‘We’re born with millions of little lights shining in the dark, and they show us the way. One lights up, every time we feel love in our hearts.’
I was sitting with Uncle R and Aunty L in their lounge room. We were listening to an album called ‘All the little lights’ by Passenger, aka Michael David Rosenberg, an English folk-rock singer songwriter with an unforgettably raspy voice and poignant lyrics. L is mending and R is reading. The lyrics from the song ‘all the little lights’ lodge within me, there is definitely a light shining in my heart in that moment.
My three sisters and I had landed in full force in Christchurch, New Zealand, the day before. It had been many years since we have travelled there all together, four curly haired lasses reunited on an adventure once more. We encountered a little pocket of summer in autumn, the warm wind wrapping around us like a loving blanket. Tessa the wonder retrieving cat was a delighting and diverting ball of possum like fur. Our Uncle and Aunty love her to the point of distraction. It is no no hardship to see why. We are all in her thrall before we know it.
Their house, built in 1909, timber walls, lovingly maintained by strong hands and strong hearts and held up by the firm foundations of a loving marriage. To our Uncle, this house is part of his story, a direct reflection of himself. Solid through the toughest and most unimaginable heartbreaking of times. It suffered in the earthquakes but the fact that liquification did not travel beneath and the extra work and timber that they built into it ‘back in the day’, ensured it’s continuing existence.
There is true beauty here. Both in the people it houses and in each lovingly chosen or inherited piece. A living, breathing diaroma of their history, just like the patchwork quilts artfully made by Aunty L. Old Pop’s piano accordion, stained glass and hand crafted wooden sculptures made by a close friend. A man’s garage laden with treasures and tools used by the hands of a bloke who fixes and beautifies discarded objects. The garden provides pumpkins, perfumed climbing roses, lavender, a magnificent veggie patch and an apple tree. Saffron seeds given to Uncle R from an Iranian student have been grown into delicate yet vibrant golden threads.
Hot Wheels and Low Rider, how good it is to see them again. No, these are not some hot rodding gang members but two of our cousins. Rest assured, these titles are of their own choosing. These two beautiful men have Frederich’s Ataxia and use wheelchairs as their current mode of transport. This condition causes progressive damage to the nervous system. We are well pleased to clap eyes on them both again along with Big Bibbity Bob (aka Bob) the beautiful brown eyed dogger friend of Hot Wheels. To know Bob, is well, to love him.
A strong food gene appears to be written in all of our DNA. We ate and drank from dusk to dawn, Aunty L’s rich mushroom soup and sourdough bread. The coffee we encounter is seriously good and excellent New Zealand wine flows. Denheath’s custard squares thank you very much, iconic ginger slice and lolly slice, something I don’t think you will see in another part of the world. A miniature Bombe Alaska filled with a rhubarb parfait is well, frankly, the bomb. We are entertained by Uncle R’s amazing ability to recite poetry and witty sayings handed to him by his own personal mentor and hero, Old Pop. (His grandfather, our great/grandfather. He is the dapper fellow in the first photo on the left wearing a beret.)
Special gin (laden with botanicals) and tonics with orange peel, Italian food, cousins and beers, laughing like loons and catching up. Some cooking and baking is also accomplished by sisters together again. A perfectly balanced carrot cake (not too sweet, not too savoury) topped with walnuts foraged from the tree next door. A delicate seafood chowder laden with NZ seafood. We all pitch in.
Reconnecting with our loved ones, family from both our fathers and mothers side, time has passed but not passed at all. The goodwill and interest is still there as if we only saw each other yesterday. Coffee at the local library, lunch at the Boatshed and drinks at the Astrolabe Bar. More laughter and some tears. We pore over photos from a bygone era, looking for snippets of ourselves in the faces that gaze back at us.
Leaving here is hard for many reasons. We miss all of our family and this beautiful city that is rebuilding itself in new ways after the earthquake. It is made more difficult this time because our beloved Uncle R is fighting a health battle that brings new meaning to the saying that ‘life isn’t fair’. As Uncle R would say, quoting Old Pop, ‘Life isn’t fair, so what are you going to do about it?’ Our uncle has spent his life ‘doing something about it.’ Battling injustices committed not only against his own boys but for others who lacked a voice.
