For the love of a hot muffin

Just a quick post to get us all back into the swing of things: how the hell have you been?! Have you lost weight?
I notice that we are down in number by 2, but at least there are still enough of us to play 20-aside football or to create a respectable flashmob or look daunting to small children if we bunch together at a local park by the swings (nonchalant sneering optional). It's far too many to play sardines in my house at least, unless we play in shifts.
I had a moment of domestic goddess madness last week where I fancied something a tad more interesting than Crunchy Nut for brekkers, and so turned to one of my favourite cookbooks, 'Spooning with Rosie' by Rosie Lovell. It's a wonderful book, celebrating the joy of sharing food and life in good company. The recipes are simple and delicious so that, should hungry chums suddenly appear on your doorstep, you'll be able to feed them well and in a relatively stress-free way. She owns Rosie's Cafe in Brixton, and a number of the recipes have been been tested on an appreciative audience. One day, I shall haul my buxom ass over there.
Anyhoots, I sleepily whipped up a batch of her marmalade muffins to a highly appreciative audience. Muffins are the perfect thing to make when you are still asleep and unable to focus as, for them to rise properly, they need to be mixed roughly, with bits still unmixed, quite slapdash and without grace. Warm, filling and luxurious thanks to the melted butter, they more than satisfied the jaded weekend palate, filling the house with comforting scents. The recipe inspired me to have a bash at creating an even more breakfasty muffin featuring a plethora of wholesome gubbins to keep the morning ticking along, and it is this creation I lay at your feet now.
Unless you have friends coming over, or a huge family, allow any spares to cool completely then freeze them. This means you can have delicious warm muffins over a number of mornings: hurrah! Feel free to use nuts and seeds to suit your own particular whimsy. Oh and by the way, the bizarre mixture of semi-skimmed milk and double cream was due to not having full fat milk: that's what I had in and I thought it would substitute well, which it did. Oh yes. Likewise using orange essential oil instead of orange zest: it's what I had in.

Luxurious but darn simple Breakfasty Muffins

Dry stuff :
300g self raising flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
125g  unsalted butter, at room temp and cubed
150g soft brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
20g oats
50g chopped walnuts
50g mixed seeds (I used pumpkin, sunflower and hemp seeds)
1 eating apple, peeled, cored and roughly chopped

Wet stuff:
125ml full fat milk (or 100ml semi-skimmed + 25ml double cream)
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
5 drops of sweet orange essential oil (or grated zest of 1 orange)
2 tbsps thick cut marmalade

• Preheat the oven to 160oC and adorn a muffin pan with muffin cases
• In a large bowl, rub the cubes of butter into the flour and baking powder so as to create a breadcrumby-like happening
• Add all the other dry bits to the happening and mix together, with a spoon or a clean hand (yours or someone uncontagious) until it is evenly blended and brings to mind masonry pebbledash, albeit with seeds
• Now it's time to get moist: in a separate bowl or jug, mix together all the wet ingredients until they are thoroughly combined, save for the bits of chunky preserved pith
• Pour the liquidy melange into the pebbledash and using purpose, a firm resolve and a spoon, roughly combine the juxtaposing elements until just combined but not smooth. Lumps are essential in muffins as they hold the key to their defining texture
• Pour, or dollop, the mixture evenly into the awaiting cases and bake for 20-25 mins until golden brown. Check with a skewer at 20 mins: if the skewer comes out clean, they're ready
• Allow to cool very slightly before chowing down smugly whilst still in your pjs.

These are suitable for freezing: allow them to cool completely before freezing. If you like them warm, don't bother to defrost them but simply pop in the oven at 175oC for 10-15 mins. Wrap it in foil if you want the muffin to stay soft or leave it naked for a crisper top.

Coffee break

Best mates can be ace but just as they enlighten you with joy and understanding, they can also ruin everything. Well, perhaps not everything, but certainly coffee. The simple, if overpriced, act of going out for a delicious latte has been ruined because, to be honest with you, lattes are a bit shit, although I only realised this when NZ-living KT dragged me* to Flat White on Soho's Berwick Street and made me sup on an actual flat white. With one taste, coffee imbibing would never be the same again, and I would like to thank our antipodean cousins for caring enough about the bean to conjure such delicious alchemy as to reveal Starbucks to be peddlers of coffee-esque cordial.
Not long after this epiphany, I discovered Monmouth Coffee, the beautiful purveyor of delicious coffee in both Covent Garden and in the heart of London's food mecca, Borough Market,

It's where the beautiful and caffeine-bereft go to redress the balance, 

 

...to share stylish thoughts and titter knowingly at hidden meanings in highbrow text.

But luckily, they let plebs like me in too.

Sadly, I thought that a decent coffee was the preserve of the black-lunged folk of our capital city, but the good word seems to have infiltrated the shires too and the God of Coffee has bestowed His Magical Elixir a little closer to my home, at least. Behold - The Black Dog Cafe:

Apologies for the rubbish pics: I was using my new phone and hadn't quite got to grips with it. However, what I can say is that the coffee was delicious: they use Monmouth beans so it's a quality cup of deliciousness. The staff are uber friendly and if you're feeeling peckish, they have a good selection of fodder (menus available on their website.)

Ok, so they haven't embraced latte art, but the taste is delicious, wholesome and invigorating. It's a small independent cafe in an area of Tunbridge Wells that is stoically independent, slightly bohemian and without the cloud of snobbery that hampers so much of what is wonderful in that town, so I urge you to go to keep that spirit alive. The coffee is wonderful: why would you not go?!

Can I just state that my coffee snobbery hasn't extended to home...yet, although I do prefer a freshly brewed cuppa as opposed to instant...


However, I certainly wouldn't judge a friend who gave me a cup of instant unfavourably: drinking at home and drinking out are different experiences. Granted, they don't need to be, thanks to readily-available coffee machines, mail-order beans and youtube instructionals. But coffee in a friend's kitchen, good banter and a welcoming face can elevate even the shoddiest instant cuppa into something celebratory, the oil to grease the wheels of conversation if it should be needed. As long as there are cookies or cake, you can give me any old sluice. Which leads me neatly to...

