In Which I Finally Learn To Spell Broccoli

Grown-upness comes upon me in stealthy little ways. One minute I'm writing a grocery list and the next minute I realise I spelled broccoli properly without thinking or wondering or doubting or googling. Now, I have no idea if the fact that I only noticed that Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Every Day was an entirely vegetarian cookbook after two months of owning it is another sign of me being so grown-up that I don't panic if I eat a few meat-free meals (tenuous and dubious, I know, but it's January, I'm not going to be too hard on myself). Or maybe just me being a bit dim. I was wondering if there might be something interesting that I could do with lamb chops and I was having a good look through the index at the back when I noticed that there was no lamb in there at all. And then it slowly dawned on me that there wasn't a morsel of meat or fish to be had in the whole book. Ahem. Well, we can take that as a testament to the deliciousness of the healthy recipes in it, can't we?! That is definitely the conclusion we all should be drawing from that. Since I didn't find any lamb recipes in there, I figured that I would just keep it simple with my lamb chops and serve them up alongside a tasty salad. This Broccoli Gribbiche is an excellent example of why I never noticed the absence of meat from this cookbook: it's a delicious, substantial, filling and satisfying dish that will work equally well as a meal in its own right or a side dish to substantiate your particular choice of animal protein. From what I can tell, the book hasn't been published here yet, as you can't buy it from any European websites. I picked it up in New York, but if you're not looking to add to your cookbook collection you can get a taste of Heidi on her website 101 Cookbooks. 

Going Pear Shaped

When I was compiling a list of pressie requests to pass on to my Kris Kindel this year, I faced the not-so-easy task of whittling the many cookbooks on my wishlist down to a more reasonable and less demanding one or two. I had been eyeing up Allegra McEvedy's Bought, Borrowed & Stolen ever since I read a review of it when it was first published, being, as I am, a huge fan of her wonderful, user-friendly Leon cookbook. BB&S is a really beautiful book to have on your shelves, more than simply a reference for recipes, but a chronicle of the celebrated chef's travels through the medium, not only of the food she ate, but also the knives that she bought in a variety of locations. I have found myself sitting down with this book on many occasions to pick some recipes to try out, and became diverted, each time, by her stories about the parts of the world she has visited and worked and lived in, as well as the snappy little fact files about each one. The reason why this book made the final cut was, apart from its aesthetic superiority, because the recipes encompass a breadth of cultures, mealtimes and occasions that make it extremely useable. Featuring slightly more unusual gastronomic destinations such as Malawi and Burma, as well as old reliables like Italy and the USA, the recipes range in difficulty and convenience so that you'll find something in there that will make a tasty, handy lunch for one, and also other dishes that you can show off with when you have friends over for dinner. Something that I find particularly attractive is that you can choose any of the chapters and in it put together a meal that will encompass a complementary starter, main course and dessert, something that I frequently struggle to coordinate. I had invited a friend over for brunch one morning for a bit of a catch-up, and chose the Panquecas de Queijo (sweet goats' cheese pancakes) from Brazil as something that is tasty, uncomplicated, hits a few foodgroups and doesn't take a year and a day to make. As I was heading out for my morning run, however, she texted to say that she was just in from her night out. Love it; not that I can do it so much myself anymore, but fair play to her for not being one of those annoying people who moans on about how it's January and they just can't do anything except inhale steamed vegetables and basically act entirely contrary to their nature for the month. I set out for my ten mile run and made this when I came back. Not an indulgence of the out-all-night variety, but as I am now in training for marathon number two I am in virtuous mode, so this may be as exciting as it gets for me for the foreseeable future.

