Black garlic chocolate mousse

If I was the sort of person who did things by the book, I’d be planting my garlic today. But after the failure of last year’s crop – I’ll never know if it was too much rain at the wrong time, the wrong sort of compost, or just bad luck – I’m a bit reluctant. Serves me right for being so smug and getting it in on time last year, I suppose. Traditional garden lore says it should be planted on the Shortest Day, but apparently it can be planted any time from May until the end of July. That’s especially useful information for people like me, who don’t fancy going out in the dark tonight to get the job done.

In the meantime, I’m indulging in some extremely moreish black garlic grown and cured in Marlborough. Black garlic, or ‘garlic noir’ as it’s sometimes called, is fermented for a month to create a kind of super garlic that has double the antioxidants of the ordinary stuff. The fermentation process also changes the texture and flavour profile – black garlic is soft and almost chewy, with a sweet and smoky flavour that reminds me of molasses or fresh dates. It’s extremely moreish and I often find I have eaten a couple of cloves while slicing it up for something else.

 The clever people who make it at Marlborough Garlic suggest using it as part of an antipasto platter, but I’ve also been adding it to vinaigrettes, or adding it as a last-minute flavour boost to risotto, as it doesn't need to be cooked. They also suggest dipping in in dark chocolate, which I was unsure about until a recent lunch at the sublime Wharekauhau Lodge where pastry chef Yannick Beaurienne devised a gorgeous black garlic chocolate mousse with kumara and pear brunoise, kumara ice cream and garlic caramel, as seen below.

Yannick's version was beautiful, elegant (and extremely labour-intensive). Here’s my much-simplified version for the home cook.

Black garlic chocolate mousse with black garlic toffee
Don’t be afraid – the black garlic just deepens and enriches the chocolate flavours. This was a huge hit in my household, to the point that there was barely any left to photograph.

For the mousse:
200g dark chocolate
2 cloves black garlic (about 8g)
400ml cream
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

For the black garlic toffee:
3-4 cloves black garlic, finely sliced
4 Tbsp caster sugar
20ml (4 tsp) water

A little extra cream, for drizzling

Break the chocolate into pieces and put into a heatproof bowl. Put half the cream into a small pot and heat to nearly boiling point. Pour over the chocolate and set aside for five minutes.
Mash the garlic to a paste and stir through the chocolate and cream until the mixture is smooth.
Whip the cream and vanilla to soft peaks. Fold through the cooled chocolate mixture,  then pour into a large bowl or divide between six small serving dishes (I use Great Aunt Shirley’s whisky glasses). Cover and put in the fridge to set for at least two hours.

For the toffee, spread the sliced garlic on a piece of non-stick foil or baking paper. Put the sugar and water in a small pot and set over medium heat. Stir to dissolve the sugar, then let it bubble away for five to 10 minutes, until it turns a dark golden colour (don’t wander off, this will happen sooner than you think!) Pour the toffee over the garlic and leave to set.

To serve, remove the mousses from the fridge at least 20 minutes before serving. Break the toffee into pieces and use to decorate each one. Drizzle a little cream over the top and serve.

Are you planting garlic this winter? Do you have any top tips for failed growers?

Lemon verbena syrup + an elegant fruit salad

Four years ago, not long after my mother died, someone I didn't know very well left a lemon verbena tree on our doorstep. I found this gesture incredibly touching and kind, not least because my parents' garden had a huge lemon verbena tree and Mum often made tea from the leaves. I'm not sure if I ever properly thanked her - but Kate, if you're reading this, I often think of that kindness when I walk past the tree.

The tree has thrived, despite my neglect, but I seldom do anything with the leaves except for the occasional cup of tea. Then, while pottering around in the kitchen a week or so ago, I made this syrup and the whole house smelled like lemon verbena. It was gorgeous.

If you've got a lemon verbena tree, make this syrup now to get a dose of that intense lemony sherbet flavour in the depths of winter (or scent your house with it in summer). You can use it in drinks (nice with soda, or with very cold vodka as a kind of martini-ish number), or pour it over vanilla ice cream, or use it in this simple and elegant fruit salad (recipe follows). I'm thinking a lemon verbena sorbet could be next...

Lemon Verbena Syrup

1/2 cup boiling water
1/2 cup caster sugar
1 packed cup lemon verbena leaves

Put the water and sugar in a small pot and set over medium heat. Stir until the sugar has dissolved, then lower the heat and add the lemon verbena. Let bubble gently for five minutes, then remove from the heat and leave to cool.
When the syrup has cooled completely, strain it through a fine sieve into a sterilised bottle or jar. Discard the lemon verbena leaves or use them as a garnish (they will be almost candied). Makes about 1/2 cup.

Simple fruit salad with lemon verbena syrup
2 white-flesh peaches
2 apricots
2 dark-fleshed plums
1 1/2 cups blueberries (or boysenberries)
1/4 cup lemon verbena syrup

Cut all the stonefruit into slim wedges - about eight slices - and put in a bowl. Pour over the syrup and stir gently, then add the berries. This can be done in advance, but I think it's nicest at room temperature rather than fridge-cold. Serves 4-6.

