spoon just wouldn't cut it any more. 

Kitchen thinking

Pottering around my kitchen (radio 4 on in the background) browsing through cook books, a cup of tea or

coffee to hand, and planning things to make comprise some of the most contented moments in my life. In a quiet way it's often where I'm happiest, it's the room I miss most when I'm away, and it's where a lot of my favourite toys live. I don't attribute any particularly mystical properties to cooking or welcome any pressure to emulate a particular lifestyle, but for me it works and the books are an integral part of that - I like following a recipe, love understanding how a dish is put together and finding the flavours which define a specific style.

Because of all these things I'm always looking out for cookbooks and regardless of the ones I go home with it's fascinating to see what's out there. I have definite cookbook turn off's - I don't really care for pink covers, I prefer content over style which is why I'm drawn to publishers like Prospect and Grub Street (who are quite stylish enough and have the classiest of content) and have lost patience with Tessa Kiros' books which are far to pretty to get grubby (also one of them arranges recipes by colour which is a cute idea, but cute isn't really my thing - not that I'm parting with it). I can resist the lure of classic French (as opposed to regional French) food, this is partly because francophiles annoy me, (not the French, I don't have a problem with the French, honest) and partly because it's the sort of food that I want to be cooked for me. 

Despite those prejudices I've managed to gather quite a collection of cookbooks - and still want more, but finding a book that fills a gap isn't easy which is one reason to be so excited by Lindsey Bareham's 'The Trifle Bowl and Other Tales'. I hadn't really registered Bareham as a food writer before despite having her soup book on my shelf but I'm aware now. I haven't actually looked at any of recipes in here yet, but I've sat up late of an evening reading about all the bits and pieces of kit - the premise of  'The Trifle Bowl and Other Tales' is that the equipment we use on a daily basis gather as many memories and as much meaning as the food we cook and share so here Lindsey takes the utensils as the cue for each recipe whilst giving helpful advice on sourcing and caring for those utensils. 

Memories aside I've had ample opportunity over the last couple of weeks to consider how much equipment shapes what I cook. My stepmother is a cook by trade so despite their place in the Borders basically being a holiday home the kitchen is reasonably well equipped - and it has the beloved aga. The aga invites it's own kind of cooking (muffin, scone, and stew heaven for a week) but other things bought me up short (couldn't find a mortar and pestle), it's funny how much you appreciate something when you suddenly don't have it to hand. I won't cook in my partners kitchen if I can help it - I've never got used to his fan oven and no longer like cooking on gas (I have long hair and once managed to singe the ends of it on a gas ring, I was lucky, it could have been nasty. I wear my hair up now.) more fundamental however is that he doesn't even have a rolling pin - he and his kitchen are perfectly adapted to each other but for me it's hard work.

'The Trifle Bowl and Other Tales' has got me thinking and feeling inspired - always a good start, expect to see plenty more about it here!

  

In the Kitchen

I have good intentions regarding spring cleaning but they never actually amount to very much. Autumn is a different matter - the run up to Christmas is such a big thing in retail that over the years I've developed a real need to feel organised in good time, part of that is a desire to clear the decks of all the past years accumulated crap, another part is settling down to making things ready for Christmas. I know it's only October but now is the time for jam and jelly making - and I've made a lot of it. It's also turned into a big week for baking...

Work asked me to make a cake for the shop's second birthday on Friday - a cake - there are about 150 of us and although not everyone will be around at cake time one was never going to be enough which I maybe ought to have thought of before I said yes. In the end I made four cakes, two got sandwiched together to make a giant chocolate cake, there is a carrot cake because it's my favourite and that's what matters after a couple of hours baking, and a lemon layer cake which tried to escape from it's pan but was just about rescued... Because I was in the kitchen all day and the oven was on I also made jam, some scones for afternoon tea with the Scottish one, roasted a pheasant to share with the blond, and made some Brownies as well. She had to stop me from making short bread too - by that time I was on a roll and didn't want to stop. 

It was, by my standards, a lot to get through in one day, normally my Kitchen would look like a bomb site at this point, but happily the blond took charge and wouldn't let me leave the washing up, she also put everything away so I really do feel organised today which is wonderful (it won't last).

The jam is particularly exciting - it's the Fig and Pomegranate from 'Salt Sugar Smoke' which I've wanted to make since I first opened the book. I think I'll call it Persephone jam though, partly as an homage to Persephone books reaching their 100th title, and partly because the generally Greek and Autumnal feel of figs and pomegranates make it appropriate - mostly though it's because I struggle to spell pomegranate (I try to put in another 'm', spell check changes it to permanganate which baffles me, and the whole thing becomes very stressful) Persephone I'm fine with. 

This is a lovely jam and absolutely worth making, figs in supermarkets are fiendishly expensive but I managed to buy well over a kilo of them for £3 from my local market. It was the end of the day and they were going cheap, normal price is four for a pound which is still considerably cheaper than the supermarket rate, so it's worth shopping around as 400g is roughly nine to ten figs.

  

Everything is covered in Damson.