We do not say goodbye but instead, ‘until we meet again.’ If love is a tiny light that burns, then there are many tiny lights burning as brightly as they can right now.
Yes, it may be a bit Pollyanna of me (for those of you who remember the book and movie) but I am single-handedly bringing back the word ‘glad’.
Somewhere along the way, the word ‘grateful’ has become incredibly popular. Leaving it’s less glamorous cousin ‘glad’ sitting sadly against the wall, not unlike an unwanted wallflower at a school dance.
Considering myself a champion for the unpopular, daggy and less than glamorous; I have popped ‘glad ‘ into my handbag of current and favourite words. It somehow speaks of a more refined time. It is not effusive, nor is it ‘in yo face’.
Intrinsically, both words have similar dictionary meanings.
glad: feeling pleasure or happiness, grateful, willing
grateful: thankful, feeling or showing appreciation
To be grateful or show gratitude is a little bit Hollywood. To be glad sounds more London Westend musical. The understated vibe of the word ‘glad’ brings to mind adorable pastel coloured 1950’s hats adorned with fake flowers. It harks back to a time when lads and lasses dressed impeccably in pinstriped boating attire and daintily nibbled on teensy weensy cucumber sandwiches. I will leave ‘grateful’ to the gushing vocabulary of actors swathed in sequinned gowns and pretending to chow down on miniature sushi handrolls topped with beluga caviar.
All in all, I am glad that I found this lovely biscuit recipe on the web. (Not a spiders web but the world wide version.) It didn’t turn out as I had thought. In my minds eye, I envisaged that these cookies would be crunchy but then I went and changed the recipe. (Only because I lacked some of the necessary ingredients.) Ordinarily, I would not post a recipe that could be deemed a failure but to us they were chewy, richly chocolate and unctuous. Less biscuit, more like a brownie or cake.
Strangely enough, our cornflake biscuit eschewing lads, adored these. Go figure.
GLUTEN FREE CHOCOLATE FUDGE BISCUITS
WHAT YOU NEED
2 tbl grapeseed oil
1/2 cup maple syrup
1/2 tsp vanilla extract (I used vanilla bean powder and added it in with the dry ingredients.)
2 tbl golden syrup
1 1/2 cups almond meal
1/4 cup plus 1 tbl Cocoa powder
1 1/2 tsps baking powder
3 tbl cornflour
A pinch of salt
1 tbl milk
HOW YOU DO IT
Place all the wet ingredients except for the milk into a food processor or blender and mix until combined.
Add in all the dry ingredients and mix until combined.
Add the milk and pulse until mixed through.
Place the mixture into a bowl and place into the fridge for a minimum of 30 minutes. (Mine was in there for 2 hours.)
Preheat the oven to 170C/350F and line two trays with baking paper.
Place large tablespoons of the mixture onto the trays leaving a gap of at least 3 cm /1 inch as they will spread. Place the trays back in the fridge for 15 minutes.
Remove the trays and place in the oven for 16-18 minutes, they will be slightly cracked on top. (Just like me…)
Cool on the tray for 5 minutes then remove to a wire rack for cooling. They will harden up a little as they cool.
Made 19 biscuits.
Very lightly adapted from a recipe from the Mummy Made blog. The link to the original recipe is provided after the photos.
Here in New South Wales, Australia, we have been recovering from devastating storms and torrential rain. Outside play has been at a minimum. Finally, the sun was shining and I
screamed at politely asked my children to go outside and play. They ignored me. During my rant soliloquy on the benefits of outdoor playing Kid 2 came up to me, wearing a cardboard box. He had become Box Boy, reminiscent of The Boy in the Bubble but less circular.
Kid 2: Hug me.
Not particularly wanting to hug him at that moment, I decided to take this as an opportunity to think outside the box. I wrapped my arms around my cardboard enclosed child and squeezed. For the record, it was odd and rather scratchy.
The gluten free cornflakes used in the recipe also came out of a box. Having known and adored similar styles of biscuits in my cheery childhood, I assumed the sproglets would devour them immediately. Incorrect. The little
buggers sweethearts wouldn’t even try them. ‘Go on, eat one,’ said I. ‘No’, said they, resolutely and determinedly.
