Book review: Farm City by Novella Carpenter

I've been meaning to review this book for ages. It's a book about a city farm based here in a particularly dodgy part of Oakland across the bay. On a piece of undeveloped land next to her apartment, Novella Carpenter has a farm, and this is the story of how it came into being, and some of the animals and vegetables she's raised.

I've read a few books about people starting small holdings - Rosie Boycott's comes to mind - pigs in a Victorian walled garden, or Barbara Kingsolver's Animal Mineral Vegetable. And I enjoyed them. This one has the edge in that the locale is so unexpected, and the writing so refreshing. No privileged person downshifting to a rural idyll here. This is a book about someone with not much living in an area surrounded by people with even less, conjuring so much of value with so little apart from a ton of hard work, ingenuity and enthusiasm, and the kindness of friends and strangers. I loved the descriptions of dumpster diving in restaurant bins for food for the pigs. And the tale of the turkeys. And the stories of the other inhabitants of her neighbourhood.

You can follow her story on her blog, but I thoroughly recommend you also look for her book. A really good read. And now out in paperback.

Book review (sort of)

A Crack in the Edge of the World: America and the Great California Earthquake of 1906 by Simon Winchester

Well, here we are in Earthquake country. There was one yesterday - 4.1 on the Richter scale. Actually there's usually one somewhere in this part of California every day, but most are smaller than that. Yesterday's was felt by humans and not just machines. It wasn't felt by me though. Missed it completely. Every now and again I wonder if the kitchen is shaking but so far it has turned out to be the spin cycle on the washing machine.

As a result of reading Simon Winchester's book I now know much more about earthquakes and what causes them. It's a fascinating read. If you're looking for a book describing the SF earthquake of 1906 and its aftermath, then this may not satisfy as that's not what most of the book is about. This book is much more of an explanation of the earthquake and its geological context, giving a history of key events, an exposition of plate tectonics and the San Andreas fault's place on the planet. It is very interesting and readable - a good mix of science, history and travelogue. It's also a bit scary. Especially if you're sitting on the San Andreas fault itself as I am. Still I think I'm glad I read it. Knowledge is power and what have you, though if "the big one" hits, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to do anything about it. So I'm just going to stop worrying about it which I think is what everyone else does.

Omnivore Books - heaven for the cook

Tom and the girls bought me a gift voucher for this lovely bookshop this year for my birthday. Took me a few days to get my act together, work out what I probably wanted and head the block and a half down there. I'm going to have to be very very disciplined not to spend an awful lot of money in this shop.


On Cesar Chavez at the Noe Valley end on a quiet residential section of the road, is this one roomed bookshop that looks a bit like a library. White shelves wall to wall, filled with an incredible mix of new and vintage books. Cookery books generally don't turn up second-hand so the vintage books section is a joy. There's a copy of Elizabeth David's Mediterranean Food behind the desk - first edition, gorgeous. I covet it.

But that's not what I bought today. I've made a promise to myself that while I am in the US I will buy books I couldn't easily get at home. Omnivore doesn't make this easy as the imported stock is excellent, well-chosen and very tempting. Leaving aside the fact that almost all of the books I left behind and miss, are here.


Anyway, I am not buying British. So today, as I left I was clutching Judy Rodgers' The Zuni Cafe Cookbook and Thomas Keller (of The French Laundry)'s Ad Hoc at Home. How did I know what to get? Well I owe that to the owner of the bookstore, Celia Sacks, by way of a piece she did on this year's best books, and in the case of the Zuni book, on personal recommendation in the shop. Two gorgeous books from Californian chefs to have fun with, to add to Alice Waters' Chez Panisse Menu Cookbook which I bought last time I went. Really must get on with some cooking.

Editing my life - and my cookery books

What are the essentials of your life? In terms of things that is. Objects you absolutely need to have with you. Actually that's an exaggeration as I'm not planning some survival experience a la Bear Grylls in San Francisco. In fact in some ways life should be a little more civilized than here in rural Wales where manure, chicken poo and wellies feature regularly.

The thing is that we're not shipping anything. We're taking suitcases and arriving and making our new home from scratch or in fact Ikea which rather handily also exists on the other side of the Atlantic. But I can't bear not having any cookery books with me. Partly because they are my favourite books and partly because I know the American ones will be all cups and therefore a bugger to use.

