Sundried tomato and leek tart - with a little help from Boursin and Lisa Faulkner

Would I like to try some Boursin? But of course I would.

3 great flavours.  - Garlic & herb, black pepper, sun ripened tomato onion & chive.

Garlic & Herb Boursin is definitely a flavour from my childhood. I remember it being in the fridge, reserved mainly for my father. I expect there was an element of  "Too good for us children" going on, so there was a certain amount of excitment that greeted the arrival of this little package of goodies chez Recipe Junkie.
 

Anxious not to deprive my children in the way I was so clearly deprived (oh poor me - not allowed the Boursin), I let them have unfettered access to the Garlic & Herb one lunchtime. This is a decision I will live to regret as they pretty much devoured the lot, leaving the Husband and I barely a look in. Obviously my father was on to something. The black pepper flavour was less popular with the children, well, with Pink, anyway, but I loved it with the Husband's home grown cucumbers. 

I saved the sun-ripened tomato, onion and chive to make a tart inspired by the lovely Lisa Faulkner - there she is with her own pile of Boursin - the lucky thing. Lisa has created some recipes using Boursin, all of which you can find on the website. 

I failed to reproduce her tart exactly, in that I only had a round tin, not a rectangular one, and baby leeks were absent from the purveyors of vegetables I visited on the day I was looking for them. However, this went largely unnoticed, partly because no one knew there were supposed to be baby leeks decorating the top except me and I could live without them, and because stirring half a pack of the Boursin into the usual egg mixture to go in a quiche case over some leeks which I'd genetly softened in some butter, made a very delicious tart indeed, baby leeks or no.

This is what Lisa's version looks like. Alas, I lost my photos in a pre-holiday clear out of the camera.

I also lost the notes I made about what I actually put in my tart, so you can go on your own voyage of Boursin discovery and make it up as you go along, or just make Lisa's.

So thumbs up all round for Boursin in all its flavours and a lovely and straightforward summer supper which everyone enjoyed (even Pink, who is funny about quiche despite loving pastry, and eggs in all other forms, pronounced it delicious and said she would eat quiche like that again).

There are plenty more recipes to choose from too - I'm particularly keen to try the black pepper hotcakes - but this requires the Boursin to stay in the fridge long enough for me to cook with it...

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Posh Poached Eggs for the big 3-0

 
I'm a relative newcomer to the Random Recipes challenge, but it's become bit of a fixture for me. I don't have any sort of pattern or routine to my blogging (you may have noticed), but I find myself looking out for the announcement post every month, and then getting my random recipe selected more or less straightaway in order to have a fighting chance of working it into a meal plan somewhere. You see while I'd love to spend hours in my kitchen designing dishes, tweaking recipes, arranging food beautifully on a plate and taking gorgeous photos, the reality is that the food that goes up here is what I've cooked to feed us, there's no room to re-make and take a better photo (or to take a photo at all if we were all so hungry that it got eaten before I'd got the camera out...).




This month, the 30th month of the challenge, the selection criteria for the recipe was the number '30' (Dom, you're so original!). 30th book on the shelf/ves of cook books, 30th page. 

At the time I made the selection, '30' gave me Posh Poached Eggs in a Cup from Leon - Family & Friends. If I made the choice another time, it would be different because the books don't stay in the same order, or even on the same shelves, depending on what I've been up to in the kitchen.

So, Posh Poached Eggs. "That'll be easy to squeeze in somewhere", I thought.

We ended up having it for lunch yesterday, the kids and I, another sultry day (the rain didn't reach us till late last night) when the last thing I wanted to do, really, was make a cheese sauce - or even poach an egg. The things I do.

So you make a cheese sauce using gram flour and butter, quite a lot of cheese and some truffle oil. I didn't have gruyere or truffle oil in the house, so cheddar and some nice olive oil had to do.

You fry some thin slices of chorizo till they are nice and crispy, and poach some eggs, then layer it all up in a cup.

