Eat your greens

I sometimes can't remember whether Greyson is a dog or a child. We seem to have got a bit confused lately as for some reason we've been trying to give him more vegetables. I'm not quite sure why.
It does feel strange as a vegetarian to be feeding him tins of scraps of old dead animals off the cutting room floor but more vegetables with said animal product doesn't make it fully better.

I have been researching about how to make nutritionally complete vegetarian dog food for him but it takes a lot of time and effort. I put in an order for the ingredients but then left them in the car at my Granny's.

Anyway. More vegetables. I wouldn't say they're his favourite yet. Louis added spinach the other day to his bowl and he just ate the tinned food around it.


 

You've just really got to mix them well so he doesn't notice. I stuck my hands in and massaged some kale  so throughly with tinned chicken that he gobbled up the whole thing.

Easter rising

Mum asked what I thought she should make for Easter this year.
Louis and I distinctly remember her making a pie last year which had whole eggs baked inside.

She didn't remember and seemed to think the recipe I found a lot of effort.

"How many eggs?" "12". "That's a lot!"  "One for each Apostle. Oh and it's got 33 layers of pastry. One for each year of Christ's life." APPARENTLY the symbolism of the different elements in the pie give it as many layers of Easter significance as there are layers of dough in the crust.

Mum doesn't believe in Christ or my instructions it seems as she only used five eggs and one layer of bought puff pastry. And served it with cous cous..

Here's the basic recipe.

Filling : combine cooked diced onion, cooked spinach once you've made a bit less wet, Parmesan ricotta cheese, 3 eggs mixed in to the mixture. 

Put in pot lined with 12 layers pastry. Make little wells for the 12 eggs.

Put pastry lid on and cook.

Haunted house

I have such lovely memories of cooking for the collected friends at Cranston. When Alex and Tom's birthdays came along I thought it was time to fire up the oven again.

I realised when I was baking Alex and Tom's cake that the kitchen in my flat at Kemp house is spookily similar to the Cranston Estate one. Maybe that explains why I still make so many cooking mistakes. I'M HAUNTED.

The wooden spoon suddenly spun out of my control and tipped chocolate batter all over me. Then the ghost did something to my Lindt chocolate so it didn't quite make enough ganache. WELL if I can outwit anyone, it's a ghost of my own imagination. I ground down two penguin bars in the pestle and mortar, and melted a Freddo and an After Eight mint in with them. Mmm. I like a bit of texture to a ganache.



I popped the cakes in the oven and raised an eyebrow at the chocolate splattered gloss laminate work surfaces. I thought I'd quickly wash the large knife with my fingers. And I cut my knuckle. Lucky I'd already packaged the cake up in a tin.

"Noooo" Louis said, "You've put the cake in the tin I was just cooking Greyson's lamb chop in!" Oh. Whoops*. 




*(it was wrapped in baking paper by the way don't worry, no meat or blood in this cake). 

Spice up your life

Louis and I have been doing art class at the Shadwell Ideas store every Tuesday evening with a pre session South Korean restaurant conveniently close.

We've been getting spicier each week and for the first time ever I experienced the sour burn of acid reflux! I quite enjoyed having a new experience - especially after having read so much about it when studying medicine. Hope I don't get it too often and develop squamous cell carcinoma in my oesophagus.

Although I strongly do not believe health professionals should be unhealthy, or as I call them HYPOCRITE PROFESSIONALS, my need for that is being tested right now with the rising trend of kimchi! I've had said acid reflux three times in a row now. The novelty is wearing off... 


Here's a recipe still . 

Slice and salt a cabbage. Cover it with water for hours then drain. Make a paste of garlic, ginger and sugar and chilli flakes and massage into the cabbage and also some sliced radish and onions. Pack into a jar and keep forever. 

Straight laced

When I was doing medicine and could control nothing around me I got a little power mad in a really small domain.

No eating disorders, self harm or OCD for me, I really enjoyed getting other people tying my shoe laces for me.

I remember one exciting week I had three people do it and I planned to add more to my collection. I thought it was going to become my secret thrill like some people have spy holes or midnight binging.

At one point I was discovered. I got Helena to do it for me on the walk into Uni. She told me she knew what I was up to but I stood my ground and kept my hands full of bags and my eyes full of smug pleading.

I learnt from watching other people tie my Tims that the tying shoe laces method seems to be quite individual to people. Unless it's me that's doing it all wrong. Which is quite likely. But if it IS based on personal preference then that's quite similar to ones individual method for applying jam and cream to scones, or how to test when spaghetti is done (ceiling or taste).

Another thing that's quite personal is chilli seasoning. Louis has started going to niche chilli shops and keeping bottles on the table. I didn't used to have any at all but I must have got more advanced under his tutelage because I didn't think anything of the curry he made for us and my Dad not too long ago.

Dad couldn't eat it it was so hot and had to have a specially made scrambled egg on toast! Unless that was a trick and his control domain is making people cook special meals for him....

A breeding ground for trouble

Recently I made pizza for dinner. Working from home that day I could start it in my lunch break and leave it to rise and prove and hang out for about four hours under a tea towel at each stage. I felt like a New York pizza man. 

We had a good meal with potato and Rosemary toppings and a Parmesan and rocket and then I thought nothing more of it. 

That is until I went to put out my latest batch of washing. Bits of my pizza dough had stuck around. 

How odd. I don't remember Louis getting any dough on his pants. Or on his jumper. Or tee shirts. 

Ohh I realised I'd I flung the tea towel I'd wrapped the raw dough with into the washing machine and there must have been a scrap on which had thrived in the wet and wild of the machine. 

Hmm quite hard to get off. Maybe I'll just have to tell Louis he's got a yeast infection.... 

Post-tato depression

Louis and I are adopting Grayson, an Italian Greyhound and the imminent adoption day has made me feel quite overwhelmed. 

What if I trip over him? What if Sager and Wilde still refuse to let him eat in the restaurant with us? What if he thinks I'm a bad mother?

I was walking along the road yesterday and I thought "if I just walk into this traffic he won't have to be looked after by me." And when I woke up this morning I thought, "if I just snap ALL our thin legs then we can all just stay at home healing together and I don't have to organise a dog walker.."

Luckily Louis soothed me and reminded me that peri natal depression can be quite common in new mothers and now I feel much better.

I was eating leftover scandi potato, dill and cod pie for lunch at work today when I thought "what's Grayson's little leg doing in my mouth?" I felt it out with my tongue. Yes. Long. Thin. Quite hard. I didn't snap it off in my sleep did I? I fished it out. Oh a massive fish bone!  Phew.

It made me remember that looking after him is going to be just as delicious as the meal I was eating leftovers from. 

We had it with mushrooms baked in cream and parmesan, leeks the same, and kale not cooked but wilted with white wine vinegar, dijon mustard and olive oil dressing.