Anyway I've managed to edit my collection - 70 books and rising - to three. It was ten but they were all huge and heavy. So now it's three and only one is huge and heavy. The winners in the competition for which cookery books get to cross the Atlantic are in no particular order:

Elizabeth David's French Provincial Cookery - because you have to have one David and this is the best and most used and wonderful to read. Oh and smallish in paperback.

Darina Allen's Ballymaloe Cookery Course - not because it is my favourite. It is great but I use others more. But it's comprehensive and educational so should come up with something most days.

and

Edouard de Pomiane's Cooking in Ten Minutes - because it is new to me, tiny, funny and my uncle who is reigning champion cook in our family of cooks loves it.

Sorry to all the other entrants. I shall miss you and will no doubt buy lots of future companions.

Marmalade

I didn't have time to post about this yesterday. The panic was completely unnecessary as I didn't get to setting stage until well after the kids were home. It took ages. But having tasted it, making marmalade was undoubtedly worth it. I got my Seville oranges in my veg box delivery, once I heard they were available. I've never made marmalade before. I do like it but it doesn't go as well with strong coffee as bread and honey does so I don't eat it that often. However this year, that wasn't going to stop me.

There are numerous recipes for Marmalade, using all sorts of citrus fruit. This is a classic rough cut bitter marmalade from Sarah Raven's Garden Cookbook. If you grow your own or are interested in seasonal cooking, then this is a lovely book. I found it recently on a second-hand stall. I'd been coveting it for ages but couldn't quite justify buying it for myself given my addiction to cookery books and the resulting lack of shelf space. However at £12 for the hardback and barely a scratch on the book, I could no longer resist.

Seville marmalade (made 12 assorted but mostly 450g jars)

1.4 kg Seville oranges
1 teaspoon salt
Juice of two lemons
2.7kg granulated sugar

Scrub the oranges and put them whole into a large preserving pan, along with 2.4 litres of water and the salt. Cover with a lid and simmer the fruit gently until soft. This takes about 1 hour. Reserve the liquid and halve the fruit, scooping out the pith and pips with a spoon and putting this into a small saucepan. Add another 300 ml of water to the pan to pith and pips and then simmer for 10 minutes.


Coarsely slice the orange peel and add to the preserved liquid in the preserving pan. Strain the liquid from the pith and pips and add this liquid to the large pan. Add the lemon juice and sugar, and heat slowly to dissolve the sugar completely, stirring all the time. Increase the heat and bring to a rapid boil until the setting point is reached.


To test for the setting point, put a saucer in the fridge to cool. When you think the marmalade might be ready, put a spoonful of the boiling jam onto the saucer. Return the saucer to the fridge. Once it is cold, the jam should wrinkle when you push it with your finger.

After taking the marmalade off the heat, skim the scum from the surface with a spoon. Allow it to rest for at least 20 minutes - or the fruit peel will all float to the top (mine has anyway, but what the hell). Stir once and pour into warm sterilised dry jars. Put a greaseproof disc on the top of each jar and cover immediately.

Preserved lemons

Well, two of you asked for this recipe so here goes. This is from Paula Wolfert's Moroccan Cuisine which is one of those thorough and not a little scary cookery books that makes you want to visit a souk. Oh, and it has no pictures (which doesn't worry me but I know of people who hate that). In other words, I'd love to use it more, but it rarely leaves the shelf. It is beautifully written and not dissimilar in style to Elizabeth David - poetic, slightly bossy, thorough, authoritative. I like this passage on roasting lamb:

"I am not going to suggest you spit-roast a whole lamb; I realise that for most readers that is out of the question. Instead I recommend that you make mechoui with a ten pound forequarter. Though it may taste a little better if you can dig a pit, fill it with charcoal and set up a roasting spit in your backyard, I guarantee that with this adaptation you will obtain good results in the oven of your home, be it a country house or a flat."

So. Preserved lemons.

From Paula Wolfert: Moroccan Cuisine

Preserved lemons, sold loose in the souks, are one of the indispensable ingredients of Moroccan cooking, used in fragrant lamb and vegetable tagines, recipes for chicken with lemons and olives, and salads. Their unique pickled taste and special silken texture cannot be duplicated with fresh lemon or lime juice, despite what some food writers have said.

