It was way down my list at 57, fondant. For very obvious reasons. Hard to make. For professionals only. Beautiful to look at (impossible for some home cooks…and on and on and on). But in the dead of that Friday night, I imagined I was Buddy, The ‘Cake Boss’, working in a small kitchen in Hoboken,...
Domestic goddess that I am. I’m in red raffia heels. OK….wedges. I feel like Nigella. Creme Fraiche on the go, 2 fruit cakes in the making (last Christmas’s success), this time the recipe is adjusted to include some Maltina and pureed lemon sugar. Its the creme fraiche that I’d like to start off with. Thankfully,...
Normal. Is not a word I’d use to describe me. Myself. Is that bad English? I am intrigued by butter. Sticks of butter. The allure of reading American recipes that call for a ‘stick of butter’ hasn’t worn off……and I can count January the 8th as one of my best days in the history of...
Healthy 6am weekday conversations in our home are rare. As I guess they are in most households with children of any sort: pre-teen and post teens! Usually, moaning and grumbling tend to dampen the chit-chat of the blue tits and red robins; and even the cocks crowing-a dawn. The kids channel crackles with dragging feet...
As told by me. And in alphabetical order. And yes, 11 days in a country makes me an expert, on eating at least, if nothing else. I’ve done my best to share the correct pronunciations. Where available, I’ve included photographs – enjoy!
Dear friends, readers, strangers and loved ones. Thank you for the wonders that 2011 held for me – the loss of a friend, a country move, lots of food and still intense passion about cooking and learning and sharing. I feel blessed to be me, surrounded by a world of amazing people – you. Every...
No corny statements about how quickly Christmas has come this year.No, none. Only cake. A fruit cake. The likes of which I’ve never made before. Dreamt of making….yes but one of those dreams which die hard and early. I grew up with Fruitcakes every Christmas, lovingly made by Mrs O, a friend of my mum’s....
Calling all the New Yorkers out there. Before we moved from the Netherlands (I know I keep going back to those days….), I tried my hands at making bagels. And succeeded too. And because I promised you bagels and Nigerian stews (not served together mind you) – here it is. See I feel that for...
What are memories made of? Fragments of colored glass, perfect for life’s grand mosaic Pieces of patterned cloth for the patchwork quilt of our earth journeys And thick threads, for the tapestries we weave of the world