Foodie Fancies

Proof once again that chocolate will always make things better

2012-02-28T10:58:00.001Z

Last week was a tough week. Things went wrong. Things fell through. And at one stage, a chimney almost fell off - but I don't even want to go there and, believe me, neither do you!

Some of you may think I'm mad but I've been trying to coordinate setting up a café with my other full-time work. This means that the past few weeks have consisted of me constantly switching from journalist mode to teacher mode to hassled-person-trying-to-set-up-a-café mode. Mostly, I've been doing fine, though there have been times when I've forgotten just who I'm supposed to be...

That was until last Thursday. I'd been in Tralee on Wednesday, where I'd found tablecloths I liked. This was a huge step forward as I'd spent ages searching in Dublin, Limerick and Dingle. But when I called the shop early on Thursday morning to finalise the order, they hit me with a bombshell. They didn't have enough fabric and the pattern had been discontinued so they couldn't order in any more. Back to the drawing board went a VERY disheartened Sharon.

Barely a second after that phone call, there was the chimney incident (the less said about that, the better) and another phone call from my landlord with more bad news.

Feeling really discouraged by now, I then had to go and teach a computer literacy class to a group of pensioners. The computers were playing up and it took at least 40 minutes to get started, by which time my normally lovely pensioners were very crotchety.

Things got even worse after that but I can feel my blood pressure rising as I write so perhaps it's just best for me to say that by Friday, I had made little or no progress with the café and expected little from the weekend.

Needing some serious cheering up, I found myself browsing through Short and Sweet by Dan Lepard, one of the cookbooks I got this Christmas and a treasure trove of baking treats. I found a recipe for chocolate custard muffins and by their very name alone, I knew they were what I needed.

Note to readers: before you get too excited, the name refers to the cooking method. There is no chocolate custard inside. But this doesn't make them any less delicious. These muffins are moist, chocolately and more-ish. One will most definitely not be enough.
Note to self: must make chocolate muffins with chocolate custard inside.

Makes 12
50g cornflour
3 tablespoons cocoa
100g dark soft brown sugar
225ml cold water
75g unsalted butter, cubed
125g dark chocolate, broken into small pieces
75ml sunflower oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 large eggs
125g caster sugar
125g plain flour
2 and a half teaspoons baking powder

Weigh out your ingredients.
Pre-heat your oven to 180 C/350 F/Gas 4.
Make the custard: place the cornflour, cocoa, brown sugar and water in a pan and whisk together constantly over a medium heat until boiling, very thick and smooth (this should take up to five minutes).
Remove from the heat and whisk in the butter and chocolate until melted and absorbed.
Add the oil, vanilla and one of the eggs and beat until combined.
Then add the remaining egg and the caster sugar and beat until smooth and thick.
Sift the flour and the baking powder directly into the custard and beat through until combined.
Spoon the mixture into paper muffin cases in a muffin tray and bake for 25 minutes.
Leave to cool on a wire rack.

The book also contains this recipe for treacle chocolate fudge frosting, which I made while the muffins were cooling.

1 tablespoon black treacle
75g light soft brown sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
2 tablespoons cornflour
150ml milk
125g chocolate (I used a mix of half dark and half milk chocolate)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
25g unsalted butter, softened

Beat the treacle, sugar, cocoa, cornflour and milk together in a saucepan until smooth.
Bring to the boil over a medium heat, whisking often so it doesn't scald on the base.
Remove from the heat and beat in the chopped chocolate until smooth and creamy.
Leave to cool until barely warm and then beat in the vanilla and softened butter.
Swirl over the muffins and if you want them to look even more tempting, sprinkle with some grated white chocolate.

(If you've got any of this left over, it keeps very well in the fridge and is a great chocolate spread.)

I felt so much better after baking and eating these that my weekend seemed to flow from there. My boyfriend, two of my sisters and one of their boyfriends came to help me get started with painting on Saturday. One of them even had lots of tablecloth samples for me and I found one that was better than my original choice. (Hooray!)

We made much more progress than I ever thought we would and I am so thankful to them all for helping me and lifting me out of what was becoming a dark and pessimistic mood.

I feel I should thank these muffins too. The very act of baking them and the pleasure of eating them made me remember just what I'm trying to do with this café. There will be obstacles to overcome along the way but if delicious food like this is the result, I feel that it will be worth it.

My helpers enjoyed eating the muffins too!

I'll definitely be making these again. They may even feature on the menu of my café. If they made me feel better and made a success of a weekend that I thought would be a total failure, they must be good.

And the nominees are...

2012-02-24T13:13:00.004Z

The lovely Margaret of A Year in Redwood nominated me for a Liebster Award last Sunday and I'd like to thank her so much for it. A Liebster Award is a way of recognising the work of other bloggers and it's great that people like Margaret appreciate what I am doing here - thanks so much, Margaret!

Gushing thanks aside, now it's my turn to nominate five bloggers whose blogs I enjoy reading. There are five rules I must follow in doing this:

1. I have to thank the person who gave me the award. Thanks again, Margaret!
2. I must link back to that person's blog, A Year in Redwood
3. I have to copy and paste the Liebster Award to my profile:

4. The blogs I pick must have fewer than 200 followers (I'm not entirely sure how many followers Fanny of like a strawberry milk has. She may have many more than 200 as her blog is so lovely.)
5. I must let these bloggers know I have chosen them by leaving a comment on their blog.

So, here are my nominees (I'm imaginging myself wearing an evening dress and opening a golden envelope as I write this. Would that I were !):

1. like a strawberry milk I just love this French girl's dreamy evocation of a life in London that involves bicycles, Polaroids, pastries and the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of good food.

2. Kitchen Life Skills Sally McKenna is well known in Ireland as one half of the duo that compiles the influential Bridgestone Guides. But she's also the author of this great blog that teaches you something new every time you visit. I'm going to follow her instructions to make homemade Japanese dashi with seaweed foraged from the seashore very soon.

3. Gunternation Sharon and her husband Bill chronicle their life in Dublin, telling us about the recipes they enjoy cooking, the restaurants they visit and the adventures they have as an American couple with a love for and curiosity about Ireland.

4. Warm & Snug & Fat Here, Amee writes about growing and cooking her own food and her recipes are always irresistibly good. Recent ones include hazelnut and buttermilk banana loaf and chorizo and scrambled eggs tacos. (I told you they were good!)

5. Felting My Way Across Kerry Sharon is a fellow blogger who lives in Dingle and she writes about how she moved from a life in urban America to a small-town life in Ireland where she creates fabrics and fashions that are colourful and unique.

These are just some of the blogs I like reading and I'm thankful that the Liebster Award gave me an opportunity to recognise them. There are so many great blogs out there just waiting to be discovered. Start exploring!

A sharp rap on the knuckles and a recipe for tonight's supper

2012-02-20T11:43:00.003Z

You can't see me but I'm holding out my hand so that you can give me that rap on the knuckles I said you could if I hadn't posted something by Friday. Last week was so crammed full of things to do that I had very little time to spend in the kitchen or at the computer. This is why this blog post is three days late and why I broke my promise.

You might go easy on me if you knew what I'd been up to though. I spent two days in Dublin tracking down bargains for the café. I've now got cutlery, glasses, cups and saucers, plates, bowls and some kitchen equipment. It sounds like a lot but I still need tablecloths (which are quickly turning into the bane of my life), sugar bowls, salt and pepper shakers, milk jugs and much more.

As well as shopping, I've sanded and varnished the floor of the café (or should I say my boyfriend did this - this past week, he has been more helpful than I could ever have imagined anyone to be and I'm so thankful). I placed an ad in the local paper for staff and have so far interviewed two people and set up interviews with two others (it's so strange to be the one asking the questions at interviews!).

This week, I'm buying tablecloths, enlisting family and friends to help paint the interior (if you're reading this and you are a member of my family or a friend who lives in Dingle, consider yourself forewarned!), finishing kitting out the kitchen, dealing with suppliers and having meetings with an accountant and a solicitor. Once all that is done, things should be almost ready to rock.