The adults who got a look in loved every one of these crunchy, vanilla studded, buttery biscuits. To say they pair well with a good cup of cha (tea) is an understatement. For fans of secondhand goodness, please note the adorable Swedish mug rescued from an op shop for the ripe price of a dollar. Got to love a bargain.
GLUTEN FREE CORNFLAKE BISCUITS
WHAT YOU NEED
1/2 cup caster sugar (I used raw)
1/4 tsp vanilla bean powder, or 1/2 tsp vanilla bean paste or vanilla essence
180g gluten free self-raising flour, sifted
1 tbl milk
1 1/2 cups gluten free cornflakes
1/2 cup sultanas
HOW YOU DO IT
Preheat oven to 180C and line two baking trays with baking paper.
Cream the butter, sugar and vanilla in a mixing bowl until light and creamy. I usually scrape the bowl down using a spatula at least once during this process.
Add the flour and mix on a low speed to incorporate.
Add the milk and mix until the dough comes together.
Use a wooden spoon to mix the cornflakes and sultanas in, stir until well combined.
Use a heaped teaspoon per biscuit and roll into a ball. Place onto the trays, allowing room for spreading, slightly flatten each biscuit with a spatula.
Cook for 12-15 minutes or until lightly golden. I often turn the trays halfway through cooking to allow for even cooking.
Remove trays from oven and let cool for five minutes before transferring to a wire rack.
Made 22 biscuits.
A Cheergerm adaptation of a recipe from the Taste website. The link to the original recipe is provided below the photos.
Restlessness and a modicum of discontent sat curled, viper like, in the depths of my belly. We were nearing the end of the first week of the lads two week school holidays. A last minute opportunity arose to visit Mr Bagpipes, aka the father figure. He is currently house sitting a large ex-vineyard property ten minutes outside of old Bathurst. It felt darned good to pack up and get the heck outta Dodge. A chance for familial reconnection far from the maddening crowd in the country air and wide open spaces.
Before we hit the property, we popped into Legall Patisserie for some takeaway pastries, including of course, my favourite toffee choux. I am marginally grateful for my ever expanding ice-cream pants that this joint is not around the corner from home and is relegated to the less often occurring Bathurst visits.
Finally we arrive at the country house and life was good again. Marshmallow clouds, Pinot grapes withering on the vine, tiny wagtail birdies and a family of unseen foxes near the adorably sized dam. Leaves turning to autumn and unseasonably warm weather welcomed us, it was a holiday weekend indeed. Elvis the dogger was quite overwhelmed by the open spaces. We scoffed the pastries for arvo tea then did a bit of exploring. Dinner was a quick noodle stir fry hungrily consumed before we all collapsed happily into our beds.
Saturday morning brought more Legall pastry and a very good Fish River coffee enjoyed in the stunningly autumnal Machattie Park. A spot of shop perusal followed, finishing at Annie’s for a kiddy ice-cream treat. Back at the house, Kid 1 slept exhaustedly on the couch for a record two hour nap. Daylight savings and a growth spurt have made him hungry and moody. The spectre of pre-adolescence hovers over him, prophesising of things to come. Sleep beautiful lad, sleep. This Mumma was able to contentedly read before the Yak and I hoofed up and down the one kilometre driveway. We couldn’t afford not to, there was further eating to be done.
Saturday night sneaked up on and us and we found ourselves (after booking at the last minute), at the relatively new Tommy’s, Tex-Mex food joint in Bathurst town. We walked into what appears to be a dodgy hole in the wall and happily arrive in a cool, candle dripping entry way. This space screamed Mexican Day of the Dead and we were warmly welcomed by the service staff. Tommy’s has a laid back, understated hipster vibe going on. The menu is a marvellous combination of man-food and classic Mexican faves with a modern twist.
For starters, we greedily ordered two serves of the perfectly crispy fried onion rings and coleslaw along with a jug of ice cold margarita. After a good gander at the menu, three of us decided upon the baby back pork ribs that had been marinated in charred chorizo and served with corn and garlic bread. The Yak ordered the vegetarian nachos and Kid 2, despite strong persuasion, simply chose the shoestring fries. Don’t ask for the ribs marinade, in the tried and true saying, it is top secret. And those ribs my friend, as that overplayed hit 90’s song went, ‘I would walk 500 miles, just to get a bite of those falling off the bones, unctuous meaty delights .’ (Well, it kind of went like that.) All three of those ribs plates were licked clean.