5 lemons
70g (21/2oz) salt, more if desired
Optional Safi Mixture: 1 cinnamon stick, 3 cloves, 5 to 6 coriander seeds, 3 to 4 black peppercorns, 1 bay leaf
Freshly squeezed lemon juice if necessary

1. If you wish to soften the peel, soak the lemons in lukewarm water for 3 days, changing the water daily. (I didn't.)

2. Quarter the lemons from the top to within 1 cm (1/2") of the bottom, sprinkle salt on the exposed flesh, then reshape the fruit.

3. Place 1 tablespoon salt on the bottom of a preserving jar. Pack in the lemons and push them down, adding more salt, and the optional spices, between layers. Press down the lemons to release their juices and to make room for the remaining lemons. (If the juice released from the squashed fruit does not cover them, add freshly squeezed lemon juice - not chemically produced lemon juice and not water. I'd like to add that I need loads and loads of extra lemons to produce enough juice. I don't know if soaking the lemons would have produced more juice from the ones I was preserving but if not then this isn't a recipe that is light on lemons, and they must have some incredibly juicy lemons in Morocco.) Leave some air space before sealing the jar.

4. Let the lemons mature in a warm place, for 30 days, shaking the jar each day to distribute the salt and juice.

To use, rinse the lemons as needed under running water, removing and discarding the pulp, if desired - and there is no need to refrigerate after opening though a layer of olive oil will keep them fresh. Preserved lemons will keep up to a year, and the pickling juice can be used two or three times over the course of a year.

Lemon pudding: Comfort food for a November night

My mother used to make a pudding like this when I was young. I found the recipe recently in my copy of The Encyclopedia of World Cookery. Made from butter, sugar, milk, flour, eggs and lemons, this is not quite a souffle. The topping is spongey and the bottom like a custard. It's lemony, warming and lovely with double cream. The recipe I used yesterday is from Tamasin's Kitchen Bible - it's rather more luxurious than my original recipe. I have reduced the amount of sugar by 3 ounces. I know Tamasin Day-Lewis says she doesn't have a sweet tooth but I disagree - it's quite sweet enough with the amount of sugar I used. And of course they were our own eggs.

Tasmanian Lemon Pie

Serves 4-6 (in our case 4...)

110g/4oz butter softened
200g/7oz vanilla caster sugar
4 eggs, separated
4tbsp plain flour, sifted
400ml/14 fluid oz milk
grated rind and juice of 2 lemons

Preheat the oven to 180 C/350 F/Gas 4. Cream the butter with the sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg yolks, then the flour and milk, a little at a time. Add the grated rind and juice of the lemons. Whisk the egg whites until stiff and add to the mixture, stirring in the first spoonful, then folding each subsequent spoonful lightly and quickly into the mixture to incorporate it as you would a souffle. Pour into a greased baking dish, so the mixture comes about 5cm/2in up the side of the dish. Cook in the oven for about 25-30 minutes, until slightly (or in my case more than slightly) brown on top and obviously set but faintly shuddery. Serve warm with cream.

Chocolate Chestnut Cake

Baking day number two and thank you to the girls for leaving me alone for most of the afternoon. Their bedroom is a complete tip but it's a small price to pay.

I decided to do a chocolate chestnut cake. Ordinarily I would use Nigella's recipe from How to be a Domestic Goddess which is one of my favourites. But it is very rich indeed and I fancied trying something slightly different.

The Ballymaloe book has a simpler recipe. To Nigella's 9 ingredients (chestnut puree, butter, vanilla extract, dark rum, eggs, melted chocolate, salt, two types of sugar) there are only 4 in the cake itself (chocolate, chestnut puree, eggs and sugar). The Ballymaloe book also adds icing to the cake but I've decided I won't to mine.

