Scattered Saturday thoughts

Posted on January 28, 2012 | Leave a comment

I am moved by the way history is folded right into the present, where it can remind people of who they are, where they come from, and how they were shaped.
~ Ann Kidd Taylor, Traveling with Pomegranates

If there is one thing I both like and dislike about New Zealand, it’s the way I feel removed from history, culture and something else I can’t quite describe. Of course NZ has its own story, its own “Kiwiana” things and attitude, and so many little things that are strongly unique to it… but it misses a certain gravity, collective history and force of character that is present in other countries. When I walk around here, I am seldom reminded of anything but the “here and now”. And after almost nine years of living here, I think I can say that many people I know live very much for the here and now.

Which, of course, has its merits.

Why live in the past, or focus too much on the unpredictable future when both are out of sight, out of mind? People here know how to appreciate a sunny day, and to put their feet up and rest on the beach; they sure know their coffee (or maybe I should say Wellington people do ;-)); when there’s a problem they fix it themselves. They go on OEs. They are adventurous. NZ is home to some of the best people ever and the kind of strangers who you meet and instantly want to be friends with. Also, it is crazy how people here are so trusting, I have met strangers who have trusted me with their homes, cars, babies and contact details not long after we meet. For all these and more, I well and truly love NZ.

So I hesitate to write the next bit, lest I sound rude or offensive. I honestly don’t intend it as a criticism or complaint – it is just what it is.

What I feel is the “here and now-ness” here also involves a certain ignorance; something that says “I don’t care where you come from, or where you’re going”. Something that doesn’t appreciate the heightened pleasure of a perfect moment after a century of storms. Something that doesn’t really grasp hard work, patience, or the wonder of a dream fulfilled. Something that is resistant to other people’s traditions and culture. Something that doesn’t fully appreciate the vastness and stories of the “beyond NZ” world… despite Auckland being one place where I’ve met people from a huge number of different countries and backgrounds. (Seriously… I have observed many people getting impatient with foreign accents, who confuse China with Korea, and think everyone in India eats butter chicken).

Why have I been thinking about all of this? I guess it’s because I’ve met people from very interesting places in the last fortnight… including Montenegro, London, Columbia and Italy and as you can guess I have had a ball with them talking about all sorts! It’s funny, these days I feel like I have morphed into one of those “citizen of the world” sort of people (yes, I hate that phrase too, but truly I feel like I find a bit of myself in people from everywhere…)

On that worldly/exploratory note. Last night, I started reading “Traveling with Pomegranates” by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter Ann Kidd Taylor. A beautiful book which has evoked an avalanche of thoughts and memories… this morning I awoke thinking about the day I visited La Sagrada Familia last year. A beautiful place which features prominently in travel books/websites, but no book could have prepared me for the immense joy and light that flooded my being when I walked in. I remember it because of what had happened just earlier that morning, when I broke down and cried in a sandwich shop… much to the bewilderment of the poor staff there. Anyway! It’s too long a story to go into now.

Life is beautiful. Today is a marvellous day. I am going to go and see Kath now. Ciao!

P.S. Pictured: breakfast today! Warehou roe with Grandma’s shrimp and chilli paste atop potato sourdough from the market. A strange combination but one which was, for some reason, strangely delicious.

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A peek into GIAPO’s kitchen

Posted on January 26, 2012 | 16 Comments

Chefs aren’t made in the kitchen.
Chefs are made from something they have deep inside them -
an inner flame that burns brightly… with purpose, curiosity and passion.
In reality, true chefs pursue the creation of something better than yesterday and when they think they got it, they realise they don’t.
~ Gianpaolo Grazioli

A smiling face opens the door, and we walk through to the area behind the counter. I peek into the cosy kitchen and see that it resembles a laboratory – only it is fitted with stove facilities and edible ingredients. A purple cap finds its way to my head. I take in the sight of 24 cracked eggs caught in a bowl, yolks bobbing in the gloopy pool of whites. I smile at the myriad of utensils, pots, bowls, trays and litres of milk that line the shelves and fridge. I stare out the window at the other humans walking to work (and smile knowing that I will join them soon… BUT not just yet).