This recipe is a bastardization of one from The Borough Market Book, which is in turn a version of a recipe by Sara-Jayne Stanes, author of the promising-sounding 'Chocolate: the Definitive Guide'. Now, this tart is everything a chocolate tart should be, although those attributes may seem contradictory: crisp, smooth, sweet and sharp. Use as strong a chocolate as you prefer, but not milk chocolate. I admit that, despite my earlier witterings, I did use instant coffee just because I couldn't be bothered to brew some espresso, but as long as you have a couple of tablespoons of strong black coffee, it doesn't really matter which type it is: it's just there to give the chocolate a bit of balls (technical term).

Wooahhh Mama! Chocolate Tart 'o' Joy!

Pastry:

90g plain flour

50g cocoa powder

80g unsalted butter

30g ground almonds

60g golden caster sugar

1 large egg (free-range, natch, yet beaten)

Filling:

240g plain chocolate (I used 70% cocoa)

60g unsalted butter

3 large eggs, separarted

90g golden caster sugar

6 tablespoons double cream

2 desertspoons strong coffee

• butter and flour a suitable ovenproof dish: mine was a shallow ceramic one, measuring 7.5"x11", though my book specifies a 9" round flan tin
• first, make the pastry: in a large bowl, sieve together the flour and cocoa powder
• add the sugar, ground almonds and stir together
• cube the butter, add to the powdery mixture and rub together with fingertips only to create a chocolatey crumble
• add the beaten egg to bind it all together in a ball of doughy promise, wrap in clingfilm and pop in the fridge for 30 minutes (or 24 hrs and 30 mins in my case as I forgot I was going out...)
• on a lightly floured surface, attempt to roll out thinly to a size suitable for your dish
• attempt to hoist the rolled dough into the greased receptacle, tutting as random shapes drip off your rolling pin Dali-style before exclaiming 'Oh fuck this' and popping pieces of rolled dough into the dish, squidging the seams together until it is fully lined and respectable looking
• pop the mangled case into the fridge for another 30 mins
• preheat the oven to 200C / 400F / Gas 6
• line the case with foil, cover with baking beans or dried beans (that you are not hoping to cook later) and bake blind for 15 minutes
• remove the beans and foil and bake again for another 15 mins
• now make the filling: melt the chocolate and butter together and allow to cool
• whisk the egg whites to form soft glacial peaks
• in another bowl, whisk together the yolks and sugar until frothy
• add the double cream and coffee to the bubblesome yolks and stir gently and respectfully
• pour in the buttery chocolate and using your respectful spoon, marry it all together
• fold in the egg whites with reverance...oh  and a big metal spoon
• pour into the tart case, even out and bake for 20-25 mins 
• allow to cool and serve with cream, ice cream or a good mate and weak-ass coffee (though delicious coffee of groovy brewing would be better)

 Such was the potency of its' deliciousness, I completely forgot to take a photo of it, so you'll have to make do with this sadly executed digital scribble which, however, is a pretty accurate representation:

*dragged me, my arse: we skipped as if we were on the yellow brick road.  
 

For further caffeine inspiration, why not follow The Guardian's helpful trail, or perhaps plough your way through Time Out's comprehensive list. The fabulous Cosy Coffee Shops blog produced a top 10 in January of the UK's best coffee shops, which, Hurrah!, also includes places outside of the London sprawl. It also includes some fabulous coffee shops from around the world as they are currently 'on tour'.

Yay! September!

Right: ambassadorial things first -

The autumn issue is out now - go lookie! (and this isn't shameless self-promotion: I didn't contribute to this one.)

I love September: perhaps it's those years in education that always make it feel like the true start of the year. Usually, it's still warm but there's that crispness in the air, that freshness, the lazy low-slung sun casting long shadows through the stained glass leaves, the promise of woodsmoke and the need for cardigans. 

It's also the time for cobweb bling...(sorry; this pic doesn't show it's full majesty thanks to the exuberant glare of the 7am sun, but you get the gist.) 

This does also herald the migration of the spiders into the house, but all four of us are trained in the use of cup and postcard (or flattened cereal packet for the really big muthas) so it's not really a problem.

I've finally started on the task of sorting our house out, starting with the books. The issue of how I sort my books (and cd's, before we sent them on a sabbatical in the loft) has been a source of much amusement, wonder and fear to Mr Yump. I sorted them all into genres: all the fiction together (then alphabetised), all the art books together (ditto), all his animator-nerd books together, music, health, witchcraft etc etc. (ahhh bite me: I work in a bookshop- at least I didn't have face outs...or shelf talkers...or pyramid the books in the bathroom) Still, despite my sad efforts, only I could ever find anything. This time, however, after seeing these in the May 2010 edition of Livingetc

...and then reading about it on Huma Qureshi's blog, I thought I just had to give it a go:

(and, yes: I have put similarly coloured fripperies on each shelf)

The greens and blacks are on a freestanding Ikea Billy shelf (picture to follow), but the bigger black books are on the other side of the chimney breast:

You might also notice the brown and 'natural' coloured books plonked next to the ILM bibles: I guess I should have put the books in the traditional Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain order, but once I'd thwacked up the whites, I could not be arsed doing it again. I'm sad, but not that sad. They looked rather fab, waiting on the floor;

I have, however, refrained from colour-coding the dvds and games, much to the relief of Hubs. As a system, you may think it makes finding the right book tricky: not at all, as long as you remember what that book looked like! Sprogling #1, famous for not being able to find things gaffa taped to her nose, actually found the book she needed. Result!