The method was similar but because the cake has no butter in it, it came together much more easily and produced a more liquid and smoother batter. One tip was to put the purée through a mouli first and this made it much easier to work. The other main difference is that the eggs and most of the sugar are beaten together first until they are light and fluffy giving a much lighter texture to the cake. My one quibble with this cake is that it tastes much much sweeter than Nigella's and that's not a good thing. Nigella's is dark and rich and actually not very sweet at all. Darina's is lighter, with a less dense texture but could do with at least 75g of sugar being taken out to let the flavour of chocolate and chestnut dominate. I shall fiddle with the recipe and try again. I'm pretty sure you could come up with an amalgam of both which took the simplicity and lightness of the Ballymaloe recipe and the dark, sophisticated flavour of Nigella's.

Chocolate Chestnut Cake

110g (4oz) dark chocolate chopped
200g (7oz) unsweetened chestnut purée
4 organic eggs, separated
200g (7oz) caster sugar

20cm (8in) loose-based tin

Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas 4

Grease the tin liberally. Melt the chocolate in a bowl over a saucepan of hot, but not boiling, water. Pass the chestnut purée through a mouli or food processor to loosen its texture. It tends to be very compressed straight out of the tin, and you will be able to mix it into the other ingredients better if this is done.

Place the 4 yolks and 2/3 of the sugar into the bowl of a mixer, and beat at high speed for 3-5 minutes, until it is very light and fluffy. By hand, whisky the egg whites until they are firm and shiny, and whisk in the rest of the sugar. Continue to whisk for another 30-60 seconds, until they are glossy and stiff. Add the chestnut purée to the yolk mixture and mix in at low speed. Fold in the melted chocolate. Once it is well incorporated, fold in the egg whites by hand.

Pour into the greased springform, and place in the centre of the oven for 30-40 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. Remove from the oven and cool before taking out of the tin.

Gâteau à l'Orange

I shall be baking four cakes in the next couple of days which is rather more than normal. They are for a tea party on Saturday afternoon at my mother's house so must keep and must be able to travel, so I've decided to do two orange cakes and two chocolate chestnuts. The orange ones will be done today.

This recipe is from one of my favourite cookery books: The Book of Jewish Food by Claudia Roden. I first saw it over someone's shoulder on the top deck of 73 bus into work. It's that kind of book, the kind of book you read for pleasure. It is a very personal book, a history of a culture through food, with wonderful pictures, some jokes and fantastic recipes.

In particular I love the cake recipes which are generally simpler than the norm and work beautifully. There's the one I'm using today, a brilliant Danish Apple cake, a moist and dark chocolate almond cake. It's excellent if you want to do gluten-free cakes as many feature almonds not flour.

Nigella does a similar cake to this one in How to Eat featuring clementines. I prefer this one, I think, because somehow the orange has a rather more grown-up flavour, more bite to it. At first it seems odd to puree the whole orange, peel and all and use it in a cake, but once you've done it, you see what genius it is. The cake is moist, rich and wonderfully orangey. I've always wondered if you could do the same with lemons but I suspect you'd have to use more sugar and that would unbalance the texture. Maybe one day I shall experiment but not for Saturday's tea party.

Gâteau à l'Orange

Serves 12 or more

2 oranges
6 eggs
250g (9oz) sugar
2 tablespoons orange blossom water
1 teaspoon baking powder
250g (9oz) blanched almonds, coarsely ground

Wash the oranges and boil them whole for 1 1 ⁄2 hours or until they are soft.

Beat the eggs with the sugar. Add the orange blossom water, baking powder and almonds and mix well. Cut open the oranges, remove the seed, and purée in a food processor. Mix thoroughly with the egg and almond mixture and pour into a 23cm (9 inch) oiled cake tin dusted with matzo meal or flour - preferably non-stick and with a removable base. Bake in a pre-heated 375°F/190°C/gas 5 oven for an hour. Let it cool before turning out.

Here Comes Everybody

I've been wondering how I could introduce this post/book review for a while and then No Impact Man provided the perfect story.

I recently read Clay Shirky's Here Comes Everybody about the digital/internet/Web 2.0 revolution we are currently undergoing. It's a thoroughly entertaining and interesting read, showing how blogs, Twitter, video and so on are changing the way we behave and think and socialise. For example, I will admit that I hadn't quite seen the point of Twitter until I read the book. And to be honest with you, for most people I still don't, as frankly most of our lives are just not that interesting. However, the use that Egyptian political activists are putting it to makes the whole thing worthwhile, as they can ensure that the action by the police against them is documented quickly and as it happens.