It's delicious. Even Blue, who, as I have bemoaned before, normally avoids cheese sauce with a barge pole, and isn't massively keen on poached eggs, enjoyed it. Result.

The only thing I'd say is that the recipe in the book makes a huge amount of cheese sauce. More than you could possibly use feeding the 4 specified in the recipe, however hungry. The rest of it is in the fridge covered with greaseproof paper. Pasta bake for dinner tonight, then.

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Raspberry & Lemon not quite Crisp

There's a story about this dessert, but it may end up being one of those 'you had to be there' ones, so please bear with me.

While we were at my parents' for half term, I took a step back and quietly observed mum in the kitchen - or, more accurately, pondered how she was catering for us. You see, I am acutely aware that I am turning into my mother in many ways, and I wondered if I could learn something by observing the 'future' me (as it were).

We started the stay with chicken fajitas (she knows how much the kids love them). Then a pheasant casserole from the freezer. It didn't go unnoticed (by me) that she uses the same evasive answering of difficult food related questions from the children as I do - I have clearly been taught by a master. She managed to answer 2 or 3 questions about the casserole without actually telling them that there was pheasant in it. There were a couple of Good Food recipes thrown in - a rather interesting beetroot & caramelised onion tart with a carrot and oat pastry/crust which was actually fine, although we all agreed it could have done with some cheese grated on top, and a delicious Pot Roast Beef with onion gravy. 

There are a couple of days I can't remember what we had, but my story really starts with a Clare MacDonald smoked haddock souffle thing that was supper one evening. I had grave doubts that the children would like it - Pink is funny with smoked fish (although if it's salmon she's happy) and Blue doesn't do milky eggy savoury stuff (he hates macaroni cheese, cauli cheese all that sort of thing) - but I was pretty happy with the idea. It included bread cubes in the bottom of the dish too, and this had all been pre-frozen. It was a disaster - we all agreed (although not in front of the children!) and as they tried hard not to turn their noses up at it, mum and I had a fit of hastily suppressed giggles. Some you win some you lose, eh, Mum! Before now, I wouldn't have had a bad word to say about Clare Macdonald. I don't own any of her books, but I have plenty of copied down recipes, and the promise of a book for my birthday. It won't put me off, but I won't be rushing to make this one.

Before supper, though, I decided to intervene and make sure there was something the kids would eat - a baked potato or something. Not instead of the souffle, you understand but to go alongside it. As I was doing this, I noticed the pudding mum was planning to make. Another Good Food - chocolate pear crisp. Now, I couldn't do much about the haddock souffle, but I could do something about the pudding. You see, I made this myself a few months back, same recipe, and there was simply not enough topping. One egg white to stretch to 4 ramekins? Well, not in my kitchen it didn't. So with my tale of dessert disaster in mind, she doubled up the topping and it was a big hit. Well, all except for Pink who though it was too chocolatey, but she has some strange ideas about things like that.

Back home, and I decided to use the Pear Crisp idea and turn it into something completely different. A friend who is emigrating shortly donated me the frozen rhubarb and raspberries out of her freezer, so I decided to do this with some of the raspberries, topping them with an almondy, lemony topping and baking in the oven. 

Raspberry & Lemon Crisp

serves 4

approx 240g raspberries (defrosted if frozen), divided between 4 ramekins
2 large egg whites
100g icing sugar
50g ground almonds
zest of a lemon
handful of flaked almonds, for sprinkling

Pre-heat the oven to 160C/140 fan

Whisk the egg white to stiff peaks

Sift the icing sugar into a bowl, and stir in the ground almonds and lemon zest, then fold this through the egg whites. Spoon the egg white mixture onto the raspberries and give the ramekins a couple of taps to get the mixture to settle properly. Sprinkle over the flaked almonds.

Bake in the oven for 20-25 minutes till risen and golden. Leave to cool before serving warm or cold.

The reason why mine weren't quite crisp was because time was marching on and we were desperate to get the kids in bed.  I think that leaving them to cool allows the topping to harden up making them crispy on top. Still, they were pretty good as they were, if a little hot!

