A weekend pudding

May 10, 2012

Kitten Parkour is amusing until a full glass  of red wine  is side swiped by a  flick of her tail and crashes to the ground.  So  on shoot days like today,  Coco is confined to the  bolthole  upstairs.  Imagine  the  horrors and demands for money back  if she turned over  the  Vintage tea party  Cover Story or  used a  primped and curled baby Boden model as a springboard for more cavorting.  Here we are then,   kitten splayed on a frilly cushion  behind a curtain out of dog’s reach,  and dog draped across the bed whilst I tap away at the keyboard.

The  banging, scraping and dragging below are the  normal rhythms of a  shoot soundtrack- anything more alarming  and I  will cross my fingers, breathe deeply.  After a recent deafening  crash,  followed by a white faced stylist asking me to ‘come and have a look downstairs’,   the  set building disaster  I  envisage is actually a  dazed  woodcock  in the rosemary bush . It had   flown off course into the window, and  almost written off  the  shoot in  shards of glass.   A lucky escape, the window  remained  intact and the bird  waddled off to recover under the privet hedge.

So, where am I?   working on the new website, waiting for more samples of our BRILLIANT new decoration idea,  ( hope the printer gets it right next time) and   giving the go ahead for another go at dealing with the ever peeling walls in the quintal in Olhao.  Annoyed that my Faro London Easy Jet ticket has  £9.00 ‘INCLUDED’ in the final price. Shouldn’t this be ‘ ADDED’ ? More sly Budget airline wording .   Have been ferrying daughter to art foundation interviews, too.  Does she go the traditional  painting and drawing route or the digital path at  a college such as  Ravensbourne where there isn’t a paintbrush in sight?  Learning art skills means taking  time but it seems that in the  Age of  Instant time is  an undervalued commodity.

On the other hand, I  am all for the quick way to whip up a pudding,  Meringues, cream and berries are straightforward and give the cook little stress:

Meringues  - another recipe from my cook book

3 egg whites at room temperature, separated.

175 g caster sugar

half a teaspoon lemon juice

300ml double cream whipped

200g strawberries, or other berries

Successful meringues depend upon a little bit of lemon juice added to the egg whites to help them get really stiff in the beating; a well oiled or greaseproof papered tray to stop them sticking, and a long languid stay in a low oven , two hours or so, so that they are crunchy outside but still a little bit chewy inside.

Make sure the mixing bowl is very clean and the eggs are at room temperature. Whisk the egg whites until stiff. I use an electric whisk. Add a quarter of the sugar and all the lemon juice and keep whisking until the mixture holds its shape – this will take a good 5-10  minutes.

Gently fold in the rest of the sugar with a metal spoon. Put dollops of meringue onto a baking sheet lined with lightly oiled greaseproof paper – you want 12 in all – and leave in the middle of an oven preheated to 140c until set.

PS I think  Meringue  would be a rather delicious shade of creamy white in a  Pure Style paint range

Sorry, more tulips

May 2, 2012

I can’t stop clicking away at my tulip beauties.  At least this is a wholesome  no-strings infatuation . Nip outside. A break in the Tulse hill monsoon.  It feels heavy, cool. Grey, a monotone sort of day. But the tulips are swaying and fluttering like floral clubbers in a riot of pinks, whites, and purples. I crouch at their level, and aim at my favourites: beetroot and raspberry rippled ‘Triumph’ and ‘Rems’  look almost good enough to eat. Keep the camera steady- with  right elbow resting on my leg.  It’s good to be down here at bee level and close enough to count the beads of rain drops  on waxy  curled and feathered  petal cups.  Some of the  white Parrots are  flopping,  on the road to petal decay and an even  more langorous laid back beauty.

It’s May and, bother, way past my season for thick black wool tights. Something must be done because I’m a bare legged sort – and like the feel of sun and air on skin.  But maybe I’m going to have to wait a little longer until the barometer rises and  the rains of  the  ‘ wettest drought ‘ subside.

There was everything from fuzzy  black and white film of  prim couples dancing at the festival of  Britain in 1952  to  the first Habitat catalogue,  and spriggy Laura Ashley wallpaper  at the  V&A’s British Design 1948-2012. (Where was the iconic Ercol windsor chair or Robert Welch’s cutlery? ) This was an inspiring and informative show.  ‘ Ooh I’ve never heard of him ‘ before exclaimed the  young architectural student behind who was  admiring carpet designs from the legendary Sixties’ interior  decorator  David Hicks.