Slowly, a sense of unfounded familiarity and tingles of exhilaration wiggle through my toes.

I am in GIAPO’S kitchen.

This morning, Giapo is baking brownies to make brownie gelato. Fresh cream is whipped till it tries escaping from the mixer with violent jerks, and leaves in its wake a beautiful mound of butter. No store-bought chocolate is used (he uses fresh butter, choice cocoa powder and cocoa butter). Giapo gives me a sample of cocoa butter to taste – I am a little put off by its name because it sounds like a lotion, but I am struck by the luxurious quality of it, the way it reminds me of an edible bar of creamy soap – creamy but clean and not sticky in any way (“wow!” is what I want to say). In the course of the morning, he also makes a beautiful batch of dulce de leche and the bit I taste fresh from the pot leaves me feeling a little like I am walking on air.

The way everything whirls, mixes and cooks around me reminds me (just slightly) of one of my favourite Disney moments. I am as intrigued by the beautiful brownie-making process as I am by Giapo’s solid understanding of the science behind food/cooking. (The science of food is not yet my forte. I cook and bake by way of a certain random madness, and without an understanding of why ingredients act the way they do).

So I enjoy myself immensely watching the brownie come together, but I can’t shake off this funny feeling that lingers in my mind the whole time I am in the kitchen… until Giapo tells me he’s going to make a chocolate gelato and combine that with the brownie to make brownie gelato.

This is the moment at which everything feels illogical and marvellous all at once. Questions and answers start flying in and out of my head in rapid succession.

WHAT! WHY! I want to say. How does any of this make sense? Does everyone even really see/understand just how much work goes into this? Couldn’t you take more shortcuts? Couldn’t you use less good (and thus costly) ingredients? Why don’t you let supermarkets/stores etc carry your products? Why do you bake brownie from scratch? Why and how do you invent so many new flavours every single week? Why do you do what you do?

I’ve asked some of these questions before. But even as these questions surface in my mind, everything now makes complete sense in my heart. I already know that yes, GIAPO is a business with overhead costs. Yes, there is nothing to stop them from taking a few time and money-saving shortcuts. Yes, they could easily rely on market knowledge and stick to flavours that have been proven to be popular with the masses (rather than take a chance with experimental flavours). Yes, they could arrange for supermarkets and other stores to stock their gelato.

But the way I see it, GIAPO is not your average business. It’s a people-loving business/”Wonka factory”/thought leader/research lab/innovative centre/delicious gelato parlour and more, rolled into one magic entity. I think it’s less about sticking with the proven, or focusing on profits, or abiding by what some would label as “sense”…

The way I interpret it, it’s about the execution of a mission. Loving food and loving you. Fanning that inner flame. Embarking on a quest to experience life by tasting everything. Combining science, art and passion. Holding strong to values and principles in a society that doesn’t do this as much as they should. Pushing boundaries. Following a dream and vision. Having the courage to go where passion says to go. Making something gobsmackingly delicious, just ‘cos. Revolutionalising gelato, food and eating. Taking pride in their work. Having fun along the way.

And, as they say, giving you food that is as it should be – good for you. With a lot of love, commitment, excellent techniques, quality time and ingredients (no shortcuts or artificial content), and a sparkling dose of genius.

–

It’s taken me two days to write this post, and still I am not sure I have expressed myself adequately. But thank you for reading my clumsy words. If you’re in Auckland, please visit GIAPO and bring everyone you know. If you are not in New Zealand, well, get here. It’s a thoroughly beautiful country. And go to GIAPO.

Grazie mille Giapo, for the lovely privilege of spending an hour with you in your kitchen!

