Porridge Topping Du Semaine

Since I have set myself the challenge of coming up with a new porridge topping every week, I've been eating fruit that ordinarily I wouldn't be bothered with. I used to eat loads of fruit, and then I realised that it is so sugary as to not necessarily be that good for you. Vegetables should comprise the majority of your five-a-day, and while fruits are obviously extremely healthy and good for you, it's best not to overdose. Breakfast tends to be the only time in the day when I tuck into some fruit, apart from fueling up on bananas after a cycle or a run, so it's lovely to try fruit that I haven't had in a while, and come up with new ways of preparing it. These ways can very often be ones that I would ordinarily associate with making dessert or cooking savoury foods. Like roasting; when I was trying to figure out how to jazz up a punnet of plums, I hit on the notion of chopping them up and popping them into the oven with some cinnamon and butter for some heat and added sweetness.

Tofu Or Not Tofu, That Is The Question

In anticipation of an artery-busting choc-fest of a dessert that I will share with you soon, I thought that I should attempt to cancel out the calories contained therein with another salad recipe. That works, right? Like the way chocolate consumed on a Friday (because it's Friday) and cheese eaten on holidays (because you're on holidays) have no calories? Anyhow, there is no more surefire way to make you feel as though you deserve to engage in some hardcore calorie consumption than tucking into the Substance Of Virtue that is tofu. 

Someone's Been At The Chickpeas Again

When does an ever-so-major love of a foodstuff become something that requires you to join a support group and stop hanging out with the pals that are fellow addicts? Is there some maximum amount that I am freely allowed to blab on this blog about the amount of chickpeas that I've eaten before one of you is allowed to have me involuntarily committed to some sort of detox programme? OR - my greatest fear, revealed: have any of you twigged that I am actually a lazy wench and, though it is indeed a superior piece of protein, my extensive use of the chickpea is actually down to its super speediness, handiness and cheapyness?! Don't bother your pretty little heads answering any of those nonsensical questions - just read on for a salad that will make your morning a lovely anticipatory lead-up to tastiness and your afternoon a savouring of the wonderful (and healthy!) flavours that you devoured on your lunchbreak.

Winging It

When Couple O Loveliness, Donncha and Karen, were over for tea and what remained of my orange polenta cake, Karen happened to be sitting right beside my heaving shelf of cookbooks. She couldn't resist having a bit of a nosey - she's a woman after my own heart, a shared love of food and cooking is probably one of the many reasons why we are friends - and noticed the pretty and slightly underused Apples For Jam By Tess Kiros. They both then started to pretty much salivate as they recalled a delicious food memory involving TK's recipe for chicken wings. I was cautioned that these beauties took quite some time to cook, but the rave reviews were such that I felt I needed to cook them as a priority, and figured that they would make perfect Sunday Night Food. You know, a bit of a comfort eat-in to round off the weekend, making the most of Sunday night, fending off that Monday-is-looming feeling and treating yourself one last time before a week of smart and sensible meals. After my first foray into mountain running the next day, there could be no more fitting reward.

If Sunshine Were A Cake

I live a mere hop, skip and jump away from the Museum Of Modern Art (IMMA), yet when it came to catching the Moderns exhibition that was there since November, I managed to put it on the longest of long fingers ever, until last weekend. Just in the nick of time, as it closes on Feb 13th - so very like me to achieve something right up against a deadline, of sorts. And to be honest, I would have probably been chasing in to see it half an hour before closing time on the 13th were it not for a pal date with Donncha and Karen, a very lovely couple who are a friend from college and now architect in London, and my PhDing (something economicsy) squash buddy and French movie-going partner, respectively. A big bonus of going with these two is that Donncha has a degree in art history and peppered our tour around the exhibition with interesting stories and arty factoids. It's a fair old while since they saw my lil house, and so it was the perfect opportunity to show them the finished product. It was also an excellent excuse (as if one were needed) to whip up a tasty cake.

Fishy Friday

Apparently my Irish Catholic upbringing has impacted on me than I had realised up to this point. More specifically, the habit of eating fish on a Friday is an old one that has died hard. So much so that I barely noticed until I started this blog. This, admittedly, could be more to do with the fact that I made a new years ressie to eat more fish, and somehow, in spite of myself, I have actually managed to stick to this. My fish eating appears to be a recurring Friday compulsion. Perhaps this is because I have found myself to be in an unmerciful grump this past few Fridays, and my subconscious mind steers me in the direction of gobbling up positive omega vibes. Last Friday I had the hump for some utterly unknown reason, but since I was up early the next morning to go on a cycle I couldn't mollify myself with a nice big glass of wine, so I had to rely on food to perk things up. I was flicking through all the cookbooks on my shelves and couldn't find anything to quite hit the spot, when I remembered the Ina Garten book I had borrowed from the library and never got round to using. I have heard a great deal about this Barefoot Contessa lady, but I've yet to get in on the love. Her easy peasy baked fish really reached out to me in my grouchy feed-me-now state.

Creating Heat

Hmmm, apparently me concentrating really really hard does not make it get any warmer. Whoulda thunk, eh?!! So, just in case anyone thought that the reason it's been chilly is because I've been slacking off, actually no, I've been getting up every morning thinking that surely it has to be warmer today - but to no avail. It appears that we have to sit this one out, and be patient until things heat up out there. There is, of course, the positive angle of all those lovely warm-making clothes that you get to wear in this weather. And how, oh how, could we forget the immense warmth to be derived from stew-y type concoctions, rich in flavour and only appropriate at this time of year? The only thing about such dishes is that they tend to require a big old spell in a pot while one whiles away the time at other activities until the occasion comes to eat, generally a period of at least a couple of hours. If the timespan involved is a source of frustration to you, as it certainly is to me, then listen up because I have a dish that delivers these rich qualities in about three quarters of an hour, and the texture is such that you won't feel hard done by if you can't be bothered with a carby side offering. It's lentil and chorizo stew, a dish that offers saintliness and sinliness in one time-pressed, winter-friendly package.