Sparkling berry brandy cocktails

Someone asked me the other day what has been my greatest achievement of 2014. In the absence of anything else, I've finally decided that keeping going this year has been achievement enough.  Thank you dear readers for your continued support. May 2015 be full of 'great achievements' (whatever you think they are) for all of us.

In the meantime, here's a small, recent achievement - summer in a glass. Think of this as the Kiwi Pimm's...

Sparkling berry brandy cocktails
This is a good way to turn a bottle of Lindauer into something more special. The first person I served it to commented that 'the strawberries hide the taste of the alcohol'. I didn't have the heart to tell him about the brandy...

2 Tbsp brandy
1 Tbsp icing sugar
2/3 cup sliced strawberries
1 bottle of your best sparkling wine

Put the brandy and icing sugar in a small bowl and mix well. Add the strawberries and stir. Set aside (this can be done several hours in advance if you like). To serve, divide this mixture between six champagne flutes and top with sparkling wine.

Happy New Year, everyone. See you in 2015.

Be my guest: Homegrown Kitchen

It takes a special sort of person to make chocolate and chickpeas sound like natural partners. Nicola Galloway - chef, author, gardener, mother and general all-round good egg - is that person.

Nicola's lovely blog, Homegrown Kitchen, has just turned two. Here's how - and why - she manages to fit writing it into a very full life.

What's Homegrown Kitchen about?
Seasonal & wholesome recipes and the occasional homemade craft. I think the word 'homegrown' encompasses many things, partly it is about cooking with food we grow in our garden, but it is also about keeping things simple, eating local where possible, making food from scratch, getting back to the basics.

When did you start it? Why?
Almost exactly two years ago. I already had a website with recipes from my cookbook, Feeding Little Tummies, and other seasonal recipes but it didn't have much energy or rhythm to it. I was wondering how to make it more interactive and around the same time was introduced to food blogging. It was quite a new thing in New Zealand at the time and it has taken a while for people to catch on. However, I really like the interaction and regularity blogging adds to my week and my writing and photography skills have improved immensely.

What's your day job? What else do you do?
I am a food writer for several magazines, and author, and I run cooking workshops in Nelson and around New Zealand. I am also a Mum to two young children so most days I am juggling work and family life.

30-minute pad thai (photo: Nicola Galloway/Homegrown Kitchen)

Do you have any culinary training or professional experience?
I am a trained chef [dip, professional cookery 1999]. I travelled and worked as a chef for about five years before changing direction into food writing and running cooking workshops.

Who's your food hero?
My Nana taught me to cook and will always be my no.1 food hero. I also love Nigel Slater's rustic cooking style, and Sandor Elli Katz and Sally Fallon give me regular inspiration from their exceptionally researched and thorough cookbooks.

Describe your kitchen in three words.
Rustic, wooden, the heart of our home.

Salted caramel coconut flan (Photo: Nicola Galloway/Homegrown Kitchen)

Who do you cook for? 
My family of four (husband and two young children) and anyone who visits, there is always food going on around here. As I said, our kitchen is the heart of our home, it is a large open plan kitchen / dining room that spills out into a sunny conservatory. I am often recipe testing and have extra food that needs to be eaten if friends drop around.

Masterchef and TV food shows - hot or not?
Not for me, I don't have a lot of spare time to watch TV. But if they increase the interest of home cooking it has to be a good thing for those who do watch them.

What's the last cookbook you bought?
The Unbakery Cookbook by Megan May - absolutely brilliant if you want to learn more about raw food.

Cauliflower crust pizza (Photo: Nicola Galloway)

What has been the best meal you've ever eaten?
Oh gosh that is a hard one... let me think. We had some pretty memorable meals on our trip to Cuba last year. I remember one cooked by 'the Aunties' - my Mum is married to a Cuban and lives in Havana - it was very simple, beans and rice with a special goat curry [although not spicy], and large platter of the creamiest avocados I have ever eaten dressed with lime and olive oil.

What are your three favourite posts on your blog?
Of course just talking about Cuba one of them would have to be from our trip - Salted Caramel Coconut Flan, also 30-Minute Pad Thai + Behind the Scenes and Yogurt & Honey Panna Cotta w/ Roasted Strawberries.

Tell us about another blog you love.
My Darling Lemon Thyme by Emma Galloway - one of the first food blogs I started reading. I am asked often if we are related and recently found out we are distant cousins but have never met (yet!)

Roasted strawberries with yoghurt and honey panna cotta (Photo: Nicola Galloway)

What's for dinner tonight?
Lentil dahl with yogurt sesame flatbreads - I learned the recipe from a Pakistani woman about 12 years ago and it is still my favourite dahl recipe. I must share it on the blog one day.

Would you like to be my guest? Drop me a line...

Pumpkin, prune and chocolate bars

I'm sure there's a Chinese proverb about disaster being the mother of invention, or danger being the signpost to opportunity, or something like that. I'm not sure that it's often successfully applied to baking, but there's a first time for everything.