Giapo – 279-291 Queen Street, Auckland – Phone: 09 550 3677

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Risotto with saffron and cavolo nero

Posted on January 25, 2012 | 7 Comments

Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help.
~ May Sarton

Risotto, the making of – in past tense:

Made steaming chicken stock in a deep saucepan with two salty cubes and two cups of water. Chucked in nine forest-green cavolo nero leaves. Left the greens to simmer in the boiling stock for seven minutes, or maybe eight. Took out the leaves and set them aside.

Swirled a pat of butter and a spot of olive oil in a skillet on a flame. Watched the butter and oil sigh and meander around the pan in shimmering golden dribbles. Added in half an onion, diced. Stirred the onion through to fragrant-hood. Added in a cup of arborio rice, a pinch of saffron, two bits of lemon peel, a sprig of rosemary… gave it all a stir.

Added in wine in stages. Added in warm stock in stages. Stirred. Stirred some more. Stirred till my arm felt even heavier than my eyelids.

Chopped the cavolo nero leaves. Added the chopped leaves, a squeeze of fresh lemon and a sliver of butter to the rice in the final minute of cooking.

Dished up three portions, complete with salt, pepper and wispy yellow shreds of parmesan cheese.

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Prune and apricot clafoutis

Posted on January 21, 2012 | 7 Comments

We dance round in a ring and suppose,
While the secret sits in the middle and knows.
~ Robert Frost

It is my friend Jane who caused me to take a second look at prunes.

She made a marvellous stovetop lamb tagine once, and from then on I no longer regarded prunes as ugly things prescribed to people battling with constipation. No… despite their dull appearance, they shone in that dish. They were rich and mysterious, exotic and strangely exciting. Sticky-sweet and tinged with a faint liqueur-like flavour. In my imagination they are a little like intoxicated summer fruits waltzing in winter coats.

Incidentally, Jane is also the girl who introduced me to the world of tagines long before I visited Morocco (and in my memory, her tagines rival the ones I tasted there). She didn’t have a tagine pot, but she made beautiful tagines just in a deep saucepan on an electric stove…

Mmmm… I can still remember my first taste of that delicious prune and spice-flavoured lamb. The meat fell gently off the bone with minimal coercion, the moist prunes collapsed clumsily and sweetly as soon as they passed from the fork to my mouth, and everything tasted of love and distant lands.

Somehow, prunes haven’t made their way to my kitchen very much. I’ve eaten them in restaurants once or twice (with duck), and I’ve taken them to work as snack food on occasion, but I can’t remember the last time I cooked with them at home. I guess I also regard them as one of those things that people can have Strong Feelings about, and thus omit them when cooking with/for others (this group of evocative food includes mushrooms, offal, lentils, red bean and eggplants – some of my friends’ faces seem to nearly change colour when I even mention those things).

So recently the prunes called out to me from their home in the baking aisle in the supermarket, and I bought a pack of them without knowing what I was going to do with them. As it is, I cooked them with lamb chops the other night and enjoyed that (though I still prefer Jane’s lamb!) – and I had a faint idea of making something sweet with them…

This morning, I woke up wanting to make something for my friend E but unsure of what to make. Various pruney ideas paraded through my mind, but nothing seemed right… till I chanced upon Molly Wizenberg’s recipe for black plum clafoutis. I hadn’t tried clafoutis before, but I was inspired reading this and so my prune and apricot clafoutis experiment came to be.

Verdict: I’ll make clafoutis again, but I won’t make it exactly this way again. E seemed to like it, but I liked the “clafoutis” part of it (somewhere in between custard/milk tart/a soufflé) better than the prunes and apricots in it, as the fruits were still more chewy than tender. I think it would work brilliantly with fresh fruit, or if I had soaked the prunes and apricots for longer. Might try soaking dried fruit overnight next time!