Petals and buns

April 23, 2012

I know there were  head shots two or three posts ago,  but can’t  resist showing you more frilly  and voluptuous tulips from the  garden . They give me the kind of visual and visceral  pleasure  I was yearning for after the clinical,  blokeish  spots, pickled animals, and pharmacy displays at the Damien Hirst show, Tate Modern.  It’s funny to think that  Hirst’s  £50million diamond  skull and £30,500 plastic version in the gift shop are as hyper inflated, as the humble tulip was  during  the period of Tulip Fever in Holland.  One  ‘Semper Augustus’ bulb could be exchanged for several acres of land  until  1637 when the bubble burst and prices plummeted.   Art,  bulbs, anything,  can be engendered with hyped up value when rich and gullible go together.

Now for the technical stuff.  I  spotted a mistake in  the Hot Cross bun recipe  in my book.   It should not be  1  tablespoon  milk,  but  170 ml tepid milk. Sometimes we just miss these typos.   And , like the red faced  filler of the over flowing  bath at home last week (a mini  Niagara descended upon the room below)  I offer my apology..

Here’s the recipe:

450 g plain flour

55g caster sugar

pinch mixed spice

l and half tsp dried yeast

75g raisins

55 g candied peel

1 egg

170ml tepid milk

55g unsalted butter melted

for the cross

80g plain flour

2 tbsp caster sugar

100ml water

for the glaze

2 tbsp soft brown sugar

2 tbsp milk

l tbsp marmalade

Sift the flour into a bowl and add the sugar, mixed spice, dried yeast, raisins, candied peel and grated orange rind. Beat the egg with the milk and add the melted butter. Tip the mixture into the flour and stir. Turn out and knead on a floured surface for 5 minutes. Divide into 12 buns and  place on floured baking sheets. Cover with a damp tea towel. Leave in a warm place for about 90 minutes until almost doubled in size.

To make the cross: Mix the flour, sugar and water until smooth. Put the mixture in a piping bag and pipe a cross on each bun. Place in a preheated oven , 180C for 20 minutes. Cool on a wire rack.

To make the glaze: Simmer the sugar, milk and marmalade in a pan for a few minutes until syrupy, stirring all the time. Sieve the syrup to remove any pieces of orange rind and  pour  over the cooked buns.

Mixing everything in, above,   and,  below, risen dough buns decorated with crosses

Hot cross buns for tea – doesn’t have to be Easter to make them. I split them in half and eat  toasted with butter and jam.

Things I like this week…… a patchwork of prints

April 17, 2012

Handblocked spots  on cotton from Les Indiennes

One of my favourite Liberty tana lawn sprigged floral prints  – great for little blouses and floaty skirts as well as cushions and other home ideas.

More simple handblocked Indian cotton from Les Indiennes – great as detail in schemes with larger prints

As above….

Milly Molly Mandy,  hollyhocks, ,  tea and cake on the lawn: as  thirties’   in feeling  as this Liberty tana lawn

Paisley power  is in this season,  not that the  little teardrop/fertility symbol is  ever  out.

As above…

Modern retro  yellow dandelions on cotton by Angie Lewin  from St Judes

Native  Heath on cotton, by Old Town, also from StJudes

Pure Style outside

April 16, 2012

So much  texture and nature to devour and fill the senses with, here in the Lake District.  I can  happily spend the whole day investigating lichen the way it is spattered across rocks, trees, and walls, like organic and earthy paint palettes. My son wants to take me up Hellvelyn.  Sounds good. I need some leg stretching.  How long will it take, envisaging a couple of hours hard walking?  Looking back I suppose I didn’t process the reply.

I pack the camera in my rucksack hoping for some more lichen moments and yell a breezy goodbye .  There are eight of us in assorted jackets and  hiking boots. Who’s got the whistle and compass, the water proof trousers? I’m looking forward to this – getting out in the fresh air.  Replaying it  from the comfort of my pillow I feel quite nauseous to think  I had considered  my Spanish riding boots – with the slippery soles.

When we pile out of the cars at  Glenridding  I ask where we’re heading and am pointed in the direction of  distant  snow laced  peaks. The penny drops. My stomach does a vigorous revolution . How am I going to get up THERE?

The first  vertical ten minutes up a winding track are excruciating. Will I simply pass out and die, here- at the beginning?   ‘You all right mum?’  ‘Yes, fine I just need a couple of biscuits and a defibrillator.’  By the time we’re up on  Birkhouse Moor which is relatively flat, by hill standards, the summit disappears in an assault of  angry cloud hail and sleet. We take shelter behind a wall  and I’m not the only one who’s probably hoping that it will get so bad we’ll have to turn back. But no, it’s clearing and the sun’s coming out.