Newsflash: Potatoes Are Not Actually The Devil

I heard the expression 'no carbs before Marbs' the other day and I nearly had a meltdown with the laughter, possibly pulling a stomach muscle, and hopefully fitting in some accidental, unintentional abdominal exercise in there as well. Apparently it's from some Only Way Is Essex fitness dvd and, to enlighten the bewildered among you, means 'no carbohydrates before Marbella', i.e. deny yourself delicious things like bread and pasta for a bit and you will be a confident, flat-stomached (if starving and cranky) creature by the time you hit the beach in Spain. Now, I know that this is January, traditionally the month of penury and self discipline. I know that we all tucked into the cheese and the Celebrations with wanton abandon there for a month, in between pickling our livers with wine and beer and eating leftovers from dinner the day before in between two heavily buttered slices of bread as a mid-morning snack. And I know that there are very few of us who aren't a little pale and wobbly after the excesses of the season, slightly disgusted with ourselves and determined to reform our unhealthy ways. But come on, now, lets have a little perspective, please. Lets be nice to ourselves. It's not the cheeriest of months, after all, and, personally speaking, there is nothing more likely to make me miserable than to have to deny myself food of any sort, not to mention an entire category of food. That silly Atkins diet business really gave some perfectly tasty and nutritious foods a bad name. Take the lovely spud, for example. Sure, if you smother it in butter and salt it's not exactly health food, but with a little less embellishment, it is full of extremely admirable qualities, in particular vitamins C, B6 and potassium. Now, would you put down that ridiculous exercise dvd, get yourself out for a big old walk in that lovely mild weather we're having and then reward yourself with this delicious potato soup when you get home.

A January Food Hug

I have been verrrrrrry neglectful of my blog in recent months, which has made me realise why I enjoy it so; obviously I love to write, and this gives me a focus and an outlet; it makes me branch out a little more with my cooking; it means that I entertain more. So, here I am, back to my extensive-eating ways, full of good intentions for 2012. And what better way to get stuck right back in than by sharing some January-friendly food from one of my lovely Christmas present cookbooks? I have been coveting Lilly Higgins' lovely baking book, Make, Bake, Love, for quite a while, but when it first came out couldn't justify buying it - even for the usual myriad reasons that I use to justify buying cookbooks. I flicked through it on numerous occasions, my greedy beady eyes looking at the recipes and each time finding one that I could slot into a specific feeding point in my future. Not enough to justify spending the money or adding to my collection at that particular time, however. Oh but not until Christmas, that is - the season of justifying pretty much anything. Brillo. Down on the list it went for my Kris Kindle and when I found it in my pile of goodies on December 25th I was overjoyed. It really is pretty much the perfect baking book. It covers all bases; cakes for special occasions, cakes that you can have in the house for a few days to offer with tea to any guests, treats you can bring in to work, dessert-y bakes for when you have friends over for dins, small bakes like scones and buns, healthier bits, inexpensive goodies...you get the picture. Also, the design is pretty without being cloying, and the writing is whimsical without being irritating. You can get it on the Gill & Macmillan website for only €15.99. 

Make. This. NOW!

Up until this point I would definitely have said that I love Mexican food, but I would not have known how very limited my experience of Mexican food actually was. My experiences of the genre until very recently would have leaned more in the direction of the watered-dow Tex-Mex type of dishes that have adapted/travelled from that country to many, many others around the world. All, in themselves, decent representations of that particular food culture, but offerings really don't do it justice, not when you begin to delve a little further into a rich and frequently healthy food tradition. Thomasina Miers was the first winner of British Masterchef, and a spell in Mexico fostered a great love and enthusiasm for Mexican food. Her restaurant, Wahaca, brings the joys of Mexican market food to London, and her bright, inviting book Mexican Food Made Simple was a little present from me to me on a recent mooch through TK Maxx. And, guess what? It features recipes using ingredients other than minced beef and tortillas! I KNOW - crazy!!!!! From soups to sweets, it has a ton of fruit n veg-loaded delights inside. But, of course, the first recipe that my greedy little eyes zoned in on was probably the least healthy one in the book. A no-hassle, Sunday night plate of perfection that uses black pudding in the way that you might ordinarily use minced beef - a new one to me, and a meaty revelation. Black pudding polenta is a flavoursome comfort food that won't be making it into the Weight Watchers cook book any time soon, but once you taste it you really won't give a fiddlers.