Or too much of a good thing soon becomes a sticky mess. On Wednesday my mother came round, I was quite excited when she called ahead to ask if I would like some ‘big’ bags of damsons. She turned up with ten kilos of fruit from her neighbour who had clearly had them for a few days because quite a lot of them were a mushy (and mouldy mess). Nothing daunted we sorted out enough of them to fill the largest pan I could find (that would be about three kilos, could have gone to four but was beginning to do the maths and panic a little)

I thought I’d make jelly to avoid having to deal with the stones in any meaningful way (oh what it was to be innocent) but between talking to my mother and trying to impose some semblance of order before a later visitor arrived I didn’t measure out the water properly (this occurred to me much, much, later when I realised I’d been following a jam recipe). After a lot of boiling however I had quite an impressive amount of sloppy pink stuff and with the help of my friend and a jelly bag improvised out of chairs and embroidery paraphernalia we managed to pour the contents of a red hot and very heavy pan into the muslin and through that into a large bowl. Mostly. I got damson juice on myself, the floor, several chairs, and the kitchen table – all of which was predictable. I didn’t ask and haven’t been told if my friend remained stain free but he provided wine and we had the sort of evening that lulls you into a false sense of security regarding domestic projects

Next day I managed to remove the bowl of juice from the floor and put a lid on it against further developments. The slimy pulp proved harder to deal with. The thing is there was such a lot of it and it was surprisingly wet and unappealing to touch. I’ve never attempted to deal with quite so much all at once (and god knows I have a new insight and appreciation for more professional preservers). I was on my way to work and didn’t have a lot of time but something had to be done. The end solution (it seems I don’t perform as well under pressure as I always thought) meant when I got home the sink in the kitchen was slightly blocked, and so was the bath. Also the bathroom was covered in dried fragments of damson, as is everything that’s been in the sink and bath ever since. This includes me.  

After the clean up it was time to start boiling, which is when I realised I’d miss measured the water in the first place and forgotten to measure the liquid I did have. More messing around and splashing later and I think I threw in enough sugar. It got hot, and then hotter yet, which isn’t really the best way to spend a Friday evening after a long day at work capped by a bus running half an hour late and with a very early start for more work the next day. Finally though I thought setting point had been reached. It hadn’t as it turned out, but I wasn’t to know that until the next day. Meanwhile I went to sleep exhausted.

Remembering when weekends where about not staying in slaving over a hot stove I spent Saturday night re boiling my damson gloop until it looked blacker than a pit of hell and boiled over. More cleaning and a final decant into re sterilised jars and I think I’m onto something. Which is good because I have no shortage of whatever it is I’ve made. It’s not as good with meat as I hoped and is a bit runny to use instead of jam but it’s a lot like pomegranate molasses which is hopeful. Any suggestions about what to do with it will be gratefully received.  

Sunday

This has been quite a day for me – I’ve become a god mother (which I’m really excited by), my god son is a paragon of every virtue (he didn’t cry once) and I’ve publicly renounced Satan and all his temptations – which I feel pretty good about. It has been a little bit distracting though so I’m not in the mood to write about E F Benson’s ‘Mrs Ames’ which was plan A, plan B is in a roundabout way about rearranging my kitchen.

Another (less momentous) landmark passed this week – my collection of virago books reached the 200 score. Since last month’s influx of books I’ve been trying to catch up rather than acquire, but good charity shop finds can’t be ignored and the 200 mark is one I was a little bit keen to pass. In for a penny in for a pound and all that – so when I saw the new Nigella book half price in Waterstone’s I couldn’t resist. I honestly meant to wait until Christmas for this one, but her books have almost totemic status in my kitchen and ‘Kitchen’ (Recipes from the heart of the home) is a more than worthy addition to the canon.

‘Kitchen’ has been my bedtime reading for the last couple of nights and the first thing it’s made me do is act on some long held but half formed plans to organise my own kitchen rather better. The Scottish one got to spend Saturday night in town helping me scrub down the top of the fridge and generally shift and carry, and this is the thing I most love about Nigella. On television I find it hard to warm to her, I don’t doubt that she’s a voluptuous and lovely woman (I saw her once at a book signing, I’ve never in my life seen such a long queue of bashful looking men – all clutching baking books) but I don’t see much of my own life in those programmes, that and they feel a bit over staged.

The books are a different thing altogether. I really like the woman in-between these pages, and perhaps more to the point I trust her (who could help but trust someone who confesses to having over 4000 cookbooks, I mean I thought my collection was getting out of control...) I love these cookbooks because they are precisely that – books full of ideas for people who like to cook, nothing chefy, nothing I feel like I couldn’t tackle, nothing I feel I can’t tinker with if I want to change it. These are things which matter to me – I’m an enthusiastic but not terribly skilled cook, the right guide gives me the confidence to try things I might otherwise avoid – which in turn gives me more skills. Cooking and sharing food is something that makes me happy, and I also share this sentiment entirely “a kitchen however inadequate or alien, has the ability to make you feel once you’ve cooked in it a few times, as though you’ve marked out some safe and reassuring place of your own.”

There are no shortage of days which make me feel like a safe and reassuring place is exactly where I want to be and my kitchen is for me just that place (even more so than under the duvet on a dark and stormy night), especially after my rearrange and now that I can see work surface again. It’s also really nice to read someone who’s serious about their food, but happy to have a trashy, kitschy element to it – Nigella never makes me feel judged for liking things I probably shouldn’t (like Fry’s Creams).