Blood Orange & Campari Cake (Gluten Free)

Blood Orange & Campari Cake (Gluten Free)

Coming to the end of a period in Venice I wanted to share my favourite Venetian cake with you and I found that there is already a brilliant blog with the recipe which I reblog below. A great cake in its own right, it is especially useful for the gluten-free guest.

Scaredy-Cat Kitchen

The Christmas before last my friend Jodie bought me the Polpo cookbook. After about 2 minutes of looking at all of the amazing Venetian recipes I was utterly obsessed with the blood orange and campari cake. Massive negroni fan that I am, I couldn’t imagine a better combo for the perfect cake and knew I had to make it as soon as possible!

Blood Orange & Campari Cake 3

However, procrastination is my greatest skill, so a few months passed with no sign of the cake and then all of a sudden, blood orange season was over. So when blood oranges season kicked off again this year I knew I had to grab the bull by the horns, juice 8 oranges and get this cake on my coffee table.

Blood Orange & Campari Cake 2

Now it has happened, and in celebration I have made my first ever gif! (Yes, I’m massively behind the times, but cut this technophobe some slack!) 

Blood Orange & Campari Cake 1

Blood oranges…

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Flamboyant Eggplant Parm Bruschetta!

Flamboyant Eggplant Parm Bruschetta!

This looks worth trying! I am cooking aubergine with goat’s cheese tonight.

Afoodiehousewife

Hey guys!

How is everyone doing on this very very cold morning? Well, at least it’s extremely cold here in Dublin right now. If you are reading this from one of the warmer regions of the planet, let it be known that I am insanely jealous of you.

This week has been a crazy one for us weather-wise. Good news is that we got the first major snowfall of the season. Oh, it was so beautiful! We enjoyed watching it, hanging by the window of our toasty warm living room. I did sneak outside for a few moments to get some pictures and videos but came scurrying back in, when it began to feel that my ears will fall off because of the cold. We got some pretty lovely videos of the fall though. If you follow me on Instagram, check out the one that I posted on my feed…

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Sant’Erasmo. Venice’s Garden

Sant’Erasmo. Venice’s Garden

 

flags

These islanders are proud of their water entrance which is always a priority for Venetians however little used.

My first day back in Venice and I am on a day trip out into the Lagoon. I change boat at Treporti where my feet briefly touch the mainland, albeit an outpost of Italy which is still clearly Venice. A brioche and a cappuccino in the ten minutes waiting for the next boat is breakfast and an exquisite reminder of the sweet tooth of the early morning Venetian. On the number 13 boat I have only a small German family and the boatman for company. Like me they are going to explore Sant’Erasmo. I know this because this is the only place this boat is going. Three stops, all on Sant’Erasmo. The boat sits low in the water as we hum out further into the lagoon, surrounded only by pieces of land at water level covered in scrub. I get an idea of what Venice looked like before they built it. With every moment we grow further away from Venice itself and the profiles of islands I know. Burano is a distant memory.

The German father wears strange orange trousers with the seat and knees reinforced in brown tweed as though he might be going to crawl everywhere or shuffle on his bottom. On his feet are crocs and on his head a brown wool beret complete with tiny stalk. The mother carries a large rucksack with all the necessary, some of it strapped on the outside including a change of socks for the little girl who is dressed like Pippi Longstocking. In fact they are all so colourfully dressed I wonder whether they are in fact Dutch not German. The rhythms of their conversation sound German but above the steady thrum of the boat’s engine it is difficult to be certain. The boatman mutters Venetian dialect into his phone.

fort

The Fort at Sant’Erasmo built after Napoleon’s defeat was used as late as World War One by Italian soldiers. It is now an occasional exhibition centre.