    Prune and apricot clafoutis
    Inspired by Orangette
    Ingredients:
    olive oil or butter, for greasing
    1 cup prunes (or use other fruit)
    1 cup dried apricots (or use other fruit)
    juice of half a lemon
    1 cup dessert wine or brandy (I used a dessert wine – thanks Jono for this!)
    1/4 cup + 1 tbsp caster sugar
    pinch of salt
    3 eggs
    1 tbsp vanilla
    1 cup milk
    1/2 cup flour
    icing sugar
    Method:
    Place the apricots and prunes in a small bowl and pour the lemon juice and wine over them. Cover the bowl with cling film and refrigerate for 40 minutes (I think it would be better if you soaked them for longer though! See note above).
    Preheat the oven to 170°C. Lightly grease a 9-inch pie dish with olive oil or butter. Set aside.
    In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs and the sugar until the mixture turns pale yellow (approximately 1 minute). Then add in the vanilla, salt and milk, and whisk further to combine. Sprinkle the flour over the mixture with your fingers and continue to whisk till you have a smooth batter.
    Using a slotted spoon, take out the prunes and apricots from the wine and arrange them in a single layer in the bottom of the pie dish. Pour the batter over gently and evenly across the fruits. Do not stir.
    Bake the clafoutis for around 45 minutes or until puffed and golden around the edges. Then remove the clafoutis from the oven, and allow it to cool for at least 20 minutes. Dust with icing sugar just before serving.

I’m also submitting this entry for Sweet New Zealand, hosted this month by Arfi at HomemadeS by Arfi. Click here to join in the Sweet NZ fun!

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Posted in All, Cakes & Desserts, Sweet New Zealand

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Magic, fairies and lamb

Posted on January 18, 2012 | 17 Comments

In order to make art, we must first make an artful life, a life rich enough and diverse enough to give us fuel.
~ Julia Cameron

On Sunday, Tracey and I had brunch at a cafe with a cool blackboard (and food, but that was second to the blackboard that day). Nestled amidst the menu specials were these chalky scribbles: “magic happens” and “fairies do exist”. ‘Cept the letters were flipped horizontally so that you could only read these properly when you gazed into the mirror on the other side of the wall.

And you know what, magic doesn’t just happen in stories, and fairies don’t always look like Tinker Bell. Magic comes in the way of fairy lights in January and vanilla/candy-floss-coloured sunsets, and fairies manifest in the form of amazingamazing friends, bus drivers, baristas (and you lovely readers of course! ;-)).

This week has contained some stressful moments, but it has also certainly involved magic and fairies.

See, today I was at the bus stop and a bus driver with kind eyes stopped his bus (which had “out of service” flashing at the front), asked me where I was going, and took me to town… for free. With the door wide open, so the wind rushed through my hair and the sun fell on my face. He did not know how beautiful he made my morning…

And when I went to buy a cup of coffee this afternoon, the smiling barista asked if I wanted a chocolate fish or marshmallows (as is the case if you happen to get a mocha in New Zealand) – or a chocolate fish and eight marshmallows (not usually the case even in New Zealand)… seriously, EIGHT?! Sweet hmm? (and not just literally).

I could mention a few other things too… but that might take all night, and I unfortunately need to go to bed soon. Something to do with being a responsible working adult and all.

Just quickly before I climb into bed though, I wanted to mention my dinner last night. I was quite pleased with it, firstly because I had it following a good swim and 45-minute walk in summery goodness, secondly because it tasted so good, and thirdly because I was generally happy that I had rediscovered the joys of swimming (or at least, attempting to swim)… the last time I swam, I was 12. Time flies, doesn’t it!

Dinner: I heated some oil in a skillet, threw in some chopped garlic and ginger, seared a few lamb chops, and added in a few prunes and apricots, half a sprig of rosemary from G’s backyard, salt, pepper and a dribble of leftover white wine… and had it with two-week old farmers’ market salad (yes, so good is this market – the greens were still crisp) and a slice of crusty bread. Juicy lamb, gently sticky-sweet prunes and apricots, crisp greens and bread that tasted like a hug… a jolly good meal to end the day with. :-)

Right, good night. May you all have a magical Thursday!