Earlier this week I stumbled upon Nicola Galloway's recipe for chocolate chickpea cookies and pretty much decided I had to make them on the spot. We got through them really quickly and I figured I could whip up something quite similar, but with pumpkin instead of chickpeas, and prunes instead of dates. So this is the result - something inspired by, but completely different to, those cookies. And it's every bit as delicious.

Pumpkin, prune and chocolate bars
These soft, slightly chewy bars are very addictive - trust me, I've consumed several in the course of writing this post. The mix of ingredients means they're a perfect fit for October's We Should Cocoa challenge, this month hosted by Hannah at Honey and Dough. The slightly random nature of how this recipe came to be also means it's a strong contender for the October edition of Random Recipes - you can find out more about the criteria for this month here.
You do need to have some cooked pumpkin lying about for this recipe - do what I do and just throw a piece in the oven the next time it's on and let it bake away untended. Then scrape the soft flesh into a container and freeze it to make yourself feel super organised when recipes like this come along.

1 cup prunes
1 cup rolled oats
1 cup mashed pumpkin (or - if you must - canned pumpkin puree)
100g butter, melted
1 egg
1 tsp pure vanilla
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
100g dark chocolate, roughly chopped

Tip the prunes into a small bowl and cover with boiling water. Set aside while you get everything else ready.
Heat the oven to 180C and line a small brownie pan (measuring about 27 x 20 cm) with baking paper, leaving some overhang.
Put the rolled oats into a food processor and whiz until finely ground. Tip out into another bowl.
Drain the prunes, then tip them into the processor, along with the pumpkin, melted butter and egg. Whiz until smooth, then add the ground oats, cinnamon and baking soda and whiz again until well mixed. Add the chocolate and pulse until mixed.
Scrape the mixture into the prepared tin and bake for 25-30 minutes, until set and slightly springy to touch. Let cool, then cut into bars. Store in an airtight container in the fridge.

Have a great week, everyone x

Good Things: September 2014

Yesterday, someone asked me 'how do you fit everything in and still maintain your blog?' I realised, with a sinking feeling, that she obviously hadn't been reading along lately. 

The Kitchenmaid has been sadly neglected this month while I have been attending to lots of other things - including a super-secret special project that I haven't been able to talk about. 

What is this man doing with a bunch of asparagus, a big camera and a white umbrella? All will be revealed, soon...

Quite aside from the secret project, I have been spending a lot of time in the kitchen (having six different sets of houseguests in 24 days will do that to a person). And I've been eating a lot of asparagus, a sign that spring is truly here.

And I've been reading this heartbreaking food memoir by Wellington writer and food blogger Anne Else. 

The Colour Of Food is an eloquent look back at Anne's life through food - brace yourself for the last chapters, in which she writes movingly about adjusting to living - and eating - without her beloved partner, Harvey McQueen. It was first published as an e-book last year but did so well that it's now in print form. It might seem a bit early to get your Christmas stocking list sorted, but you'd do well to add this to it.

What have you been up to this month?

Five easy spring meals

It's spring! Proper spring - with balmy temperatures, early rising birds and new buds appearing in the garden. Well, it was like that a few days ago. Now we're back to tempestuous winds, lashing rain and that horrible greyness, but I've got high hopes.

It's too soon for asparagus and the little lambs arriving in paddocks near you are too small for the cooking pot, but there are lots of other spring-y things to eat. Here are five easy spring dinners to add to your repertoire...

1. Superfood Salad: It's got quinoa, broccoli and other spring-y, crunchy things to make you feel like frolicking in the sun. What more do you need?

2. Tray-baked Lamb and Potatoes: This is really good for those 'I can't think what to have for dinner' evenings, which occur in our house at least once a week. Everything goes in the oven in one dish and there's minimal cleaning up (even the non-cooks can make this one).

3. Spring Cauliflower Soup: Cauliflower has had a bit of a renaissance of late, thanks to the craze for turning it into a pizza crust, but I think it's unbeatable in this simple and healthy cauliflower soup.

4. Simple Smoked Fish And Rice: This is another one-pot wonder, handy when you've been out in the garden tackling six months' worth of weeding.

5. Little lamb burgers: If you're blessed with a beautiful spring day, cook these outside on your (long-neglected) barbecue. If it's 'sit inside by the heater weather', they can be baked or pan-fried indoors.

What are your plans for this spring? 

Good Things: April 2014

T. S Eliot was wrong. April is not the cruellest month - at least not in the southern hemisphere, where it means a slew of public holidays, Easter and settled autumn sunshine. April is all about chocolate and hot cross buns and house guests and 'is it drinks o'clock yet?'. At least, that's how it was at our place.

First, the chocolate. As well as the gorgeous gilded bunnies I made with my pal Agnes (I was allowed to do the gilding, she did everything else), the single best Easter chocolate that passed my lips was a dark chocolate bunny filled with cinnamon-infused salted caramel from my local chocolatier, Bohemien Chocolates. I ate it in about three bites, then lay on the sofa in a state of complete satisfaction.