By the way, it's my mum's birthday today, so - Happy Birthday Mum! This one's for you!

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Poached heads and toasted dustbins

The end of another half term drew to a close on Sunday as we belted back down the M1 to Hampshire.

I know the M1 fairly intimately, and from, the days when the children were smaller, the service stations. While I'd like to say that I would take breaks from the drudgery of driving with small children in the back of the car in more interesting places off the beaten track, the fact is that when you've got a screaming baby in the back seat, you need to stop. NOW. Blue was the dream baby to travel with. Within 30 seconds of being in the car, he would be asleep, only to wake when the car stopped. We could get all the way from Hampshire to Leeds without incident (I never felt the need to wake a sleeping baby). Pink on the other hand... I remember the alarm I felt as she squawked all the way home from the hospital. A baby that didn't sleep in the car (or as it turned out, the buggy)?

Many journies north in the company of Blue & Pink led me to conclude that the ideal place to stop as a woman travelling in the company of small children was Donnington Park East. For some reason the least stressful of all the service stations that I would pass. Just over half way on our journey, very open with plenty of room for a toddler to run about before reaching the exit. Rather a smart 'family' room. I could run through the detractors for all the other ones, but I will only mention that (1) the muffins at Woolley Edge were a disgrace 6 years ago, and (2)  don't get me started on how hideous it is to breastfeed at Leicester Forest East.

Anyway, we ended up stopping at Donnington Park East on our return journey from a week at my parents, and it seemed no less relaxed than I remembered. Over a hideously overpriced coffee and a packet of biscuits provided by my mum, we had one of those conversations that I think I will remember for the rest of my life. "What's for tea?" asked Blue (he is constantly pre-occupied with what his next meal will be, and when). I told him. "Poached heads and toasted dustbins?" squawked Pink, outraged - obviously her mind had been elsewhere at the time.

We got home. Unpacked the car. Sorted things out. Time for poached heads & toasted dustbins...

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Rollercoaster parenting and dragon eggs

Parenting. How is it for you? A rollercoaster? That's pretty much how it is for me, and I've only survived 9 years of it. Apart from the admittedly rather extreme parts of my own parenting experience, the thing that really gets me is how one thing leads to another and before you know it, you've been talked into some completely bonkers project or other, feeling vaguely hysterical to boot.

now imagine it large scale, across the Humber

A throwaway comment the other week about how I'd made some bunting for my 40th birthday celebrations, and the next thing I know, I'm helping 1st Overton Rainbows with their contribution to the Helen Skelton/Blue Peter longest string of bunting ever Red Nose Day project. Two 2 metre bunting triangles, no less, to join a host of other flags adorning the Humber Bridge. Felt, scissors, fabric pens, orange squash, malted milk bisc.. oh sorry, those last two were 'tuck', not anything to do with the bunting. Crazy.





This from a woman who remains unshakeable in her belief that glitter was invented by a deeply mysogonist forbear of James Dyson who never spent any time with a toddler and a pot of PVA glue, and 'craft' is what Playgroup was for...

I am not a 'crafty' mummy. I am a reading stories mummy. A running around in a field mummy. A baking cakes mummy (of course). Try as I might (and I really do), I am not good at the whole craft thing. But one thing leads to another...

Blue & Pink are going to a Harry Potter party on Saturday. It promises to be a wonderfully orchestrated affair  - hand crafted 'invitations to join Hogwarts'. There is talk of the Petrificus Totalis game, and the potions lesson. I am torn between total admiration and a kind of snarling resentment - a new bar has been set. I for one am not in the market for competitive birthday parties - although I do own up to once spending 15 hours crafting a Thomas and the Troublesome Trucks birthday cake. 15 hours. In my defence, my son was in the grip of a potentially life threatening illness at the time, but even so - faced with this kind of inventiveness, I must stamp down a little part of me that has judged me on my birthday party enthusiasm and found me lacking...