Already reeling at the thought that this is a seven hour-all-in excursion, I’m not prepared for the next bit of news. That knife edge ridge with the  plummeting sides, looks hairy.  Glad we’re not going in that direction. ‘ Mum thats Striding Edge and  the way to the top’.

I lose all sense of time, climbing and clinging to the rocky and sometimes snowy  ridge which falls away to  sheer  slopes hundreds of metres below. Panic, vertigo ,quivering  hands and legs have to be supressed.  Or…….    What am I doing here?  “Living in the moment Mum,  look at the view, this is amazing’  ‘When will we get to the top’? I  whine parent child  roles reversed.  I can’t look anywhere but the rock face. To cut a long and dry mouthed story short-  we all  make it to the summit – all 950 metres (3,117 ft) above sea level,  and  the third highest peak in England.   The prizes: a sense of acheivement, elation, wonder at being out in a wild and beautiful environment and,  very Pure Style , jamon and rocket sandwiches.  PS the descent at Swirral Edge is not particularly pleasant either,  but afterwards it’s  a walk in the park all  the long and windy knee- assaulting way to the bottom. Very large glasses of chardonnay finally still my shaky legs.

If you want to put life into perspective – have a go at Hellvelyn

Eggs and spring lambs

April 10, 2012

We have fled  the urban beat to Wordsworthian daffs, wide skies and contours of the lake district.  A buffeting wind and skylarks twittering above the bleak brown fells are mental liberation . We walk the limestone ‘pavements’ , strange grey layers of rock gratin  ( ‘O’ level  geog’  textbook  stuff) and trace the course of glassy streams, low for this time of  year.

Marked by classic drystone walls  ,and decorated with lichen and moss the texture of soft buns, fields of spring onion green roll up and down, over and over.  Ewes and lambs are the only crowds here.  Bleating and baaing as sheep do.

The Easter Egg hunt is a mad dash by adults and under fifteens alike. Even the dog spots a shiny foil wrapped egg and gulps it down in one.

So good to spend long hours with book: Jeanette Winterson’s Why be happy when you could be normal ? and Julian Barnes’ A sense of an Ending keep me engrossed by the fire .

I’m happy that  bank holiday Monday is sodden  because it means a trip to  Blackwell  by Lake Windermere . This An  Arts and crafts feast, especially the tiled fireplaces .

Visual bliss

April 2, 2012

Raspberry ripple, ice cream and raddichio leaves, that’s what my  fuschia pink and white  streaked  ‘Triumph’ tulip petals look  like.   And how that pink would look so good as lipstick – Talking of which , I’m aiming for the gorgeous violet blue  Lancome shade that might just usurp the old faithful Barry M  colour 52.  I will let you know.

Post dog walk I  couldn’t resist  two pots of muscari -  grape hyacinths  , another  floral thing that looks like something else. With their lime green leaves and blue blue  bobbly flowers a crowd of these little bulbs so sum up spring.

Don’t you just love the look of white eggs ? I don’t hunt them out especially but when I do have a box or two (these are ducks’) its pleasing to put them in a dish on the table-  a simple study in edible and  natural decoration.

Nameless kitten latterly known as Chanel, is now plain Coco.   It sounds like  chocolate  and after all she does look like  a rather deliciously dressed  truffle .

Spring soup

March 27, 2012

Last week at the very inspiring  Foodie Bugle Lectures held at Thyme at SouthropManor we ate divine nettle  pesto ( amongst other delicious things such as frittata ,chocolate pud, and orange and apple cake).   It’s nearly time, too, to do some foraging for wild garlic- and you can start in your own back garden if you’re lucky. Otherwise a trip to the woods is in order. This is a wild garlic soup recipe from the book for some more Spring inspiration

25g unsalted butter

2 leeks trimmed and roughly chopped

1.2 litres vegetable stock

1 kg potatoes peeled and roughly chopped

generous handful of wild garlic leaves, well washed and roughly chopped

3-4 tbsp creme fraiche

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Melt the butter in a heavy based saucepan and cook the chopped lees gently for five minutes until soft. Add the stock and simmer on a medium heat for about 10 minutes. Add the potatoes and simmer for a further 15-20 minutes, or until they are just cooked through. Blend half the soup , either in a liquidiser or with a hand-held blender , then pour back into the soup. This gives it a chunky consistency; for a smoother texture, liquidize the whole lot.

Add the wild garlic and simmer for a few more minutes. Season to taste  and serve with dollops of creme fraiche.