Young, handsome, the Venetian is simply dressed in clean and ironed trousers, a blue pullover with grey collar and cuffs, sunglasses. I imagine he would smell delicious and it is delightful to watch him manoeuvre the boat with one hand as he talks on the phone with the other. Arriving at a stop he moors the craft and unchains the doorway still with one hand. Laid back does not begin to describe it. No-one gets on or off and the German makes a mime of looking for people, as in Why are we stopped? The Italian holds up two fingers – he has a timetable and we are two minutes early. Not a hundred feet away is a fisherman paddling up to his knees in the water, his boat rocking gently nearby in our wake.  Not a hundred feet away we could run aground and I realise that, laid back or not, our boatman really does know what he’s doing.

orto

Quite soon you pass the vineyards where they grow this local wine. Orto means vegetable plot and the wine is serenissimo like the republic Venice still takes itself to be.

Did I say it is sunny? And for an April day, very warm in the way that promises a certain summer. Back in England a sunny week in April can be all the summer we see. Not so here. What I love about Venice is that the seasons have more or less stuck to their guns. In Winter you will need a coat and maybe boots. In Summer the sand is so hot you cannot walk on it barefoot. In an unpredictable world these small certainties feel reassuring.

On this wonderful day with a blue sky I am taking a trip out into the lagoon to visit Sant’Erasmo where they grow many of the fruit and vegetables that feed Venice. When the local fruit-seller says the artichokes are ‘nostrana’ – ‘ours’ – this is what she means. In Erle Zwingler’s  lovely blog about living in Venice there’s lots more about the purple artichokes from Sant’Erasmo and all kinds of Venetian foibles. So I went to see this garden, second only in size to Venice itself, and found an entire island given over to cultivation and canals but also to birds, butterflies and bees.

flowers

I am jealous of the gardeners here. They seem to have no rabbits. No wire. No nibbled plants. Maybe being an island they have banished them. At home my globe artichokes are decimated by rabbits already this Spring. Walking the lovely canal-sides I am also struck by the no thistles and no nettles. Wherever drastic action is not taken at home, these become the foremost crop. So whether it is some generations of stamping them out or whether this is one more aspect of Italy’s charmed life I cannot say, but it is very lovely.

canal

One of the farms sitting in its own fields and canals

My guidebook to the invisible city describes Sant’Erasmo as a green mosaic and that is certainly what it looks like in the glorious sunshine. After a few hours walking I am hungry and my path has brought me back towards the boat stop where I landed. Knowing that Italians are never far from a bar and an aperitivo I’m not worried by the apparent lack of refreshments on offer. I know that round the next corner …. in the most idyllic spot … with its own private beach and some large shady trees – ah! there it is. The bar/restaurant that was bound to be there. It’s one of those places which could easily turn out to have a four language menu and a 100 euro price tag but I am in luck. It’s the local bar/pizzeria and I get a wonderful lunch of mussels and a view of the water.

restaurant

Mussels together with an Aperol Spritz and an espresso make the perfect lunch for another hour’s walk. The restaurant fills up while I am there. A pair of lovers, rolling each other’s cigarettes and stealing kisses between  mouthfuls. A trio of local working men, one wearing a gypsy bandana without a trace of self-consciousness. Gradually all the tables are full and the waitress moves faster and faster until they all have plates of food when she sits in the shade and lights her own cigarette.

mussels

I walk back up the island towards the church where there is another boat stop. On the way I see pomegranates from last year petrified on the trees.

pomegranates

In all my wanderings, apart from the German family who turn up here and there and the lunchtime crowd in the restaurant, I see no-one but some builders in a field renovating a house, a man walking his dog and a lady on a bike. I am gratified to be acknowledged by the lady on the bike with a slow ‘Buon giorno‘ and a nod of the head and I decide this is because I am dressed for April despite the hot weather. Venetians are never knowingly underdressed and would no more wear a T shirt in April than dance naked in the street. They are simply to discreet to see the happy tourists who make like summer in April with shorts and sunbathing.

church

The church, another boat stop (‘Chiesa‘)  and the local shop are clearly the hub of the island and there are about four islanders waiting for the boat as well as a young woman with small children and a dog taking the air. Nearby a duck submits to the attentions of her drake in an operation somewhere between mating and waterboarding. Seagulls comment in dialect and geese look the other way.

