An Ode to Nigella

The new Nigella series is out, and already I'm feeling the vibe.  Aside from the lovely production values and her general gorgeousness (I love to see generously curved and proportioned women in the media - there's hope for us yet), two particular recipes from the first episode struck me last night.

Firstly Meatzza - a godsend to the carb challenged amongst us and something I've already tried based on the weekend insert in the Mail on Sunday a few weeks ago.  Yup - that's going to stay on the menu.

And then last night, in a completely timely way she pulled Eggs in Purgatory out of the hat.  Reading my previous blog entry, you will know that boiled eggs have been a step too far for me in the past.  But poached eggs even more so (the epitome of flobber and goo).  However, the idea of eggs poached in a fiery garlic and chilli tomato stew with a dusting of Parmesan, well that really set the synapses alight. I fully intend to give that one a try this week - it may well be the first poached egg to pass my lips in 3 decades...

Onya Nigella.  I shall follow the series with anticipation (Monday nights will become Nigella night on the sofa with a cuppa, a pad and pen).

On boiling an egg.

I have a confession to make.  I don't like boiled eggs.  I haven't liked them since I was about 6 years old.  I have distant memories of gleefully eating the top off Daddys egg when I was a very wee girl, but since then boiled eggs have been food of the devil to me.

I don't know what put me off them.  Maybe the occasional underdone egg, with flobbering translucent white and sticky, lukewarm yolk drooling down the side.... Or the way that egg yolk sticks to your teeth and makes them feel unpleasant and almost powdery.

Never mind, this morning I decided that the boiled egg must be revisited as they are a handy protein packed snack.  To my embarrassment I, the great cook, had to look up online how to actually cook a boiled egg. A little humiliating....

More humiliating was the fact that I got it wrong on my first 2 attempts. Taking my eggs straight from the fridge (and therefore at around 4 degrees Celsius) both my initial attempts delivered uncooked white and runny yolks.  Needless to say these hit the bin. The third attempt was closer, although still too runny for me - however, by that stage I was unwilling to sacrifice a 3rd free range egg, so I popped it into an eggcup, on a plate with surrounding condiments - salt, white pepper, celery seeds and Nandos peri peri sauce.

You will be no doubt pleased to hear that I managed to work my way through the egg without serious disgust. In fact I'm considering another one later on in the week. It's time to address those old prejudices!

If you are interested, I have decided the winning combination is a soft but not runny yolk (see the middle egg above), a little sea salt and a dip into the peri peri sauce. Eclectic, I know but I have always been a sucker for something fiery in the morning.....

Colours of Autumn

Love them.  Lots of interesting skies at dusk. Gaudy, flashy even... There is still some heat in the sun but now it's accompanied by a cool breeze, and the evenings are definitely drawing in now.

And the produce.  It's been a triple purple day today.  Damsons I picked at a friends (not pictured - they went straight into the freezer) - they are going to end up in some gin this year I think as I'm still carrying Damson Jam from last year.

And the beetroot and mulberries came out of the garden (both are buggers for staining your fingers). The mulberries are gorgeous mixed with juicy white nectarines and fromage frais for breakfast....

Gastropub menus also signal the change in season - lots of meaty pies, belly of pork with beetroot, autumn harvest veg and robust fish dishes cropping up on them (as I discovered on my little country pub exploration yesterday). Roll on autumn....

Junk Talk

My garage has to be seen to be believed.  It manages to accumaulate all sorts of things - some useful (preserves/sloe gin, lots of supersized catering equipment) and the less useful (bags of empty jars, mostly empty paint tins, broken sun umbrella, assorted and unidentifiable gardening equipment parts, bags of rubble, bags of grass seed that the mice got into, screws/nails etc).  A certain ex husband of my acquaintance has also been known to stash stuff in there that has not seen the light of day for some years.

But finally this morning I did a trawl through the lot, filled the car and was off to Garth Rd and the waste transfer station. Dumped it all in the sun, dust and grime and am very satisfied with the mornings work.

An observation: waste transfer stations smell the same - bad - all over the world. A great leveller and reassuring somehow. It takes me back to the days when my main paternal bonding activity, was a fortnightly trip to the tip with good old dad - an open cast landscape of trash, crawling with rats and where gulls wheeled overhead. Ahh, happy days....

Mind you, could probably get really ruthless and do another couple of car loads from my garage.  And the loft is next...

Autumn around the corner

I'm back from my short summer holiday, and Autumn is breathing over my shoulder. The day length is shortening and the night temperatures cooling.  Next doors plums that hang over my fence, have been and gone.  The tomatoes in the greenhouse are looking scruffy and while still prolific, I can see the end of their run coming soon. And I actually had some goosebumps in the cool breeze while taking a sunbathing break in the sun the other day.

 The end of season sales are almost done too, and shops are now full of winter season clothes, not that that's stopped me hoovering up a few last gasp bargains in the last few days (refer catalogue pic although imagine a dumpy blonde wearing the jeans, vivid shirt and a matching blue cotton cardie...).

Where did summer go? All that investment in water butts, ready for the heatwave, was largely wasted although I am being a good little greenie and using rainwater in the garden where possible.

An autumn menu sounds appealing.  I dredged out some of last years frozen damsons the other day and made a flaky tart out of half, and a puree out of the rest (gorgeous for breakfast with greek yoghurt). And I am off to see a friend in the country next week to raid her new seasons damsons - some may find their way into a spot of gin...yum yum...