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Posted in All, Impromptu, Lamb

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Perfection

Posted on January 13, 2012 | 19 Comments

Perfection
is not
- straight edges
- symmetrical circles
- right angles
- sparkling silver

Though there is a time and place for them, too

Perfection
is when
you don’t notice
- how straight a line is
- how round a circle is
- how eight minutes pass in 480 seconds
- green bits in your teeth till later
- that you haven’t slept since 4 in the morning

Because you are too busy being happy

The sort of happy that stays with you for hours, not minutes
and is not tied to things or places

Maybe just to people, the way they laugh, the way their eyes are kind and deep

Maybe just to the memory of that meal – the way the food made its way past your senses and into your soul, and made you feel

Alive

Maybe just to the crazy feeling that your toes are giggling, laughing to themselves under the table

…

Perfection
cannot
be adequately spun into words
or learned
or taught
or practised

Only recognised.

Pictured: salmon, ricotta and spinach ravioli with tomatoes; pork saltimbocca with roasted vegetables; tiramisu – thank you Ms Gudrun for cooking such a beautiful meal for us and for hosting a perfect evening!

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Recently/random

Posted on January 12, 2012 | 7 Comments

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
~ T. S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

It’s grey and gloomy outside, perfect blogging weather even though I have nothing concrete to blog about today. Being on holiday does that to you sometimes – makes your writing all unfocused and scattered, because there’s so much important stuff to do. Stuff like lazing around in pyjamas, reading books, starting 2012 projects, catching up with favourite people, lying on the grass and watching the sunset, dancing/prancing around, going on long drives, watching movies… you know? It’s hard to focus.

(Alright, I’ll stop rubbing it in for those of you virtuous folk who have already been back at work for a week or two ;-))

So today’s post is going to take the form of “random”. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

Here’s a photo of our dinner the other night, as prepared by my friend Jacqui – whoever knew that pizza without cheese would still taste so good?! Peaches + smoked chicken slices + spinach + mushrooms + capsicums + apricot chutney atop two of those handy pizza bases (3 for $2.99!) made for a rapid (done in 10 minutes!) and good dinner.

A few of my friends here seem to have developed a sudden penchant for bubble tea. Previously, I only visited Hulucat with a certain trio, and quite sporadically at that. We discovered Hulucat’s second branch near the Civic on Tuesday, a very handy location for a post-movie debrief. I’m still undecided as to whether I like bubble tea, but on occasion I find an original or oatmeal milk tea takes my fancy. Hulucat does a fine job with their bubble tea – easy to drink, sweet and customisable (you can request any crazy combination of tea/toppings and have it hot, cold or less sweet). I now skip the pearls though, so as to avoid feeling crazy full afterwards!

And it’s been more than 24 hours since Grace and I went to Giapo… but frankly I find it difficult to forget the gelato we had this time! Grace got a scoop of earl grey tea gelato – I tried it, it was stunning and captured the flavour perfectly – and a scoop of cherry tart. I went for a scoop of the dark chocolate and porcini mushroom, and a scoop of cherry tart too. I was handed a tub containing a velvet dark chocolate dream, and a summery treat with real cherry bits and topped with shortbread crumbs. Very much an indulgence. Very much enjoyed.

In between, I’ve been eating fresh strawberries, greens, eggs, and one rather unhealthy takeaway dinner (which I ate on the porch with my friend R while the clouds turned pink, so that made up for it)…

Hope you are all having a great day, enjoy it – rain, shine or snow… today only comes once.

Hulucat Tea House – 16 Wellesley Street, Auckland – Phone: 09 377 0307

Giapo – 279-291 Queen Street, Auckland – Phone: 09 550 3677

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On Julie, Julia and Hunger

Posted on January 8, 2012 | 18 Comments

Life itself is the proper binge.
~ Julia Child

Tonight, I watched “Julie and Julia” for the second time. I can still feel a laugh simmering in my belly, and my face is still wet with tears.