I made two huge batches of hot cross buns - the ones pictured above are made to the Little & Friday hot cross bun recipe, though I found the recipe in the book itself to be rather counter-intuitive and fiddled with it a bit to be sure it would work. I've found this to be true of several Little & Friday recipes and I think it's more to do with editing than anything else. But it's not very helpful to first-time bakers, is it? Anyway, these were good, but pretty heavy going to eat. I made a mega-batch of the Dan Lepard spiced stout buns the next day and they were much better. A little fiddlier to make, sure, but with better flavours and a much lighter texture.

As for the houseguests - they were of the very best kind. They performed magic tricks, provided high quality childcare, filled the fridge with exciting foodstuffs and good wine and cooked lovely dinners. The house hasn't been quite the same since.

Instead, I've been cheering myself up with this - quite possibly the BEST peanut butter I've ever tasted. I didn't think anything could top Pic's Peanut Butter (the one with a poem written inside the label, if you can ever soak it off in one piece), but Fix and Fogg Peanut Butter is incredible. The super crunchy is so crunchy you need to spread it in a thick, chunky layer. Essentially, it's peanut butter made for eating out of the jar. I am addicted. If this keeps up the only thing keeping me from the debtor's prison will be that I'll be too wide to fit through the doors...

What helped you get through April?

Good Things: March 2014

It is inky-dark outside and the hail is lashing the windows. It's not late, but it feels like the middle of the night. Suddenly, a quarter of 2014 has disappeared already. I feel like it won't be long before I'm panicking about the approach of Christmas. Is this happening to you too?

If you feel stressed by the pace of life, then you need to sit down with a calming cup of camomile tea. In fact, you need to sit in the sun for an hour and harvest some camomile for best results. This is a very relaxing task, even if you spend it in the company of a child who thinks it gives her carte blanche to decapitate every flower in the garden.

Then (if you're me) you need to come inside and admire your lovely new Owen Bartlett bowl. Isn't it lovely?

I found it at the Martinborough Fair, along with a vintage duvet and various other gems. It was a biting cold day and I had an appalling head cold, which was improved greatly by a hot cup of this cider vinegar and honey concoction (nicer than it sounds) and a steaming plate of masala dosa, eaten sitting in the gutter outside a pub (also nicer than it sounds).

When I wasn't in the garden, snipping at camomile or treasure hunting, I spent a lot of time with my nose in a series of books. One was The Luminaries, the other was Fuchsia Dunlop's Every Grain Of Rice, which is a no-less brilliant exploration of Chinese home cooking. It's not particularly new, but it's brilliant. The day I carried it home from the library I made this very elegant spinach in a soy-ginger sauce and made a mental note of about 20 other recipes (including chao fan, a sort of fried rice that was my number one favourite when I was a child). I'm dreading having to return it to the library.

I've also spent a lot of time eagerly awaiting Emma Galloway's first book - My Darling Lemon Thyme: Recipes From My Real Food Kitchen - which is officially released on April 1 (no joke!). I've been a fan of Emma's for ages and her book is completely gorgeous. All but a tiny handful of the recipes are brand-new (so I still have to keep that bookmark to her excellent sushi instructions) and they look amazing. A lot of so-called 'wholesome' cookbooks (and food, for that matter) are so preachy and disconnected from real life - this one is totally on the money. Even if you don't have food intolerance issues, you should get this book, it's a game-changer.

I must have achieved other things this month, but I can't recall them for the life of me. But a little gardening, a little cooking and a lot of reading isn't a bad way to pass the time, is it?
What have you been up to?

Halloumi, peach and pepper salad

Late last year I got my arm twisted into a podcast interview with the lovely Natalie Cutler-Welsh from If Only They Had Told Me. Now, this is nothing against Natalie, but it was probably a mistake to do it after a very long, stressful day at work. It was probably even more of a mistake to do it while reclining with a glass of wine. I'm hoping that's the reason why I sound like a garbled fool who can barely remember her own name. If I sound like that all the time, well, I guess I have a voice best suited for print.

But every cloud has a silver lining and one of the best bits about recording the podcast was that Natalie, a non-cook, told me about a salad her friend had made that night involving halloumi and peaches. I can't bear to go back and listen to the podcast, but I've managed to make my version of the salad. Without a hint of shame, here it is.

Halloumi, peach and pepper salad

We always have a packet of halloumi in the fridge. It's a guaranteed insta-meal for those times when there seems to be nothing else to eat. Peaches and red peppers are both in plentiful supply at the moment - and this salad is the perfect combination of sweet, salty, soft and crunchy. 

250g halloumi, patted dry and sliced into 1cm-thick pieces

2 ripe peaches, washed and sliced into wedges

2 red peppers, washed, deseeded and sliced

a handful of fresh mint, shredded

a good squeeze of fresh lemon juice

2-3 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil

Panfry the halloumi in a non-stick pan until golden brown on the outside. Remove from the pan and slice each piece into two, lengthways. Let cool briefly.

