is it wrong...

...THAT I saw food before my eyes when I came upon this plump little chicken roaming free?

Perhaps that's why it ran off so quick.

Though I was only thinking of eggs. 

Promise.

Brunswick House

HIDDEN amongst the glass fronted urban jungle of Vauxhall is a beautiful Georgian Mansion, slightly dilapidated from within, but beaming proudly from its corner post on the busy Wandsworth Road.

Built in 1758 within 3 acres of riverside parkland and once home to the Dukes of Brunswick, this elegant building is now occupied by LASSCO: The London Architectural Salvage and Supply Company. Having restored Brunswick House from the brink of ruin LASSCO now uses it as one of its premises' from which to sell architectural antiques, salvage and curiosities.

This house is a marvel to walk around; an interior of exposed brickwork, floor to ceiling windows, creaky wooden floorboards, a winding stone staircase and a vaulted cellar contains within it an array of vintage pieces to dazzle and explore.

But, there is also another draw for visiting Brunswick House. And as you may have guessed: it does involve food...

At The Brunswick House Cafe diners find themselves seated upon, and in the midst of, LASSCO's antique wares. The daily menu is short - averaging around 10 items - but varied enough in its selection to allow for a satisfying choice. In addition to this there are items such as pastries that can also be picked out at the counter.

We visited on a Sunday afternoon, when a slightly more limited brunch menu is served. This did not mean that we were disappointed; if anything it made me certain that I would return at a later date to sample more of what they may have to offer on the ever changing menu. 

The spinach and goat's curd fritatta, drizzled with olive oil and cracked black pepper was delightfully delicate, the goat's curd that graced its top unnervingly light yet creamy. The dish did however feel lacking in a sweet / tangy note - in the way that goat's cheese dishes so often call for. 

The 'wow' dish of the day though was the rare topside beef served on dripping toast with green sauce, a bargain at only £7.20 (and this being the most expensive item on the menu). The deliciously rare mound of beef heaped upon a salty - but not too greasy - wedge of seed-speckled toast was complimented by a tangy, textured sauce (involving capers / parsley) whose sharp bite cut through the beef and dripping flavours perfectly.

We then settled on coffee and cakes for desert as the Eton mess on offer had sold out. An eccles cake was generously filled to the brim with currants; an almond and coconut tart with subtle frangipane filling was sweet yet tempered by the coconut addition, which seemed to influence texture more than flavour. And my Madeira cake arrived gently warmed, fluffy on the inside with a sugar-crisped exterior as its crowning glory: the ideal accompaniment to a bitter black coffee.

There were a few aspects that I would tweak if I could: food arrived at different times, plates were slow to be cleared, music could have been more appropriate and the wine list was cheekily priced. But, service was friendly and accommodating (if a little scatty), and their willingness to make adjustments - such as serving cream with the eccles cake - meant that some of the niggles could be forgiven. As with the house itself, the Brunswick House Cafe's imperfections are what gives it character - adjustments can always be made but the fundamental elements should never be changed.  

on my plate: hot cross buns

It seems a crime that I've not had a single hot cross bun in the run up to Easter. How has this happened?! I'm baffled. But somehow this disastrous slip-up has occurred, and I am adamant that I should remedy it in style.

By 'style', I mean homemade. And by homemade, I mean by me. Risky business. I could end up with a stodgy ball of dough crammed with shrivelled fruit, a burnt 'glaze' adorning the carefully placed cross on top.

But in my mind I am picturing a deliciously springy bun, jam-packed with an aromatic fusion of dried fruit and spices, and a glorious white cross as its crowning glory.

Hmmm. It appears that the result was an amalgamation of the two. Though possibly leaning more towards the former proposed outcome than to the latter.

I followed Hugh Fernley-Whittingstall's recipe, though pinched an idea from Felicity Cloake to infuse the milk with spices before using. Unfortunately I can’t say that this oomphed up the flavour by much. I also found my hot cross buns lacking in sweetness. Their texture was nice enough, though I would have preferred a slightly squidgy-er exterior. Lets just say they were not quite the indulgent treat I was hoping for.