Which brings me on to the story from New York that No Impact Man brought to my attention. Because while Big Brother may be watching us, Little Brother is often to be found looking right back at them. On Friday night, a Critical Mass demonstration was taking place in New York. For those of you who aren't familiar with this group, Critical Mass stage monthly cycling demos reclaiming the streets of cities like New York and London for the cyclist. These are in my experience pretty easy going demos, with a carnival atmosphere - the main point is that there is a critical mass of cyclists making it harder for cars to get around for a bit. Last Friday, an NYPD officer decided to take things into his own hands, walked into the path of one cyclist who tried to avoid him, knocked him off, assaulted him and then arrested the cyclist and charged him attempted assault, disorderly conduct and resisting arrest. I can say all this because a tourist recorded the events on video. It didn't take long for the video to surface on YouTube and now the officer is facing an investigation. From what the New York Times says it sounds as if the NYPD need to wise up to Web 2.0. Here Comes Everybody, indeed.

Parcels

I love parcels. It used to be you only got parcels on your birthday. Now with on-line shopping they come all the time but somehow even though I bought the contents so know what's inside I still get excited.

In the post today came Darina Allen's Ballymaloe Cookery Course. I've been coveting this book for ages. Jack (the cooking cousin) has it and every time I visit I pull it off the kitchen shelf and gaze. It's beautifully laid out, clearly written, full of lovely photographs and the ethos is all about fresh, local food. Each chapter is very well-organised with Master Recipes followed by numerous variations. There are also series of photographs on particular techniques like boning a chicken or segmenting citrus fruit. Somehow this book manages to combine thoroughness and clarity with moreishness. It is full of gorgeous photographs as well as being incredibly informative. I have lots of cookery books but I can't remember the last time I got this excited about a new one for my shelf.

I've already used it. I will admit that I was already going to make the following recipe today but I used this new book rather than any other. And this isn't very complicated but a fool shouldn't be.

Green Gooseberry and Elderflower Fool

450g (1lb) hard green gooseberries
3-4 elderflower heads tied in muslin
Syrup made with 300ml (1/2 pint) cold water and 225g (8oz) sugar
softly whipped cream

Barely cover the gooseberries and elderflowers with the syrup. Bring to the boil and cook until the fruit bursts - about 5-6 minutes. Liquidise or purée the fruit and syrup and measure. When the purée has cooled completely, add half its volume of softly whipped cream or according to taste.


I served it with a meringue made with half vanilla sugar, half light brown muscavado which has a lovely almost nutty flavour. Delicious and, best of all, the children don't like gooseberries so all the more for Tom and me!

Jam tomorrow

Today we made strawberry jam. I have to say "we" as Tom was briefly involved just at the point where we could argue loudly over whether the jam had reached setting point. I've always been rather scared of making jam. It bubbles away and then you have to work out if it's quite right using either a thermometer (duly bought from Webb's) or a cold plate and the pushing finger technique. Anyway I think it worked. Four jars of jam were produced and I'll be taste testing it at breakfast tomorrow.

The recipe we used was from The New Penguin Cookery Book by Jill Norman. This is a very good book that hides its light under a bushel. It has no fancy pictures and its layout is rather like a technical textbook with coloured headings and lots of sections. But it is full of really very useful information and good recipes which work. It won't set you alight with excitement the way that a book from the Moro crew will but it will answer niggly questions about eggs, or give you a good recipe for clafoutis or madeleines when you're not sure which of your too numerous books can. And if you need any further recommendation all you need to know is that Jill Norman was Elizabeth David's editor at Penguin and is now the Literary Trustee of the David Estate. Her own books have won the Andre Simon award and the Glenfiddich trophy in 1991. She really knows her stuff.

Strawberry Jam

For about 1.4kg

1.5kg strawberries
750g sugar
juice of 1 large lemon

Hull the strawberries after washing them, drain well and cut them into pieces. Layer them in a large pan with the sugar, ending with a layer of sugar. Cover with a clean cloth and leave to macerate for 6 hours.

Put the pan over low heat and add half the lemon juice. Simmer for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.