An Egg Dish: Too Many Cheesy Puns, Frankly

Cooking a good curry fills me with glee. Ever since the very first time I made a curry - which, if I recall quite correctly, was Jamie Oliver's Thai green chicken curry back in autumn 2004 - I have not failed to amaze and delight myself with the ability to create from scratch something that I used to only get occasionally from a take away. Something else that I really love: buying a food magazine and settling down to tuck into the lovely mix of bits and pieces on offer. You get a generous fraction of the recipes that you would get in a cookbook at a very justifiable fraction of the price. There is also a lovely, life-friendly mix of types of recipes. In most good quality food magazines there will be a variety that offers speedy dinners, nice lunches, a bit of baking; perfect for a lil foodie fix, particularly as the seasons change and the contents adapt accordingly. Delicious magazine is a firm favourite of mine. It's not as glam and fancy as Donna Hay or Jamie mag, but it really doesn't need any of that suave business, it's a warm, friendly publication, jam-packed with reliable, normal person-friendly recipes. And you can't always say that about cookbooks, can you? I know that you can get tons of great recipes online, but really nothing compares to sitting down with a magazine, or pulling it off the bookshelf if you fancy some inspiration. I generally cook a few recipes from issue, and among the ones that I tried from the September issue was sambal telur. But just so we can use our brains for cooking the dish and not trying to remember the name of it, lets just call it egg curry. I know, I know - stinkus maximus. But seriously worth it if you can convince your co-diners that if you're all honking you'll cancel each other out. And I totally promise that if it is a bit whiffy...well I certainly didn't notice, such was the extreme tastiness.

Chill-Busting Chilli

I do like chilli, I really do, but it lacks adventurousness and, while not particularly unhealthy, doesn't really pack much of a punch in the nutrition stakes. Don't get me wrong, I'll never turn down a big steaming bowl of chili, but when picking something of a hearty, inexpensive nature to cook, it tends to get sidelined by other dishes that have a little more, well, personality. This vegetarian version, on the other hand, I feel will become a regular fixture in my eating schedule, and one I'll turn to again and again in the winter months when I need nutritious warming up from the inside on the cheap. It is absolutely rammed with health-givingness, thanks to an abundance of pulses and veggies. It isn't invaded by any (relatively) sneaky, treaty ingredients like cream or cheese - though obviously it is entirely possible to make these additions if you so wish. For me, it's the loveliest kind of healthy food, that which leaves you feeling neither cheated nor empty, but, rather, full and satisfied and not wanting of any further addition or embellishment. It's from the kitchen of one Gwyneth Paltrow, a recipe she conceived to feed her vegetarian daughter. The recipe says that it serves four. I put away the lot within 24 hours, initially scoffing it down with basmati rice after a cycle, and then I finished it off the following day in a pitta to quell the devious hunger brought on by wedding celebrations the night before. A more ladylike and decorous appetite than mine should find that it will serve up four to six portions. This is definitely one for the athletes among you: it does that essential task of refueling after a training session and allowing the option of further portions in a healthy manner, significantly reducing the urge to tell yourself that you have earned the right to recompense your body's efforts with empty calories.

Ode To Sponge Bob

So, apparently myself and Moses Paltrow have something in common: we were both curious as to precisely what Sponge Bob and his Bikini Bottom-residing pals are ingesting when they tuck into a krabby pattie. Until Gwyneth (literally) stepped up to the plate and solved that great mystery. See, Moses was actually willing to admit that he didn't know, and came straight out and asked the question. Me, I just sat there on the sofa for years acting like I totally knew what krabbie patties are, sneaking sidelong glances at my nephews to discern if they didn't know either so I wouldn't look like a moron if I asked. So, thanks for that, Moses. Mystery solved in his mommy's cookbook. Not that it's the world's most mysterious mystery - they are very simple crab cake burgers, and the Gwynster serves them up with a little something she calls spicy remoulade: it's amazing. While crab cake burgers are speedy and easy and tasty, this rather special condiment requires a little more time, but it will make you immensely happy and really must feature in further adventures in seafood-eating. 