This is not to say I wouldn’t attempt to make a hot cross bun again. I am determined to achieve the glorious wonder of a homemade version that had been promised to me by all who had made them in the past. But in the future I will follow Felicity’s ‘Perfect Hot Cross Bun’ recipe.

I am kicking myself for not simply doing so from the start, she had after all tried and tested many different approaches before settling on her proposed method. And on comparison now of the two different recipes, I can see that Felicity combines a much richer mix of ingredients than Hugh, which I am certain would have yielded a more luxurious batch of hot cross buns. Silly me. Hindsight's a bugger.

But, all is not lost! I still have a tasty bun of sorts on my table. And I will be spreading these Easter treats as gifts amongst loved ones… Lucky them!

NB. Upon a second tasting I now retract that last paragraph. I will be hanging my head in shame at these poor specimens of a hot cross bun, which I will now have to distribute as Easter gifts due to lack of time and funds in order to find suitable replacements. Hmph.

on my plate: parsley cheese scones / aubergine & goat's cheese frittata

THIS week's on my plate is a two fold post. Firstly, I wanted to rave about some dangerously tasty and ridiculously easy to make parsely cheese scones (recipe curtesy of Dan Lepard). And secondly, I wanted to demonstrate how dinner for one can be a delight not a chore.

aubergine and goat's cheese frittata

Too often I've had conversations with friends about how their desire to make a delicious supper goes down the pan if they are going to be the only recipient.  This may be slightly alleviated if they have a companion in the kitchen - say a housemate cooking their own dinner alongside them - but on the whole it seems that the enjoyment of creating and devouring a dish is intrinsically linked with a desire to share the experience.

I completely get this. There was a time when I would never dream of eating by myself at the dinner table. If left with no choice, then it would be a TV dinner all the way. And if I was - by some unforseen TV malfunction or complete lack of even the most vaguely interesting thing on it - resigned to be without said accompaniment, then I would find any sort of magazine / book / newspaper to distract me from my eating isolation. And whatever I would be absent-mindedly munching on was inevitably a mish mash of whatever I had to hand.

Slowly but surely however, (perhaps in line with my growing interest in food as a whole), I have discovered that it can be equally as satisfying to cook with the same gusto and passion as you would for a loved one even if it is just you reaping the rewards. Try viewing it as a form of pampering - an indulgent treat to be able to sit down in the peace and harmony of a quiet kitchen and enjoy the fruits of your own labour.

Yes there are times when things turn out so well that I wish I had someone to share my 'oohs' and 'ahhs' with. But there are also times when this isn't the case, when I've tried a new dish and the seasoning is a bit off, or when something hasn't quite been cooked to my satisfaction. It's at these moments that I'm glad not to be serving up my culinary disappointment to expectant hungry mouths.



The above aubergine and goat's cheese friatta is an example of one of my recent one-man suppers. It was a concoction of the random bits residing in my fridge. I've never been much of an omellette / frittata person, so this was as much an experiment as it was a way of quickly feeding myself.

I gently softened red onions, leeks and fresh red chilli, then added in cubes of aubergine, coarsely ground black pepper and sweet paprika. Following the addition of blanched baby broad beans and the last few stalks of some coriander, I combined the whole lot with eggs and chunks of goat's cheese. After the underside had set I popped the pan under the grill for a couple of minutes to brown the top, and voila! Some crispy salad leaves and a dash of balsamic vinegar was all I needed on the side of this speedy success.

parsley cheese scone

The parsely cheese scones were also a speedy success. (All this warm weather is definitely inspiring a cook-it-and-go spirit in my kitchen, as the sunshine just keeps calling me outdoors.)

I prepared these for a friend's baby shower involving afternoon tea and champagne.  I know, sounds very la-di-da. But it was in fact just a great excuse for a get together involving silly games and daytime grazing on yummy food and drink. It was a completely unpretentious spread, and full of old school treats such as jam tarts and mini Mr Kipling Battenburgs.