Other delicious sounding menu choices included the Tijuana big dog and the Austin Texas hamburger. There were also some tasty sounding smaller bites to choose from such as jalapeño poppers, empanadas and corn chips with pico de gallo. The Yak enjoyed the myriad levels of flavours and toppings on his nachos, which were cutely served in a cardboard box. (An inspired idea to avoid a messy cleanup later.)
Back to the vineyard, we delighted in the clear as a bell night sky, children pointing out the Southern Cross, Orion’s Belt and the Milky Way swathed across the black velvet. The pip peep of frogs was the only sound, you just don’t get that in the city.
Sunday morning, children still asleep at 7.15 (unheard of) I lay and listened to, well, not much. A snoring dogger, the occasional slumberous murmur from the boys and my own contentment. Upon awakening, I was jumped upon by two laddies, morning snuggles from ferocious dragons who threaten to rip out my guts and still beating heart. Raising boys, a continuing dichotomy of sweetness and blood curdling violence.
As we left, the sproglets shouted goodbye to the sentinel guard alpaca, they have named Mr Banana, who watches sternly over the sheep in neighbouring fields. Then we headed off to The Hub for breakfast. (Again we booked, the people in this town know what is good and you will not always get in on a weekend if you are not prepared. On saying that, always try to get in, you never know your luck.)
The Yak and I couldn’t say no to the Glaswegian potato pancakes served with smoked salmon, poached eggs, cream cheese and hollandaise. (Spinach for the Yak of course.) This dish was The Boss. The creamy sauces were the perfect foil to the potato, it was rich but worth every bite. The Hub coffee was as always, marvellous. Smooth and rich as a royal. Other enticing sounding menu plates were the dukkah boiled eggs and a brekkie salad with chimichurri sauce, roasted tomatoes, almonds and poached eggs (amongst other things.)
Farewelling Mr Bagpipes, we popped back in the car, feeling refreshed, renewed and rather full. Can’t complain about that. Hasta la vista Bathurst.
Sending the Yak to the superdoopermarket/green grocers is a hit and miss thing. He is very good at buying utilitarian dried goods (think loo paper, environmentally friendly toilet cleaner in the shape of a duck or gluten free taco shells) but one has to be extremely specific when it comes to fruit and vegetables.
Point in case….I once asked for some green beans. He came back with eight, yes eight, (count them people) individual green beans. I could have created an art installation from them but finding a way to incorporate eight beans into a recipe was a tad beyond my imagination.
When pondering a vegetarian gluten free recipe as part of a shared Easter celebration, I lovingly reminisced upon the traditional spanokopita. That wonderful Greek pie consisting of silverbeet or spinach, ricotta, feta, herbs and flaky layers of pastry. Pastry that The Yak can no longer partake of. Thinking cap placed firmly atop of my noggin, I thunked. Perhaps a polenta crust atop a semi-traditional spinach pie would be quite the treat? (Or a total disaster.)
Curiosity led me to pondering the Greek connection between ground corn and food. Googlebumbling revealed that ground corn has indeed been used in Greek cooking in various ways for several hundred years. It possibly arrived in Greece, courtesy of the Turkish Ottoman Empire by way of Africa. Amongst other uses, it is sprinkled atop leafy green pies or placed underneath to soak up the juices. I have added the link to the very interesting article, after the photos in this post.
Once upon a time, I used to favour a spanokopita recipe by Matthew Evans (a former chef and food critic, now television host). It contained an abundance of herbs, leafy greens and cheese. Having lost this recipe, I now make it merely from memory. (Not the most reliable of sources.) Do not freak out at the amount of herbs in this recipe. It seems a lot but it works. Need it be said, The Yak did not do the shopping for this dish.
This pie is audaciously herbaceous. The salty hits of feta and kefalograviera (a salty Greek hard sheeps milk cheese), combined with the slightly sweet corn polenta, balance the meadowy punch in the face. But this is the kind of face punch that you happily go back for.