Blue owns some 'robes' - and Pink has been hankering. The problem is that I MADE Blue's robes for a book day affair - nothing fancy, but Pink was after some herself, and things have moved on and I just haven't had time. So what is she to wear, my diminutive, headstrong, firecracker of a daughter? Well, my friends, I have convinced her to go as Hagrid. I have a curly black fright wig and enough black & brown facepaint to provide her a beard. She can wear some brown trousers and a shirt I modified for Blue to wear as a Celt (it works, I promise). My duffle coat with the sleeves rolled up, and her own pink umberella. 

"And perhaps we could make a dragon egg, Mummy? Hagrid always has a dragon egg"

My heart sinks. But then, one thing leads to another. Does this happen to other people or is it just me? I feel that I owe it to her to make the best of what is essentially a cobbled together affair. Am I really too busy to deny my  daughter? What kind of mother would that make me? A dragon egg? Let me think. Then the lightbulb moment!  A cake was on the cards anyway. There's no need for papier mache and messy balloon coating (which I imagine might be involved in such an endeavour - I can see it now bound to fail) - oh no! - I can blow the eggs. We can paint them! And before I know it, I have uttered those words out loud, so there is no turning back.

Why, why why? I am practically PHOBIC about blown eggs: it's a long story involving Christmas tree decorations and  the words "scarred for life". I could go into it now, but I won't - suffice to say that if my mum (remember, I love her, it's just easy to make the odd joke at her expense) could work out how to leave a comment on my blog, she'd probably remind me (and you all) of all the occasions I have sworn never to blow an egg myself for painting/craft purposes, less so even countenance the idea that I might inflict blown eggs on my children for whatever reason.

The cake required 4 eggs. I equipped myself with a pin and get started.

Getting the pin in is not as tricky as it first seems. But in my delight, I lose my head and put it down on the worktop. My camera is not working. I reach for my phone. 

Crack.

I try again. More luck next time, I get a hole in both ends - a pin hole to blow through, and an ever so slightly larger hole for the egg to slip out of. 

Or not

Can you see the pitiful blob of albumen? It is there. Do you know how much puffing and blowing that took?

In the end, I took a skewer to the 'exit hole', and - success:

OK, so may be I was hoping for a smaller hole

egg!

So I washed out the eggs and made a cake. And mighty good cake it was too.

Now all we need to do is paint the eggs.

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Pear & Custard Crumble Cake (or “Goodbye to D.I.Y”)

Now that the dust of Christmas has settled, and we are all getting on (or not) with January, I bring you a cake requires a certain amount of time and faffing in the kitchen. Don’t let this put you off. This time of year, it’s crucial to have some strategies in place to avoid those tedious ‘New Year Projects’, and I guarantee that the strategic wafting of cake before those around you is one such strategy that will absolve you entirely of participation in such projects – for an afternoon at least.  

The Husband's current project is "The Moving of The Greenhouse". Do you see what I mean? This doesn't just involve the physical act of relocating a structure from one area of the garden to another. In order to move the greenhouse, the new site requires to be prepared. Concrete is involved. And straight lines. This is not an area where I am at all qualified, or otherwise competent, nor am I a particularly enthusiastic participant, although I am more than happy to consume the eventual rewards of this endeavour - by moving the greenhouse to the new position, it will benefit from more sun for longer in the year thus extending its usefulness for growing things. Things which I can eventually cook with.

Cake on the other hand? Well that's different. This cake delivers on many levels, being both cake and crumble, and is equally good warm or cold. It contains custard. The ‘faffing’ involves nothing more arduous than making said custard, caramelising some fruit, and knocking up some crumble topping. These tasks, straightforward in themselves, provide the perfect opportunity for hanging out and flicking through the magazine section of the paper of a Saturday afternoon, while rolling out a practiced “No I can’t possibly help you, darling, I just have to keep my eye on these pears”...