As I couldn't splash the cash with the present I decided to add in the gift of homemade food. And savoury scones just seemed to fit the bill. 

salt marsh

MUCH has been reported on the rise of the 'supper club' scene in London. It is not a new phenomenon. And some predict that it may now be on its way out. Prices for these 'at home' dining experiences rarely dip below £25, and at times nudge their way towards and in excess of £100 if an esteemed chef is to be in residence.

Of course these prices may be justified, an intimate yet relaxed dining experience alongside great - and at times exquisite - cooking is a pleasure. One may even say it is a coveted experience when 'hot spot' restaurants are popping up incessantly, with 'no booking' policies leaving queues of customers outside peering in, and large prices for small portions (or 'tapas' as is the term du jour).

So, what is the diner seeking good food with a personal touch to do? If it's true that the supper club is on its way out, then where may it - or we - be headed?? I have a suggestion. Perhaps 'out' is code for 'out of London', and perhaps 'out of London' means further than Zone 2. Maybe even that Zones 3, 4, 5 or even (whisper it) 6 may need to be traversed...?

I think this may be the case. And I am proposing first stop Whitstable. Yes, as in Kent. A characterful seaside town from which I have been commuting to London for the past week. (This commute, by the way, was a delight in comparison to the daily slog I usually take part in.)

Whitstable is famed for its colourful beach huts and native oysters. It's a hodge podge of higgledy piggledy houses nestled amongst narrow passages, with a healthy selection of restaurants, boutiques, galleries - and charity shops - for a centre so small. It is definitely a foodie destination in addition a beach escape. And despite a sufficiently large list of delicious options recommended to me for delectation during my stay, my bank balance by no means allowed for me to indulge to my hearts content.

However. At the end of my road there stood an unassuming establishment, curiously not mentioned on said list. It's name was Salt Marsh. Name, address, and telephone number were all that adorned its facade. And on the late Sunday afternoon of my arrival to my temporary new home it was emitting a warm glow and bustling with business.

According to what I could garner from limited information on the internet, this was a little hub of fresh, hearty and homely fare, cooked by a guy called Tony, to the accompaniment of a record player spinning the sounds of days gone by. There were no menus, and no specific opening times. The portions awaiting us were reported to be large. The prices small. So far, so tempting. Oh, and 'daddy' Salt Marsh - Windy Corner Stores - resided at the other end of my street. 

On the evening of my visit, due to a variety of train induced calamities, it meant that M and I did not cross Salt Marsh's threshold until gone 9pm. Anywhere else in Whitstable this would have spelt disaster for our grumbling stomachs, as early closing of kitchens in Whitstable does not seem to accomodate for late night dining (frustrating for a city girl like me, I must admit). But this welcoming mix of eclectic wooden furniture, old fashioned radios and vintage posters, lit by large candles dripping wax directly onto the tables, was thankfully still happy to embrace us as Tony agreed to stay a little longer and cook.

on my plate: but not for long

I have a slight problem. As outlined at the onset of the ‘on my plate’ posts, I am slowly working my way through the copious amount of recipes that I'm addicted to finding and filing in my ‘some day I want to make you’ folder. However, (as I have found to also be the case when eating out) I get so excited by the prospect of devouring the food before me that the meal is generally already cosied up in my stomach before I realise that I have missed my opportunity for taking a suitably mouth watering snapshot.

Unfortunately this has been happening to me a lot lately; so much so, that I haven’t a single shred of evidence to show for any of my most recent kitchen exploits. And so, instead I am going to give you a quick verbal run down of my culinary discoveries over the past few weeks...

to start: Roasted Tofu with Spicy Relish courtesy of the Waitrose website. Following my previous success with tofu I thought why not experiment further, especially as roasting sounded so much easier than frying. But. What I saved myself in effort, I inadvertantly lost in taste and texture. I have no qualms in saying that roasting tofu is NOT a good idea. Don't bother. Stick to recipes along the lines of Ottolenghi's black pepper tofu instead.

the main attraction: Angela Hartnett's Cauliflower and Chickpea Curry. This was delicious. Lack of garam masala meant I added more of the other spices as well as fennel seeds, curry powder and tumeric. I also used green lentils instead of chick peas as I had these to hand in a brilliant ready to eat carton pack. (I promise that these are nowhere near as horrid as they sound.)