Sadly I missed out on the actual abundant Easter feast itself due to Kid 2 and a tummy bug. However, I did get to eat leftovers of this pie. I poured myself a glass of vino, tucked in and pretended I was on a Greek island somewhere. (In a place where stomach viruses did not exist.)
SILVERBEET, HERB AND POLENTA PIE
WHAT YOU NEED
2 tbl olive oil
1 onion, finely chopped
1/2 bunch spring onion, finely chopped
1 big bunch chopped silverbeet, trim the woody ends and use the leafy greens and some of the softer stem. (I had roughly 700g once trimmed of stalks.)
1/4 tsp nutmeg
6 Eggs, beaten
200g Feta, crumbled
1 bunch mint, chopped
1 bunch parsley, chopped
1 bunch dill, chopped
Zest of one lemon and juice for the silverbeet
1 tsp Salt
1.5 cups instant polenta
5 cups water
1 1/2 tbl butter
120g kefalograviera cheese (Use 1/4 cup to add to the polenta and the rest to sprinkle on top of the pie.)
HOW YOU DO IT
In a large frypan, sauté the chopped onion for a few minutes until they start to become translucent, add the chopped spring onions, sauté for one minute.
Remove the mixture from the pan into a large mixing bowl and allow to cool.
Re-heat the pan to a medium heat, add the chopped silverbeet along with a big squeeze of lemon and cook, stirring regularly until it has wilted and most of the liquid has evaporated. When it has cooled, squeeze out any remaining liquid.
Into the large bowl containing the onion mixture, add the silverbeet, nutmeg, beaten eggs, ricotta, feta, chopped herbs, lemon zest, salt and a few big grinds of black pepper, as much as you fancy. (I am not the pepper police!)
Mix well, taste and check for seasoning.
Smooth this mixture into a large oiled baking dish, I use a 3 litre rectangular Pyrex dish.
Preheat the oven to 180 C if you are cooking the dish immediately.
For the polenta. Heat the water in a medium saucepan until it just starts to boil. Using a whisk, slowly pour in the polenta, continuing to whisk. This is important as it avoids lumpy polenta.
Change to a wooden spoon, turn the heat to low and continue to cook the polenta, stirring constantly for 4-5 minutes. Add the butter and 1/4 cup of the kefalograviera, it should be of a spreadable consistency.
Remove the polenta from the heat and immediately, spread it over the silverbeet, herb and egg mixture.
Let cool for ten minutes. Sprinkle the remaining kefalograviera cheese on top, and bake for 45-50 minutes until golden brown on top. (You can also place the pie in the fridge if you are cooking the next day.)
Let the pie rest for about 15-20 minutes until it has set a little bit.
Serve with a green salad, or roasted veggies.
Cooking Notes: silverbeet is also know as chard. If you cannot find Kefalograviera, use Pecorino, Parmesan or Gruyere.
A Cheergerm creation
The only tenuous connection between this post and Easter is the use of the word ‘egg.’ Of course, one cannot live on chocolate alone (although Kid 1 would give it a good try.) At some point during the Easter celebrations, it is good to put something else apart from chocolate into your gob.
Kid 1 had been requesting a cooking lesson on what we call in our family ‘eggy bread.’ The naming of this bready treat harks from the Yaks’s British heritage. It is more commonly known as French Toast or in Frenchy speak ‘Pain Perdue.’ Whatever you call it, the process of soaking an enriched egg and butter bread in a creamy sweet egg wash and frying it up, makes a wonderful breakfast or in this case ‘breakfast for dinner’.
Enriched bread such as brioche or challah, will give you the best result. An even better result is achieved if the bread is one day old. You are looking for a crispy golden exterior and creamy soft interior. Kid 1 and I had a lovely time in the kitchen and both munchkins greatly enjoyed the puffy golden sweet, finished product. Next time, Kid 1 wants to make the brioche himself, grow chickens to make the eggs and farm our own cows for the milk and cream. Maybe we can just start with the brioche?
EGGY BREAD/FRENCH TOAST/PAIN PERDU
WHAT YOU NEED
3 thick (3cm or so) slices of brioche (or a similar bread such as challah, it is better if the bread is a day old.)