Feel The Beet

It is oft lamented that those who say they hate beets do so on the basis of the dodgy vinegary stuff that our mothers sliced onto salad plates in the 80s. That was definitely not its finest hour, but proponents of the knobbledy red super-staining power veg have made valiant efforts in recent years to showcase its beauty beyond that tongue-stinging incarnation. Beetroot seems to be one of these superfoods that is continually cropping up in those "OMG ten foods that will TOTALLY make you beautiful/skinny/smart/live to a million/generally amazing" features. Beetroot juice has become something of a trendy food fad among athletes in recent years, as studies have found it to boost athletic performance. Honestly, yes it is pretty crammed with quite a quantity of vitamins - A, C, loads of the B ones...I won't go on, in case the other vegetables start to hate it and pick on it for being too perfect. But above and beyond all the virtuous goody two-shoes vitamin action, it is a delicious vegetable, and one that is definitely worthy of a second chance from anyone who harbours the scars of childhood beetroot trauma.

Use Your Loaf

Yup, they just keep on coming; the courgettes are still popping up outside, and after a bout of courgette fatigue I just had to take a break. But of course, when I ventured back in amid those large coarse leaves there were tons of little green marrow curving out hopefully in defiance of gravity, anxious to be picked and eaten before they turn into watery oversized marrow fit only for the compost heap. I decided to turn my hand to a sweet creation, having heard a bit about courgette cake here and there. I wasn't looking to create a fancy tiered-and-frosted affair, just something in a loaf tin that I could hack ginormous doorsteps off to eat with coffee in the morning. And the afternoon. And when people call in for coffee. And any other time I might be in the mood for it, really. I found a recipe to fit the bill in the Tess Kiros book Apples For Jam, a very pretty, nostalgic sort of book with recipes inspired by her childhood favourites, as well as what she cooks for her own family, and chapters divided up on the basis of the colour of the food. A tad quirky, perhaps - but then I never necessarily search for a recipe in a book on the basis of a title of a particular chapter; I would generally mark out a few after leafing through the whole book, or look for specific ingredients in the index at the back. This recipe is a nice simple, straightforward one, requiring minimal, if any, grocery shopping. I popped it in the oven right before I had my brekkie, it was in the oven just long enough to eat and get a few things done, and out just in time for a mid-morning coffee break.

Easy Peasy

I refuse to make any apologies for the extreme cheesiness (mmmm, cheese) of the above, but it very neatly sums up what this post is all about: an easy dish that is full of peas. Keeping up with me, now? Good. On the basis of my most recent blog posts you would be forgiven for thinking that I live on some sort of courgette farm; incorrect: I live in a small mid-terrace house with a garden that is busting out with veggies. Thing is, they are not all quite as high-maintenance as that oh-so-prolific marrow, and so they don't really get so much of a look in when I'm burying myself in cookbooks looking for something new to conjure up in the kitchen. So, before my peas come and go with ne'er a mention, here is a small tribute to that little round sweet nutritious veggie. My sources (various internet pages that look vaguely reputable) tell me that they are full of calcium and folic acid, as well as vitamins A and K. I am quite sure that they have plenty other wonderful things in them, but they are bright green and that is good enough for me. I had it in my head that peas are a difficult sort of veggie to grow, but I was just being veggie-ist; just because they grow differently to other vegetables does not mean that they are more trouble than they're worth. You just need to get some bamboo and pop out every now and then to tie your shoots to the sticks as they grow. And there is such a prettiness about the delicate, spindly green bits that bind themselves to anything they can cling to. The only downside that I would see in growing peas is that the pods can be difficult to spot amid the leaves, so occasionally you get a sad, withered, inedible old one that got left behind. Apart from that, they are a joy to grow, to cook and to eat. They are so very tasty that I never do anything madly exciting with them; I just cook them and land them on the plate - they cropped up alongside fishcakes on more than one occasion over the summer months. Anyhow, with my last blast of peasies I thought I should make more of an effort - not too much effort, mind, can't be having that. I took one look at this simple pea and prosciutto spaghetti recipe from Sophie Grigson's Vegetable Bible and I could practically cook it there and then without the book. Not quite, but...oh you get what I mean. EASY.