Ever the fan of a one-pot dish this was a wonderful comfort supper that I am bound to make again. The taste was rich and spicy, with the cauliflower absorbing the flavours well. I'm currently having a cauliflower moment: raw, roasted or in sauce, just never overcooked into a stinky school dinner mush.

on the side: French Beans with Blackened Sage and Hazelnuts, found on my Epicurious phone app. I would recommend this as way of sprucing up your side dishes - especially for those who aren't a fan of the green ones - though do make sure you use plenty of sage for full impact. And lightly toast your hazelnuts. 

for dessert: Nigel Slater's Damson Spelt Cake. This was a revelation. Spelt flour is the way forward in baking. I was worried it's texture may lead to a slightly heavier cake but in fact (and I would like to think that this was also in part due to my enthusiastic creaming together of the butter and sugar) this was a delightlfully spongy baking success. The nutty taste of the flour, alongside the sweetness of the ground almonds complimented the tart plums perfectly, with the sprinkling of sugar creating a moreish crunch on top.

if you're feeling greedy: Sweet and Salty Candy Bar Brownies. This was my not-so-grown up contribution to a friend's grown-up choice of birthday celebration: hosting a dinner party for 22 guests. But I think the small ripple of applause received in appreciation of these childishly jam-packed squares may just say enough. Be warned though - these gooey, fudgy brownies are irresistable when warm from the oven (especially if you throw a few packets of Cadburys Carmel Nibbles into the mix).

an alternative sunday lunch

I'M not suggesting that the Korean feast I had on Sunday should become a permanent substitute to the comfort of a home-made roast, but it seemed an exciting alternative on what must have been one of the gloomiest days of the year.

(N.B. I am loathe to recommend going out for Sunday roasts, though if you must then I recommend heading straight to Paradise Bar which, to my critical restaurant-made-roast eye, served up an impressive nut roast. And I see no reason why the meat option wouldn't be a winner too.)

steamed dumplings:

But I digress. Jee Cee Neh is to be found off the main high street in New Malden, where there is a thriving Korean community. Hence the multitude of Asian markets and other Korean restaurants that we passed on our way to this particular foodie destination.

I have not eaten much Korean food before - kimchi is about the extent of my knowledge of it - and so as always I was looking forward to something new. Plus I had a desperate craving for dumplings.

pork, tofu, bean sprouts, spring onion, glass noodle

cucumber kimchi



Well my craving was definitely satisfied. And satisfied well. The large dumplings that arrived before us were a masterful example of how a perfect dumpling should be. The silky noodle casing that delicately yeilded to being broken in two (for there was no way a dumpling this large could be consumed in one bite) enveloped a stuffing that was a million miles away from the congealed mass that may often be found lurking inside inferior versions. The contents of this filling was identifiable and flavoursome, with a pleasant texture aided by the crisp spring onion on top.

The tangy bite of the crunchy cucumber kimchi provided a refreshing taste on the palate - not only alongside the dumplings but throughout the rest of the meal too - especially as the chilli was not overwhelming spicy. 

sun du bu ji ge

Keen to sample a cross section of the best that Korean cuisine had to offer we went with the waitress' recommendations of traditional dishes that were apparently most frequently ordered.