Pear & Custard Crumble Cake

Ingredients:

2 tbsp custard powder, 2 tbsp golden caster sugar, 200ml milk, 400-450g whole pears, peeled, cored and cut into chunks, 75ml brandy, 190g light muscovado sugar, 60g oats,       140g unsalted butter, 60g plain flour, 40g ground almonds,1½ tsp baking powder, 2 large eggs

You’ll also need greaseproof paper and a deep 20cm round cake tin – it’ll be easier if it’s loose bottomed – which you’ve greased and lined. You might want to think about some cream or crème fraiche to serve with it, too. Better to think about it now rather than later, I always say.

Combine the custard powder and caster sugar a bowl and mix to a smooth paste with about 50ml of the milk. 

Heat the rest of the milk in a medium sized pan and when it’s getting close to boiling, pour it onto the custard powder paste and stir together, then pour it all back in to the pan on a medium heat and stir constantly (or whisk) till the custard thickens.


Pour the thickened custard back into the bowl, and press in a piece of greaseproof paper to cover the top of the custard and stop a skin forming. Leave to cool until very firm.


Put the pears, brandy, 50g of the light muscovado sugar and 75ml water into a pan, bring to the boil and cook over a high heat till all the liquid has evaporated. Keep an eye on it, and stir occasionally. Once the liquid has evaporated, set the pan aside.


Make the crumble topping by rubbing together the oats with 40g of the unsalted butter and the muscovado sugar till they form oaty crumbs.


Once the custard is thick and chilled and the pears are cooled, pre-heat the oven to about 180⁰C /160⁰C for fan ovens.


Beat together the remaining butter and sugar, then add the eggs in one at a time, beating well after each. The mixture may look a little curdled but bear with it – or add a little of the flour after each egg.

Add in the flour, ground almonds and baking powder and beat again. Chop up the custard into rough pieces and stir into the mixture, then scrape it all into the lined tin and gently spread it level.


Scatter the pears on top and stir through the cake mixture, then sprinkle the crumble topping on top of that till everything is covered.


Bake for 45 – 50 minutes, and leave to cool in the tin. It will be cooked when the crumble is golden brown and a skewer comes out reasonably clean, but it is quite a damp cake.


Leave to cool in the tin.

Serve the cake with cream and a cup of tea. Alternatively, increase your chances of never being asked to mix concrete or measure straight lines again by bearing a tray with a generous slice of cake and a glass of the brandy (assuming you didn’t drink it all in the kitchen while flicking through your paper) to your New Year Project Monkey and exclaim, adoringly “Oh darling, you are clever – it looks marvellous – I could never have done it as well. Would you like some cake?”

Disclaimer (!): I wrote this post as an application for a cake column (without reference to the greenhouse moving, which is a genuine project). I didn't get the cake gig, but hey ho, we had some good cake, and I thought you'd all like it too. And if you think anyone's moving any greenhouses in this weather, think again...

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Coriander & Chilli eggs - for lunch or breakfast!

What a time to be thinking about entering a competition? It's madness here. However, seduced by the possibility of fame, fortune and trip to Australia, I thought "Why not?" and emailed off to enter the Gourmet Garden Blog Off/Cook Off competition.

Next thing I know, a lovely selection of their tubes of fresh herbs arrives in a cute little pouch. While you can't beat fresh herbs, there are loads of opportunities to use these beauties - in fact when they arrived, I'd run out of fresh garlic and chillies anyway, and as fresh coriander often spoils pretty quickly, I can definitely see the advantage of the tube when you need it for flavour rather than as a garnish in particular.

Now, because of one thing and another, I have decided to take the quick and easy approach to my entry (or entries - I have used the tubes quite a lot, but I need to carve out some time to blog them!), so here's the first:

Coriander and Chilli Eggs

Ingredients for 1 (easily doubled)

splash of olive oil
2 tomatoes, deseeded and roughly chopped
1/2 red pepper, deseeded and chopped to similar size
1 tsp Gourmet Garden Coriander
1/2 tsp Gourmet Garden Chilli (or to taste)
1 egg
2 spring onions, sliced
1 tortilla wrap

1 small frying pan
grill proof serving dish (optional if you can put the frying pan under the grill!)