Inspiration From Any Source Always Welcome

I spend money on cookbooks and time trawling through them; I fritter away hours online finding new food blogs and bookmarking recipes; I agonise over whether to buy cookery magazines and stand for torturous lengths of time in front of newsstands deliberating, when I know they'll end up coming home with me anyhow. And then I go and use a bread recipe that I find on the back of a packet of impulse-purchased flour. Yes, my idea of an impulse buy is a packet of flour, I know, I'm a bit wild like that. Listen smartarses, if all Celtic Tiger-era impulse purchases were along these lines the national debt levels would be significantly lower, so lets see me as an example and not an object of ridicule, ok?! 

Things I Love

The things I love, that make me happy, are so very humdrum and mundane that it makes life quite simple, really. None of them require vast amounts of money or long-haul flights. Well - my yearning for some consistent sunshine could be remedied by both of those, but it doesn't do to dwell too much on the weather these days. Instead I like to distract myself with the more minor content-making things in life: food blogs; recipes that only require me to buy a couple of things in the shop (or even, though a rare treat, those that don't even require me to leave the house); curry; meals that are a total treat but still manage to stash a load of veggies in there too. So when I found a new blog to love and drool over - The Spice Spoon - featuring a curry that required only a few purchases that featured lovely fresh tomatoes (er, lets conveniently overlook the whole large quantity of oil thing, ok), well I was just about made up. Making curry from scratch always makes me marvel at how some spices and some veggies and sometimes a little meat come together in a seemingly simple way and then BOOM you have a totally exotic dish, a flavour that seems so very very far away from the simple few things you started out with. And you don't have to buy a jar with a load of numbers in the ingredients list or pick up the phone and call someone who is more than a walk away and sit there wondering when it'll eventually get to you and hoping that it will still be nice and hot. Just stock up well on spices and it's right there in your kitchen. And for Murghi ka Saalan - though maybe we should just stick to calling it chicken in the Pakistani manner - all you need in your eastern arsenal is turmeric, chilli powder and cardamom pods, so if you don't already have them you won't exactly have to get yourself in the red building up your spice collection.

Fried Courgette Spaghetti - Need I Say More?

The words 'comfort food' are bandied about a lot. We all love it, we all crave it at certain points, and we all have our own particular version of it. Common traits include a high level of stodginess, created by substantial quantities of carbs and creamy dairy, and the absence of anything remotely healthy. Pasta, and, indeed, Italian food in general, is perfect comfort food, containing as it does all of these elements and still comprising an entirely legitimate meal (unlike, say, super noodles, tayto sandwiches or rice pudding), and though it can often be healthified by upping the veggie content and laying off the butter, it can similarly be dehealthified by lashing in the cream, parmesan and salt. This little beauty of a dish goes one step further and requires frying the only vegetable that goes into it. And, much as I love courgettes, they aren't exactly a powerhouse of hardcore vitamin action  - though, as someone pointed out to me, fried courgettes are considerably less unhealthy than, say, fried chorizo. For all of you who think that G Paltrow is a po-faced health freak, then in your faces mofos because this stodgefest is from her book Notes From My Kitchen Table. It's speedy, it's inexpensive, it's a good refueller if you've been out exercising, it's perfect for curling up with a big bowl of and getting lost in a book, it provides all kinds of warmth when the unseasonal August weather leaves you damp and cold to the core - it's one of those dishes that's like an old pal you can always rely on to make you feel better when you need a pick-me-up. Not a crazy-night-out sort of upliftingness, but more the heartwarmingly cheery by-the-fire variety.

