Nourish Me

of course

You know those people you sometimes meet at parties - confidence exuding through seemingly every pore, inner glow glowing outwardly, shoulders held back with poise and grace? Well, I am not one of those people. At said party, you'll find me in the kitchen, head down, engaged in the mechanics of something that keeps me busily avoiding those people because they scare me witless. Innate confidence is a quality I would wish for any child, but not one I seem to have been born with. Tapping away quietly on the web - building something creative in my own time, under my own steam - is so much better-suited to my personality. Yes, I'm a Leo, but the Taurus Rising and Moon in Scorpio I was born under mean I'm better equipped to deal with things in a detached and observational way. Blog As Confessional isn't my style, but maintaining a blog with a food focus has allowed me to bloom.

Of course, the thing that I've wanted to tackle for, like, ever is that confidence. Over the past few weeks, I've been behaving in an uncharacteristically brave fashion and, of course, the pay-off has been worth every butterfly-induced second. Meditation has played a role in this undoubtedly, banishing negativity, accepting opportunity, but having a print edition of An Honest Kitchen to show people - a tangible, beautiful object - has made me prouder than ever of what Kathryn and Luisa and I do. Yesterday, I took a copy along to show Cath and Chris at Books In Print (best bookshop the country, and my old workplace) and was greeted with delight, coffee, and an order. I very nearly cried.

So, the lesson I've learnt this year is this; trust in yourself, in what you do as much as who you are, and in what you offer. If you don't, who on earth will? A friend told me that 40 was a fascinating year, and it was, but 41? Even better.

All of this is my rambling way of offering gratitude to those of you who read, and, armed with a new-found bravery, to remind you that An Honest Kitchen Seasonal Desserts makes a gorgeous holiday gift, especially the print version. If you'd rather see and touch before you buy, you'll find it here:

Books In Print & Organically Grown (Melbourne)

Food Connect & Coffee1st (Sydney)

and you can, of course, order it from our website, too:

http://anhonestkitchen.com.au/current-issue/ 

Tell me, how are your holiday plans shaping up? This is my Christmas Day thus far. Sitting on our verandah, just the two of us, dressed in something diaphanous and cool, eating a tonne of smoked salmon, potato pancakes and pickled cucumber. Bliss.

 

 

new

Cheap peaches bought hopefully from South Melbourne market, too early in the season, and lacking proper pits, they disappointed, even though I knew they would. (Nonetheless, I still feel conned)

(New (city) sink = swoon)

This new place was, once, a proper worker's cottage, and, channeling some sort of old school vibe (man), I slice and chop on a butcher's block outside under the tin awning on warm nights; I feel it's a nod of sorts to the women who cooked outside over fire before electricity changed the world.

(Have I shown you my bird-and-bauble thing-y before? He never fails to make me smile) 

 And a quick radish salad, veg all our own, grown in the country, eaten in the city on a recent hot evening.

p.s. An Honest Kitchen, Seasonal Desserts is now available in print. It's beautiful. Just so you know...   

 

seasonal desserts: an honest kitchen

Today, Kathryn and I are incredibly proud to launch two things: a new edition of An Honest Kitchen we know you're going to love and - at last! - an official website dedicated to our expanding ideas. You'll find us at www.anhonestkitchen.com  

The new edition addresses one of those things that, for many people (women, I'll venture from personal experience) is their dietary undoing - dessert. Why dessert? Because I asked, but also because I reckon there's no point in kidding oneself that a life lived without sweetness is any more fun (or virtuous) than one lived with it! In Seasonal Desserts - our 5th issue - our emphasis is firmly on fruit, but there are also recipes for the chocolate-fiend, some desserts that are quick to make, and others yet that can be reserved for special occasions. Most importantly of all, throughout the edition you'll find simple, doable strategies for making dessert a healthier part of life. It's been a great challenge for the two of us, and the results, I can say without a trace of modesty, are wonderful.

Our divine designer Luisa has pulled everything together to make it absolutely stunning, and so the look and feel has a breath of fresh air about it. In truth, we simply could not have done it without her.  

Take a look at this sneak peek.

Seasonal Desserts A$9.95

• The e-magazine of Seasonal Desserts is A$9.95
• There is more information about this current issue and our back catalogue on the website: www.anhonestkitchen.com
• Seasonal Desserts can be purchased by clicking on the Buy Now button above

Aaaaand, please note: in a couple of weeks we will be releasing a printed copy and an iPad version of the magazine for those of you who like things in a different format.    

Stay tuned!

