They say every man has his price, but not every man gets to see that exact value calculated in public on a blog. The market has spoken, and apparently I'm worth exactly $550. Hey, at least that's more than I was appraised for by that carnival gypsy. Take that, Madame Corsi!
Thank you to everyone who bid, and also to those of you who made individual donations to #AFundForJennie at Bloggers Without Borders! Stay tuned as we'll identify the winner, and make plans for the shoot soon. Thank you all!
This simple, basil-spiked “green” hummus is a great summer twist on everyone’s favorite spread. While making your own hummus is quite simple, as you’ll see, I completely understand why people don’t. Those big, ready-to-serve tubs at the grocery store are tempting when you’re party shopping and short on time.
But, if you do have an extra 10 minutes, and access to some fresh, sweet basil, this version will provide a great change of pace from the standard wake-me-up-when-it’s-over hummus recipes.
I didn’t mention it in the video, but as great a chip dip as this is, it’s also a world-class sandwich spread. Turkey on wheat? Yawn. Turkey on wheat with green hummus? Hello! And, don’t even get me started on wraps. I won’t even touch a wrap that doesn’t contain hummus, and neither should you.
Fresh basil should still be in good supply, and what better way to enjoy its fragrant flavor than this delicious dip? I hope you give it a try soon. Enjoy!
I was reading some comments under this peach gelee video on YouTube, and was shocked by the number of “omg! the sugar!!” type remarks. People, this is a candy, not a dessert. Candy is supposed to be an extraordinarily indulgent bite, enjoyed in small amounts only on certain very rare and special occasions.
Unfortunately, candy has lost its specialness, and somehow turned into a casual snack. We've gone from enjoying it at a couple sacred yearly festivals, to eating several handfuls a day. Let’s face it, the only reason you go up and chat with that receptionist is because she works behind a giant fishbowl filled with mini Snickers bars. Everybody knows.
Well, this fresh peach gelee is not that kind of candy. This is an old fashioned, handcrafted candy that takes a little time and finesse to pull off. It’s simple and sweet, but looks and tastes like something you’re only suppose to enjoy a few times a year.
I’ve never made this before, but saw an easy-looking recipe here, and tweaked it by using lime instead of the more traditional lemon. The recipe worked like a charm, and has me thinking about a late fall version using spiced pears. The method really intensifies the fruit flavors, and I find the jellied texture it produces very addictive.
Anyway, I hope you find some nice ripe peaches, and give this a try soon. If you’ve had experience making these types of gelees with other fruits, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks, and enjoy!
Step 1:
1 pound ripe peaches, cut into chunks
1 tablespoon lime juice
- Puree and add to sauce pan with 1/2 cup of sugar
Feeling a little melancholy this holiday? That’s okay, you’re not alone. Sure, this weekend is supposed to acknowledge and celebrate the labor movement in America, but what it does even better is remind everyone that summer is gone.
Wow, that was fast. It seems like only yesterday I was phoning in a Memorial Day post. But, before you get too down, remember, we are now entering prime cooking and eating season. From now until Christmas (only 112 shopping days left!), the kitchen replaces the beach, backyard, and ball diamond, as the center of our happy place. As much as we'll all miss that fun in the sun, this is any serious foodie's favorite time of the year.
Anyway, here’s a shout out to all the dishwashers, cooks, chefs, and other hospitality workers that celebrate Labor Day by working, while the rest of us sit around sipping beers, trying to figure out how summer went by so fast. Have a great holiday, and we'll see you on the other side. Enjoy!
Speaking of labor – if you’re still searching for some long-weekend-style lusciousness, here are six of my all-time, backyard favs:
So. First holiday as a family. DONE. It was sort of ridiculous. In London, I have a bit of help during the week so I can drive randomly around town playing very loud music and screaming intermittently. But in Sussex there was no-one. Although my husband is a terrifically hands-on kind of guy, it wasn't a situation where I could shout "Bye!" at the door and piss off for two hours.
And it does concentrate the mind. I did spend rather a lot of time thinking about why people have children. Why? I howled this question particularly loudly to myself in my head as I fed a damp, bored and miserable Kitty a bottle in the pouring rain, hiding under a tree in the grounds of Petworth House, which we'd visited because you've got to do something between 2pm and 6pm other than singing "Row Row Row Your Boat" and looking at the clock, or you'll go mad.
Why? It's just so stupid. There you are, having a perfectly nice time and then you completely fuck your whole life up. For ages. I have become one of those people who devours anything written by anyone who is either desperate to have a baby or by someone who regrets not having had children. I can live on that shit for a week.