Such is the need for colour order that I have matched my glasses to my current read thus:

I love this story: O'Brien paints a picture of rural Ireland that is simultaneously grim and beautiful, brutal yet warm. It is hopeless and optimistic and rather wonderful. It is also, I have decided, the perfect size for a work of fiction: you can take it anywhere without it impinging your slacks (slacks are best unpinged) I was surprised, and worried, because the delicious Bloomsbury Classic editions are still at large in the 2nd hand ether. (well, Amazon) Look at all the gorgeous covers!

What do you do when you have fruit that's a tad unappealling? Thwack it into Google and see what turns up! I found this delicious recipe on a wonderful blog called 'Reluctant Gourmet'. I have doctored it a tad: a little less sugar, using apples I happened to have (probably Braeburn) and used self raising flour with a touch of baking powder as I was bereft of plain. I also baked it for 15 mins less.  However, it created a delicious cake: firm vanilla with soft, cinnamon-soused fruit. It's as if I've baked autumn. As are all my favourite recipes, it's stupid-easy: do it!

Baked Autumn
Cakey Bit:
250ml sunflower (or veg) oil
4 eggs (free range and large)
260g golden caster sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
460g self raising flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
100ml orange juice
Fruity Bit:
2 pears
2 eating apples
4 tablespoons soft brown sugar (or caster)
3 teaspoons ground cinnamon

• Preheat the oven to 180oC / 350oF / Gas 4
• Grease and line a large tin (mine has a 9.5" diameter)
• In a large bowl, beat together the oil, eggs, sugar and vanilla until blended and a festival of creamy beige
• Bless the beigeness with a flurry of sieved flour, baking powder and salt and mix well until you are unaware where the dry stops and the moist begins
• Add the ornage juice into this confused state and mix gently together
• Now prepare for the fruity bit: in another bowl, mix together the sugar and cinnamon
• Peel, core and slice the fruit and pop into the spicy sugar: stir it gently so that every piece is coated
• Pour (or spoon, as you may find the cake mix has turned quite gelatinous) about a third of the mix into your prepared tin
• Top with half of the fruit in an even fashion
• Pop a third of the mix onto the fruity layer like a cakey duvet
• Pop the remaining fruit onto the duvet like scatter cushions
• Deciding that it looks like a cold night ahead, pop a final duvet layer of cake mix onto the sleeping cushions
• Bake for 1-1hr 15mins until it's firm, golden brown and produces a clean skewer when stabbed in the traditional baking fashion (rather than the rather strenuous 'Psycho' motion: unless you need to slice it quickly for a party or such is like.)
• Allow to cool for about 10 or so minutes before popping onto a cooling rack.

 Laters x

Pancakes, pie and hero worship

Ever since I first watched the breathtaking 'Pulp Fiction', I have wanted to try heroin  driving a taxi barefoot  being somebody's gimp  blueberry pancakes and at last I have.

 

They were well worth the wait.

I took Nigella's pancake recipe and as they sat cooking in the pan, as pancakes should, I dumped a handful of frozen blueberries onto each one. This kept the blueberries moist and possibly retained some of their nutritional goodness...not that that was a factor - it's all about the flavour.

 

These were sprinkled with sugar: obviously, if we'd had any, maple syrup would have been better, perhaps some bacon too, or just a splash of single cream, just to highlight its' treat worthiness, but the sugar did the job. We really should make more of breakfast: if only there was enough time to do so, as it really does set the tone for the day, all be it, in this instance, the culinary yearnings of a murderers' wide-eyed innocent love.

It was National Pie Week here in the UK recently, not that I need an excuse for pie. Pie's are deceptively simple: you can go crazy on intricate pastry and delicate fillings, but the best pies are robust, simple and thrown together with hungry aplomb, as are the best people.

Again, I used frozen fruit. So often do I buy a stack of delicious-looking fresh fruit, only to watch it slowly rot: frozen fruit negates that sad inevitability. This pie was made from the scrag ends-of-bags of a selection of frozen fruit, including cherries, blueberries and summer fruit. It is embarrassingly simple, but feel free to complicate matters with the finest unsalted butter known to very few people, the addition of fine spices of thine choosing to the fruit and / or the pastry, lacing the fruit with a splash or 5 of booze, a sprinkling of nuts and seeds, adding fine oats to the pastry or adding a handful of dried fruit for a cascade of flavours and textures. Or, just do this:

The 'Why the hell don't I make pie more often when it's so feckin easy?!' Pie

Pastry:
180g plain flour (this, being Nigel Slater's pastry, doesn't need sieving: Hurrah! He is wise.)
100g unsalted butter, straight from the fridge
ice-cold water (or at least damn cold water that you've added a few ice cubes to)

Filling (bask in the glow of its' preciseness):
roughly 5 or 6 handfuls of fruit (sorry: I just used what I had rather than followed a recipe)
approx 2 tablespoons soft brown sugar and possibly a sprinkling of cinnamon
a bit of milk, for glazing and sh*t
approx 1 tablespoon demerera sugar for pre-baking pastry sprinklage

• Cube the butter and rub into the flour in a large bowl until it resembles breadcrumbs. 
• Add enough water to the crumble to bring it together into a firm, soft dough. 
• Pat it into a flattened round, wrap in clingfilm and thwack in the fridge for about half an hour.

• Preheat the oven to 200oC / Gas mark 6 
• With reckless abandon, plop your frozen fruit into a wanton pie dish (according to Mr Slater, it needs to be big enough to hold a litre of water, so, for God's sake! Just do as the man says!) 
• Sprinkle with the sugar (and spices, nuts, seeds, bacon -it might work-) 
• Remove your pastry from its chilly abode and, on a floured surface, using a floured rolling receptacle, roll your pastry out until it is big enough to hat the dish.
• Moisten the edge of the dish with a little of the milk and place the pastry on top of the fruit. Don't bother faffing around trying to make fluted edges or poncy cut outs: for this pie to work, it must look as if it has landed straight out of the sky, possibly chucked out of the window of a floating castle by a bored but passionate (and now hungry) woman.
• Brush with milk, sprinkle with demerera and then stab two air-holes in the top of the pie in an unprovoked fashion.
• Bake for about 40-45 mins until the top is golden and enticing.
• Slather in the jus of your choosing: double cream, ice cream, custard, Bailey's etc

 I've started going to the gym: this won't hurt...