Turn on your grill to medium - high. Heat the oil in a frying pan, add the tomatoes and red pepper, cook for a minute or so to start the juices running, then stir in the Coriander and Chilli.

Once the tomatoes and peppers are semi-cooked and the herbs are nicely incorporated, grind in some salt and pepper, stir again, then take off the heat. If you are using the grill proof serving dish, scrape the sauce into the dish, and quickly make a well in the centre of the sauce (or just make the well in the sauce in the frying pan) and crack the egg into it.

Pop the dish/frying pan under the grill, and cook for 8-10 mins until the egg is cooked. This will depend on how hot the frill is and how close your dish/pan is to the element - keep an eye on it!

If you have room under the grill, fold your tortilla in half and pop it under too for a couple of minutes to crisp up.

Serve the eggs with the tortilla and extra salt and pepper as desired.

I ate this for lunch, and it was very tasty. The chilli was sufficiently spicy and the coriander gave a great flavour to the sauce. If you were feeling brave and a little like a taste of Mexico, it would work well as a kind of huevos rancheros style breakfast.

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Egg Surprise Grows Up

A long time ago, the Husband and I regularly consumed a dish with the exotic name of Egg Surprise. It consisted of a tin of chopped tomatoes, and anything else that was a likely candidate for an evening meal, bubbled up in a saucepan. The surprise was whether there was an egg cooked in it or not. I have blogged about this before.

Our tastes have of course developed over the years, and money is not quite so tight, but sometimes, the simple and basic things are the best. Roll on a decade or so, and Egg Surprise still appears reasonably regularly on our table, although it might come bearing an exotic moniker such as ‘chachouka’ or some such. Delicious? Yes. But the bottom line is that in our book, meals like this will forever be known as Egg Surprise.

And what do you know? Even the Goddess herself, Nigella, cooks Egg Surprise – I saw it with my own eyes on Nigellissima last night – billed as a post-night out feast to be gobbled greedily from the pan as only la Lawson can, in a LBD and killer heels, I defy you to tell me that was not, essentially, Egg Surprise.

In a recent post about Jamie Oliver’s 30 Minute Meals, I mused on the fact that my culinary heroes have changed as I have grown older. In the same way, what we have in the store cupboard as a base for Egg Surprise has changed - we have our own chickens, so the eggs are more of a given than a surprise. The ‘surprise’ now tends to come in the form of which vegetable glut from the garden has been chucked in to the pot… And yesterday, quite by chance, and, I can assure you, before Nigella graced our screens last night wafting nutella cheesecakes and other deliciousness in front of us, including her own version of Egg Surprise, guess what I had served up for supper, faced with the spinach in the veg patch?

Grown Up Egg Surprise

1 onion, finely chopped

1 clove of garlic, finely chopped

1 dried red chilli, chopped (or a pinch of dried chilli flakes

400g tin of chopped tomatoes

100g roasted red peppers from a jar, drained and chopped

150g spinach leaves

½ tsp smoked paprika

400g tin chick peas, drained

2 large eggs

Crusty bread to serve

Pre-heat the oven to 180⁰C.

Heat ½ tblspn olive oil in a pan and fry the onions and garlic gently till softened. Add the chilli, the tomatoes and swill out the can of tomatoes into the pan with 100ml water. Stir in the chopped peppers and bring to the boil Simmer the mixture for 10 minutes, when it will have started to thicken up. At the same time, wash the spinach leaves, shred them and put them in a pan (or steam) till wilted. Drain and squash out the water.

When the tomato mixture is thickened up, stir in the wilted spinach, smoked paprika and chick peas, and add everything into an oven proof dish. Make 2 hollows in the mixture, crack in the eggs and transfer the dish to the oven. Bake till the whites are set – but if possible, the yolks are still runny. It will probably take around 10 minutes if the tomato mixture was hot when you cracked the eggs into it. 