Put the peaches and peppers in a bowl, then toss through the mint, lemon juice and olive oil. Drape the halloumi on top. Grind over some black pepper and serve. Makes a small side salad for four or a light lunch for two.

Good things: February 2014

Ice creams. Fish and chips. Sand castles. Sand in everything. February has turned out to be the month that January should have been. And boy, am I glad about it.

Very early readers of this blog might recall the summer holiday we took three (THREE!) years ago. We had such rose-tinted memories of that stay (despite the fact that it rained a lot) that we went back for a few days at the beginning of the month.

We shopped at New Zealand's best Farmer's Market, ate New Zealand's best fish and chips, went for swims and made a lot of sandcastles. It was a proper, old-fashioned summer holiday.

Even better, my sister came to stay and brought with her a shiny new ice cream machine and a batch of this ice cream. I've thought about it often ever since.

Back home, we harvested our own tomatoes, which have thrived despite inclement weather and neglect. I listened to this completely charming interview with Wellington's best French patissier and made a mental note to visit his little shop more often.

The pantry is in - and filled - but I've decided to wait for the big reveal until the painters have finished, because the rest of the kitchen is such a tip I can't bear to show it. I'm sure you can wait a little longer.
In the meantime I have more cupboards to clean, more dust to vacuum, and an urgent appointment with a glass of wine in my garden while the cicadas chorus around me.

What have you been up to this month?

Pot-roast chicken and chickpeas

We have been living on reduced rations this week, not because it's January and everyone else is a) on a diet or b) broke, but because our renovation work has started and we are a) somewhat nervous about spiralling costs and b) our pantry supplies are in a series of cardboard boxes on the kitchen floor because the old pantry is kaput and the new one isn't built yet.

I knew this day was coming so I've been a bit slack on the shopping front lately. But despite having the world's smallest freezer we almost always have a frozen chicken in it, so even when it looks like there's nothing to eat we can treat ourselves to a roast chicken. But with no potatoes - and very few vegetables at all except what's in the garden - I decided to pot-roast the chicken instead. Discovering that we were all out of my all-time favourite pantry staple, the humble tin of whole peeled tomatoes, meant a bit of creative thinking was required. This delicious pot-roast was the result.

Pot-roast chicken and chickpeas
This may take an hour to cook, but it requires very little preparation and minimal hands-on time. You can add more liquid and shred the chicken before serving for a hearty, 'bowl food' presentation, or serve with rice and/or flatbreads to make it go further. You can always add more vegetables too. Either way, something green and crunchy is a good accompaniment.

2 Tbsp olive oil
4 cloves garlic, peeled
2 onions, peeled and roughly chopped
1-2 small dried chillies (or a chipotle pepper)
1 free-range organic chicken, patted dry with kitchen towel
a good splash of white wine
250ml good chicken stock
1 x 400g tin of chickpeas or other white beans, drained and rinsed
1/2 cup sundried tomatoes, roughly chopped
a handful of parsley, leaves only, roughly chopped
50g spinach or kale, washed and roughly chopped
salt and pepper

Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy, lidded pot (like a Le Creuset), then add the garlic and onions. Saute gently for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the chillies and cook for a minute, then raise the heat to medium and add the whole chicken. Brown the chicken on all sides (as best you can) then pour in the wine and a splash of water. Let it bubble and sizzle away for a minute, then add the remaining ingredients - tuck them down the sides of the chicken. Put the lid on the pot and let simmer gently for 35-45 minutes, checking occasionally to make sure the liquid hasn't evaporated. There should be between 2-5cm of liquid in the bottom of the pot.
When the chicken is cooked, remove it to a warmed serving plate and cover with a tent of foil. Keep warm (the chicken, not you). Using a stick blender, whiz what's left in the pot to a chunky, rustic sort of sauce. Taste for seasoning (and add a little hot water if it is very thick), then pour some of the sauce over and around the chicken, then bring the rest to the table in a jug. Serves four to six. Enjoy!

Kitchen DIY: Homemade capers

Do you want your neighbours to think you have gone mad? Here's how.

1. Venture out to the council-managed garden areas (that is to say, those that are overgrown with weeds) on your street, preferably while wearing your gardening hat, gumboots and various other items of misshapen, mismatching clothing.

2. For best results, do this when your neighbours are walking up the street, preferably with their most glamorous friends and perfectly behaved children, in their best clothes.

3. Climb into one of the gardens and start pinching off nasturtium buds and flowers, putting them in the small bowl you have brought with you for this purpose.

4. Wave cheerily as the neighbours pass by. Tell them, when they enquire as to what you are doing, that you are picking the nasturtium buds to make into homemade capers and the flowers are going in tonight's salad. Watch as the smiles become a bit more fixed and the stares become more glassy.

5. Scramble out of the garden and go to your house, while the net curtains across the street twitch frantically.

Well, that's not completely accurate - our neighbours are all lovely and very few of them have net curtains. Actually, only the really weird ones have net curtains and we think it's because they are Up To No Good In There. I do feel a bit of a dork to be sprung essentially harvesting weeds in front of them, but they should be used to it by now. In any case, I love nasturtiums and a bit of embarrassment is worth it.