And, naturally, from baking, we move onto hero worship: Spaced, to be precise. People who love this wonderful series don't just love it, they absorb it. Phrases meld into their language and unleash themselves onto the unsuspecting uninitiated. Being the bad parents that we are, we introduced our kiddlings to the joy of Spaced at far too young an age. I am happy to report that my little (and not so little) nerds are familiar with pretty much all the cultural references therein, (and therefore my son thinks of David Walliams as a Vulva. ) It is quite simply one of the most imaginative comedies ever to be seen, with director Edgar Wright using techniques, previously only used on film, to produced a stylish visual smorgasboard of tasty televisual meat...or something. They (writers Jessica Stevenson -now Hynes- and Simon Pegg) only made two series, but they are utter perfection. Such is the respect that fans realise that a new series, so late in the day, would not work. far better to discuss what might have happened to our beloved characters than to be put through another Phantom Menace. Naturally, this adoration unleashed itself onto Facebook, culminating in an homage to the series that is itself doused in homage, and further proof of the unspoken telepathy between Spaced geeks. Oh yes, my friends: Spaced Flashmob! Naturally, I took the day off work (my assistant manager telling me that that was the finest reason anyone had ever given for a day off.) and dragged (that's a lie: they couldn't wait and had been practicing for weeks.) the family up to London for 2 minutes of sheer stupidity and joy. I mean, what else is there to do on a wet Saturday in Trafalgar Square?

Ok, I know we were supposed to have dispersed at the end as if nothing had happened, but we wanted to celebrate the madness of it all, and then disperse.



If you look carefully, you may be able to spot my blue-hatted self, using Mr Yump as a gun turret in the bottom lefthand corner, around 0.11...

May your week be just as tasty and foolish.

Stopping to smell the coffee

After a hearty breakfast (porridge cooked with semi-skimmed + a dash of vanilla extract, throwing in some dried sweetened cranberries for the last minute, then adding sesame + pumpkin seeds, walnuts or pecans, a sprinkle of demerera and cinammon) I donned my beloved wellies and went for a much needed long walk around one of my favourite parks. I didn't take any photos as I just wanted to walk and take in what was going on around me rather than documenting it: selfish, I know. I've been to that park numerous times over the last, wowsers!, 20 years but had never strayed from the beaten path. This time I did, allowing my sturdy legs to go where they wanted. To find something new in the familiar is always a treat, perhaps a timely (for me at least) that it's not what you look at, it's how you look at it that counts. To be bored by life is, well, frankly, boring, and we should constantly be looking to see new beauty and quirkiness everywhere. (methinks the Lemsip has kicked in a little too powerfully...)

In town, I turned off from my usual automaton path, curious by a sandwich board promising 'Good Food, Good Coffee, Great Welcome', and discovered it wasn't just a hollow tagline...

 

Delicious granary toast with butter and honey: why is it that toast made by someone else always tastes better than toast you've made yourself? Please also note that here, a large latte is indeed a large latte.

 

This may well be my new favourite place. A happy, laid back atmosphere, with delicious coffee, locals popping in to pick up lunch orders - it's amazing how much gossip can be exchanged in the time it takes to buy a coffee.

I finally, after much knitting, unknitting, frustration and stubborn ignoring off, finished one fingerless glove (from this beautiful book that, however, fails to mention that stitch holders will be needed....)  

For the second glove, I snaffled a couple of stitch counters which, although they haven't exactly changed my life, have improved my knitting notation and the sanctity of my books. Such a simple idea makes a difference.

I know it's wrong, though not illegal, but I have fallen in love with yet another book on baking. Now I know I have waxed lyrically and overly flowery over many a book determined to make my upper torso akin to that of the Michelin Man (though without the searing sexual potency) but this one is just fabulous. I've already spread the gospel over on the UK Handmade blog and feel duty bound to recommend it to you, good people. All hail, 'Easy Baking' by Linda Collister!!! And just to convince you of the utter fabulosity of this epistle, here is a recipe from therein: 

 

 

Delicious and Essential Pecan Spice Bars

90g unsalted butter (at room temperature, unless the room is either a sauna or walk-in fridge)

3 tablespoons Golden Syrup

1 large egg

180g self raising flour

pinch of salt

1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon mixed ground spice

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

100g coarsely ground pecan nuts

11/2 tablespoons milk

Spicy pecan topping

2 tablespoons plain flour

1 tablespoon demerera sugar

1 tablespoon soft brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

30g unsalted butter, diced and at room temperature (see above)

40g pecan halves

• preheat the oven to 180oC / 350oF / Gas Mark 4
• line and grease a 20cm-ish square tin (or equivalent)
• in a large bowl, cream the butter, on its own, with nothing but an eager spoon to keep it company
• beat in the golden syrup then add the egg, beating it until 3 becomes one (ingredients that is)
• sift together the flour, salt and spices into the buttery melange and stir together
• add the pecans and milk and stir well
• pour this delicious cacophony of potential loveliness into the prepared tin
• now make the topping: in a clean large bowl, rub the diced butter into the flour, sugar and spices until you get clumps of dough. (I didn't achieve this: mine just turned to breadcrums, which still tasted good, but I'd like to give you something to aim for)
• stir in the pecan then scatter in a smaller scale version of a cliched farmer sowing seed in a hearty manner (this is not a crude euphemism by the way...)
• bake for 25-30 minutes until firm under your hungry touch
• allow to cool before transferring to a wire rack for further cooling opportunities
• cut into 15-ish pieces and devour at whim.