I feel like I have finally enjoyed their stories on an empty stomach.

You see, in my two previous encounters with “Julie and Julia”, I was distracted. The exact dates on which I chanced upon Julie Powell’s book “Julie and Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously” (some time before the movie was released) and on which I attended a late night screening of “Julie and Julia” at a cinema in Singapore are lost amongst the loose leaves of my memory now, but I have not forgotten the state I was in when this story made its way to me. Both times, my heart was a dark shade of grey. Both times, “Julie and Julia” was a nice meal, but it was like trying to eat at a loved one’s funeral – I couldn’t really dig in.

This time though, the film shone/showered on my crimson heart, and I loved every ray/drop of it.

By the way, did you know that “Julie and Julia” (the book) is also one of the things that inspired the birth of this blog (well, that and a night of insomnia)? And while I have no Paul Child or saintly Eric now, I had – and have – a wonderful troop of family and friends who help keep it going.

Happy I am.

And while I’m on the subject of happiness, I’m happy to be on holiday leave, too. You get more time to think and make breakfast and go for long sea-smelling walks when you’re on holiday.

One of the holiday thoughts that surfaced in my mind the other day while at the beach was this: that to be hungry… really hungry… can be a marvellous thing.

In suffering hunger, senses are sharp, everything is real. Alive. To sounds, smells, sights, tastes. Facial expressions. Thoughts. Feelings. These are some of the things that I like about hunger in food, and in life – that keenness, clarity and drive to go after something that will fill and satisfy. The spontaneity to try something new. The vulnerability. The awareness that we need other people. The desperation. The jolting reminder that “I am a human being”.

That day, I found myself hungry in a curious way. Hungry enough to defer eating because no food immediately appealed, I found myself wanting to wait till I knew exactly what I wanted to eat (thus I ate breakfast at 12, no lunch, and dinner past 8pm). I found myself thinking new things about hunger and the function of eating. I was hungry for the smell of the sea, hungry for a sunset, hungry to dream. And I was content to be hungry, and gleeful when I finally ate and felt like I was really eating… satisfying the essence of my hunger, rather than eating just ‘cos it was time to eat (or time to blog). ;-)

I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but I think my thoughts have been coming together slowly… the truth is: I’ve gotten used to the feeling of fullness, of reaching out regularly to grab a cookie even when I’m not hungry (a phenomenon frequently observed in the lives of people with desk jobs), of eating more than my body requires at birthdays/other occasions, of eating when bored or moping, of eating when I’m not hungry just so I can experience a food more fully (and write about it). And when I’m not eating, I’m nibbling on food-related prose/events/stuff the way a kid feasts on candy – very greedily.

Food fascinates me. Probably always will.

But I begin to see that too often, I miss one real and obvious aspect of food/eating – hunger. Perhaps knowing hunger is crucial to knowing food. And perhaps… loving hunger (within reason) is crucial to truly loving food.

I don’t really know hunger well at all, and while I know I’m so fortunate to even be able to say that, I think that I want to fall deeper in love with food by coming to love hunger too.

Now, before you start worrying about me developing anorexia, it’s not gonna happen. The way I plan to go about this whole “knowing hunger” thing is simple. No diets. No starvation.

Just a few simple mental guidelines addressed to myself – 1. Eat when truly hungry. 2. Pay attention to food. 3. Be not afraid of hunger. 4. Laugh and love and cook like Julia Child. 5. Fall deeper in love with life, God and people.

And that, you may be relieved to read, concludes my Sunday ramble. :-) Thanks for listening (in particular – a huge thank you to you darling readers including Celi, Greg and Kristy for always making me smile with your comments)! Adiós for now!