Pickled Nasturtium Buds - aka Homemade Capers
Nasturtium flowers are great in salads and the leaves add a peppery bite to cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches - just pick the smaller ones as the big ones are really fiery. When the flowers have wilted (or been picked by someone like me), pick the little brain-like growths at the base of the flowers and use them in this homegrown version of capers.

At least 1/2 a cup of nasturtium buds, washed and dried
250ml rice wine vinegar
1 tsp salt
1 clove garlic
10 peppercorns

Put the vinegar, salt, garlic and peppercorns into a small saucepan and bring to the boil. Simmer for two minutes, then remove from the heat and let cool. Pour into a small sterilised jar, then add the nasturtium buds. Put a lid on the jar and leave for a couple of weeks in a cool place. The buds will be ready to eat when they have sunk to the bottom of the jar. You can keep adding new buds to the liquid.

Are you a forager? What's your best tip?

Five food goals for 2014

While we farewelled 2013 in the style to which we have become accustomed, (lots of champagne, whitebait fritters, lamb stuffed with cherries, goats cheese and cherries, Nigella's chocolate truffle cake, a huge slab of panforte and an incredibly tangy cheese called 'Sea Breeze'), I spent the first week of 2014 with a nasty bout of tonsillitis and a vast supply of drugs.

Before that happened, I thought I was going to spring into the new year with all manner of new plans and schemes, not to mention a gleaming clean kitchen and freshly weeded vegetable garden. Instead, I have developed an addiction to Breaking Bad and a fondness for lying down after meals, neither of which are conducive to returning to work this week or achieving much at all at home. In a bid to shake off this inertia, I've turned my mind instead to my food-related goals for this year (I just have to get off the sofa to start achieving them). As nice as it is, we can't live on wine, cheese and olives all year....

1. Eat more: By which I mean, eat a more diverse range of foods. I hate those depressing statistics that claim most people only have five or 10 dishes in their repertoire, but they do reflect a sorry truth. It takes work to stop from falling into the same old routine every night, but it's so worth it. Why else do I have so many bookmarked recipes and folders of torn-out magazine supplements?

2. Grow more: No, not in a Gwyneth Paltrow sense, but grow more of what we eat. In in my dream life this would include chickens, but for the sake of my marriage, my sanity and continued good relations with our neighbours, I'm going to stick to flora rather than fauna. I figure that since we have this massive garden, we may as well use it to its full potential. New crops underway for 2014 include cucumbers, kale, pears, feijoas, cranberries and currants, not to mention an as-yet unidentified curcubit currently colonising the wildflower meadow we planted in a nondescript bit of lawn in late spring. I'm particularly inspired by Julie and her amazing garden - and Sue's little city garden - and hope to harness a bit of family muscle in the coming months (Jenny, Goff, are you reading this?)

3. Learn more. In 2013 I conquered doughnuts, cronuts and puff pastry (at least this version). I'm yet to decide on my tasks for this year, but I'd like dumpling making to be among them. What else shall I tackle?

4. Read more: It's just occurred to me that I didn't get any new cookbooks for Christmas - unless you count the excellent Mastering The Art Of Soviet Cooking by Anya von Bremzen. Obviously I need to take steps to remedy this (even if via my excellent local library), though I should probably undertake a strict audit of my existing collection first.

5. Be more organised: The arrival of our much-awaited new pantry later this month will play a key part in this, or at least I hope it will. I have a secret fear that even with the new pantry, I will discover that I am really a slatternly housekeeper and that's the real reason for the disarray in my cupboards (not to mention the rest of my life) Oh well. Worse things happen at sea. Being more organised is a key part in another little project I have planned for this year, but I'll share more on that when it's underway.

What are your foodie goals for 2014?

Christmas confetti salad

There have been two unexpected spin-offs from my post about delegating when entertaining over the festive season. First, two of the guests we were expecting for dinner on Saturday night cancelled their appearance. They claimed to be stuck in New York and unable to get back, but I have my doubts. Was it the email I sent suggesting they bring something?

Then, a few days ago, my mother-in-law sent me an email about Christmas. In the middle of what my colleague calls 'a compliment sandwich' (that's when you disarm someone by saying something nice, stick the knife in, then say something nice again) she cleverly outsourced the cooking of the turkey and the dreaming up of some salad ideas. To me.

It didn't take me long to realise that I'd been outplayed. Friends, I have so much to learn. But, after a weekend of thinking deeply about what to make, I've come up with something fresh, festive and extremely easy. Now I just have to delegate the making of it to my father-in-law.

Christmas Confetti Salad
Making this salad is the sort of job you can give someone who walks into the kitchen and says 'what can I do to help?' - on the basis that a) they have basic knife skills and b) you have delegated out all the other jobs, like washing dishes, setting the table and corralling the children/elderly relatives. As long as you're not having to do all those other things, or have had a glass of festive bubbles, it's quite soothing to stand still and do a bit of chopping. It's great with ham and turkey and tastes great the next day when you need something cold and refreshing to eat. You could also pile little mounds of it into avocado halves for a appropriately red, white and green starter.