Time to take the boat home and here I am once more outwitted by the boat system. I get on the right boat going the wrong way when I change at Treporti and end up coming home via Torcello. The kindest thing I can say is that this is the scenic route. Nevertheless a grand day out.

Flageolet Beans

Flageolet beans are my favourite bean, reminding me of life as a student in France a lifetime ago. When I’ve been overdoing the animal fats and the spending in restaurants, these beans put me back on the road to financial and physical health without feeling like fasting. Once in a while are a much healthier accompaniment to roast lamb than roast potatoes and yet they’re ultra satisfying to eat.

Here are the beans we had with our Easter Lamb. I’m popping them in the freezer until they are needed for a quick supper because that’s how versatile they are. At £2.19 for 500g (enough for about 8 people) they are also satisfyingly frugal. So you can feel like an Elizabeth David original and feed a large family or a table of friends for the price of a cappuccino.Beans

Here is how to cook them.

Start the night before and soak the beans in plenty of cold water. When you’re ready to cook them next day drain the beans and think what deliciousness you are going to add. If they are an accompaniment to roast meat you can just cook them in stock and some fresh thyme if you have some. A glass of white wine never hurts either. If they’re the main event then finely chop and onion or two and sweat them in a heavy pan with some olive oil. You may even have some soffrito or mirepoix in the fridge, homemade or bought. If you’re a carnivore then some finely chopped smoked bacon or ham really adds magic at this stage. Sweat your vegetables etc until they are softened and then add the beans and plenty of Marigold stock to completely submerge the contents of the pan. Bring to the boil and then cover and turn the heat down to a bare simmer and cook for a couple of hours. Add more liquid from time to time as needed. If it’s too runny remove the lid and allow the stock to evaporate once the beans are cooked.

You can cook this on the hob or in the oven but it’s easier to keep an eye on the hob.

This dish is real comfort food with some good bread and fresh green cabbage. Grilled radicchio can make it more sophisticated. Eat with a good spoonful of yoghurt or creme fraiche. It’s high in protein, low fat and cheap to make. Soak your beans tonight and get started.

I just want to be me.

I just want to be me.

At the bottom of this post you will find a recipe from Honey and Co for the most wonderful White Chocolate and Tahini Cake. I recommend you make it and then sit down with a slice to read a bit about being yourself.

Implicit in coming into the world as a human being is the physical connection with Mum. If you’re lucky there is also a profound emotional connection. As time goes by Dad comes into the picture too if he is available. Little Bloggins learns who s/he is by looking at Mum and Dad and working out what they like, what brings a smile to their faces and what brings on scowls and angry words. In an ideal world we want to please our parents and they like to show their pleasure in us.

However! Anyone who has been near a two-year-old or a sixteen year-old will know that there are two periods in our lives when we ‘just want to be me’. The two-year-old has just learned to say ‘no’ and sometimes can’t be persuaded to say anything else. The teenager (at some point or other) will act out the ‘no’ loud and clear and sometimes by not speaking at all. This is normal behaviour. Not pretty but normal.

If you are parenting one of these age groups let me congratulate you if you have an obstreperous toddler or a sulky teenager – it means you have done a grand job! You have children who attached safely to you and now feel safe enough in that relationship to separate as they need to, to be themselves. Because they love you so much they have to make themselves pretty unpleasant and difficult to do that. Don’t worry. Underneath is the child you love and who still loves and needs you. S/he will emerge.

One of the ways in which those separating children may act out is with regard to food. Haven’t we all had a teenager, resident or visiting, who has a special diet? That is a way of making you notice s/he is not the same little one who complied with your food offerings. It is a way of individuating and, notice, it often disappears into the background later in life. Toddlers, of course, do not spare our feelings or our upholstery but spit out stuff they seemed to eat willingly only last week.