Stir briskly, crushing the fruit with a potato masher or the back of a wooden spoon, then increase the heat, add the rest of the lemon juice and boil for 10-15 minutes. Test for setting as the mixture thickens. Pour the jam into warm, sterilized jars, cover and seal.

Natural leaven

I have blogged about this before but it's been ages and last time around I couldn't get my pictures to upload. So here goes. My second foray into making my own natural leaven. As always in bread matters I head off to Dan Lepard's The Handmade Loaf. I bought this book on the strength of his leaven recipe. It covers three pages with step by step photos and thoroughly demystifies the process.

Leavened bread is bread that has rises through the action of gasses in the dough. Usually we use yeast and often these days we used dried or easy action yeast. But bread made with your own leaven has a very different taste and character. This is slow food. The opposite of most shop-bought bread. The loaf itself will take most of a day to rise and bake. But I get ahead of myself. I won't be baking it for a week or thereabouts.

Day One

50g water at 20°C
2 rounded tsp rye flour
2 rounded tsp strong white flour
2 rounded tsp currants
2 rounded tsp live low-fat yoghurt



Mix all the ingredients in a 500ml Kilner jar. Cover and leave at room temperature (approx 20°C) for 24 hours.

Foraging

On a sunny summer evening, the girls and I went foraging in the top field above the barn for elderflowers. If this all sounds terribly poetic, I should add that there were banks of nettles to be avoided, Charlotte screamed a lot and then sat down in a stream which made the screams even louder. Still it was a rural idyll if you turned the sound down.

The elderflowers are in full bloom and stunning up close.



So 20-30 heads later - that's what HF-W says but I lost count...


Elderflowers are, in my opinion, rather more lovely than the elderberry. They have a wonderful fine flavour that goes particularly well with gooseberries. However I don't have any gooseberries yet and as a total preserving novice, I started small and easy.

Elderflower cordial (recipe from The River Cottage Cookbook by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall)

20-30 freshly picked heads of elderflower
zest of 2 lemons and 1 orange
up to 1.5 kg granulated or caster sugar
up to 200 ml freshly squeezed lemon juice (3-5 lemons depending on juiciness)
tartaric acid (optional)

Shake any insects off the elderflowers, then place them in a large bowl with the lemon and orange zest and pour over enough just-boiled water to cover them completely (about 1.5 to 2 litres). Cover and leave for at least 4 hours, or overnight, until cold.

Strain the liquid through muslin, a clean cotton cloth or a jelly bag, gently squeezing it to extract all the juice. Measure the amount of liquid and pour it into a saucepan. To every 500ml liquid, add 350g sugar, 50ml lemon juice and a heaped teaspoon of tartaric acid if you are using it. Heat gently to dissolve the sugar, stirring occasionally. Bring to a gentle simmer and skim off any scum. Let the cordial cool, then strain once again through muslin, cotton or a jelly bag.

Pour the cordial through a funnel into clean bottles, filling them to within about 2-3 cm of the top. Seal the bottles with screw-tops or corks. (Alternatively you can freeze it in small plastic containers.)

To serve, dilute to taste with ice-cold water - at least 5:1 water to cordial.

I didn't use tartaric acid. Do you have moments when you look at a recipe and think "not only do I not have that, I don't know what it is or where to get it?" So, I have frozen some and put some in the fridge. Now I feel inspired to head off back up the hill and make jelly, sorbets, sauces and maybe even fritters.

Musings on life and shopping

Do you know, I used to do more internet shopping in London than I do now in rural Wales. Something about the bus, tube, train trek with small children put me off popping to the shops. Now I live near two good market towns and right outside a very well serviced small town/village and they have shops selling most things and they are almost never crowded and quick to access.

On Sunday we went to Brecon where we bought (from Cotswold) the camping table and chairs we needed to make our forthcoming jaunt complete. The table is really nifty with a concertina top that comes off, and the chairs are those very comfortable armchairs with drinks holder (because holding it in your hand is just too much work apparently). They all pack into their own bags and are scarily light. I remember one camping trip when my father who was rather over-weight at the time managed to split every single seat of our camping chairs. How he managed to overlook the high probability that what happened to the first would go on happening until we were all picnicking on the floor, I don't know. Stubborn man, Dave. And he would look so outraged each time it happened.