Soup That Sates My Appetite

I feel like I'm very generously letting you all in on a secret and improving your lives immeasurably by posting this recipe. It astounded me a little, I must admit. I love a tasty soup as much as the next person, but it's never the whole deal for me; if it's not a precursor to something more substantial, or served up with something substantial (i.e. definitely not salad) then I become quite alarmed in anticipation of that sensation of really just not being full enough and having to source alternative means of sustenance. Yes, I am rather neurotic, and yes, it is exhausting being me sometimes. But on occasion there are some things that take me by surprise and distract me away from my indulgent, endless over-thinking of the various mundanities that make up my life. And, believe it or not, this soup was one of them. My quest to make the most of the courgettes in my garden while they are still small and sweet and full of flavour started out as something that I felt involved more effort than I am ever in the mood for on a daily basis. I have now grown to really love some of the recipes that I have tried out, as well as appreciating the nice speedy ones. This soup is bound to become such a staple in my home that I may even stretch to *gasp* actually  buying courgettes when the garden supply dries up. And, possibly an even more shocking whodathunk it turn of events: I ate this for dinner and finished feeling full and complete. There wasn't even any bread involved. I have always wondered what is wrong with those people who eat soup for dinner; it's even more suspicious behaviour than soup for lunch, in my book. Well I may have joined their ranks. This recipe comes from the same handy feature in Jamie magazine where I also got the recipe for courgette fritters.

Frittering Away

...hours in the kitchen, hours in the garden, hours online...there is no end to the frittering away of time in my household, also referred to variously as pottering, moseying and real life avoidance. For the purposes of this post, all frittering is confined to the pan, as the marrow with the mostest gets the fritter treatment. My travels on the path to courgette nirvana led me to back issues of Jamie magazine (the June 2010 issue, to be precise), where I found a two page feature focusing on the little green wonder - a very handy piece it is too, and I predict that it will become splashed and splattered to the point of illegibility as I messily make my way through the quick and simple recipes. This little beauty is the summer veggie version of a fishcake; a tasty little patty that uses up bits and bobs around the kitchen, something that can be tinkered with according to what's on offer and what you're in the mood for, and can be paired up with just about any sort of side dish that you can cobble together, whether you need to up your veggie quotient for the day with some colourful healthy bits, or you feel like being a bit of a boldie and tucking into a plate of big fat chips.

Get Fresh

Hello everyone, I am here to report from the trenches of smugness, where one grows one's own vegetables and beams with the good life-y-ness of it all, trilling "you can do it too, it's SOOOOOOO easy". Sorry about that. But honestly, courgettes really do pretty much just grow themselves. One minute you're shoving this seed into the middle of a bit of potting compost and then the next you're wondering how many courgette recipes actually exist in the world and if this will be in fact enough to absorb the supply of courgettes springing up in your very modestly-sized garden. Along with the zucca, another couple of my garden efforts that have turned out to be bountiful are mint (no surprise there, it's well known for making its presence felt in a garden) and rocket. There is a quote on the front of Sophie Grigson's The Vegetable Bible that says it's "Perfect for veg box users". I would also contend that it's quite the bible for veggie growers as well. If your recipe repertoire is feeling a little jaded, then you can just look up recipes by the veggie to add interest to your haul of crops. What I really loved about this Moroccan-style courgette salad was that it epitomised a few of the reasons why I love having to go no further than your own back garden for some fresh vegetables. Firstly, I obviously tried a new recipe, and I like to pull myself out of my fairly unexciting cycle of old reliables. Secondly, people don't really grow their own vegetables because it's cheaper than buying them in the supermarket. Seeds are not cheap, and it is considerably less expensive and time-consuming to go and buy them in the supermarket (courgettes are currently going for €1 in my local Superquinn). But where I find the saving to be made is when you find yourself with a core ingredient or two from the veggie patch, you rummage around in the cupboards for something to bulk it/them up, make it all more interesting with some spices and there you have cut out a trip to the supermarket that may have started out just with the intention of buying that €1 courgette but ended up with minor change from a €20 note after a few more things caught your eye. Finally, it's also a good chance to combine a simple vegetable with bits and pieces in the bottoms of packets that may have otherwise ended up in the bin, and it's always desirable to avoid food waste. Smug? Me? Well...