Sun du bu ji ge was an uncurdled tofu stew that came bubbling to the table. This was our seafood choice, represented here by clams. There may not have been many of these little creatures in their shells, but the delicate seafood flavour of the broth was a marvel. And the silken tofu was divine, so soft that there was no hope of capturing it with chopsticks. The subtlty of this dish literally stunned us, with flavours slowly unwinding on the palate. This is the dish I will return to Jee Cee Neh for. 

dol sot bi bim bab

deo ji bul go gi deub bab

That's not to say that the other two dishes were poor. Dol sot bu bim bab arrived as a brilliant colour wheel nestled within its heavy black bowl. It was a rainbow of fresh vegetables and beef with a raw egg cracked open in the centre, but I was too slow off the mark with my camera before the waitress stirred a chilli sauce into this sizzling mix (just seconds after it arrived at the table). There was something quite earthy about the flavours in this comforting one pot dish, which made for perfect eating on this dreary Sunday.

Deo ji bul go gi deub bab was my typical last minute panic order, when I just can't bear the thought of missing out on trying one more thing from the menu. And so despite being assured by the waitress that we would certainly have enough to feed two, I opted to add on the chargrilled pork in a rich soy sauce. Upon its arrival, I felt as though our trio of mains was now complete.

I asked for some lettuce leaves to wrap these succulent pieces of salty/sweet belly pork in (as there really wasn't much need to eat any more rice, even if it was delicious), and in addition to this we also received fresh green chillies, garlic cloves and what tasted like a soybean paste with a wonderfully nutty flavour. I have since found out that it was 'doenjang', a traditional Korean condiment indeed made from soybeans, and which in the form that we ate it may have been combined with garlic, sesame oil and a hot pepper sauce called 'gochujang'.

To finish, we were presented with juicy segments of orange, a much needed refreshment following the selection we had just sampled. What was most impressive about Jee Cee Neh was how understated yet rich in flavour the food was. We ate a lot, and yet we were not overwhelmed; purely delighted by the depth of flavour that was packed into each mouthful. 

And the best bit: we were the only English people there throughout our long and lazy grazing. Not your typical experience when out to Sunday lunch. 

round, dark, and dangerous

WARNING: I have made a devilishly delicious discovery. 

Presenting to you the fiendish friend of the Ferrero Rocher... 

Ferrero Rondnoir.

This version of the widely known Ferrero Rocher is not only encased in dark (but not bitter) chocolate, but also has a sumptuously rich filling that has foregone its hazelnut centre for a small ball of extra indulgent chocolate. 

The luxurious cocoa flavour of this addition to the Ferrero family makes for a dangerously scrumptious treat. I defy even the dark chocolate haters out there to be able to stop themselves from reaching for another as they polish off the last crumbs of their first bite.

For me this was a last minute purchase in Fiumicino Airport, an attempt to use up the last of my Euros. They hadn't appeared on my radar until now, but apparently Rondnoirs are available in the UK. Oh dear...

on my plate: black pepper tofu

THIS was the deal: I provide two home cooked dinners, one pizza supper in Rome and the cleaning of one bathroom, in exchange for one absolutely gorgeous, pure wool chunky-knit jumper, from Aquascutum. My heart just skipped a beat typing the word 'Aquascutum'.

Fair deal in my opinion considering I will enjoy / benefit from all of the above. (Excluding the bathroom bit, but luckily it’s a very small bathroom.)

So, this week’s 'on my plate' is home cooked dinner number one. Following a long weekend of over indulgence in Rome – of which I will tell you all about in a forthcoming post – both my mum (aforementioned deal maker) and I were in the mood for a change of scene when it came to food. In amongst my stash of 'recipes to try' I found the perfect solution: Yotam Ottolenghi's black pepper tofu. Conveniently we had a tub of the good quality fresh tofu that Ottolenghi calls for already sitting in the fridge.

And what a delightful feast it made. Following a day of delirium at work due to exhaustion from said weekend in Rome I muddled my way through the initial stages of cooking. I will admit that juggling the making of the rice (which I always seem to find stressful), the fine slicing of the ingredients and the frying of the tofu (spewing cornflour along the way) was a struggle; but I emerged from the chaos serenely happy as the meal came together and I could see that all would be good.