In the meantime, I'm not always going to have a huge amount of time or energy to cook at the end of the day. That means I'll be preparing lots of dishes like this - dishes that are simple to prepare and cook, that are flexible enough to work with whatever you happen to have in your fridge and are always full of flavour.

But when I think of it, these are the kinds of dishes that I tend to cook a lot during the week anyway. This Thai-inspired dish is one of my favourites and as it's such a versatile recipe, it might just become one of yours too.

This recipe started life as an Avoca Café recipe for green bean and coconut soup but I've adapted it to turn it into a much more filling supper dish.

It's a flexible recipe too. I've used prawns here but in the past I've used monkfish, chicken pieces that I've pre-fried in some oil and ground coriander and pieces of hake that I pre-fried in oil with chopped green chilli.

I serve this dish with basmati rice and if I'm very hungry and in need of carbohydrates (as I have been these busy days), I also serve one pitta bread per person. I think it would also be good with some slurpy noodles.

Feel free to experiment. This is a very forgiving recipe.

Ingredients:
(Serves two hungry people with plenty left over for lunch the next day)

15g/half an oz of butter
4 spring onions, cut in half lengthways and then into 5cm strips (include the green bits)
2 carrots, peeled and cut into matchsticks
2 teaspoons finely chopped lemongrass (be sure to remove the dry outer layers first)
2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
2 teaspoons ground coriander
100g green beans, topped, tailed and chopped so that they are approximately as long as the carrots
1x400ml/14 fl oz can of coconut milk
100ml vegetable stock
110g bean sprouts
14 prawns, peeled and cleaned
1 tablespoon nam pla (if you don't have this fish sauce, season with salt)
2 tablespoons of chopped fresh coriander

150g basmati rice
2 pieces of pitta bread, olive oil and sumac (if using)

Start by preparing your vegetables, lemongrass, garlic and ginger. You want them to look something like this:

Put your rice on to cook.

Brush your pitta breads with olive oil and sprinkle with sumac (if you're using) and place in the toaster. Don't turn it on yet.

Melt the butter in a wok and add the spring onions, carrots, lemongrass, garlic and ginger. Stir over a medium heat for one minute.

Add the green beans, turmeric and coriander and stir until the vegetables are coated in the spices.

Add the coconut milk and the stock.

Bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 5 minutes.

Add the prawns and cook for 3 minutes or until they have turned pink.

Stir in the beansprouts and fresh coriander and season with nam pla (or salt).

Turn off the heat, toast your pitta breads and serve this vibrant yellow prawn sauce over the rice and with the pitta bread.

It's a dish that can't fail to make you happy.

You are all so kind...

2012-02-13T15:12:00.001Z

Thank you all so much for taking a look at my last post. It was my most read post so far and the fact that so many of you read it makes me feel that I may not be entirely out of my mind in thinking that I have it in me to run a good café. All of your suggestions are very welcome and if you have any more, I'd love to hear them.

I'm going to be very busy over the next while and may not be able to post here as regularly as I'd like. But I do promise you a post before the week is out - if I haven't put something up here by Friday, you can rap me on the knuckles!

In the meantime, I'm still racking my brains to come up with a name for my café! If you've got any ideas, no matter how zany, be sure to send them to me.

Sharon puts her money where her mouth is

2012-02-06T13:13:00.002Z

I have butterflies in my stomach as I write this. Regular readers will know that I promised to announce something today and my Twitter followers will know that I've been working up to something for a while. Well, I'm finally ready to reveal just what it is that I've been planning:

I'M OPENING A CAFÉ IN DINGLE!!!

Sorry about the screaming capitals but I feel as though little else can convey quite how excited and nervous I'm feeling about this venture. Although it's something I've been thinking about doing for some time, I'm anxious about how it's all going to work out.

From reading previous posts, you'll know that I have had a stall at Dingle Farmers' Market for the past few years and that the cupcakes, brownies and other sweet treats I sell there have proved to be popular with customers. These will be one of the main attractions in my new café, which I'm hoping will become a place where people will come to enjoy good teas, coffees and cakes.

But I'm realistic enough to realise that this won't be enough to sustain a business in Dingle, especially outside of the summer months so I'm also planning to do good sandwiches (roast beef with garlic aioli and rocket, anyone?), soups, brunch specials, salads and three lunch specials that will change regularly, if not daily. There's a lot I still need to sort out but I know that the emphasis I want is seasonal, simple and mostly local food based on quality ingredients.

For those of you who know Dingle, my café is going to be located in Dick Mack's yard where Bee's Teas used to be. For those of you that don't, it will be upstairs in the charming but quite ramshackle building pictured below (there's also a terrace where customers can sit on sunny days).

There's a huge amount to do before it opens - which I hope will be in early March. The outside needs a facelift. So too does the interior. I need to organise insurance; find suppliers; buy crockery, cutlery, tablecloths and kitchen equipment; and hire staff.

There's a lot to worry about. I feel as though I'm really putting my money where my mouth is. I'm going from being a blogger who occasionally reviews restaurants and often finds fault to someone who tries to set up a place of her own. I've got very high standards and I just hope I can meet them.

I'd appreciate any advice you can give me. Suggestions as to where to buy crockery, cutlery, cake stands, cushions for seats and anything else that comes to mind would be more than welcome.

So too would suggestions for a name for my café. So far, I've got The Sweet Season, an Séasúr Blasta (which is Irish for The Tasty/Delicious Season) and Cookies but I don't know if any of them is quite right.

Think about it and leave your thoughts in the comments below. I want something that conveys the idea of seasonal, natural, simple cooking and the name could also include a reference to sweet treats as they are what I am best known for.

Don't worry if you think your suggestion sounds batty. Sometimes, batty is best!

Guilty Blogger's Syndrome

2012-02-03T15:15:00.001Z

I’ve got that guilty feeling. That feeling that afflicts bloggers who don’t post as much as they’d like to.

You may not know this but that feeling comes with its very own voice – a voice you hear in your head at odd intervals, a nasal, niggling voice that says things like: you call yourself a blogger, do you? Well, I haven’t seen you blogging much lately. Some blogger you are…

It’s a voice that’s a classic symptom of the guilty blogger syndrome and it’s one that is very hard to ignore. But this week, I’ve been so busy that I’ve had to ignore both it and my blog. I’m busy with regular work and with a huge new project that I’m about to take on.

I’ll tell you all about it on Monday. In the meantime, happy weekend!

Birthdays: the pleasures and the headaches

2012-01-27T12:53:00.005Z

I must be getting old. I had intended to post this review on Monday but having celebrated my birthday in Cork on Saturday and again with friends in Dingle on Monday (the actual day of my birthday), I've been suffering the consequences ever since. My head has only just recovered to the point where I can devote attention to anything other than the most urgent of work. Has anyone else noticed that pounding hangovers seem to be a hallmark of a good night out once you turn thirty?

But birthdays do have to be celebrated, don't they? And I celebrated mine in style with a meal in one of Cork's finest restaurants, Augustine's. I'd never been before but I'd heard great things and had very high expectations.

So, were those expectations met? It all started well when we were greeted by the friendly, professional staff. All smiles and courtesy, they were to be totally attentive for the entire evening.

The menu boded well too. It was short with a choice of five starters, mains and desserts. It featured carefully-chosen local produce, some of it from the nearby English market, some from local farmers and food producers and some foraged from the countryside that surrounds the city.

Our first taste of the kitchen's food was also impressive. An amuse bouche of pea and chilli soup was savoury with a touch of sweetness, had great depth of flavour and the high note of chilli set the whole thing off perfectly.

My starter was a revelation too. A dish of scallops with a celeriac purée, ham croquettes, apple slices and toasted oats; it was a traditional combination of flavours with a twist. The scallops were dense and rich. The celeriac had a creamy, savoury depth. The croquettes added saltiness and the apple sweetness. Topping all of this off were the toasted and slightly caramelised oats which had a crunchiness and flavour that seemed to intensify all of the other elements of the dish. Ten out of ten.

(Please forgive the quality of the photos; it was really dark.)