2 pomegranates
2 red peppers
1 small red onion
4-6 small radishes
half a telegraph cucumber
a small bunch of mint, finely shredded

Dressing:
a clove of garlic, smashed
a good pinch of salt
a pinch of sugar
2 Tbsp lemon juice
5 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1/2 tsp sumac

First, make the dressing. Crush the garlic and salt together with a knife until it forms a paste. Scrape this into a small screwtop jar, then add the lemon juice, sugar and sumac. Shake together until well mixed, then add the oil and shake again. Taste for sharpness - add more oil or lemon juice as necessary. Set aside.
Cut the pomegranates in half and scoop out the seeds. The Ottolenghi-endorsed way to do this is to bang them with a wooden spoon, but I find this squirts juice everywhere. My preferred method is to winkle the seeds out with a knife.
Chop the rest of the vegetables into pomegranate seed-sized dice. Tip everything into a bowl. Pour over the dressing, scatter over the shredded mint and stir gently to combine. Serves eight as a side dish.

For more herby, salad-y goodness, you might like to check out Karen's Cooking With Herbs round-up for December. If there's ever a time of year to eat your greens, this is it!

Do you delegate out parts of your Christmas dinner preparations, or do you prefer to be in sole charge?

Treat me: Boozy figs

If you were beamed to earth from another planet at the moment you'd think all humans did was eat, drink and be merry. While the period between mid-November and early January is fairly intense on that scale, it's pretty much always the season of entertaining at our house. And I love it, I really do, except for perhaps that tense 15 minutes just before the entertainees arrive and I feel in a state of complete chaos.

This year, with two fairly major entertaining events scheduled chez nous in the next fortnight, I've decided to take control. Firstly, I'm going to delegate a lot more (sorry, invitees, I understand if you want to pull out now) and secondly, I'm going to have something up my sleeve that I prepared earlier.

These boozy figs are an excellent do-ahead option at this time of year, whether you're holding a soiree or you've been invited to one by someone like me who wants you to cross town with dessert in your handbag. The recipe is of unknown provenance - it's out of one of my mum's notebooks - and it is very simple. I've a hunch it is just the thing for this month's Tea Time Treats challenge, hosted by the ever-lovely Karen of Lavender and Lovage (with able support from Kate at What Kate Baked) - in which dried fruit is the theme.

Boozy figs
You can whip these mulled figs together in five minutes before you go to work, then when you come home they'll be all plump and juicy. If you're in the northern hemisphere, serve them warm over a slab of posh vanilla ice cream., if you're in the southern, add strawberries. If you're really, really organised, put them in a lidded jar in the fridge and they'll be good for several weeks.

400g dried figs, cut in half (use scissors)
500ml fruity red wine
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 small orange, washed and halved
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1 punnet of strawberries, washed and hulled (optional)

Put all ingredients in a small saucepan and set over medium heat. Bring to a gentle simmer and let bubble away for five minutes. Take off the heat and let cool. Then, either transfer to a bowl or jar, cover and put in the fridge. Or, if you're planning to eat them in a few hours, add the strawberries before putting in the fridge. Serves six.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Lucy's guide to festive baking

Last week I got a press release about Valentine's Day. Seriously. It happened the day after I'd walked through Auckland Airport, mentally shaking my fist at the large Christmas tree in the arrivals hall. I anticipate Easter eggs popping up on Pinterest any minute now. Shall we just fast forward to Christmas 2014 and be done with it?

Christmas Mazurka - a hot favourite in 2012 (hence the baker's twine)

This week, I feel differently. That's because yesterday I realised there are just 29 more sleeps until The Big Day. Now I understand why Christmas things are appearing on blogs and on Instagram (I don't count magazines, because everyone knows they operate in a kind of hyper-reality). Now I understand why a friend was so keen to seek my counsel (not to mention my copy of Nigella Christmas and my 20cm square cake tin) in order to make her first-ever Christmas cake.

This week, I am in no position to do anything Christmassy. I have a new job (which is consuming all my mental energy) and we're in the start-up phase of a house makeover (which is consuming mental energy, time and money). And the Small Girl is rehearsing for a ballet recital, so if I hear Baby Love by the Supremes ONE more time before breakfast, I may go insane.

But next weekend, when these other life events are a little more under control (well, at least the first two), I am going to start baking and making in earnest. I'm going to start by buying a bottle of brandy and the best dried fruit I can lay my hands on. Then I'm going to see what happens...

In the meantime, here's a handy checklist of festive things to make and bake. By next week, I may not be able to find any of these recipes, so this list is as much for me as it is for you. It's better to give than receive, don't you know?

Lucy's Christmas Cheatsheet

Haven't made your Christmas cake yet? Don't fret. This one - studded with prunes, apricots and nearly a kilo of dark chocolate - doesn't need time to mature. Nor does this one, which mixes the wisdom of Alison Holst with a bottle of green ginger wine. Neither need icing, but you could give the second one a pretty glazed topping (instructions found here).