Serve with crusty bread (LBD and killer heels optional)

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Poached egg & 'chips' to soothe a tortured soul.

Well, there we go it was short-lived, but for 24hrs I basked – yes, BASKED – in the most recent reward for sort of persevering with Twitter. I don't really get Twitter, but I am trying ot be better at it, and - wow - Nigel Slater (yes, actually, NIGEL SLATER) retweeted my rhubarb & vanillajam post, and my daily page views, which have been steadily creeping up (nothing awesome you understand but satisfying for me personally), shot up so that I got OVER 400 page views in about 36 hours. Now I know there are many, many bloggers out there who get 400 pages views just for coughing, but I tell you, wow, it was exciting.

You’ll be pleased to know though that it’s back to reality, and as with all good things, it came to an end. Still, nice while it lasted, and it gave me a boost because I have been feeling a little over-wrought with life. Probably better that it’s over, really, because frankly, I’m not sure I can cope with much more excitement (what am I saying?? Nigel. If you ever read my blog again, if you read this – thank you – thank you – it was AMAZING!).

go on - guess how much you think it weighs

I do like to be busy, but I’m finding this half-term a little exhausting – the relentless events: sports day (which may or may not go ahead on Friday having already been postponed once), the school fete (fruit cake for guess the weight of duly baked, face painting team organised, raffle tickets obtained, sorted, distributed and prizes sourced),the parents evenings, the swimming gala, the discos...

Instead of wading through to the end and crumpling into a big heap on the last day of term with a vat of chilled sauvignon blanc in which to drown, the first week of our holidays is Scout camp. No sooner has the cash been counted after the school fete finished on Saturday than I will be assisting the senior scout wife organise various Olympic-themed craft activities, the meal plan (actually, that needs to be read in a big, deep, booming voice “T-H-E-M-E-A-L-P-L-A-N” – 18 meals for 22 scouts plus the leaders and hangers on, partners and kids is serious business!), a cash & carry run, a ‘Ready Steady Cook’ night. ... There’s also the small matter of a job, and everything else to contend with too. At this rate, I can see myself hitting Christmas with a bang and wondering where on earth the rest of the year went. It will be loads of fun, but sometimes, it’s a bit tiring to think about it all.

On top of this (I am getting to my point, slowly), Pink seems intent on picking a fight with me every step of the way at the moment. I’m trying not to over-analyse, to accept it’s just a phase. I know she’s tired, and  perhaps some of the fall-out from all the busy-ness that she’s feeling a little neglected. I’m trying not to lose my temper with her -  that’s the thing with Pink, she knows EXACTLY which buttons to press with me. I’m trying to second guess her, to stay ahead of the game, but it’s exhausting.

So this evening, they had an hour’s after school activities. After I’d picked them up from school at 4.30, and had to deal with her latest list of my deficiencies as a mother (well, she didn’t quite put it like that, she’s only 6, but basically that’s what she was saying) as we walked home, I was amazed to find that not only did the complaints stop when I put the supper on the table, she actually started to be nice. Lovely and gorgeous in fact. First she apologised for not thanking me at her birthday party (in May) for the cake I had made (bless!), then she proceeded to get out the cutlery without complaining (and without being asked – I nearly dropped everything I was carrying on the floor at that point) and set the table, and she didn’t once niggle at her brother through the meal. Best of all, it was a doddle to put together, and was pretty much ready to go once I’d got in from school.

So what was this amazing feast? The feast that tames the spirit of a restless and dissatisfied 6 year old (for a short time, at least). I know you’re dying to know.

It was poached eggs and ‘chips’ (well, my homemade potato wedges) and a ‘salad’ of chopped raw stuff from the bottom of the fridge. Amazing.