You can see how, if things go awry with this tricky separating process, people can get stuck in this rejecting stage, metaphorically spitting their life out as a matter of course. It’s a wearing way to relate with the world and one that often brings people to therapy. Sometimes the ‘problem’ is with food. Sometimes it is with people or other things. The curious thing is that where this behaviour becomes embedded the child remains unable to ‘just be me’. They remain attached albeit in a negative way, unable to ‘leave home’.  Of course the other thing can happen too. The eating becomes compulsive and unhealthy and, ironically, this often happens where the parents eat this way already even if they put a lot of effort into their children’s healthy eating. It may represent a refusal to separate. Whichever way of not separating occurs there is generally a lot of anger with it. The energy to separate is like rocket fuel but where it is thwarted (maybe mother is too insecure and touchy? too overwhelming?) it turns to rage. What makes working through these issues delicate is that these behaviours are deeply rooted in love and loyalty to the parents. People fear that they will lose that by separating whereas the opposite is actually true. We need to individuate to appreciate the people our parents are or were, to have compassion for their difficulties and for ourselves.

So what does healthy separation look like and when does it happen? The good news is, it is never too late. For some people it doesn’t happen until long after their parents are dead. Finding out you can ‘just be me’ without rejecting anyone or anything is the most wonderful liberation. You can explore yourself for the first time rather than defining yourself by rejecting the world around you. Likewise finding out you don’t need to hold on to Mum any more (or how she wanted you to be) is a huge gift. Separation is about growth, the way a flower pops out of its bud casing. It’s not rejecting anything. It’s not grabbing anything. It’s just being itself.

And as parents seeing the beauty of our children just being themselves is much more rewarding than trying to hold onto them or an idea of how we thought they were going to be.

White Chocolate and Tahini Cake

courtesy of Honey & Co.

Items in bold are my alternatives to their recipe.

320g caster sugar

350g plain flour or half plain white flour and half spelt flour

1.5 tsp bicarbonate of soda

1.5 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

zest of 2 lemons

2 eggs

70g chopped white chocolate

120 ml vegetable oil

230 ml tahini paste

1 tbsp vanilla essence or the seeds from a pod

240 ml buttermilk, kefir, yoghurt or milk

180 ml boiling water

For the icing and the filling I have developed my own mixture which is simpler to make and gives a much stiffer spread than the original recipe (which included Mascarpone, cream cheese and double cream and had less icing sugar).

I use 500g mascarpone and 180g icing sugar (and 1 tbsp vanilla and 1 tbsp rum as per the original recipe).

For the decoration : 30g white chocolate finely chopped and the zest from another two lemons.

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Heat oven to 170C fan (190C /gas mark 5).

Mix all the dry ingredients together in a large bowl.

In a smaller bowl mix the eggs with the oil, tahini, vanilla and buttermilk, then combine the two mixes, before slowly adding the boiling water.

Mix until everything is well incorporated.

Line the base of two 9in cake tins with a round of baking paper. Divide the mix evenly between the two tins, place both in the centre of the oven and bake for 20 minutes. Rotate for an even bake and return to the oven for a further 10-15 minutes. The cakes should feel lovely and bouncy and have a good golden colour all over.

Remove from the oven and carefully flip the cakes to flatten the tops. Allow to cool upside down.

Make the icing by mixing all the ingredients together with a small whisk until well combined and thickened. If you are using an electric mixer, use a paddle to avoid overworking the mix and splitting it. Place the first cake on a serving platter, top with half the icing, spread around and top with the second cake. Add the rest of the icing on top, spread and, if you wish, sprinkle with chopped white chocolate and lemon zest. If serving on the same day, it is best to avoid placing the cake in the fridge. If you are keeping it for longer do place it in the fridge, but allow it to come to room temperature before serving.