My boyfriend had the terrine of English Market ham hock, pistachios and dried cranberry, a quail Scotch egg, apple membreo and an onion and thyme brioche. The apple membreo (which I'd never heard of before) was a sticky sweet reduction of apple which I adored. Judging from the smile he had on his face while eating the rest of the dish, I'm guessing that he liked it too.

So far, so good. Now time for the main courses. I had pan-fried halibut with celeriac remoulade, truffle aoili, toasted hazelnuts and confit chicken wings.

Every single element of this dish was great. The hake was perfectly cooked; its crispy skin yielding to flaky fish. The chicken was tender and paired perfectly with mushrooms and truffle aioli. The remoulade was creamy and sharp. But taken together, I didn't think these elements worked. They just didn't combine to create the excitement that the best dishes do.

My boyfriend continued his pork theme for the evening and chose braised belly of Timoleague Pork and pan roast dodine of prune stuffed tender loin with root vegetable gratin and star anise.

This was a dish of traditional flavours using high quality ingredients that really couldn't be faulted. Yum!

Before I tell you what we had for dessert, I'm going to ask you something: do you think there's a problem with desserts in Ireland? I've found that even the best kitchens often let themselves down when it comes to the sweet course and it's got to the stage where I often skip dessert altogether if I'm eating out.

Unfortunately, that was the case here. I ordered the delice of chocolate with salted caramel and raspberry sorbet (if I do have dessert, it has to be chocolate!). Because the staff knew it was my birthday, they served it with a sparkler on top. This was a lovely touch that was typical of the level of attention we received all night long.

Here's a cheesy picture of me with my dessert:

It looks yummy, doesn't it? And some of it was too...
The salted caramel was good. So was the raspberry sorbet, with its balance of sharp and sweet. But the delice - the heart of the dessert - was a disappointment. It lacked sweetness and there was something slightly oily about it that I found unpleasant.

My boyfriend ordered the tarte tatin because he loves tarte tatin.
I don't have a picture of it and there are two possible reasons for this. One is that the wine had gone to my head and I completely forgot, which sounds totally plausible. The other is that we forgot because we were so disappointed, which unfortunately is just as plausible.

Don't get me wrong: his dessert was nice and he enjoyed it but it simply wasn't a tarte tatin. Anyone who has eaten tarte tatin will testify that it is a thing of caramelised, chewy wonder where the apples are cooked in a caramel sauce that has almost turned to toffee and the base is a buttery, puffy and delicious pastry.

The pastry here was good but there was no chewiness. There was no toffee. In fact, there wasn't any caramel at all. It was almost like an apple turnover of sorts. Whatever it was, it was not a tarte tatin. The vanilla ice cream it was served with was fabulously rich and studded with real vanilla though.

So, my dinner at Augustine's had both high points and low. Would I go again? Certainly. Would my expectations be as high? Probably not...

The bill came to €132 for three courses for two people, including one bottle of wine and two bottles of sparkling water.

Augustine's Restaurant,
The Clarion Hotel,
Lapp's Quay,
Cork City

Tel: 021 4279375

Opening Hours
Tuesday to Saturday from 6pm with availability 7 days a week for private functions.

Three of Ireland's top chefs tell us to take it with a pinch of salt

2012-01-20T13:15:00.003Z

This blog is not a place for scaremongering. I have no desire to hit you over the head with admonitions to eat healthily. I'm sure you get enough of that nagging elsewhere...

BUT I am going to whisper some advice: take a look at how much salt you're eating.

In my day job, I recently had to write an article for The Irish Examiner about the role of salt in our diet. What I found out while researching it has me worried.

Irish people are eating far too much salt. Four grams is a healthy daily intake. Six grams is the maximum recommended. But most of us consume between nine and ten grams every day - and don't think this doesn't apply to you if you live outside of Ireland: it's a problem in most western countries.

So what, I hear some of you asking. Salt makes food taste good so what's the harm?
I can see where you're coming from. For not only does salt bring out the flavour of food, we also need a certain amount of it to maintain water balance and for healthy blood pressure, muscles and nerves.
But - and this is a big but - too much causes high blood pressure which increases your risk of heart attack and stroke. In fact, the Irish Heart Foundation goes so far as to say that if everyone in Ireland reduced their salt intake by half a teaspoon a day, 900 deaths would be prevented every year.

And don't think this doesn't apply to fancy sea salts, celery salts and whatever-you're-having-yourself salts; it's true of all of them.

How come we're eating so much salt? According to research, only 5% of what we eat occurs naturally in food. Another 10 to 15% is added in cooking or at the table. The other whopping 80% comes from processed foods, fast foods and food we eat in restaurants.

When you consider that a single cup of instant soup contains 2.2 grams of salt (more than half what you need in a day), it's not hard to see how people who eat a lot of processed food could easily overdose on salt. It makes me glad I don't eat much (if any) of it.

However, I do like eating in restaurants. Should I be worried about what chefs are adding to my food? I spoke to three Irish chefs to find out about their approach to salt.

Derry Clarke of L'Ecrivain in Dublin thinks we underestimate its power. "Just look at what it does to aubergines," he says. "The way it draws all the moisture out of them shows it's a powerful thing."
Derry has been cooking in kitchens for 40 years and during that time, he has learned a few things about salt. "I've seen how most of my customers add salt to their food automatically, without even tasting it first" he says. "I've seen how chefs overuse salt too."

He advises diners to taste their food before adding extra seasoning. And he also thinks people - including chefs - should change their approach to salt. "Seasoning is the key to good food but it depends on how you do it," he explains. "I add salt to soup when I'm starting off, along with the onions and vegetables. By adding it at the beginning, it develops with the food and is not at the forefront of the taste. Salt should add depth to the flavour. Food shouldn't taste salty. By seasoning at the beginning, you'll only have to adjust the seasoning at the end."

Neven Maguire of MacNean House agrees with Derry. He too recommends seasoning at the beginning of the cooking process and laments the Irish habit of adding salt to food before they've tasted it.

He thinks it might have something to do with people becoming immune to salt. "The more you eat, the more you want to eat," he says.
Neven takes salt so seriously that he and his chefs don't add any salt to their food one day each month. "It readjusts our palates," he says. "It proves to us that we don't need as much salt as we actually eat."

Rachel Allen is just as conscientious about her own personal salt consumption.
"I don't eat any processed food so I know exactly how much salt goes into my diet," she says. "That's fundamentally important as when you don't know how much salt you're eating, it can cause problems."

She uses a dairy salt as a basic table salt and Maldon sea salt or Atlantic Sea Salt when seasoning and at the table.

In fact, all three chefs used sea salt. Not because they thought it was healthier but because of its deeper, more natural flavour and coarse texture.

I'm going to stop banging on about this now. All I'll say is that while salt definitely underscores the flavour of food, if you eat a lot of processed foods or eat in restaurants where the food is cooked by chefs who aren't as conscientious as Derry, Neven or Rachel, it's easy to consume too much.

Take your food with a pinch of salt - the smallest of pinches!

The Great British Bake Off: how does Sharon measure up?

2012-01-16T12:33:00.007Z

Some of you will already know that I have a stall at Dingle Farmers' Market where I sell cupcakes and other baked sweet treats. You'll know that I bake regularly and enjoy it. However, I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm a baker. I've never taken a single class in baking (apart from the classes in home economics we had at school, where I am embarrassed to say that I never showed much promise - sorry teach!). Everything I know about baking, I've learned from books and from simple trial and (lots of) error.

This means that I empathise with the contestants on The Great British Bake Off (for those of you who haven't seen the show, it's a baking competition that sees baking experts Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry set tasks for enthusiastic baking amateurs such as me). I particularly empathised with the celebrities who took part in last week's Sports Relief Bake Off. I was once like them, an absolute novice who knew little or nothing about baking - except that I liked eating the end result!

I do think I've improved since then and one of last week's challenges presented me with the perfect chance to see how I measured up. The second programme saw each of the four contestants fail quite spectacularly in their attempts to make Mary Berry's banana and chocolate chip loaf cake

Despite their dismal efforts, I didn't think it looked too difficult. I also thought it sounded delicious. So, I decided to try it for myself.

