Tickled pink

Whilst recipes are all fine and dandy, a large part of this blog is meant to illustrate the progressive growth and development in my meagre photographic skill.

So let this be the official starting point where I free myself from the trainer wheels of the AUTO function of my new fancy camera.  Hold on to your hat's folks I am experimenting with aperture. There is a whole new world of artsy fartsy focusing now at my beck and call.

Flouncy flamingos somehow seem the perfect backdrop to the lurid pink vibrancy of the salad. Actually they were the accidental heroes of this sunny Sunday photo shoot, but some how they capture the slight hysteria beetroot always brings to the kitchen.

Stained fingers and astringent pickling juices are not my cup of tea. So this is the route I tend to take to weave the beautiful earthy veg into the mix. I prefer not to peel the beetroot, a good soak and scrub does the job and then the raw beetroot is grated along with a carrot or two to form the base of this addictive and refreshing spring salad.

 

Beetroot salad

1 large beetroot

2 carrots

1 orange cut into dainty segments

A handful of green herbage (optional)

 

For the dressing

2 Tbs good quality white wine vinegar

100ml extra virgin olive oil

1 Tbs Dijon mustard

Sea salt and freshly ground pepper.

1.       Give the beetroot a good soak, and peel the carrots, grate coarsely and combine all of the grated goodness.

2.       Make the dressing by popping all ingredients in a jar and shaking like mad.

3.       Pour the dressing over the carrot and beetroot then artistically slot in the orange segments and sprinkle about the green herbs.

Cooking Joyfully and Beautifully

 

One of my all time favourite gadgets would have to be my mandolin slicer. Whist the actual mechanics of the device cannot be faulted it is the kooky packaging that thrills me most.

Long lost sisters perhaps?

It promises that puffed sleeves and a wealth of shaved vegetable matter could be your ticket to kitchen harmony. Look closer and you will see turnips; cabbage, radish and onions also seem to be part of the equation. Mercifully there is a word of caution to: thrust slowly with great care of your fingertips.

It may be a lethal weapon but it has broad appeal, boldly declaring it’s self to be ideal for everyone from professional cooks to housewives. Phew, glad I qualify. 

It’s a big call that food cut from the samurai blade will be both beautiful AND joyful, but being a sloppy old harridan most of the time I am prepared to give anything a go.

 I suppose you could always try this salad with a plain old knife. That being the case, chop along with one eye closed to up the zen quotient and keep the thrill of chopping off your fingers a greater possibility than normal.  

Crunchy apple salad

3 fat juicy apples apples

½ bulb of fennel

2 radishes

A handful of chopped parsley

A handful of pistachios

 Dressing

Juice and zest of one lemon

2 Tablespoons of olive oil

A decent pinch of salt, pepper, castor sugar and dill.

 

1.       Very finely slice apple radish and fennel,

2.       Combine salad dressing ingredients in a screw top jar and shake vigorously to combine.

3.       Pour dressing over sliced vegetables

4.       Moosh everything together and artistically sprinkle with parsley and nuts.

Best made close to serving.

The Fickle World of Friendship Cakes

I think it was the mid 80’s that my Mum was bequeathed a “friendship cake” from one of her work colleagues. The premise was simple, for the next 10 days the yeasty brew would have bits lovingly added so that it blossomed into a voluminous mixture that was then divided and shared so that the inherent joyful cosmic energy could be passed onto another set of friends.

I can vividly picture the bubbling mass, that after a life of neglect, finally died in the back of the fridge. Shall we just say that my mother is perhaps too practical for recipes that are written as poetry?

It was some time last year, whilst enjoying a mid week cuppa with one of my besties, Bec, that I innocently offered her some cake paraphernalia.  Her face recoiled as she stared muttering something not having time for the likes of that.  Suffice to say it wasn’t a “bloody friendship cake”  It was actually some very fine samples I was kindly giving her, but is it did prove two points.

First; I have long suspected that Bec and I swapped mothers somewhere along the way and secondly not everyone likes to phaff about with recipes whose instructions span days. However jaunty and heartfelt the idea of dividing and sharing a cake batter let’s just say that one persons batter is another person’s bitter.  

So when at age 38 I was bequeathed my own batch of “friendship cake” I embraced the opportunity of following the 10 day ritual and was rewarded with a most splendid cake.

 

A cake so fine I would love to be able to replicate it without the rigmarole of dividing and sharing. I have done some experimenting and have come up with this no nonsense version.

Mum is popping on a plane next week, Bec is over in November and for both visits I’ll be sure to have a yeasty brew doing its funky thing on the bench. There will be eyeball rolling and general despair at the fact they collectively think I spend far too much time in fairy land. But that I guess is the essence of friendship, knowing each others quirks and celebrating the difference. One thing is certain both their visits will involve a good few hours of tea, cake and gossip, because that’s what we do best; I can’t wait.

 

Minimal Phaff friendship cake

Up to 2 hours before making the cake make the yeast base

In a large bowl mix;

·         2Tbs of flour

·         1 Tbs sugar

·         1 heaped teaspoon yeast

·         ¼ cup water

Let it bubble away and do its thing – remember you are condensing 10 days in to 2 hours – so be cool, 2 hours isn’t long.

Preheat oven to 180c, line and grease a deep sided 22cm cake pan.

Into the yeasty brew add

·         2 cups self raising flour

·         1 cup sugar

·         2/3 cup olive oil

·         2 eggs

·         2 tsp vanilla essence

·         2 cooking apples cut into chunks

·         ½ cup dried apricots finely sliced

·         ¼ cup chopped nuts

·         2 heaped teaspoons cinnamon

·         1 teaspoon ground cloves

 

Mix well then place into prepared tin, scatter with

·         ¼ cup crumbly brown sugar

·         dot with tiny blobs of butter

 

Bake for 45 mins. It should puff up magnificently and create a wonderful appley waft throughout the house. Cover with alfoil and cook for an additional 20 mins to ensure cake is thoroughly cooked.

Best served with and a cuppa and a gossip with your best friend.