Happy Valentine's Day, by the way. x

A few of my favourite things

Here's a recipe for a happy yump:

Clockwise from bottom right:

• I'm drawn to this shade of yellow like a magnet to the fridge. I just find it comforting, not joyous: it's warm and gentle, wise perhaps. It does, however, make me talk bollocks - ho hum. The yarn I'm using is specifically designed for felting (I'll let you know if it works) and the beautiful pattern book is from the bargain bucket at C&H Fabrics. It's a beautiful book, even if I don't use any of the other patterns. Eye candy is underestimated and should be devoured as often as possible.
• After losing my first ever knitted hat, and feeling despondent from knitting never-ending fingerless gloves with 4-ply, I resolved to knit a new hat with chunky-as-you-like Big Softie yarn. I started whilst beginning the week cheerfully with a new english 'Wallander' with the wonderful Kenneth Branagh (but do try and catch the original Swedish version, often on BBC4, which I think is marginally better, though both reduce the current crop of televisular dirge to mere cataracts) and finished the following afternoon: this instant yarn gratification was just what I needed. However, I over-estimated the girth of my head, or at least the length of it, but luckily my finishing was neat enough to allow for a turned brim. And it was just in time for all the snow. I am still ploughing on with the mittens and may have them finished by Xmas, when I will probably burn them in a ritual sacrifice to the Goddess of Craft, asking Her for patience and fatter yarns in future. The pattern is from 'Stitch and Bitch' by the way, should you wish to while away the hours whilst watching Swedish drama of the greyist, weightiest yet atmospherically sumptuous variety.
• The land of my dreams is Paris at the mo, and if anyone would like to buy me this apartment, I would be most grateful and would even send you cake. I am feeding this daydream with a daily munch from the delicious visual buffet of 'Paris: Made by Hand' by Pia Jane Bijkerk (who has a rather beautiful blog too.), a delicious collection of 'the city's artisans, createurs, and craft boutiques'. If you are going to Paris, physically or in your mind, I whole heartedly recommend it: it's small enough not to be cumbersome and should lead you into dark spaces of illuminated joy that you wouldn't have bothered with before. If you are going, could you bring me back anything from this amazing shop please? Merci!
• I am currently addicted to the BBC digital station, 6music. Facebook chums will already be aware of my regular spamming of their status update pages with yet another gem they must listen to that I've just heard via 6music. The DJ's are irreverant, intelligent and clearly love the music they play. Here they are allowed to be as geeky as they want, encouraging their listeners to do the same, creative a music nerd safe-haven. They also tap into the stunning BBC archives to play long forgotten Peel sessions and a variety of music royalty live sets. Particular favourite DJ's are Adam & Joe (of coursee, Tom Robinson's eclectic ear, new boy Jarvis Cocker (a perfect mix of music and literature, tied together with a ribbon of Cocker wit), Huey Morgan (who, along with JC, turns Sunday into a joyous day full of interest rather than the grey day before the week starts again) and Lauren Laverne, keeping me company during the morning. To me, it's bliss.
  
• I have a new guru and her name is Lynne Truss. If you haven't read any of her funny and informative books, may I urge you too. They won't take you long as the typeface is huge. Make sure you are sitting properly as you may develop a neck twinge with all the nodding in agreement as you read. She just speaks common sense and if more people read 'Talk to the Hand', perhaps we can all remember to be a tad more civil to each other, as a little consideration towards others really oils the wheels of our day to day world. However, do not do as I did and read 'Eats Shoots and Leaves' at the same time as John Updike: it took all my strength not to start adding commas, apostrophes and colons of every flavour to his book.
• Finally, baking. These biccies remind me of the ones my old school cooks' would occasionally treat us to, instead of the uninspiring jelly whip or tedious selection of starchy yogurts for most days Dpuddings. These biccies are both crunchy and chewy, with a delicious gingery, toffee flavour (courtesy of the Golden Syrup) Here, size matters: you won't achieve the same amount of comfort nostalgia with a small packet-sized biscuit. The recipe comes courtesy of Jeanette Orrey, the woman who inspired Jamie Oliver to help overhaul school lunch nutrition. I've omitted the chocolate from her recipe, but feel free to add 60g of chopped choc if you wish. The measurements are slightly different as I received a rather gorgeous set of scales for my birthday that measure in increments of 20g, making weighing 55g an impossibility. From my limited experience, I've found that baking is down to ratios: alter all weights in the same way and you should be ok.
  

School biccies.
(makes 8)

180g plain flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
60g oats
120g butter (or marg)
120g demerera sugar (or caster, light brown or a mix)
1 heaped tablespoon golden syrup
drop or two of milk

• preheat the oven to 180oC / 350oF / Gas Mark 4
• line two large baking trays with baking paper or the non-stick parchment-equivalent of your choice
  
• mix together the flour, baking powder and oats in a big bowl
• rub in the butter to create a breadcrumby melange
• add the sugar (and choc if using) and golden syrup and stir to create a stiff dough. You may need to add a drop or two (or three) of milk to bind it all together.
• divide the dough into eight equal portions. Roll each portion into a ball, place on baking sheet and flatten sensitively with your hand, allowing room for the biccie to grow.
• bake for 20-25 mins until pale brown and cracked of surface (they should look like mahoosive gingernuts)
• allow to cool on the sheets before transferring to cooling racks
• enjoy with tea and the knowledge that your school days are long behind you.

What are your favourite things at the mo?

PS: I'm having a clearance sale!!! Please come by and pick up a bargain before I hire a flame thrower and destroy the lot in a hormonal frenzy.

Dahl-ling bread

I am trying very hard at the moment to temper my cookery book purchasing, in particular books on baking. I have discovered that a lot of the more celebrity-type chefs have a tendency towards repeating their recipes, justifying their inclusion in yet another perfectly produced more-style-than-food, 'buy this and you can live like me, and my life is FABULOUS!' book simply by altering the amount of vanilla, or swapping the flour or changing the icing to a frosting. With that in mind, and considering the hefty price tag on a lot of titles, it's worth remembering your trusty local library. I find it's a great way to try out a book for free: this works for crafting books as well. It is often easy to be seduced into thinking that you absolutely, positively have to have that book, but it is better to spend your hard earned cash on something that you'll have use for for years to come. Also, you need to save your cash in order to buy the ingredients / yarn / gluegun / studio as suggested in your newly-acquired piece of inspiration.