Here's my result:

A simply scrumptious cake that is perfect for weekend baking - moist as a result of the mashed banana and with the ideal amount of chocolate, enough to give you your chocolate hit without being too decadent for a January afternoon.
And - I don't know what went wrong with those bakers on the Bake Off - it couldn't be easier to make.

I made double the amount in Mary's recipe as my loaf tin is twice as large as the one she uses. This meant that I had to adjust the cooking time but it also meant that I had enough cake to last two people (and several visitors) for the entire weekend - which is surely what a weekend cake is supposed to do.

Ingredients:
2 ripe bananas (peeled weight 200g/8oz)
2 tablespoons milk
100g/4oz soft butter
150g/6oz plain flour
150g/6oz caster sugar
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 eggs
100g dark chocolate chips (I bought a bar of chocolate and cut it into chunks)

To decorate:
40g dark chocolate chips

1 loaf tin measuring 28.5cm by 13cm by 6cm.

Preheat the oven to 160C/325F/Gas 3.
Grease and line your loaf tin with baking parchment.
Mash the peeled bananas with a fork and add to the milk, butter, flour, sugar, soda, baking powder and eggs.
Beat the ingredients with an electric hand-held whisk until they have combined and are smooth.
Stir in the chocolate chips and spoon the mixture into the loaf tin.
Bake for 50-60 minutes or until the cake is well risen, has begun to shrink away from the sides of the tin and has turned a golden-brown colour.
Set aside to cool for ten minutes then remove from the tin and leave to cool on a wire rack.
To decorate, melt the remaining chocolate in a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of simmering water.
Mary recommends spooning the chocolate into a piping bag and piping zig-zags across the top of the loaf. This is a little too prim for my style so I decided to drizzle it haphazardly instead.
Now, all you have to do is slice and serve.

This is a cake I would urge everyone to try. It's sweet but not too indulgent, making it perfect for a cold January afternoon. Go on. Have a slice!

I think Mary Berry would be proud of my cake. What do you reckon?

And the winner is...

2012-01-13T12:18:00.002Z

Drum roll, please.

The winner of the very first Foodie Fancies giveaway and a copy of 'Food from Plenty' by Diana Henry is Sara. Sara's favourite comfort foods are poached eggs on toast (a personal favourite of mine) or grilled bacon and avocado on a sesame seed bagel (which also sounds yum).

The book will be winging its way to you shortly, Sara.

I hope you enjoy cooking from it as much as I do.

Hoots mon! Who let the juice loose aboot this hoose?

2012-01-11T12:03:00.002Z

Weather, eh? We have it all here in Dingle. In the past week alone, I've looked out this window (the window of my home office) and been greeted by the sight of waves pounding the shoreline, hail hitting the patio, countless showers of rain and the occasional ferocious gust of wind unsettling all before it.

Often when I've ventured outside, I've been battered by that wind and soaked by the rain. I know it's January and that I can expect little else seeing as I have chosen to live at the edge of a cliff on the shore of the Atlantic but my body has begun to feel the toll of this and I'm on the brink of getting sick.

This is why I started my day with this today: a glass of goodness that is bursting with the vitamins we all need to power us through the winter months. It's easy to make. It contains ingredients most of us have on standby. And on top of being good for you, it makes you feel full for hours.

Here's what you need to make two glasses of carrot, ginger and orange booster juice.

4 carrots, peeled
2 teaspoons (10ml) chopped fresh ginger
3 oranges

It couldn't be simpler to make either. Unfortunately, you do need a juicer.
All you do is juice everything together and drink immediately. I added an extra grating of ginger on top, just for a bit more zing.

I think I'm feeling better already.

Something to cheer you up during the cold, dark days of January

2012-01-06T12:41:00.001Z

Let's admit it: January sucks. Many of us have eaten, drunk and spent far too much money over Christmas and suddenly we are overcome with a compulsion to submit ourselves to a month of deprivation. No chocolate, no cream, no cake, no booze and certainly no spending of any money.

Bah humbug is what I say to that. January is cold, dark and long. If ever we needed the comfort of cream cake, now is that time.

But I know some of you are more steadfast than I am. You are determined to stick to your guns and undergo a January of abstention. I've got something to make that a little easier for you: my very first blog giveaway!

Some of you will remember this review I wrote of Diana Henry's 'Food from Plenty' a while back.

I was instantly taken with the idea behind this book, which is all about creating good food from what is plentiful, seasonal and often left over from previous meals. It chimes with the times, as we look at food anew, prizing quality and flavour over what is cheap and unsustainable.

Since then, I've returned to this book many times for its simple and always delicious recipes. I've made Italian cauliflower with fried breadcrumbs, anchovies and capers; beetroot, goats cheese and caper pizza; orange and pistachio pilaf; tomato and basil tart; Middle Eastern shepherd's pie with a spiced parsnip crust - every single recipe has been great and I'm hungrily anticipating cooking many more.

I think you'll love cooking from this book too, which is why I'm giving you the opportunity to win your very own copy.

All you have to do is leave a comment below, telling me what your favourite comfort food is. I'll choose a winner at random next week and in the meantime, I'm looking forward to reading all about the foods you love to eat (or force yourself to go without!) in the cold month of January.

Why has Sharon gone AWOL?

2012-01-04T14:47:00.002Z

Things have been quiet here of late. Blame the many hungry mouths that there were to feed over Christmas. So many that although I did a lot of cooking, I had nary a moment to sit at my computer and tell you all about it.

Normal transmission will resume shortly. In the meantime, here's a photo I took when I was out walking recently.

A rainbow to mark a new beginning, a new year and a renewed sense of hope.

Some simple food before the indulgence of Christmas

2011-12-23T12:29:00.001Z

Christmas is a time of traditions and every family has their own. Whether it's a glass of eggnog by the fire or tucking into a plate of mince pies in the kitchen; we all have something that makes Christmas special.

One of the things that I look forward to at this time of year is a dish that is traditionally eaten on Christmas Eve in West Kerry. Salted ling in a white sauce served with floury potatoes makes for a very simple supper the day before the richness and overindulgence to come.

(This may not be the most attractive food I've ever posted on this blog but it is some of the tastiest)

Ling (or salt cod) is widely available in the shops in Ireland at this time of year. It's an easy dish to cook but I do urge some caution. The first year I made this, I didn't soak it for long enough and my boyfriend and I both woke up in the middle of the night with mouths as parched as though we'd been lost for hours in the desert. Soak your ling in plenty of water for 24 hours, changing the water two or three times and run the fish under a cold tap before you use it, and you'll avoid this potential pitfall.

I've based my recipe on my mother's as with all traditions, you always want things to taste just as they did when you ate them as you were growing up. She doesn't add leeks but I think they make this traditional favourite even better.

This makes enough for four.

800g of ling

50g/2oz butter

50g/2oz

1200ml/2 pints milk

1 onion, diced

6 leeks, washed and sliced into rounds

25g of butter

8 floury potatoes such as King Edward, Russet or Maris Piper

Soak your ling in cold water for at least 24 hours, changing the water two or three times in that period.
Run it under the cold tap before you cook it to remove any salt flakes.
Place it in a shallow pan. Cover with cold water. Bring to the boil and simmer for 20 minutes, or until the fish is cooked. You can tell that it's cooked by the fact that it will flake easily.
Cook your potatoes in boiling salted water while your fish is cooking. Floury potatoes can take a while to cook, perhaps as long as the fish does. Check them from 12 minutes into the cooking time. The best way of doing this is by piercing them with a knife. When they're cooked, the knife will go through them easily. Otherwise, the flesh will be resistant. When they are cooked, drain them of water and leave them in the saucepan with the lid on. The residual steam will make them even more floury.
You can also cook your sauce while the fish is cooking too. Start by melting the butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over a medium heat.
Add the chopped onions and cook for one more minute.
Stir in the flour and cook for one to two minutes.
Add in the milk, little by little, stirring as you go to get a smooth sauce.
I also add one or two ladlefuls of the water the fish is cooking in to my sauce. It adds a real depth of flavour and as it has absorbed some of the saltiness of the fish, it means you probably won't need to season your sauce.
Make the leeks by melting the butter in a frying pan over a medium heat and cooking the leeks in it for four to five minutes or until they have softened and coloured slightly.
When your fish is cooked, remove it from its cooking water and set aside until it is cool enough to handle. Then flake it into the sauce. Add the leeks. Check for seasoning. You probably won't need to add salt but you may like to add some white pepper.
Serve with the floury potatoes.