I did my bit too, at the Foodie Bugle Lectures ( Founders, Monika Linton of Brindisa and Chantal Coady of Rococo chocolates told  mouthwatering stories of triumph over adversity ) and talked about Pure Style. How it is all about a slower, simpler and more realistic, sustainable way of living without spending a lot of money. It’s something, a mind set I suppose,  that has evolved from when I was knee high and my mum taught me how to bake dough balls for the dolls,  through to learning the design ropes on magazines,  and putting ideas into practice at home.  The first was the  crumbling   Spitalfields house in the mid eighties.   Then there  was no Farrow & Ball chart to coo over, or get very confused by 50 shades of white.  I made do with soft muted colours from the very limited Dulux trade collection, and very good they were, too. (Hopsack, a lovely olive green was my favourite )  I hear that the artist Tracey Emin lives there now – I wonder how it looks.  I’m beginning to get twitchy for another house project. Maybe it’s because I’ve also got  something colourful on the boil  – an idea I’ll be launching in early summer.  Going to be redesigning the web site too- a task which makes me feel quite weak headed .

Sun, sun, sun, the garden is pulsating now with life, and the Lilac Perfection tulips are first to bloom (see above )  I’m very happy with all the washing flapping on the line- it comes in toasty and smelling of fresh air (see below ).

Pure Style talk

March 22, 2012

Dog and new kitten dozing  either side of my chair. Dog still rather put out and jealous. Needs much attention.  I’m looking forward to and  pulling together my thoughts for a talk about Pure Style tomorrow. Should be fun and in good company too. See here…

Green things

March 19, 2012

Inspired by the Monday morning  sun spilling over the  keyboard   thoughts meander far too early  to supper  and cooking  A first day of spring risotto from my book Pure Style Recipes for Everyday.   ( I must say,  last week when I made it, I substituted arborio rice for a spanish paella variety- and it was just as delicious. In fact I quite like the way this kind of rice is less squidgy and the grains remain more separate. It’s best if you can lay your hands on fresh pods but frozen peas (petit pois are sweetest) and frozen broad beans are fine. And if  the asparagus element is impossible (it might not be available and air freighted from Chile isn’t brilliant) you can leave it out and add  a few more peas and broad  beans.

one and a half  tbsps olive oil

75g unsalted butter

1 onion finely chopped

6 spring onions finely chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

300g risotto rice

150ml white wine

1.2 litres hot chicken or vegetable stock

8 asparagus spears, chopped into 2cm pieces

200g shelled peas

200g shelled broad beans

fresh mint leaves torn

50g grated Parmesan cheese

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil and half the butter. Add the onion, spring onions and garlic and cook over a medium heat for about 10 minutes until soft. Add the rice and stir for a couple of minutes to coat the grains in oil. Add the rice and stir for a couple of minutes to coat the grains in oil. Add the wine and start adding the hot stock a ladleful at a time, stirring continuously. After 15 minutes add the asparagus and keep stirring and adding stock for 5 more minutes. Add the remaining vegetables and cook the bubbling and steaming contents for a further five minutes, adding the stock as necessary.

It’s ready when the rice goes creamy, but not to the point of soggy; the grains shoud retain a chewy al dente quality. Turn off the heat. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground pepper, stir in the remaining butter and the torn mint leaves and leave to rest for a few minutes with the lid on.

Serve with grated Parmesan, ideally immediately, but if you are thwarted by  a call from mother in law,  don’t worry – the risotto will not be a disaster if it sits in the pan for another fifteen minutes or so.

I’ve just about finished mopping up the dust and rearranging the furniture from  a big Dulux Shoot we had here in the house last week. Such a relief when the very able set decorators put back the bright orange and blue walls to white. It’s not that I don’t think it will happen, after all the front room has several hundred layers of paint now,  but post the  intensive updating and painting recently it would especially dreadful if it couldn’t be put right. White and green feathery parrot tulips – above -  help to make the house feel like home again.

Oh, yes, in all the paint pot chaos we acquired a  four month old  rescue  kitten from Battersea dogs and cats home. Our gorgeous cat Bea, died suddenly last October – and everyone has missed a feline presence.  The new girl is settling in well, see below, and remains nameless  until we all agree on something  (her given name, Chanel, was   given  a thumbs down)  -  difficult I can see.

I’ve been cleaning out the shed and lining up the tools. Got to get out there planting. So good the days stay light until well after tea time and after the down pour at the weekend there seems to be a surge of garden growth  – overnight the grass is  bushier and the alliums and tulips are putting out ever more lush and  flopping leaves. There are narcissi pushing up, too, on Bea’s grass grave,  a  spot by the fence where she could often be found  basking in the sun  with a beady  eye on  bird lunch.