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A Spanish omelette, as inspired by Nigel Slater

Posted on January 8, 2012 | 7 Comments

If you’ve broken the eggs, you should make the omelette.
~ Anthony Eden

In “The Kitchen Diaries” (page 117), Nigel Slater wrote about his version of a Spanish omelette – “lighter and crisper than the traditional one that uses thick slices of potato”, and which incorporates parsley, mint and tarragon.

It sounded delicious, and through some unplanned, beautiful coincidence, I had exactly those herbs in my fridge right as I read this page and found myself hungry. The tarragon was a complimentary gift from the kind man at the farmers’ market, and I had some mint and parsley left over from a dinner last week. I also had potatoes and eggs – whee!

I skipped the flour and broiling my omelette, and replaced six chopped scallions with a clove of garlic, some diced onion and a sprinkle of paprika (to suit what was in my pantry), and had myself a lovely late lunch while it poured outside.

And on that wet note, the lovely summer sun has departed, leaving crazy rain in its place. But not all is dismal: I attended my first rainy barbeque last night, at my friend Cam’s place. The meat was excellent, as was the company, and there was dancing and crazy conversations… the rain shall not take away the joy of summer.

    Spanish omelette
    Inspired by Nigel Slater
    Ingredients:
    2 eggs, beaten
    1 potato
    1 clove garlic, finely chopped
    2 tbsp diced red onion
    paprika
    salt
    pepper
    olive oil
    parsley leaves, chopped
    tarragon leaves, chopped
    mint leaves, chopped
    Method:
    Grate or chop the potato into matchsticks. Heat a splash of olive oil in a skillet over medium heat, then add in the diced onion and fry till fragrant and lightly golden.
    Stir in the garlic, paprika and potato, and sauté for approximately two minutes. Then add in the eggs and scatter the herbs in a single layer over the omelette. Swirl the pan gently so you don’t trap puddles of uncooked egg in the omelette.
    Leave to cook for a few minutes, adjusting the heat if necessary, and flip the omelette if you can manage it (I haven’t quite mastered this). When the eggs are cooked nicely on both sides and the potato pieces are tender, move the omelette carefully on to a plate, add salt and pepper to taste and tuck in.
    Yields one serving.

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A Bircher sort of experiment

Posted on January 7, 2012 | 6 Comments

To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie -
True Poems flee.
~ Emily Dickinson

    Bircher muesli with mango, mint and macadamias*
    Ingredients:
    1/2 cup rolled oats
    zest of 1/2 orange
    1/4 cup freshly squeezed orange juice (1 orange should do)
    1/4 cup unsweetened yoghurt
    1/2 tsp cinnamon
    handful of mint leaves, chopped
    handful of macadamias, chopped
    2 tbsp shredded coconut**
    1/3 mango, cubed***
    1 tsp light brown sugar
    dribble of milk
    1/2 tsp honey (I used J. Friend and Co’s Beechwood Honeydew Honey)
    Method:
    Combine the rolled oats, orange juice, orange zest, yoghurt and cinnamon in a bowl. Stir well, then cover the bowl with cling wrap and place it in the fridge to chill for at least 1.5 hours.
    When ready to serve, stir in the other ingredients. Simple, gently sweet and so good when the sun is attacking your face and you want a cold, wholesome breakfast.
    Yields one serving.

* The alliteration here is entirely serendipitous – I picked the ingredients based on what I had left at home yesterday.

** I unfortunately forgot to add in the shredded coconut… but I know it would have been even better with it!

*** I find it easiest to dissect a mango this way: cut into three parts leaving the seed in the middle. Make deep diagonal cuts in the top and bottom third, so you get diamond-shaped mango pieces sitting in the skin. Invert and let the cubes fall into the bowl (you may need to coax them out with a knife if your mango isn’t ripe/soft enough – I had to do this yesterday). Eat the middle section while standing at the sink, letting the juices run merrily down your arms.

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Posted in All, Breakfast

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