The internet has also helped with the camping preparations. We now have sleeping mats, bags, a cooker, a collapsible water bottle, and I forget what else. Last thing to organise is the gas bottle for the stove which will be coming from Crickhowell Adventure Gear, just up the road. I've been feeling rather gormless about the camping equipment lately. All the terminology and equipment has changed and I swear the girl who helped me in the shop in Brecon wasn't born when I last went camping. I was describing the kind of tent we used to have and she looked like I was describing an ancient artifact. They probably have them in the V & A.

The other place we went to in Brecon was Andrew Morton Books. Don't know why I added the link as they don't have a site although it does give the street address. This is probably the best second-hand bookshop I know locally and local includes Hay on Wye. If you want a large general second-hand bookshop that contains all sorts of treasures you haven't seen in years then this shop is wonderful. It's also good because there is only one of it. Hay is great for grown-ups but dragging my two girls from shop to shop is cruel so we tend to give up and eat cake after two. The children's section in AM is particularly good. I'm currently stocking up on "chapter books" for the girls hoping they don't go on to read those ghastly pink series about mermaids and fairies - baby chicklit. My English teacher at high school, the superb and intimidating Mr McCombie, said when he first took our class that he wanted to make it impossible for us to read badly written books. Clearly the days when teachers were allowed greater ambitions than exam results. Anyway, I'm vaguely hoping that if I fill the shelves with great classics, they won't be interested in the formulaic stuff. I got The Black Stallion, Matilda, two further books from Rosemary Manning after Green Smoke, The Black Cauldron by Lloyd Alexander, and The Whispering Mountain by Joan Aiken. At home we've started reading a chapter a night of Ballet Shoes and tonight (Chapter 5) for the first time ever they wanted more at the end. Emilia "is" Pauline (the eldest) and Charlotte "is" Posy (red hair). I always wanted to be Petrova (lousy at acting and dancing and a bit of a tomboy). Who did you want to be?

Sunday lunch - preparations underway

Tomorrow I have 12 for lunch. Including Jack, the best cook of my generation in my family and even though he is lovely, I am feeling intimidated and nervous. So preparations are underway. I have just covered my shoulder of lamb with a marinade (courtesy of Casa Moro) made of lemon juice, red wine vinegar, lemon zest, thyme leaves, garlic, paprika, seasoning and olive oil. It is now in the fridge and will be slow roasted tomorrow. The rest of the meal is planned to be mashed swedes (not glamourous I know but they were in the box) with garlic and cream, potatoes dauphinois, beetroot salad, green beans and steamed carrots. Thankfully Jack is doing pudding - see, I said he was lovely.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Rice pudding

Rice pudding and I have a history. Or rather we don't. I could never ever stand the stuff. And we're not just talking school dinner slop with no flavour or Ambrosia (pah!) in a can. We are talking about home-made by my mother and adored by my father and frankly loathed by me.

Dave, my father, (he was always just Dave) was a great story-teller. And one of my favourite stories was about rice pudding. Perhaps he plagiarised it from somewhere else or adapted and embellished it. Perhaps he made it up from scratch. It went like this (and I'm not promising Dave's skills).

Once upon a time, there was a king in a far off land who fell ill with melancholy and was unable to eat. He became thinner and thinner and sadder and sadder and eventually all of his ministers were very worried about him so they sent a message to all the corners of the land, saying that any woman who could tempt the king to eat again, would marry the king and become queen.

Well in a remote part of the land lived three beautiful sisters, all talented cooks who each thought they should try to succeed at this challenge.

The eldest sister went into the meadows around their house collecting the freshest and most tasty of fruits and together with dew and nectar, created a wonderful dish for the king. She placed it into a golden bowl, on a golden tray with a gold spoon and covered the bowl with a gold silk cloth. And then she took it to the king. The king looked at it and sighed deeply and then said "No, no, take it away!"

The second sister wandered into the nearby woods and collected nuts and berrys and honey from their hive and made a fabulous dessert to tempt the king. She placed it in a silver bowl, on a silver tray with a silver spoon and covered the bowl with a deep blue satin cloth and took it to the king. But again he looked, and sighed and said "No, take it away!"