 

 

introductions are in order

Really, really looking forward to the dust finally settling in the new abode, but everything's unpacked, a substantial amount of stuff was given away, the windows are flung wide open on this gorgeous, sunny morn and, for the most part, we are all pretty happy about the move.

In fact, I'm beginning to think that we have become, much to my surprise, Expert Movers. Even the removalist blokes - Mick and Mick, I'll have you know - were impressed by our speedy, tidy 'tude.  

I am also really, really looking forward to introducing the new kitchen sink (yes, I'm already in love with it), but most importantly of all today, I want to introduce you to an amazing woman, one who has made the already rather lovely project that is An Honest Kitchen that bit more, well, lovely.

Meet our WONderful, talented, and frankly amazing designer, Luisa Brimble. She takes a mean photograph herself as you can see from the photo below. And she loves film. One morning a couple of months ago I woke to an email with a proposal for collaboration that made me gasp one minute, then pick up the phone to Kathryn the next. Luisa gets what we're doing, and she brings a lot of experience and, I must add, class to her role. We cannot wait to show you what Luisa's done with our words and photographs...how lucky are we? 

     
photo © Luisa Brimble

 

 

 

it never rains,

it pours, or so goes the saying. Even though the sun is shining and it is a stunning 28 degrees today, work, as ever, must go on. I've been being filmed cooking (!) something I hope to share with you as soon as it's up on the web, and Kathryn and I have been beavering away on recipes, on testing them and photographing them and, I am pleased to say, we are close to being d-o-n-e, thankyouverymuch. Which is good, and somewhat of a relief because right, smack bang in the middle of the final stages of An Honest Kitchen, we will be moving to a new city place. I can't wait to share with you what the next edition is about - I know you're going to love it, and Kathryn has outdone herself with the recipes - but here is an outtake I've been thinking about quite a bit of late.

I'm SO ready to move, but it's only 10 days away. Luckily, I'm not one for nostalgia, so I hope you'll bear with me for a while, and if you hear me moaning about it any stage, please, feel free remind me that the next place is better than this, and cheaper, by far, to boot. There's even a tiny garden. What's not to love about that?

 

 

cherry tomato gratin

A few weeks ago - can it really have been a few weeks ago? where does the time go - Kathryn came to stay, a visit that was part just catching up but also, because we so rarely get time to see one another in the flesh, part work. An Honest Kitchen may be quiet from time to time in a public sense, but privately, there is always a lot going on, in and among other bits of work of course, but it's a happy constant in our lives. Pens and diaries poised, we planned a full year and a half ahead at the red table, then we cooked - Kathryn sliced, then roasted thick rounds of eggplant from the garden (and skillfully worked the knife around the bug-nibbles) while I worked on a dill, miso and leek (again, from the garden) pesto for squidging into them.

Huge fun, let me tell you.

So it’s not been all about the garden around here, not a chance, even though this space may be light-on for recipes of late. Cooking is and shall always be the reason for the work, for the energy, for the precious time invested. That there’s been so much talk of garden is simply because we have never stayed put anywhere long enough to establish anything lasting; here I am able to put down roots, to build something permanent, something in which to grow ourselves – indeed, MY-self - a more fulfilling life. It's a complete change of pace for us. Physically exhausting, yes, but deeply - deeply - rewarding.

By some sort of strange coincidence nearly all of the tomatoes I picked out from the catalogue were small, not-quite cherry but near enough to be called thus, the exception being the heart-shaped cherry tomatoes which were, obviously, cherry-sized (not quite as romantic as they seemed in the photograph) and the Tigerella, a small tomato with a taste delicious to humans and, unfortunately when the rains came in February, the slugs. All were prolific, but I found myself longing, from time to time, for a thick, ripe slice of something heartier, from one of dad's plants, more classically Italian, to sprinkle with a good crunch of salt and then eat, with knife and fork, outside in the sun. They are slowly ripening now, but they would have been so much better planted 2 months earlier. No harm in trying, I say. No harm at all.

cherry tomato gratin

Offered because it is simple enough to adapt to what you have (or not, accordingly) and was utterly delicious. Nothing beats cooking (and eating) tomatoes while they are in season. This gratin by Georgeanne Brennan came along late in the piece, a recipe copied haphazardly out of a book of mum’s over Christmas, but it was perfectly placed in the latter part of the season. I was beginning to tire of tomatoes, one of the odd joys, I should think, of growing over 35 kilos (that's correct!) of one’s own.

Arrange cherry tomatoes in a single(ish) layer in an olive-oiled gratin dish.

Chop a few cloves of garlic, a good handful of basil and tear up a few small slices of bread. I used a loaf loaded with seeds the first time, and it was particularly noteworthy. Blitz in a food processor with salt and pepper. Scatter half of the crumbs over the tomatoes.