The saltiness of the fish, the creaminess of the sauce, the crunch of the leeks, the sweetness of the onions and the soft flouriness of the potatoes – this is one of the real traditions of Christmas.

Before I go, I'd like to wish you all a happy and a peaceful Christmas. May it be full of all of the good things - food, family and friends.

So, you don't like plum pudding? Never fear for Sharon is here...

2011-12-19T11:21:00.002Z

There are only six days to Christmas and most of you will already be licking your lips at the thoughts of dinner. But what of those of you who don't find the prospect of a turkey dinner followed by plum pudding so appetising? What are you going to do?

This is where I come to the rescue. Because I am one of your tribe, particularly when it comes to the sweet treats of the festive season.

I don't like dried fruits. I find them overwhelmingly sweet and as a result, Christmas cake, plum pudding, mince pies and all sorts of other specialities of the Christmas season are off the menu for me (although I must admit I enjoyed these when I made them for my boyfriend last week).

Instead, I prefer my festive fancies to look more like this:

A layer of crunchy hazelnut meringue, a decadent chocolate cream and whipped cream offset by tart raspberries - could there be a better dessert?

This dessert is adapted from a recipe by Delia Smith. Here's what you need to do if, like me, you plan to treat yourself this Christmas.

Ingredients:
110g/4oz hazelnuts
225g/8oz golden caster sugar
4 large egg whites

140g/5oz dark chocolate, 70% cocoa solids
400ml double cream
160g/5 and a half oz raspberries (I use frozen raspberries at this time of year)

One baking tray measuring 10x14 inches (or 25.5 x 35cm), lined with baking parchment

Preheat the oven to 190 C/375 F/gas mark 5.

Toast the hazelnuts on a baking sheet at the top of the oven for 6 minutes. You want them to look like this:

Cool and grind in a food processor until finely chopped. Be careful not to overprocess or they will turn oily. What you want is something that looks like this:

Whisk the egg whites in a clean, grease-free bowl until they form soft peaks

Whisk in the caster sugar a little at a time.

Fold in the ground hazelnuts using a metal spoon.

Spread the mixture evenly in the prepared tin.

Bake in the centre of the oven for 20 minutes.

Cool and then turn out on to a piece of parchment paper that is slightly larger than the roulade and gently ease away the lining.

Melt the chocolate in a heat-proof bowl over simmering water, making sure the bowl doesn't touch the water. Remove from the heat and allow to cool.

Whip the cream and divide it between two bowls.

Reserve four tablespoons of chocolate for decoration and add the rest to one bowl of whipped cream. Spread it over the meringue to within half an inch or one centimetre of the edge.

Spread the whipped cream over the chocolate layer:

Then stud with the raspberries, like so:

You now have two options. If you're confident of your roulade-rolling skills, you can roll this into a swiss roll shape. You do this by placing the meringue so that its long side faces you. You then use the paper to assist you in rolling the meringue to form a long log shape.

You're not supposed to worry about the meringue cracking as it's all supposed to be part of the charm. But my meringue always seems to crack a little too much. So, I usually just skip the rolling part and simply drizzle this flat (but no less delicious) confection with my remaining melted chocolate.

(My latest - not so successful - attempt at rolling a roulade)

If you're braver and more skilled than me and succeed in rolling your roulade properly, all you need to do is make sure the seam is at the base of the roulade and drizzle it with chocolate. Then, stand back and marvel at the beauty of what you've created.

With this as your dessert, you're guaranteed a very Merry Christmas.

A taste of Dingle courtesy of the Dingle Hamper Company

2011-12-13T17:00:00.002Z

There is just over a week to go to Christmas and if you're anything like me, you won't have bought a single Christmas present yet. Not a single one.

If you're even more like me, a feeling of panic will be beginning to develop at the pit of your stomach. You know the one: that queasy rumbling that asks you why you've done it again. Why do you always leave it so late?

If only the people I have to buy gifts for this year were foodies. Then I would know exactly what to buy them. Two of my fellow stall holders at Dingle Farmers' Market, Saorla the chocolatier - shown here before she had embarked on her chocolate making adventures:

and Marie the maker of fabulous fudge and interesting jams and chutneys (her range includes a wonderful clove apple jelly and a strawberry and black pepper jam):

have joined forces and created Dingle Hampers - a luxury gift that offers a taste of the food of the peninsula.

The hampers are available in different sizes and suit a range of budgets. Most importantly of all, they are filled with lots of good things. Tear off the wrapping and you'll be tempted by Saorla's chocolates. Will you opt for the Green Fairy absinthe truffle, the brandy and apricot truffle or perhaps one of these chocolate spoons - just stir into hot milk for the perfect hot chocolate.

You'll also find Marie's creative food, which includes such flavours as Baileys and chocolate fudge, maple syrup and walnut fudge and butternut squash and almond chutney.

As well as Saorla and Marie's food, the hampers include Maya Binder's Dingle Peninsula cheese which is a hard cheese flavoured with dillisk seaweed; Olivier Beaujouan's On the Wild Side products which include cured meats, fish and foods he has foraged from the seashore; homemade fruit cordials; and lots more. In fact, Saorla and Marie are constantly on the lookout for more local products to add to their hampers.

This is a hamper I'd love to tear open on Christmas Day and tuck into over the festive period. Perhaps I'll buy one for myself...

However tempting it might be to treat myself to one of these hampers, it still doesn't solve my present-buying problem. But it might solve yours and if so, at least one of us will be rid of that queasy rumbling feeling of panic in our tummies.

To find out more about Dingle Hampers, visit www.dinglehampers.com

Sharon's favourite cookbooks of 2011

2011-12-07T15:40:00.002Z

Tomorrow is the 8th of December and officially the start of the festive season in Ireland. Traditionally, country people would travel to big cities and towns, especially to Dublin, to do their Christmas shopping on this day. An old lady friend of mine from Kerry used to have an annual arrangement with her friend from Clare. They would meet under Cleary's clock at 10am on the 8th, go for a cup of tea and a natter to catch up on the year's gossip and then do their shopping together. I like to imagine them all dressed up for a day out in the city, oblivious as the Dublin of bygone days bustled around them while they shared a year's worth of stories.

I'm not going to Dublin tomorrow and nor am I meeting anyone under Cleary's clock (more's the pity) but I have started thinking about my Christmas shopping. So too have most of you, I'll bet. If you're thinking of buying cookbooks for any of your foodie friends, these are the cookbooks that I've enjoyed reading and cooking from most this year.

Yotam Ottolenghi's Plenty has to be my book of the year. I've cooked something from it most weeks since I got it and each one of those dishes has been great.
As I eat a mostly vegetarian diet, it's the perfect book for me. But it's not just a book for vegetarians. My meat-loving boyfriend has enjoyed the dishes I have cooked from it too.

As well as encouraging you to eat more vegetables, this book will also introduce you to new ingredients and flavour combinations. Ottolenghi draws on his Israeli upbringing and Middle Eastern heritage in his food and often recommends ingredients such as pomegranates, tahini and za'atar - which is a dried herb mix that was new to my store cupboard and which I have used often since Ottolenghi convinced me to buy it.

Supper Club by Kerstin Rogers: This pretty book written by the queen of supper clubs in London is split into two sections. The first tells the history of supper clubs and gives an insight into Kerstin Rogers' cooking. You'll enjoy reading her life story in food - from the days when her father would encourage her to eat horse meat to her teenage years cooking in squats and right up to her starting her Underground Restaurant in London. If you want to follow her example and set up one of your own, she even gives you all the tips on how to do so.

Most of you won't be interested in those, however. What you'll be interested in are the recipes. The recipes are for gutsy food that is full of flavour.