The third and youngest sister thought long and hard about the problem. When she had made her dish for the king, she took an old enamel bowl, a tin tray, the kitchen measuring spoon and covered the dish with a clean tea towel. She took the dish to the palace and as she went through the palace everyone sniffed and said "What is that wonderful smell?" The king looked at the simple tray and bowl, and lifted the cloth. And he tasted the food. And then again until he had eaten every last bit. "You shall be my queen" he said, "But first, tell me what was that wonderful food you made?"

"Well, your majesty" she said, "It was rice pudding."

Anyway, I think her recipe probably went something like this:

Serves 6-8

100g pudding rice
1.2 litres Jersey milk
130 g caster sugar
the seeds from at least one vanilla pod
rind of 2 oranges, peeled in large strips with a potato peeler

Preheat the oven to 150 degrees C/ 300 degrees F/ Gas Mark 2.

Mix all the ingredients in a buttered glass or ceramic baking dish and bake for 2 1/2 to 3 hours, stirring once after 45 minutes, until just solidified. Allow to cool for 30 minutes before serving.

The above was taken from Casa Moro. I used vanilla instead of cinnamon and made sure the milk was Jersey. Emilia has been requesting the pudding for ages and ate three helpings. It was rich, simple, creamy, orangey, warming and actually, even to me, rather lovely.

Sugar and spice and all things nice

I am going to try to spice up my family's diet. I've been inspired by my two Moro cookbooks - Casa Moro and Moro East. It's tricky as children find the flavours a challenge. Curry is definitely going to take some time to get to. However a little bit here and a little bit there of spices such as cinnamon, anise, cumin, coriander, paprika may work. My theory is that Charlotte and Emilia will gradually adjust and come to like it. Well I can try.

And so I have just taken delivery of some lovely spices from Steenburgs. A very nice website and best of all, these lovely dinky jars containing excellent whole spices. Today's package contained anise, caraway (both mostly bought for bread), sweet paprika, several vanilla pods and some free teabags with odd names.

Spring!

Sorry about the silence over the last few days. Charlotte had a very nasty bout of gastroenteritis and as she is 3 this involved lying for days on top of her mother, interrupted by the usual symptoms (oh joy!). Also as she's 3 she has recovered remarkably quickly. Yesterday, sad wan child in pyjamas at doctor's surgery. Today, livewire talking all the time, marching around the garden and ordering mother and father about a lot. I did manage to read two books - frankly what else can you do when you are stuck in bed being comforting. The books weren't deep ones, but pretty good. A Lindsey Davis Marcus Didius Falco mystery called Iron Hand of Mars and Dissolution, the first Matthew Shardlake mystery by C J Sansom.

Anyway that is over and so it seems is winter. Today I planted Endive de Louvier, Fennel, more parsnips (tender and true - where do they get these names from!), radishes, parsley, coriander (or cilantro as those in America would have it), and perpetual spinach. My beds are all nearly full. Just a bit of room left for some french beans and borlotti beans which are just about emerging on the kitchen window sill. The tomatoes, aubergine, courgette, squash and cucumber are going to have to find other homes.

I also did some weeding. I have no idea what to do about the nettles. They are everywhere. Not in the beds near the veg, but unfortunately in the parts the children want to play in and that I want to sit on. Not conducive to lounging around. I am thinking of removing the nettles and bunging in the courgettes! Photographs will follow. Hopeless.

Good days and bad days

Funny isn't it how some days nothing in the kitchen goes quite right. Easter Sunday was just such a day. The hot cross buns didn't rise properly and the crosses splurged out and you'll be glad I didn't take pictures. The lamb wasn't as good as from my local butcher and I'm not sure what I did to the red cabbage but that didn't quite work either. It's not as if any of this was complicated but some days nothing goes right and I lose all faith in my ability to cook.

Fortunately whatever was wrong on Sunday was right by Monday. Four loaves rose beautifully using the same batch of yeast. And dinner looked like this - see no shame now as it was better than okay. A leek tart with fried potatoes (leftovers) and sprouting broccoli. The tart is my old standby of Elizabeth David's French Onion Tart from her French Provincial Cookery but with leeks instead as that's what I had.