Whisk a cup of fresh ricotta OR ½ cup of crumbled feta and enough milk or cream to make it all loose, with 2 eggs and another handful of basil, sliced as finely as you can be bothered – this should all be done rather quickly; a meal for the end of a busy day.

Pour mixture over dish. Scatter with the rest of the crumbs and drizzle generously with olive oil, then in to a 200C oven for 20-30 minutes. Good hot or at room temperature and really quite good, I must say, eaten out of the tin with a spoon at breakfast the following day.

last minute

Yesterday afternoon, soaking up the sun while shelling broad beans slowly on the back step, a familiar tune wafted into the space, made me stop and listen. I knew the words instinctively - Christmas carols were ingrained in my childhood - and I found the simple joy of voices singing Peace on earth and mercy mi-ld in real time somewhat humbling. A short burst, just a couple of refrains and off they went, but it was sweet and delicious to my ears, a great surprise. It made me think of how we should feel at this time of the year, that even an unbeliever like me needs to take stock, to be glad of what she has, to go about her end-of-year business with a song if not in her heart, then at least in her head. A flatmate once told me that I sing like a nun (it's true!) and as I rather like the melancholy notes of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, I'll use it in place of all that harking of heralding angels stuff.

This post by my lovely friend Gill is full of great ideas for stress-less gift giving. Shopping just isn't my thing these days, something I put down to years of working retail. The notion of giving a gift of your time is tops, I say. 

Kathryn has more great ideas over here, not least of which is that we've made gift vouchers available for An Honest Kitchen. Perfect for last minute (like moi) shoppers. She explains the purchasing process far more carefully than I will if I try, so instead of repeating her words, I'm going to send you over to her. (Thanks, K!)

How are your plans shaping up for the holidays?

cooking for one

For some time now a post has been sitting in draft, staring out contentiously each time I log on, one in which I set out to explore the drudgery of cooking for four. That wasn't the original intention - not at all - it was intended as a helpful guide for feeding teenagers (boys, in particular) good, simple vegetarian food, a skill I've been honing for the past ten years which makes me something of an expert, even if I do say so myself, but about halfway through I stopped. I was making the task sound abominable.

A few weeks later I found myself cooking alone. Bliss.

These days, I cook for myself at least one night a week. It's a task I relish, a chance to cook the kind of food I like. I almost always eat well, but even I - a cooking obsessive - am not immune to repeating the sameold, sameold.

Cooking for yourself should be a joy, not a drag even though that is what we are led to believe the task should be, but it should also, as my friend Jo says, be about keeping up standards. A little bit of self-respect, a little moment to step away from things and treat yourself well, to feed whatever it is that your good self requires. A meal that is, if you get my drift, about more than mere fueling alone. Kathryn came along with another excellent idea for An Honest Kitchen - Cooking for One - at just the right time. All of us will cook for ourselves at some stage in life, for all the different reasons that exist, and all of us will need a little inspiration from time to time.

I'm really proud of the work we've done on this edition; the 3 recipes are delicious (there is a KILLER dressing in there that I've worked into at least one meal a week since) but there are also lots of thoughts about how to make leftovers into something fresher, on how to eat well. But the thing I'm most proud of is that it's a budget-friendly edition, so that eating solo will not, if you follow Kathryn's advice, cost you the earth.

Also, I DREW! Very nearly fainted when I realised that I'd enjoyed it too...

And so, here she is: An Honest Kitchen, Cooking for One. It'll set you back a mere $3 (AU). TOTALLY budget friendly. 

AU$ 3.00

honestly

we're working away on another edition of an honest kitchen, one i'm actually rather excited about as kathryn and i are trying new things, giving it all a fresh new look. we decided on using film for the photographs because, honestly, apart from the occasional picture taken with my phone (not an iPhone) it's how photographs get made 'round here.

an outtake, this, but one i've a particular affection for. stay tuned.

soup (and a little housekeeping)

 

Soup weather's upon us in these parts, settling in for the next few months, so Kathryn and I decided to put together a mini-collection of soup recipes from previous editions of An Honest Kitchen. You'll find 4 of the soup recipes we like best, each chosen to keep you warm and happy. It'll set you back just $3.00AU and we hope you'll love all 4 of them.   

Almost as easy as opening a tin and way better tasting, these are soothing little recipes for the cold, tired cook.  

$3.00 (AU)

In other news, I've been thoroughly enjoying working my way through some of Penguin's new Great Food series. Reviews are now up on the ever-entertaining Gastronomer's Bookshelf.