So far, I've made the aubergine curry with kissing apple chutney and Sikh (or spicy tomato) salad; the fabulous tarte tatin; and the cherry clafoutis. I'm dreaming of the day when I get to cook her entire menu for her Elvis dinner. It will happen!

Jamie's Great Britain by Jamie Oliver: Everyone loves Jamie Oliver and I think this is his best cookbook so far. It's bursting with passion for good, authentic British food - food that is rooted in its history and locality and food that everyone wants to eat.
I only got this a week or two ago and I have already cooked the sizzling lamb lollipops (lamb cutlets served with spiced nuts, cucumber dip adn a spicy tomato dip) and the Lincolnshire poacher pie (a pie filled with cheesy minted courgettes and served with roasted shallots). Both dishes were so good that I now want to cook everything in the book.

The Country Cooking of Ireland by Coleman Andrews: I have yet to cook anything from this book but it's already transformed my understanding of Irish cooking. Coleman travelled through the Irish countryside discovering the best quality ingredients - milk, cream, cheese, meat, fish, vegetables and more. He delved into the archives in the National Library and discovered age-old recipes. And he spoke to a great many people who shared their culinary traditions with him.

He then put all these things together and produced a cookbook that ranks with the very best and entices you with its recipes (watercress and almond soup, smoked cod and cheddar souflée, potted herring, Dingle mutton pies - I could go on and on).

There are so many dishes I want to cook from this book and I'm sure I'll refer to it again on this blog.

These are my recommendations for the year that is coming to an end. They're obviously very subjective as there are cookbooks that I haven't even read yet (Niamh Shields' Comfort and Spice, Lilly Higgins' Make, Bake, Love and Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Every Day chief among them) but I hope to remedy that when I open my presents this Christmas.

What books have you enjoyed reading and cooking from most in 2011? I would love to hear about them.

Cauliflower soup with cheese balls: could there be a better food for winter?

2011-11-29T15:44:00.000Z

I've been finding this winter difficult so far. It is hard to believe that it's been little over a month since my boyfriend and I got back from our trip to the UK in mid October feeling full of optimistic energy and plans for the future. Since then, we've had the October bank holiday, the turning back of the clocks and the real onset of winter. This has meant a lot of dark evenings and Atlantic storms here in Dingle and it's been a struggle to stay energetic and resist the urge to hibernate.

On top of all that, any attempts I have made to put the plans we hatched on holiday into motion have met with obstacles. So far this winter, it has been quite the challenge to keep a smile on my face and stay optimistic.

This is where comfort food comes in and the dish I have to share with you today is my idea of a hug in a mug. It combines the flavours of cauliflower cheese with the wholesomeness and warmth of soup - it's just what I needed to cheer me up this afternoon.

If you too need some comfort food to cheer you on this winter's day, here's what you need to do.

Cauliflower soup with cheese balls
This serves four. It's incredibly easy to make and takes all of twenty minutes.

Ingredients for the soup:
50g butter
1 large potato, peeled and cubed
1 onion, finely chopped
1 litre/2 pints vegetable stock
500g/1lb cauliflower florets
Nutmeg
Salt and pepper

Ingredients for the cheese balls:
50ml/2 fl.oz. milk
30g flour
1 egg beaten
20g grated cheddar cheese

Melt half of the butter in a large pain and fry the onion and the potato for 3 minutes.

Add the stock and the cauliflower florets and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, until the cauliflower is tender.

While the soup is simmering, make the puffs. Preheat your oven to 220 C/430 F. Melt the milk and the remaining butter in a saucepan.

When it has melted,add the flour all at once. Stir the mixture until it forms into a ball that comes away from the sides of the pan.

Take it off the heat. Allow to cool. Then stir in the egg and cheese.

Transfer the mixture to a piping bag with a small nozzle. Squeeze onto a baking sheet, making small mounds that are at least one inch apart. Sprinkle with some sea salt and extra grated cheese for even more yuminess.

Bake in the oven for five to six minutes until they have risen and turned a golden colour.

Finish the soup while they are cooking. Puree your mixture, saving a few florets to use as a garnish. Season with salt, pepper and some freshly grated nutmeg (ground is fine too) according to your own taste.

Ladle the soup into your soup bowls and garnish with your cheese balls, cauliflower florets and even more grated cheese.

Sit back and savour your hug in a mug.

Why do we love Italian food so? Two cookbooks give us the answer

2011-11-22T16:32:00.003Z

Everyone seems to love Italian food. Even people who don't consider themselves foodies will have eaten pizza and their store cupboards will contain the likes of pasta and tinned tomatoes. This is a cuisine that has won over the taste buds of the world...

Perhaps this is why there is a constant stream of Italian cookbooks on the market and it might also be why two of them arrived in my postbox recently (one courtesy of Quadrille Publishing and the other a prize in a competition run by the very lovely Irish Food Bloggers' Association).

Neither could be classed as a typical cookbook. The first - The Real Flavour of Tuscany - is very unusual. Its subtitle - Portraits & Recipes from 25 of Tuscany's Culinary Artisans - already gives you a hint that it is far more than a collection of recipes

Instead, it gives an insight into the cooking culture of this region through the eyes of some of its most celebrated food producers.

There's chef Gianluca Paoli who rises at 6am to heat his 200-year-old cast iron stove so that it will be hot enough to cook his famous arista (or roast pork loin). Gianluca tells of how he became a cook and describes what he calls the 'traditional but extraordinary' food he aims to cook in his Florentine restaurant. He also shares some of these recipes, including the one for that fabulous pork.

There's beekeeper Roberto Ballini who recommends his chestnut honey to be served with pecorino cheese and figs.

There's 70-year-old shepherd Salvatore and his son Giovanni. Salvatore has tended his flock of sheep since the age of seven and now Giovanni makes all sorts of cheese from their milk. The pair share recipes for simple dishes such as braised red peppers.

There are many others. Massimo Biagi grows 800 different types of chilli and tells us how to cook the classic spaghetti with garlic, olive oil and chilli flakes. There's a young farmer who grows olives, saffron and irises. He gives a recipe for saffron chicken, which is the only dish I have yet to cook from this book and which was tender, flavoursome and simple.

Each of the stories make you hunger to visit Tuscany and devour its food. Reading about beans being fed, one by one, into an empty potbellied bottle of wine, covered with water and flavoured with sage, garlic, salt, peppercorns and olive oil and then left to simmer in the dying embers of the fire overnight made me want to hop on the next plane to Italy. Seeing as that was impossible, the next best thing was being given some recipes to try in my own kitchen in Dingle.

This book demonstrates just why Italian cuisine has become so popular. It's a peasant cuisine that is based on fine, simple ingredients that have been cooked by people with an awareness of tradition and a respect for quality. I have yet to finish reading about the different food producers in this book as I'm savouring their stories. And I have yet to cook anything apart from the saffron chicken. But that was so good that I'm looking forward to cooking much more.

The second book - Dunne and Crescenzi - is different again.
In 1999, a café and deli specialising in Italian food opened on South Frederick Street in Dublin and it has since become hugely popular with fans of Italian food and wine in the city. I have never visited it but I have heard tell of the quality of the food here: food that is local, seasonal and always of the highest quality and food that brings together the best of Irish with the best Italian products and the traditions of Italian cuisine.

The book is divided into chapters based on a traditional Italian menu. There are antipasti such as the irresistible sounding buffalo mozzarella, aubergine and prawn stack.
There are soups which range from a simple minestrone to a butternut squash, scallop and almond soup.

Salad options include such tempting treats as warm chicken salad with pancetta and peppers and orange and fennel salad. This section of the book also includes useful recipes for dressings, sauces and reductions.

Next up is the primi piatti or recipes for pastas and risottos and gnocchi. This book tells you how to make fresh pasta as well as how to create dishes like spinach and ricotta tortelli with parmagiano cream and balsamic reduction. There are simpler dishes too like penne with tomato, garlic and chilli.

Main courses range from pan-fried hake with cherry tomatoes to more impressive dishes like chicken roulade with mortadella (a type of salami), spinach and pine nuts.

There are also side dishes – contorni – such as courgettes with leeks, raisins and pine nuts.