Flavour On The Go

I often get in quite late of an evening, and so walk a skinny little tightrope between wanting to eat as soon as possible, but also wanting to eat something tasty. My default speedy meal is mushrooms on toast with an egg on top, and then there's good old stir fry prawns, but both dishes have exhausted their charms at this stage. I'm always on the lookout for something I can cook up in a jiffy, something that packs a flavoursome punch and doesn't leave me feeling as though I'm doomed to evenings full of bland dinners as an unfair punishment for my annoying schedule. So the description of this black pepper tofu dish in the Ottolenghi cookbook Plenty as something that is comparable to a dish from a top Chinese restaurant reeled me in immediately. There is a fair whack of oil and butter going on here, but I think that this is balanced out somewhat by the lack of meat. The black pepper, in such a quantity, was a revelation; I was quite dubious as to its potential as a spice, but it hit it off with the red chillies to add quite a distinctive fiery flavour. And yes, I would most certainly be very happy to part with cash for this at a good Chinese restaurant, but I am delighted to not have to.

Gardener's Delight

What grow-your-own-ers don't always confess is that sometimes you are left with a glut of fruit and veggies that you actually just can't eat. I find this to be particularly true in the case of courgettes, which spring up in an almost cartoonish manner; you can practically hear animated popping sounds out in the garden as you pull back leaves to uncover yet another perfect little green specimen. The trick is to pick them while they're still small and sweet; rest on your laurels and the fruits of your labour will burst out of control and transform into increasingly grotesque oversized marrows. It's a sight that fills me with dismay, because the larger they become the more watery and less flavoursome they are, and I always feel so very wasteful turfing the product of a good six months of planting and growing and watering into the compost bin. What impedes my diligence is generally a lack of recipes and imagination that does not tally with this surfeit of zucca. This year I have vowed not to let any of my carefully-grown produce fall foul of such laziness and end up rotting among the eggshells and the juiced-out lemons. I have been rooting out recipes to beat the band, so you can expect to be bombarded with courgetteful postings on this blog over the next couple of months. But to start out with, I celebrated the first courgettes of the season using a recipe that I discovered and perfected during the summer months last year, one that used not one but two of my homegrown veggies: Antonio Carluccios's pasta with courgette sauce and spinach balls (from Simple Cooking), an old favourite in the Carluccio restaurant chain that appears as penne giardiniera on the menu. 

Infinite Eating

Nothing says Sunday to me quite like sitting around eating and talking and eating and drinking coffee and eating. The argument could quite easily be made that this is a fair approximation of my life as it currently stands seven days a week, but I will dignifiededly (it's Friday, I'm allowed to make up new words, ok) ignore such jibes and soldier on with my all-inclusive greed. Brunch means second and third helpings of sweet and savoury courses, as well as sides. And somehow, I mysteriously still always manage to always be ready for dinner only a couple of hours later. Anyhow, the crucial thing with Sunday brunch, for me, is that it is low maintenance and fuss-free, in keeping with the chilled-outness of the day that's in it. Another reason I was drawn to Gwyneth Paltrow's new cookbook (*threatening look in the direction of dissenters*) was the chapter on breakfast, which doesn't always get the attention it deserves as a meal in cookbooks. And, joy of joys, Signe Johansen's Scandilicious, another book from my birthday voucher binge on Amazon, has chapters on both breakfast and brunch. I don't look for a Blumenthal-esque tastebud-busting culinary statement in my brunch dishes, just something flavoursome and satisfying and a teeny tiny bit different to my usual efforts and offerings. So, while I'm ordinarily not wild about smoothies (I'm inclined to find them high on sugar and fat and low on anything that I ever feel I need more of in my diet), Signe's recipes are really enticing because they each have a little bit of a twist - the raspberry, vanilla and ginger smoothie caught my attention because I wanted to try out the spicy heat of the ginger with the fruity dairyness of the rest of it. To follow, Gwyneth's slow-roasted tomato, basil and mozzarella frittata and then her french toast, made with brioche. And, not only was this a low-stress operation, but when I did the grocery shopping it all came in under €20, which, for that amount of food for three people, is considerably less than what you would pay if you were eating out.