Poached Egg and Potato Wedges with chopped salad

Ingredients: (to serve 1 Adult and 2 kids) 4 reasonable sized potatoes, a little olive oil, a pinch of sea salt and some chopped fresh rosemary if you have some, 3/4 of a red pepper, a courgette and 5 spring onions, 6 eggs

Method: Turn on the oven to 180⁰C, and slice the potatoes into half lengthways, then slice each half into wedges – if the potatoes are quite thick, you can always cut the potato into thirds lengthways first then into thinner wedges. If you have time, drizzle a little olive oil into a roasting tin/baking tray and put it in the oven for 5 mins to heat up the oil, but if you don’t have time, toss the wedges in the oil first, spread out on the baking sheet and sprinkle with the salt and rosemary. Put the tray into the oven – the wedges will need about 40-45 minutes.

(At this point, I went to get the kids from school)

When the potatoes are pretty much done, fill a pan with water (I use a frying pan for poached egss) and put on to boil for the eggs. Chop your veg up into little-ish cubes, and mix together.

Poach the eggs (Delia can tell you how to do that), and serve with the wedges and salad.

with yolks this good, there's no need for salad dressing!

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The Inaugural post of the Sam Barnes Google Recipe Challenge - Purple Sprouting Broccoli

The Husband and I went out for a quiet drink and a curry on Friday night. It’s hopeless trying to go out for a quiet drink where we live because there’s always someone else in the pub trying to have a quiet (or not so quiet) drink. We bumped into some friends, including Sam, who, I’m sure she won’t mind me saying, is utterly fabulous. She’s a great artist, she did the drawings on my blog, and her stuff is really worth checking out.  Alcohol had been consumed, and amidst the general chatter she announced: “I think you should do a Google thing. You know, see what you’ve got left in the fridge, type it in to Google and see what it comes up with. It’d be great. The weirder the better!”

“Fantastic! Yes! Chilli pickled rhubarb with polenta!” The Husband and I nearly didn’t make it to the curry house...

Anyway, never let it be said that I shy away from a challenge and use the excuse that I was drunk. Let me present:

The Sam Barnes Google Recipe Challenge: Purple Sprouting Broccoli

Tonight was a good night to do this, as the kids were fed elsewhere and instead of planning a sumptuous grown up feast for 2, it was looking otherwise like beans on toast. On inspection, the fridge contained an over-optimistic amount of purple sprouting broccoli, starting to look more than a little sad. In the interests of using the challenge to use up more of the left over bits and pieces, further delving produced some new potatoes, half a red onion and half a jar of anchovies in olive oil. I googled ‘purple sprouting broccoli’ and came up with this recipe from the Daily Telegraph. Almost a perfect fit. The fridge did not magically produce quails eggs, but the chickens have been co-operating, despite me clipping their wings yesterday, so we had:

New potato, red onion and p.s.b. salad with anchovy cream and poached eggs – serves 2 as a main course

½ red onion, finely sliced, 300g new potatoes, 250g purple sprouting broccoli, any woody bits trimmed, Juice of ½ lemon

55g anchovies in olive oil, 1 clove of garlic, 55g pine nuts, olive oil, Juice of ½ lemon

Make the cream: put the anchovies and oil, the garlic and pine nuts into the small bowl of a food processor and whizz together. Add the lemon juice and pour in a couple of glugs of olive oil in a steady stream while whizzing, till you get a smooth-ish, thick-ish puree. Taste and add more lemon if necessary.

Make the salad: heat a glug of olive oil in a pan and gently cook the onions until they are soft. Boil the potatoes until cooked and steam the broccoli till tender. You should be able to steam the broccoli over the potatoes for the last 4-5 mins of the potato cooking time. Put the onions, potatoes and broccoli in a bowl, and toss with a tablespoon of lemon juice, and salt and pepper and set aside while you poach the eggs. Do you need me to tell you how to poach eggs? I’ll leave that to Delia.

Pile the salad onto 2 plates, drizzle with some of the anchovy cream (although don’t overdo it – serve the rest of the sauce on the side in a jug – anything left would taste gorgeous stirred into pasta – which is what I’m planning to do for lunch tomorrow!) and place a poached egg on top of each pile of salad.

Consume.

It was delicious.

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