1/4 cup cream
1/4 cup milk
1 tbl caster sugar
1/4 tsp vanilla bean powder or 1/2 tsp vanilla bean paste or vanilla essence
2 tbl butter
2 tbl oil
Maple syrup to serve
HOW YOU DO IT
Beat the eggs, cream, milk, sugar and vanilla in a large jug or medium size bowl.
Pour the egg mixture into a dish that will fit the brioche slices in side by side.
Place the bread in the dish and soak in the egg mixture for 5 minutes.
Turn the bread over onto the other side and soak for another for 5 minutes. Preheat the large non-stick frypan to a medium heat whilst the bread is soaking.
Add the butter and oil to the frypan and once the butter has melted, cook the bread for about 6 minutes each side until puffy and golden brown.
It can be kept in a warm oven for ten minutes or so until ready to eat.
Before serving you can dust the eggy bread in icing sugar but as this was for my kids and they go nuts with maple syrup, I didn’t.
Drizzle generously with maple syrup.
Serves 2 people.
Cooking Notes: To serve 4, simply double the recipe. If you would like to make a savoury version, leave out the sugar and vanilla. It is delicious served with crispy bacon and a sauce of some kind. (A relish, tomato sauce or hot sauce, whatever takes your fancy.)
A Cheergerm creation
Upon smelling a new perfume I was given for my birthday, Kid 1 made the following comment.
Kid 1: It smells like melted Easter eggs.
I am not sure whether to be displeased or not. I envisage myself swanning around attracting small chocolate-loving children and perhaps even the E.B. (Easter Bunny) himself. Not sure if that’s what the perfumier was aiming for when creating this parfum. ‘Eau de Chocolate Easter Egg.’ Give it a whirl, it’s all the rage in the Easter circles.
If you are looking for side dishes to accompany your Easter feast this coming weekend, please consider this wee recipe idea. Calling anything ‘baby’ that you are about to devour and consume has always creeped me out a bit. However, there is no escaping the fact that young veggies are usually the most tender and sweet. Let alone, super cute. Just like a real life human baby! Rest assured, only vegetable babies were harmed in the making of this dish. (That’s OK, right? Told you the whole thing is just, well, odd.)
These carrots were sweet with lovely undertones of the earthy cumin. Tender and juicy, I am positive that all, including the Easter Bunny, will love them.
ROASTED BABY CARROTS WITH CUMIN
WHAT YOU NEED
1 bunch baby carrots
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tbl butter, unsalted
2 tbl white wine
WHAT YOU DO
Preheat oven to 180C.
Scrub or lightly peel the carrots.
Place in a foil package, add the cumin, salt and pepper to taste. Dob the butter over the carrots, add the wine and close the foil package.
Roast in the oven for 30 minutes or until tender.
Try it with http://cheergerm.com/2015/03/08/a-cheergerm-gluten-free-roasted-vegetable-lasagna/ or http://cheergerm.com/2015/01/02/millefeuilles-aux-tomates-et-lentilles-and-a-lady-crush/ or http://cheergerm.com/2014/11/09/a-side-of-herb-polenta-bake-and-an-aside/
A Cheergerm Creation
Our house was awash in tears on the morning I made this cake. Our mostly calm before school routine was offset by self-disappointment, childlike hurt and a more grown-up, deeper sadness.
All surfaces seemed awash with liquid. Bench tops, faces, cupboards and eyes reflected a watery glow. We were in fear of drowning. Even in the car, tears continued to flow and school drop off was a sombre and quiet occasion.
Upon returning home, I was relieved to see our house had not been swept into the valley and that Noah and his Ark were not loading our dogger friend, cockatoos and other assorted wildlife on board.
From the fruit basket these gem like, green, freely given, home grown organic limes greeted me. They went a little way to soothing my aching head and worn out from weeping eyes. They spoke to me in limey voices (‘hello guv’nor!’) of a sweet something, that would greet my citrus loving progeny upon their return from school.
There is nothing like the smell of lime to put some pep in your step and allow a breath to be taken. This lovely cake is tangy from the citrus and Greek yoghurt with an extra fruity hit from the olive oil. The first recipe trial was fine, the second tweaked version you find here, is damned fine. And not a salty tear in sight.
Note to self, never leave a cake and the camera alone with The Yak, not even for a moment.