The flavours dazzled in this dish. Fiery chilli combined with distinctive peppery notes; lightly caramelised shallots balanced salty depths of various soy sauces; pungent garlic complimented tangy, aromatic ginger. And all of these tastes enveloped succulent chunks of tofu with crunchy spring onion.

I served this on a bed of jasmine rice, to which I had added half a teaspoon of Chinese 5 spice; the touch of cinnamon within this mix came through subtly but with effect, enhancing the sweet and sour aspect of the tofu and its sauce.

Steamed choi sum topped with toasted sesame seeds was presented on the side. And the final accompaniment was a pot of jasmine tea. It was a delicious simple supper that awoke me (and my senses) from my daze, and which I will no doubt make again.

on my plate: chilli jam and salted oat crackers

NOT strictly on my plate, but seeing as I happen to live with some of the recipients of these homemade Christmas gifts, by default the fruits of my labour still managed to sneak onto it...

The salted oat crackers were brilliantly easy to make, and satisfyingly delicious considering the amount (or lack of) work that went into their creation. Tip: where the recipe calls for rolling out the dough very very thinly then really do; it makes for a better cracker. 

And it was lucky that I ended up making a mountain of them, as it was a true test of willpower resisting the urge to greedily pop every other one of these salty crunchy morsels into my mouth as I lay them out to cool.

The chilli jam was another story. If you do not have a food processor do not, I repeat: DO NOT, attempt to make this product a) when you are short on time, or b) when you have a hangover. I had the time, but I also had the hangover. And it took a lot of perseverance to get through the chopping stage (an hour at least); followed by the lengthy cooking time.

I have never made a jam before, perhaps this just how it is done. But it definitely tested my patience.

On the bright side, the result was a real success. A rich, sticky jam, the sweetness counterbalanced by warmth coming through from the ginger and heat releasing gradually from the chilli. I personally would have liked it spicier (I used three instead of the recommended nine chillies) but I had to remember that I was producing gifts, and therefore not everyone shares the same love of fiery spice. 

All in all it was a success. The copious amounts produced of each item meant that it was more than worth the effort when it came to sharing them out amongst friends and family. And - as long as I can psyche myself up for the chopping stage of the jam - I will definitely be making them again.

psst...

I have made a discovery. A true gem. And I am now torn as to whether I should disclose this prized piece of information when every inch of my body is screaming at me not to. 

I am not the first to have uncovered it (as the line of those obediently queuing outside proved) and I most certainly will not be the last; but for the moment I feel like I have entered into a torrid love affair with - yes, you may have guessed it - a restaurant. And it goes by the name of Koya.

But I've already said too much. This tiny place was heaving, bursting at the seams. Though what I will divulge is this: if you want a unique udon noodle experience then Koya should be your destination of choice. Casual dining; fantastic food. 

One of those who joined me in this Japanese culinary joy summed it up perfectly: 'I would queue again for this place, even if I knew I'd have to also queue to get out...'

most wanted: living and eating by john pawson / annie bell

THE idea of an architect renowned for his minimalist approach collaborating  with someone to create a cookbook may, in some, invoke fear. Fear that it will produce a tome of never-in-your-wildest-dreams-will-you-ever-be-able-to-recreate-them recipes accompanied by stunning images of dishes akin to mini installations, more likely to  induce tummy-rumbling than salivating.

The good news is that in this instance it was not the case. The bad news is that you may have to part with up to £150 to have the pleasure of owning the result.

 

Living and Eating is not a new publication; it was released a decade ago. I discovered it on Pawson's website, perusing it upon learning that a major exhibition of his work was in its final weeks at the Design Museum. 

What has excited me is the book's concept. Pawson's affinity with simplicity has here been applied with the intention of distilling the cooking/eating process into one of pure pleasure. From the design of the kitchen and utensils used, through to the making and serving of recipes listed, attention to detail has been identified as the key to enjoyable living and eating. Not in a fastidious manner, but purely working on the notion that consideration should be given to what really matters, dispensing with the unnecessary and the distracting.