One of the books I'd seen at work, but wasn't sure I agreed with, was Sophie Dahl's book, 'Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights: The Art of Eating a Little of What You Fancy'. The reason I didn't 'agree' with it was down to cookery / lifestyle book saturation: there is a growing trend for cookbooks to be just as much about the author as the food. I'm sure she wasn't the first, but Tessa Kiros, with her glorious 'Falling Cloudberries', with its mix of biography, family history, culture, tradition and food, possibly inspired others to follow,  (and of course dear ol' Nigella can't resist a lustful pout over a robust dish of freshly-concocted edible sex between her recipes, despite her first and utterly fabulous book, 'How to Eat'  being completely devoid of any author posturing, aside from the 'I'm actually a serious writer but I can cook too' one on the inner cover.) As with any good idea, a raft of similar titles have followed, to the point of olive oil-based marination, hence me giving Miss Dahl's perfectly beautiful, perfectly stylish book a wide berth. That was until I came across a surprise copy at my local library...

It is indeed a beautiful book, with 101 recipes handily divided by the seasons and then again into breakfasts, lunches and suppers. Each season is heralded with autobiography, illustrating the author's emotional link, love and respect of food. She talks candidly about the weight gain that led to her initial fame (as a model with, shock horror! Squidgy-bits-like-what-real-women-have! She was all of a size 14 at her largest...) and then how she lost weight, (by the way, this isn't a diet book, as I clearly wouldn't have bothered with it) and also morsels about her life growing up, travelling and working. She has an lovely relaxed style, the type of prose you fall into, and of course having an interesting life so far helps too. As for the recipes, accompanied by calm, almost rustic photos, they are simple, practical and look positively eatable, a trait you would assume was a given in a cookery book but sadly isn't necessarily. A particular favourite that I've made a few times now (with the book a good distance away so as not to become soiled by my exuberant baking activities) is what we call in this house 'Jamie Cullum Bread', but Miss Dahl calls 'Musician's breakfast (home-made bread with Parma Ham). For the uninitiated amongst you, Sophie Dahl's 'beloved' is Jamie Cullum and, according to the recipe, 

'This, a strong cup of tea and Miles Davis on the stereo makes him a very happy fellow of a morning.'

I had a flash of Domestic Goddessy Madness the other morning and went all 'lifestyle' myself by making my own Jamie Cullum bread whilst the rest of the family got up properly, that is, shuffling through the morning ritual of wee, tea then food (and not in joined up writing: mornings are strictly printed in this house: we are not a morning family) 
Sadly, it wasn't ready before they all left the house, but I somehow managed not to snaffle down the whole loaf, leaving them some for their return. Yes, that is how much I love them.*dabs at tear with corner of pinny*

'This, a pint cup of coffee and 6Music on the stereo makes me a very happy fellow of a morning.'

As much as I love this bread, I fancied something with a bit more texture, so when I made a loaf today (out of hunger and the need to create: when all the tastiest things are born), I added a variety of seeds. Not only had I managed to gild the lily, I also made it healthier too, though its health benefits are possibly undone by my 'voluptuous' portions. So here is my recipe, based on Miss Dahl's. Give it a go, with or without the seeds, and do check out her book too - I have it on my wishlist as I suppose I should stop renewing this copy...

Who(l)em(eal)y seedy beeyatch, yo.*

450g wholemeal flour (either normal or bread flour: both work)

100g oats

packet of fast-action dried yeast

1 tsp salt (I used Maldon)

25g hemp seeds

50g sunflower seeds

50g pumpkin seeds
600ml warm (not hot) water
1 tbsp sunflower oil

1 tbsp clear honey

• Mix all of the dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl, nay flexi trug should the whim take you (damn they're such a versatile beast!)

• In a large jug, mix together the water, oil and honey.

• Add wet to the dry and stir thoroughly.

• Look at the porridgey gloop and think to yourself, 'How the hell am I going to knead that gelatinous blob?!'

• Exclaim 'Ahhhh!' when you read: 'This bread does not need kneading.'

• Cover the bowl with a clean cloth and place somewhere warm and out of the way (i.e. next to a sleeping relative answers only half of the problem, so don't put it there.) for about 20, 30, heck, perhaps as much as 40 minutes, until the dough has doubled in size (hence the need for the large bowl. You see?! It's all in the planning!)

• Preheat the oven to 190oC / 170oF.
  

• Once risen, do not mark the occassion by bastardising a Pagan tradition and eating your bodyweight in chocolate, but merely beat it back down to size with a wooden spoon.

• Oil a loaf tin and pour the subjugated dough within its oily confines.

• Pop in the oven and bake for 50-60 mins.

• Allow to cool in the tin before turning it out and anointing each slice with a hearty slather of what you fancy.
  

My slather of choice is butter.

*there is a loaf we often buy called a 'seeded batch' that we call a 'seedy beeyatch'. 

I guess you had to be there... 

**Mum: I'm working on my punctuation: look what book I got last weekend!(though clearly I haven't read it yet...)

Self-imposed craft exile...

Regular readers (although, that's an oxymoron as I do not provide enough waffle for you to digest on a regular basis: I'm only thinking of those waistlines...) may have noticed that I have been uncharacteristically quiet on all creative fronts: the shop is still there but bereft of anything new, the blog has creaked to an emollient-free stop, and Flickr, once the place for wips, cakes and inspiration is saturated, regrettably, with my face, a self-portrait on a Thursday being my only creative outburst. Unfortunately, life has got in the way and yumptatious has taken second place to, at the moment, more important shenanigans. Last (school) year was an extremely hectic one and I am determined to redress the balance, but I need your help:

I need YOU!!!