Finally, there are desserts which include classics such as tiramisu and pannacotta and lesser known favourites such as ricotta and cherry tart or limoncello and peach cake.

The last few pages of the book are made up of a page on coffee and what the Italian terms for coffee mean; a page on wine; and nine pages of suggestions for wines to go with each of the different recipes.

With its easy to follow recipes, its full-page colour photographs, chatty introduction to each section and wine suggestions; this is a book that makes up for the fact that I've yet to visit this popular Dublin eatery. It makes me want to eat there the next time I'm in the city but in the meantime, I can practice recreating their food at home.

The Real Flavour of Tuscany by Lori De Mori and Jason Lowe and Dunne and Crescenzi by Eileen Dunne Crescenzi are cookbooks which show just why the world continues to have such a love affair with Italian food.

Addendum: last night, I made a leek and winter squash risotto from The Real Flavour of Tuscany and it was the perfect winter warming dish for a November's evening.

My name is Sharon and I believe in cake

2011-11-15T16:15:00.003Z

I'm a life-long believer in the power of cake. A slice of cake, with or without cream or ice cream, always makes me feel better, no matter what the situation.

If you stop to think about it, you'll realise that there's a cake for every occasion. There are birthday cakes with their crowns of flickering candles. There are show-stopper cakes that serve as grand finales at special dinner parties. And there are cakes for days like today, days that are crisp with the onset of winter and that seem made for the indulgence of afternoon tea.

Cakes like this French apple cake which is bursting with seasonal flavour. Its comforting sweetness is balanced by the slight sourness of the Bramley apples and the gentle spice of the nutmeg. I can't think of a better cake to accompany a cup of tea on an afternoon in November.

Here's what you need to make this cake:

First layer:
450g/1lb Bramley apples or other cooking apples, peeled and cored
115g/4oz/1 cup self-raising flour
5ml/1tsp baking powder
115g caster sugar
90ml/6tbsp milk
50g/2oz/4 tbsp butter, melted
2 eggs
5ml/1tsp fresh nutmeg, grated

Second layer:
75g/3oz/6tbsp butter, at room temperature
115g/4oz/a half cup caster sugar
5ml/1tsp vanilla essence
1 egg

Method:

Preheat the oven to 160 C/325 F/Gas 3.

Grease and line the base of a 23cm/9in round cake tin

Weigh your ingredients and chop your apples into chunks. Lay them on the bottom of the lined tin.

Put all of the remaining ingredients for the first layer of your cake into a bowl or food processor and beat to a smooth batter.
Pour the batter over the apples in the tin and level the top with a spoon.

Bake in the oven for 35 to 40 minutes, until the top has become golden.

Meanwhile, cream the ingredients for the second layer together.
Remove the cake from the oven and spoon over the creamed mixture.

Return to the oven and bake for another 20 to 25 minutes until the top is golden brown.

Allow the cake to cool in the tin and when it's ready to eat, you'll have all you need for the perfect afternoon tea. A soft luscious layer of apple sponge topped with a crispy layer that has become deliciously chewy around the edges.
Serve with cream, ice cream or even just a cup of tea. Sit back and savour what might just be a perfect moment.

This cake keeps well for a few days; its sponge layer becoming denser and more custard like while its top layer retains that sugary crunch. Yum!

Spuntino: a taste of London

2011-11-08T12:54:00.000Z

There are times that I envy Londoners. I envy their shops, their shows, their museum exhibitions, their nightlife and most particularly their food.
In the past decade or so, London has become one of the foodie hot spots of the world. With its strong immigrant traditions and its growing respect for home-grown British food; the city now has so many tempting places to eat. From fish and chip shops, pie shops and noodle bars to tapas bars, sushi bars and Michelin-starred wonders; there’s something for every appetite in this city.

This is why I have a growing list of places I’d like to eat in London typed into my phone. So, whenever I find myself in the city, all I have to do is consult my list in order to choose where I’d like to have my lunch or dinner.

On a recent trip to London, I paid a visit to Spuntino. London-based bloggers had been talking about this place for months so I had to check it out for myself.

It’s in Soho and has such an unassuming exterior that if you didn’t know its exact address, you’d be very likely to just walk right past it. But don’t do this!

You may not spot it straightaway but the restaurant's name 'Spuntino' is scrawled on the bottom left-hand corner of the panel above the door. That's how low-key/wannabe cool this place actually is!

Spuntino has a no-bookings policy so you may have to wait for a while for a seat. Fortunately for us, it was a quiet time of day so we had plenty of seats to choose from.

The décor of the interior is interesting, with a Dustbowl-America-meets-hipster-London sort of feel. Most of the seating is at the bar, which is made to feel like an American diner, with some tables for more private dining at the back of the room. There are distressed tiles on the walls, low-hanging lights and staff with elaborate haircuts and tattoos.

But I’m sure you mostly want to hear about the food. They’ve done away with the concept of starters and mains at Spuntino. Instead, it’s all about finger food, little plates of food that are designed to be mixed and matched – and shared, if at all possible.
With dishes ranging in price from £3 to £10 and most hovering around the £5 mark, it’s possible to taste quite a lot of the menu at just one sitting.

Which is exactly what we did but choosing what we wanted to eat wasn’t so easy. The menu here is a mixture of classic Americana, British comfort food and modern British cuisine. This means that you'll find yourself wavering between macaroni and cheese, egg and soldiers and a fennel, radicchio, hazelnut and truffle salad. What should you choose when everything sounds so tasty?

We were given a cup of chilli popcorn while we deliberated over our order. Served in an enamel cup (everything here is served in enamel dishes in keeping with the Depression-era theme), it was a nice touch but the popcorn was a little oily for my taste. That’s not to say that I didn’t eat it all though!

One thing was for sure. We had to try the dish that the restaurant has become famous for: its truffled egg toast. I’d heard so much about this thick slice of white bread, topped with melted cheese and truffle oil with a runny egg yolk in the middle that I had to have it.

But, oh dear, I was every so slightly disappointed. The bread was a little stale, which made chewing it hard work and I found the whole dish a little too oily. Having already had oily popcorn, I began to worry that the entire meal was going to disappoint.

Thankfully, it didn’t. The pulled pork and pickled apple slider (a bite-sized burger) was a hit; its spiced meat contrasting nicely with the the fruit.

The beetroot and anchovy salad served with a soft-boiled egg was the highlight of the entire meal. The earthy sweetness of the beetroot, the saltiness of the anchovy and the runny eggs made for a great combination and one I'll definitely have to try at home.

The softshell crab served with Tabasco aioli was another success. The crab had a deep smoky taste and a satisfying crunch that worked well with the spicy mayonnaise and the crisp fennel salad it was served with.

We also had purple sprouting broccoli served with romesco sauce. The kitchen fell down here again as a lot of the broccoli was barely cooked. In fact, it was nearly raw but the nutty romesco sauce made for a great accompaniment. I’d have eaten it on its own.

Finally, for dessert, we shared a brown sugar cheesecake served with drunken plums. I loved this. The deep complex sweetness of the brown sugar worked perfectly with the rich creaminess of cheesecake. The only thing that would have improved the dish would have been more booze in the plums. They would have benefited from a longer soaking in the brandy they tasted so faintly of.

My verdict on Spuntino? There were some misses but it was mostly a hit. It's definitely worth a visit if you want to soak up the atmosphere of a cool part of London and taste food that is trying to be different and is mostly great.
It's reasonably priced too. We had six dishes to share, two bottles of sparkling water and coffee for £43.

Spuntino. 61 Rupert Street, London, W1D 7PW.
Mon - Sat: 11am to midnight
Sunday: noon to 11pm

FoodCamp Kilkenny: a celebration of Irish food but some words of caution too

2011-11-02T10:45:00.004Z

What is Irish food? What are the traditions of its past, the state of its present and what can we expect from its future?

These were among the many questions asked at FoodCamp, an event held as part of the Savour Kilkenny Food Festival last Friday. This event brought together food producers, retailers, food writers, bloggers, food organisations such as Bórd Bia and lots of other people with an interest in food - asking them all to take a long and hard look at Irish food today.