GLUTEN FREE LIME, YOGHURT AND OLIVE OIL CAKE
WHAT YOU NEED
1 cup full fat Greek yoghurt
1/3 cup olive oil
1/4 cup lime juice (this is roughly the juice of one lime)
Zest of one lime
1/4 tsp vanilla bean paste, vanilla bean powder or 1/2 tsp vanilla essence
210g gluten free flour (1 cup/140g gf plain flour, 1/4 cup/40g almond meal, 1/4 cup/40g brown rice flour)
3/4 cup raw caster sugar (or white caster sugar)
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsps baking powder
1 tbl brown sugar (I used raw caster sugar)
1 tbl extra lime zest (I used the zest of one lime)
HOW YOU DO IT
Preheat oven to 180C and grease and line a 22cm springform tin with baking paper.
Mix all the wet ingredients including the lime zest in one bowl until well combined. (If using vanilla essence or paste add it here.)
Sift all the dry ingredients into a large bowl. (If using vanilla powder, add here.)
Pour the combined wet ingredients into the dry ingredients bowl and using a wooden spoon, mix until just combined.
Pour into the prepared baking tin and cook for approx 40-45 minutes. The cake is ready when it has browned on top and a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean.
Cool in the tin for ten minutes, then turn out and cool on a wire rack.
When the cake is completely cool sprinkle with the topping mixture. This is delicious served with a big dollop of yoghurt on the side.
Feel free to use lemons if you can’t find limes.
A Cheergerm adaptation of a recipe from the blog Souvlaki for the Soul which was in turn adapted from a Smitten Kitchen recipe.
Ten years later, I do not have this parenting thing down pat.
Kid 1: Mum, I am scared that an axe murderer is going to kill me.
Me: That is highly unlikely darling. Good night.
5 minutes later
Kid 1: Mum, can you come here please?
Kid 1: You telling me that ‘it’s highly unlikely’ does NOT make me feel better.
Me: Oh, all right then, it will never happen, how’s that?
Kid 1: OK, now I feel better.
Thanks for the parenting tip Kid 1.
Kid 1 will probably never eat this curry, he hates anything spicy. We don’t care, more for us. This curry benefits from a hit of bright, pungent mustard seeds; I love the little buggers. After a spot of googlebumbling research I discovered these wee dudes are high in a variety of B vitamins, minerals, anti-oxidants and phytyo-nutrients. (Phyto what?) Phyto-nutrients are intrinsically natural chemicals found in plant matter that may help prevent disease and keep your body working properly. Mustard seeds and their oils have traditionally been used to relieve muscle pain, arthritis and rheumatism pain.
Whatever a mustard seeds health benefit, this curry has good depth of flavour along with a punch of heat from the chilli. Add more chilli if you like but we enjoy the balance of flavours. If you aren’t a chilli fan, reduce the amount back to 1/4 of a teaspoon or you could leave it out. (No judgement from this Cheergerm….really, you don’t like chilli? What’s wrong with you??)
WHAT YOU NEED
2 tbl oil , rice bran or grapeseed oil
1 onion, finely chopped
A 3cm piece of peeled and grated fresh ginger
2 cloves crushed or grated garlic
1 tsp brown mustard seeds
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground turmeric
1/2 tsp ground paprika
1/2 tsp chilli powder (the hot stuff)
1 tsp salt
Dry curry leaves about 10 (I only had 4)
1 cauliflower head, cored and cut into small florets , about 2-3 cm large
1/2 cup water to start with, you will need more
1 handful fresh chopped coriander
HOW YOU DO IT
Sauté onion in oil in a large frypan over medium heat for about 3-5 minutes until soft.
Add the ginger and garlic, cook for 1 minute.
Add all the spices, salt, curry leaves and cook for 2 minutes to release their flavour, stirring gently.
Add the cauliflower, stir well to coat the cauliflower in the spices.
Add 1/2 cup water and simmer on a low to medium heat for about about 50 minutes. If the curry starts to get dry, add a bit more water. I added just over a cup throughout the entire cooking process. By the end, the curry should be mostly dry with a small bit of liquid but soft and beginning to fall apart.
Take the curry off the heat, taste and see if it needs extra salt then stir through the chopped coriander.
Serve with rice, quinoa or whatever takes your fancy. We had it with brown basmati rice.
A Cheergerm creation