I knew that this was my kind of book when the introduction commented on four key elements to consider when preparing a dish: texture, taste, fragrance, temperature. Highlighting texture as often being the most neglected. 

Yet Pawson and Bell are not suggesting that you be mindful of these aspects only when attempting complex meals. Instead, Living and Eating is filled with recipes that are not labour intensive, and many of which are sure to have featured on your dinner table at some point. If you're looking for guidance on top quality and stress-free cooking, eating and entertaining then this is the book for you. 

And if you have ever mused upon the varying properties of stainless steel, aluminum, copper and cast-iron saucepans, then this is also the book for you.

and the winner of most bizarre Christmas present goes to...

mleczna : milk (chocolate)

...THIS curiously designed bar of chocolate, from relatives in Poland. Apparently the image is by a well known Polish painter. That is no excuse. I question the mind of a) the person who deemed it a suitable idea to put a woman breastfeeding on the front of a bar of milk chocolate, and b) those who were responsible for bringing the idea to fruition.

Of course I cannot simply judge those who produced this packaging. I am also very much alarmed by the fact that I am related to a person who was clearly oblivious to its disturbing nature. This is one edible gift that I will not be breaking into anytime soon. If ever.

on my plate: butter bean tomatoes

GREAT big fat beefy tomatoes, overstuffed with creamy butter beans. That's what was on my plate today. Well one of them was, I'd have to be a truly greedy bugger to manage two.

I planned ahead with this dish and made the tomato sauce base the night before. Not only was this a time saving plan but also (I thought) a great way to boost the flavours, as in my experience any sauce/soup consumed a day after it was made always bursts with flavour.

Somehow this did not happen. I didn't skimp on the ingredients - even adding extra bay leaves and garlic - yet my tomatoes were not the garlicky dream that Nigel Slater had implied. Take note: when it says 'season generously', season GENEROUSLY. I thought I had. 

It's not that the meal wasn't a success, just that it felt slightly lacking. (As an after thought I would recommend perhaps adding a crumbled beef stock cube to the sauce.) What did make the dish though was it's accompaniment: purple sprouting broccoli with buffalo mozzarella and a chilli, garlic and anchovy hot oil dressing. The saltiness and heat from the topping bringing to the palate a much needed oomph of flavour.

so what to do on a snow day...?

BUILD a snowman? Sledging? Snowball fight? Frosty midnight walk through deserted silent streets? Or...

Have a barbecue!!

Yes that's right. A barbecue. What the Aussies are currently spending their days doing on a beach; but in a snowed covered back garden. 

I thought my friend ever so slightly insane too. But on an all too familiar Sunday hangover - having just braved the pre-Christmas supermarket crush - a flamed grilled burger with chunks of mature cheddar was calling. And I was assured that the outdoor grill (I'll admit, it's fuel was gas not coals) was the best way to achieve this delectable lunch. So, in quick trips outside we prepared our meal. The barbecue providing heat as well as ice cold drops of melted snow from the trees above. 

And it was worth it. Adding to the mix buns toasted on the grill too, it made for the perfect Sunday lunch. Enjoyed from the comforts of a cosy sitting room of course.

on my plate: aubergine involtini

nd a

OK so my food photography skills haven't exactly improved much, but these tasty little morsels just had to be talked about. Served as part of a picky dinner prepared for friends - alongside butter bean hummous, aubergine turnover pastries and spicy roasted chickpeas - for me these were the success story of the night.

After brushing the aubergine with olive oil and cooking on a griddle pan to achieve those gorgeous blackened stripes, I chose to fill my involtini with feta, toasted hazelnuts, sultanas and fresh mint. I then heated them in the oven to soften the feta slightly, resulting in a dish of incredibly moreish plump little parcels, with wonderful flavours reminiscent of those that my friends and I had sampled in Greece over the summer.

My one word of advice would be don't be afraid of adding lots of mint, as it is essential in balancing the flavours.

Oh, and make lots.