I made so much Christmas mince last year that I'm going to be able to pull the jar out of the cupboard and say, 'look, here's one I prepared earlier'. I use this recipe - dead easy, includes caramelised banana - and the pastry is fab too.

Now we head into the 'things to give away' territory. My best tip here is to Think Big - making industrial-sized quantities of a couple of things is much easier than a bespoke biscuit here and a steeped vinegar there.

This chutney is always popular and very easy - last year some non-cooking friends requested the recipe so they could make it for Hannukah presents and it went down a treat. 

Beginners will also have fun making vegan biscotti and this chocolate body scrub (also suitable for vegans).

You'll need a few more skills for my all-time best-ever brownies, but they're not difficult to whip up and the recipe makes a huge amount. The same goes for these gingerbread Christmas decoration cookies, which taste as good as they look.

If you want to go a little off-piste, try my totally addictive white chocolate rocky road (the hardest thing about making this is not eating it all on the spot) or these luscious apple blondies, with added cranberries for extra festive-ness.

Have you started your Christmas prep yet? Go on, make me feel inadequate. Even better, share your favourite recipe links in the comments below...

Spring berry smoothie

Something a bit embarrassing happens when we have people round. It's not a problem when the sun is over the yardarm, so to speak, but when they look meaningfully at the kettle and the cupboard where the mugs are, I feel a bit uncomfortable.
It's not that I am ashamed of the tin of instant coffee (it's for my mother-in-law - she doesn't drink the other stuff) or our ugly mug selection, but that I'm never sure when to break it to them that we don't have any milk.
Apart from my great milk-drinking, bechamel-sauce guzzling period (September 2008 until about May 2009), we don't drink it. I buy some occasionally if a cooking project warrants it, of course, but it does seem rather wasteful to buy milk, keep it in the fridge on the off-chance that we might have a milky tea-drinker crossing the threshold, then end up throwing it away. Perhaps I should invest in those little sachets of milk that you get in hotels. But I think I'd rather look like a bad hostess than one with no taste. What do you think?

Spring berry smoothie
One of the best things about living a milk-free existence is that you get to make virtuous and vibrant smoothies like this one. One of the best things about coming back to New Zealand after our holiday was drinking water from the tap without gagging - if you live somewhere with disgusting tap water then I'd suggest making these with the bottle sort. Or I suppose you could go all out and use milk, but rest assured, it's nicer without. If you're not a fan of berries, try fresh pineapple.

For two large smoothies:

1 1/2 cups frozen berries
1 large banana, cut into chunks (this is a good way to use up frozen bananas, if you have a freezer full)
3 Tbsp ground almonds
1 Tbsp chia seeds
250ml cold water

Put everything in a blender, or in a large glass jar in which you can fit a stick blender, and whizz until smooth. Add a little more water if it seems very thick. Pour into two glasses and serve.

Treat me: Pears in spiced red wine

It says a lot about the horrors of boarding school food that my co-prisoners and I were cheered up by tinned pears. We had pudding three times a week - Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday lunch - and tinned fruit was a constant. In some ways this was a good thing (our rationale being that if it had come in a tin, the cooks couldn't have done anything to it) but when you consider that we were in a city ringed by orchards and we never got any nice fresh fruit, it was shameful.
Anyway, we liked tinned pears mostly because they were served with a vat of chocolate custard. This tasted like cheap cocoa and cornflour, but when you'd eschewed a plate of grey meat, frozen corn and mashed potato so firm you could cut it into cubes, it was nothing short of manna from heaven.

Pears in red wine
I never buy tinned pears, but I've been buying lots of fresh ones lately and bringing them to ripeness in the fridge. The ones that are slightly firmer get poached in a spiced red wine syrup like this one.


200g (1 cup) lightly packed brown sugar
3 cinnamon sticks

The peel of 1 large orange - try to avoid as much of the bitter pith (the white stringy bits) as possible
6 juniper berries, optional
4 star anise
8 whole cloves
6 cardamom pods, lightly crushed
A 2cm slice of fresh ginger½ cup dark rum (or brandy, or port)
1 x 750ml bottle of fruity red wine (merlot is good)

6 firm but unblemished pears

Heat the oven to 160C. Put everything except the pears in a large lidded, ovenproof casserole dish (like a big Le Creuset, or similar) that will be big enough to take the pears as well. Stir well to dissolve the sugar. Carefully peel the pears using a potato peeler. Leave the stems on but cut out the blossom end (at the bottom) to remove the core.
Gently put the pears in the dish - add a little water to make sure they are submerged in the liquid.
Put the lid on and put the dish in the oven. Cook for two to three hours, until the pears are tender when pierced with a sharp knife. When they’re done, you can leave them sitting in the syrup until you’re ready to eat them. I think they’re best at room temperature, with some very cold homemade creme fraiche.
Store any leftover syrup in a lidded jar in the fridge. It can be used again (or warmed up and sipped on a cold, wet night).

Have a great weekend, everyone x