Beautiful Borscht

Beautiful Borscht

Recently I was raving about the health-giving properties of beetroot and so I thought it time to make my first beetroot soup or Borscht. I looked at lots of recipes on the internet and decided that what I needed was the usual blend of aromatics to get the thing going (carrot, celery, onion) and some raw beetroot. The only change from my usual vegetable soup was introducing beef stock (not for everyone I realise) so I bought some fresh in the supermarket. The soup was a great hit – so much so that I forgot to take the final picture so you will just have to imagine a beautiful dish of steaming hot beetroot coloured soup garnished with yoghurt, freshly grated raw beetroot and a few seeds. Take it from me this is a very cheap dish that is really worth trying and if you’re vegetarian simply replace the beef stock with the usual Marigold vegetable stock or freshly made vegetable stock. For more of a meal in a bowl you could make some simple dumplings, boil them separately to keep them white and then add them to each bowl carefully. Boiled potatoes would also work well.

The recipe

Peel and chop as finely as you can bear to a few carrots, onions and a stick or two of celery. This is your Mirepoix which I am thrilled to say I had ready in the freezer from when I was Cooking the Fridge. Peel and chop the beetroot. (Disposable gloves are handy. especially if you’ve just had your nails done.) Keep back one peeled beet to grate into the soup before serving.

Sweat the vegetables in a stock pot with a tablespoon of the oil you like and the lid on. Keep the heat low so there’s no sticking and be patient. After 15 minutes add your stock of choice and simmer for about half an hour . I used Waitrose beef stock plus some home made chicken stock from the freezer. Add a glass of red wine if you like.

When the beetroot is soft enough to eat turn off the heat and allow to cool before liquidising. You can serve this hot or cold or freeze it of course.

The garnish : the amazing seeds that go with everything and are also cheap to buy and healthy to eat!

Saute a handful of pumpkin seeds with a handful of sunflower seeds a little Maldon salt and a teaspoon of oil in a frying pan until the seeds start popping. I was going to toast pine nuts but I was feeling mean and pine nuts are more expensive than face cream. As I stood at the cupboard hesitating these unloved seeds caught my eye and I gave them a shot instead – what a delight! They are so tasty I had trouble keeping enough back for the soup garnish. You can garnish anything with them but salads and vegetables are a great place to start.

When you are ready to serve choose a dish that sets off the soup to advantage (for me that means a large white pasta dish with a rim and I’m giving you a link here because I think these dishes radically improve the presentation of just about every food I know). Grate the raw beetroot and put a bunch in the middle of the soup next to a large spoonful of yoghurt (or fromage frais or goat’s cheese or sour cream). Add a sprinkle of the seeds and you have a beautiful looking first course or lunch.

 

Sad News

We’re deeply sad to report this – Le Guin influenced us dearly.

via Ursula Le Guin has died – we’ve lost our very best — By Her Hand

 

As so often, I owe what I know of Ursula Le Guin to a dear client who introduced me, perhaps on our first meeting, to the key ideas in

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas

from The Wind’s Twelve Quarters: Short Stories

Omelas is a near-utopia which rests on a dark secret. An innocent child tethered and neglected in an underground prison is posited as the requirement for the good lives of the good citizens above. It struck a chord with me as an illustration of a psychological deal we may do with ourselves and one which brings untold suffering. I believe that the work of the therapist is in part to break this internal pact whereby we keep ‘the bad stuff’ locked up in order to have access only to the good. As an individual and also as an individual within a society I do not believe in this. It’s not just that there is cruelty in this approach to our inner landscape. It is a cruel approach that does not achieve its objective. I say it often and I’ll say it here again today : the bad stuff needs to be loved and thus transformed, not excommunicated, shamed or hidden and we need to start by doing that work internally. I don’t know what Le Guin thought about this (others probably do) but her mesmerising story powerfully illustrates the problem of how to live a good life in an imperfect world.