I always come to the conclusion - as I think everyone does - that the whole sorry business is all just selfish. For example, by having children I hope to achieve two things:
1) To go home. I want so badly to be at home again, in my bedroom with my stuff and my sisters around and my mum downstairs and my dad behind a newspaper somewhere. Adult life frightens me. I don't like things like clubbing very much, or achieveing things in an office environment, or going to smart parties, or acting on the spur of the moment. I just want to go home and potter about. I really like my parents, they are really nice people. I never had a yearning to get out and forge my way in the world. My parents had to evict me at 25. And because I can't go home (my little sister has taken over my old bedroom) the closest thing I can do is make a duplicate, an offshoot like a spider plant, and cross my fingers that it will, somehow, like a metaphorical Dr Sam Beckett, Quantum Leap me back.
2) To have the life my mother has now. God my mum has a great time. Four daughters, none of who turned out to have a drug problem or decided to move permanently halfway across the world, (I always think that says something), who each ring her for a major gossip at least once a week, who deliver her grandchildren she can fuss over - then hand back - and bring to our house life. Life.
When we were little there was an apocryphal tale about my mother leaving next-eldest sister in the bath and she "nearly drowned". With the poisonous cruelty that little children are sometimes capable of, we always used to hold this up as an example of my mother's blatant imperfection.
I remembered this story the other day when I left Kitty propped up with cushions on the sofa for a few minutes to fetch something. The thing I had not realised is that when it happened, my mother's first husband, the father of next-eldest and eldest sister, would have been either dying or already dead from leukemia. My mother would have been about 34. And for a long time, until she met my father, she was all alone. With two small children. Of course she left next-eldest in the bath for a second or two! Eldest sister was probably screaming. Or there was a hammering on the door. Or she smelt burning. Or maybe she just needed to get a towel. And there was no-one else there.
So to have a full house, to have people there, is all my mother wants. And she is wise for it. As I hardly have any friends, and have never been able to do that thing where the few friends I have just come and hang out in my house, there is no question of having some kind of modern "urban" family with lots of glamorous homosexuals scattered about. If I am going to have any sort of family life, I am going to have to make one myself. Literally grow one. And there's no easy way of doing it.
To misquote Madonna: There are no shortcuts to being a family.* So occasionally you just have to fucking suck it up.
As it happens, there are no shortcuts to making a brilliant Coronation Chicken sauce. You can do a pretty grim one with curry powder and mayonnaise and raisins but it's not very nice.
A really serious one was brought round for me by Julia Churchill and it disappeared so quickly and I was so dazed from 4 weeks' solid childcare that it didn't cross my mind to take a photo. And I certainly haven't had, like, four seconds to myself to re-create it. So you're just going to have to do without a snap and simply take my word, on faith, that it's out of this world. Which is it. Really fantastic.
(NB: I am going to the countryside this weekend to see next-eldest sister - who didn't drown - and she has a glut of damsons. So in order to make it up to you, I will take a lot of whimsical pictures everyone can feel all autumnal about.)
I emailed Julia for the recipe and this is what came back. I always think it's best to let people deliver recipes in their own words and these are hers.
"Finely chop an onion and cook slowly till very dark. Add in spices - quite a lot of mustard seed, black onion seed, pepper, cardomom, (spelling?), tumeric, cumin, coriander seed, fennel seed, chilli flakes (loads. I have decided quite recently that food should hurt from time to time), teaspoon of curry powder for that familiar note, tiny bit cinnamon and clove - almost not there. Cook it. Let it cool and mix it with mayonnaise and [mango] chutney and squeeze in some lemon juice if it's cloying. Salt. Chopped coriander at the end. Oooo. Was there anything else? I think that's it.
I feel kind of bad posting a recipe that leaves out what is arguably the most important ingredient, and such is the case with this gazpacho. This garden salad masquerading as a cold soup was originally a way for field hands to stretch their resources by crumbling up stale bread into a mixture of crushed tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers.
Sorry, panzanella, but I’ve never been a big fan of the whole wet bread thing. Even versions I’ve had where the crumbs where completely pureed in, weren’t as pleasing to me as all-veg versions. Besides, some culinary traditions are simply leftover from a time when people had to do it that way, you know, so they wouldn’t starve to death. I call this the rutabaga syndrome.
Happily, most of us can now survive just fine without fortifying our gazpacho with such additions. Having said that, if you grew up eating that style, I’ll assume you think I’m insane for even suggesting there’s another way to make it, as you rightfully should.
Like I said in the video, this is not even worth trying unless you’re going to use some killer, end-of-summer, super-sweet tomatoes. After a long wait, we finally have some decent ones here in San Francisco. There just isn’t any substitute, so happy hunting, and I hope you find some so you give this a try. Enjoy!