(apologies that the crazy world of foreshortening makes it look as if I am brandishing a stump where my forefinger should be: nice.)

I need you to kick my butt, (in a creative, metaphorical sense only please: I've met a number of you and reckon that you could inflict serious damage if the need arose.) I need you to throw your creative briefs at me: tell me what to write about - be my editor (I won't expect payment...yet) Would you like me to write a review (book, music, film, exhibition etc), re-write a recipe, show you how to make something, tell you a story, give my opinion on a chosen topic etc? I will then post the results over on my spanking new blog. I struggled for ages to come up with a suitable name, fearing what pondlife Google would send my way. Therefore, I have decided against:

• Please kick me up the arse

• Give it to me (and make it hard as you like)

• I need YOU to push me

• Activate my creative juices

• and, of course I need your briefs.

I have gone for an 'exactly what it says on the tin' approach: behold yumptatious waffle!
Just leave your suggestions over there and I'll get cracking.


In the meantime, a quickish precis of the last 9 months creativity:
I've learnt to knit, and, in doing so, created probably my most popular picture on Flickr (21 extremely wise people have added it to their favourites)


I bought some of the yarns seen here from Texere Yarns up in Bradford, the place that I, and the other weavers, bought the yarns for their final projects from back in 1993, so I was thrilled that they are still going. (I wonder if present textile students at Nottingham still go there...)
Ooh, speaking of my fellow weavers from back in the day, I recently got back in touch with an old chum of mine via Facebook, Sarah Allen, who happens to also have an Etsy shop! Go and behold her beautiful cloth: she's damn talented and a purchase from her will increase your lifejoy tenfold.

I made a couple of skirts, one from Clothkits and one made from a sneaky template:

The one on the right is made from upholstery fabric I picked up from my local flea market for £2. Check out my sofa's jealous demeanour (and rightly so.)
I heartily recommend Clothkits: the instructions are easy to follow and they provide everything: the lining, the zip, even the thread. The skirt I plumped for is designed by the wondrous Rob Ryan and comes in many tempting colourways.

I have, of course, been baking, thanks to this amazing book. Every recipe is a winner, although I do think using a food processor does help with the lightness of the frosting. (if anyone would like to buy me a KitchenAid, please feel free: I'm not proud.)

Pornography, pure and simple.

Here are a few of my current favourite things:


clockwise from top left:
my current read and I recommend it whole-heartedly! Funny, honest, informative and inspiring in a cheese-free kinda way. I swear I put on weight with her as she ate her way around Italy (something I would love to do!)
I can't stop playing this album! If you're a pedant, you'll be able to pick out all the 80's references, but that doesn't mean that this is yesterday's leftovers served up as retro. One of those album's that proves that decent dance music can have soul too. This brings me great joy!
Whilst I do indeed love this whisky, it's pictured here more in honour of my latest addiction, 'The Wire'. If you haven't seen it, I can only hope that the God of Karma rectifies the situation and brings you the best thing you can set your eyes on (other than kittens, cake, oh and I guess your children) in the form of the dvd boxed set. And if you don't believe me, listen to Charlie Brooker: he has no reason to lie to you (unlike me, who may at some point need you to lend me a fiver, or help lugging some furniture, or to hide a body)
Superhit jossticks: unleash your inner (or outer) hippy and make your world smell sweeter!
I love Lush products: they smell fabulous, they do a bloody good job and they do it all with a glint in their eye. I'd previously tried Liz Earle's facewash (after remortgaging the house in order to do so...) but my skin hated it. It loves Ultra Bland though, which seems to last forever! Hurrah!
Sainsbury's have introduced more coffee's into their Fairtrade range. Currently enjoying their Italian blend: very nice!



Summer has been and gone, but we managed to get away to Cornwall and had a fabulous time. I love it down there, the mix of raw, beautiful coastline and moors steeped in history and the ghosts of myths and people past. We had a surfing lesson which was a real epiphany, though not for the reasons I had hoped. I discovered that my body is every one of it 37 years: I have no physical strength, I have no flexibility and certainly no grace or elegance (but then I never had!) Ok, I've never been a completely fit person, but my body has often surprised me when called for. Not this time: it's gotten older, and is tired and needs help. At least the neoprene was forgiving! Me and the sea didn't get on too well this holiday: she chewed me up and spat me out as I tried to get over her hormonal waves. I took the hint and admired her from a distance.

I did, however, discover the coffee shop with the finest view:

Tate St Ives.

They also do a good line in sandwiches, cakes and delicious coffee, and use Cornish ingredients where possible. We weren't in the mood for the actual gallery, though I urge you to go. Whilst in St Ives, make sure you go to Barbara Hepworth's Museum + Gallery. The garden is an oasis of space and calm, away from the cramped, yet picturesque, streets. I loved her studio: you can't go in, but you can peer through the windows at a tableaux of artistic industry: it looks like she's just popped out to make herself a cuppa.
We did pop into the shop to add to our collection of joyous inspiration:

clockwise from top left:
1) go to the Eden Project
2) pass out at the wonderment
3) after seeing her lil piggies in the Mediteranean Biome, purchase this utterly inspiring book and immerse yourself in her skillz via her website.
4) thank me later

A fabulous treasure hunt book from Alice Melvin

Postcard featuring 'St Ives Harbour (All Round)' by Bryan Pearce

This book makes me want to get the pencils and oil pastels (Sennelier, natch) out STAT! I love her work oh so very very much. Please buy me some.

Postcards featuring 'Restaurant View with Leach Jug'  and 'View from Pednolver Terrace' by Rachel Nicholson



Right, I'm off to lie in a darkened room in preparation for the arrival of my muse.
Let's not leave it so long next time.
x

Panic and Brownies

I don't know about you, but I reckon that if you are going to break a New Year's resolution, you should do it properly by, metaphorically, slapping its arse whilst laughing at its shoes: 'Blog each week?! *slap* Methinks not! And by the way, your shoes are repugnant! MUHUHAHAHA' or something like that...

I just don't want you to get bored of me...


Any potential stalkers out there? Well allow me to give you a headstart and tell you where I'll be on Saturday 6th December:

Ok, Jesus and his Dad may have something about this rather bold claim, but it is in fact the name for a group of rather fabulous designers and makers, myself included, who will be selling their wares from 11-5pm at The American Church, 79a Tottenham Court Road, W1T 5TD. Read all about it here. I expect to see you there, or else a note from your parent, on my desk the following Monday.


I have been busy since we last met: honest! I've made these:

This lemur one was a commission from a chum at work , and it inspired me to make more. (I have a similar one for a tea drinker with exquisite taste in my shop.)

I haven't listed this one yet...I don't know why (must have been distracted by something shiny) It will therefore escort me to WeMake.

The Union of Craft Tea Cosy
(sold, but I will recreate its' patriotic joy at some point)

lavender hearts (3 available in the shop)

brooches for WeMake (apart from the centre one, which is for this)

I believe in magic! I bought this size 10 linen skirt at my local flea market for one whole pound, for the fabric obviously (unless I was hoping to find another one in order to make trousers, I think that would be obvious) and asked the utterly gorgeous, uber stylish and ridiculously talented Abi Bansal if she could perform fabric alchemy and turn my base metal skirt into a gold tunic.

I love it, oh, everso. It hangs beautifully, the pockets are practical and at just the right height to pop your hands in comfortably for those moments that require sullen ambivalence, and / or lip balm storage. Check out her shop and her beautiful, inspiring blog and be touched by the Blessing of the Bansal: its what your life has been missing, quite frankly.

I've also made some tea towels (long story: all will be revealed soon) for those brand, spanking new group of craft renegades, ukhandmade. (who very kindly did a 'Spotlight' on me!) They're from a recipe by Lotta Jansdotter's 'Simple Sewing' and, whilst I know there is something 'Oh dear! Mum needs to start taking her pills again!' about making your own tea towels, they rock long and they rock hard. Admit it: you'd have them:

...and you'd be right too.

Ok, the 'Panic' in the title of this post refers to me getting ready for WeMake. (expect a minimalist style from the House of yumptatious...) Therefore, it is now time for brownies. (I know that's the real reason you're here.) But I warn you: if you are on a diet, navigate away from the page (unless, of course, you have a moment of clarity, in that you realise that your life will only improve, not when your thighs cease to rub together when you walk, but when you appreciate just how lucky you are to have any form of body at all, and that to waste life trying to conform to some narrow concept of beauty is futile, when you could be enjoying the warmth and joy that life, and a willing partner, are waiting to cloak you in.)

This is based on a recipe by Elisabeth Luard and is from the October edition of my favourite porn mag, Country Living. (I know its wrong, but I can't help myself...)
I have lost count how many times I have made this recipe already, at first, slavishly following the instructions (apart from the 75g chocolate: what is the point of leaving the last 25g?! Thwack it all in!) to what I do now: mixing it all in one pan.
I have used the strongest Green + Blacks chocolate and also Sainsbury's economy dark chocolate and it all works, baby! Just don't ever, EVER use cooking chocolate! As my beautiful, and very to-the-point chum, Vera once said to me, with a look of shock and disgust, 'Why?!?! Use real chocolate!' She is wise, and I haven't looked back since. (well, I did reverse round a corner last week...)
It also works with demerera sugar I discovered last week, after I ran out of caster sugar (when we run out of caster sugar, I have the same look of panic in my eyes when that my Mum used to have when she ran out of garlic: one part confusion mixed with two parts of fear. This shows just how much my Mum used/s garlic in her cooking, rather than reveal a fear of vampires.)
It works equally well with unsalted butter or cheap(ish) sunflower spread. (as long as you don't used reduced fat spreads, because they just don't do the job.)
And don't bother melting your chocolate and butter in a bowl over a pan of boiling water: I just melt it together in the pan: aah, bite me!
Ms Luard's recipe uses hazelnuts, but good old walnuts work well. I wager that pecans would be most edifying too, whatwhat.

Please feel free to print this off and put it on your fridge for ease of use. Personally, I'd be tempted to have it tattooed onto the inside of my eyelids, but I'm just a martyr to the baking cause.

The 'Surely there should be more effort involved?!' Brownies.

100g dark chocolate
125g chopped butter (it melts easier in small pieces) or 125g scooped margarine (you could possibly melt it by breathing on it: why not give it a go...)
250g caster sugar (or whatever sugar you have: its all good)
2 eggs
100g self raising flour
100g walnuts (or any nut that curries your favour)

Heat oven to 190oc / gas mark 5

Melt together the chocolate and butter, maverick style, straight in the pan over a medium heat.

Allow to cool slightly. (just the time it takes to either make a cup of tea, look for and download an obscure song from iTunes, or log onto Etsy, click on 'Community', then click on 'Forums', find the UK chat hidden away in 'Etc' and type in 'I'd have to disagree. I was quite ill for days as a result' and log out instantly.)

Add the sugar to the chocolate melaaaange and beat together.

Add the eggs to the sweet chocolate melaaaange and beat together.

Add the flour to the eggy, sweet, chocolate melaaaange and beat together.

Add the nuts to the flour-enriched, eggy, sweet, chocolate melaaaange and beat together.

Line a 20cm square tin (or the nearest you've got: I'm not a tin fascist) in the style of your choosing (I use reuseable Teflon liners, but thats just how I roll) and pour in the hip-enhancing goop.

Bake for 25 mins.

Cut into squares and allow to cool. I put mine in the fridge after about 20 mins to harden up the chocolate. I store them in there rather than storing them in a tin.

I know this is hard, but try not to eat the lot on your own, especially if you've used a powerful cocoa-charged chocolate, as you may get a little buzzy.

This is my gift to you: use it wisely.