Various people had volunteered to give talks throughout the day and I attended talks by:
1. Colin Jephson of Ardkeen Foodstore and John McCarthy of Trail Kilkenny Food. They spoke about the importance of retailers supporting local producers and how both sectors can best benefit from each other. As I'm currently trying to decide how I should move my cupcake business forward, this was of great interest to me.

2. William Despard of the Bretzel Bakery in Dublin's Portobello spoke of his passion for 'real bread'. His bakery has been producing high-quality breads in its brick-lined ovens since 1870 and he can't understand why so many Irish people choose to eat mass-produced slice pan instead. He demonstrated the strength of his opposition to such bread by pucking sliced pan across the room with a hurley!

William demonstrates the superior quality of his breads. This was before he hit the sliced pan!

3. Next up was my first encounter with the Dungarvan Brewing Company. I had heard so much about their beers but had never tasted them. A cheese and beer tasting session sounded like just the thing to remedy that situation!
Claire Dalton introduced the company and told us a little about its history while Helen Finnegan from Knockdrinna Cheese cut up slices of her washed rind goat's cheese for us to try.
"The French peasant tradition might have been to eat wine and cheese together," said Claire. "Here in Ireland, we had no wine but we did have beer and it tastes just as good with cheese as wine does."
And so it did. The Copper Coast red ale cut through the creaminess of the cheese and made for a great match. I'm definitely going to be trying both again.

4. Journalist Suzanne Campbell spoke on the topic 'What's Ireland Eating?'. This was a thought-provoking talk that focussed on how our choices as consumers affect Irish food producers and our health in the long term. There is a price to pay for cheap food and it's important that we all consider just what that price is and who has to pay it.

Suzanne being very serious indeed.

Then, we broke for lunch and what a lunch it was. Everyone had brought something to share and four tables groaned with the different offerings. Pies, smoked trout, cheese, salads, cakes, cookies, brownies... There was so much to choose from that people went back for seconds, thirds and more.

Bellies full, it was time for more talks. The Irish Food Bloggers' Association met to discuss plans for its future. Having been established at last year's FoodCamp, Kristen and Caroline were keen to hear people's suggestions as to how it could go forward. Basically, the consensus was that people were delighted with all they had done to date and wanted more of the same. More events and perhaps even an Irish Bloggers' Conference in 2012 - I'll keep you posted!

Finally, it was time for the Food Fight. Chaired by John McKenna of the Bridgestone Guide, two teams debated whether traditional Irish cuisine was an embarrassment or an embarrasment of riches.

The speakers included, from left to right: Seamus Sheridan of Sheridan Cheesemongers; Catherine Cleary, food writer with The Irish Times; Birgitta Curtin of the Burren Smokehouse; John McKenna; Coleman Andrews, journalist and food writer par extraordinaire; Suzanne Campbell; and Regina Sexton, food historian and food writer.

The points they made were wide ranging, challenging and interesting. They recognised the problems of the past and how our attitude to and appreciation of food has been affected by British colonisation, the Great Famine and the austerity preached by the Catholic Church. (It's not very holy to enjoy one's dinner. It's much better for your soul to subsist on black tea and toast, was the main message here.)

They discussed the changes that are happening now; how we are realising that we have a virtually pristine environment producing world-class food such as lobster, seaweed, beef and dairy. We'd already tasted some of these foods during the day and chatted to the passionate people producing them and the retailers who are promoting them so we didn't need much convincing of this.
Catherine Cleary discussed the chefs who are building on this sense of appreciation of what's native and good. Her eyes lit up as she described a creamed corn soup cooked by Ross Lewis and a meal eaten in Aniar in Galway.

The overall consensus was that we're at a good place now. More of us recognise the value of what we've got and want to celebrate it. But there were warning voices too. There was Alfie McCaffrey of OldFarm Pork who spoke about the dangers of genetically-modified food and how Irish farmers should take a stand against it. Suzanne Campbell warned of the lax regulations in labelling and retail and how that works against a quality product. Both emphasised that while we have food to celebrate, we need to do more to protect it.

It was a lady (whose name I didn't catch but who was from Bórd Bia, I think) that made one of the most salient points of all. They conducted a survey asking people unfamiliar with Irish food which cuisine they would most associate it with. The majority chose Japanese sushi because they considered Irish food to be pure, chemical free food of the highest quality.

We need to do our best to keep it that way.

Scotland may have some lessons to teach Ireland about food

2011-10-25T16:58:00.005+01:00

Sometimes, you find a place that chimes with everything you think, feel and believe about food. A place that focuses on simple things such as quality and flavour, generosity and community. A place like Loch Fyne Oyster Bar.

"Oh, I have to bring you here," my boyfriend said when he saw Loch Fyne come up on the sat nav. "My mother used to love it."

Loch Fyne Oyster Bar grew from what was essentially a stall by the lake. Its setting is stunning (excuse the cars above but the fact that I couldn't get a picture without cars shows how popular this place is).

It's still quite a modest building, as you can see from the pictures above but when you get inside, you can't help but be impressed.

The first thing you see is a range of seafood. This is appropriate as Loch Fyne was established 32 years ago with the idea of growing oysters in the clear waters of the lake. This is still its main focus but it has grown to include a cluster of businesses, all of which focus on offering great food.

Seafood and fish is still at the heart of Loch Fyne and there is quite a variety on offer; all locally and sustainably sourced. This is a food business that takes such concepts seriously. It works closely with the Marine Conservation Society and is committed to its environment - something that is highlighted throughout the store.

Its staff are wonderful too. We didn't know what fish to buy and the staff offered taster samples of a variety of different ones before we made our final decision. Perhaps their generosity has to do with the fact that for the past eight years, the Loch Fyne company has been run by its employees. Its team of 140-odd staff now have a say in the future of the business and it's in everyone's interest to keep the customers happy.

As well as the seafood and fish, the shop stocks a selection of other top-quality Scottish produce too. There's shortbread, honey, muesli, cereals, tablet (a type of Scottish confectionery) and so much more.

And that's not all. There's also an adjoining café, serving simply cooked food using the quality ingredients on offer in the shop. Mussels, smoked rainbow trout, whole roasted seabream, beef casserole and venison were some of the dishes on offer when I was there.

I'd love to see more places like this in Ireland. Places where people can buy food directly from those involved in producing it. Places where producers can serve their food with pride. I know we've got farmers' markets where customers engage with food producers and get to ask them questions but we don't have enough farm shops or places like Loch Fyne .

Or maybe we have some that I'm not aware of. Do you know of any? If so, post a comment to let me know. I'd love to visit them.

Ditch the deep-fried Mars Bars the next time you're in Edinburgh. Eat here instead.

2011-10-21T12:11:00.006+01:00

I just knew it had to be true. There had to be more to Scottish food than haggis, fish and chips and deep-fried Mars bars. On my recent trip to the country, I decided to try to prove my theory.

My first stop was Edinburgh, where I had an awful lot to eat. I've already written about the Chinese, Indian and Spanish food I had in my previous post but I haven't told you about the higher end of dining we also enjoyed. So, here goes...

We stayed in 21212 while we were in Edinburgh and had dinner there on the first night. This is a Michelin-starred restaurant with four bedrooms upstairs. The kitchen is run by Paul Kitching, whose playful approach to food is causing quite a stir in the city.

The restaurant is small, seating a maximum of 38, but cosy and sumptuously decorated. The open kitchen looks out onto the dining area you can see above so you can watch the chefs as they assemble your dishes.

21212 takes its name from the layout of the menu, which offers a choice of two starters, one soup, two main courses, one cheese course and two desserts. Because there were two of us, we decided to taste everything.

(I must apologise before I continue. I don't have any pictures of the food. We had driven all the way from Dingle to Edinburgh that day (a distance Google tells me is 496 miles) and when I was greeted with champagne, all thoughts of being a good blogger went out the window. It was only when I woke up in the morning - feeling slightly groggy from champagne - that I thought 'darn it! Why didn't I take any pictures of that wonderful food?'.)

Because it was good. Really good.

Each of the dishes was a complex creation involving lots of flavours dancing around a central ingredient. Take the trout tart for example. A delicate baked trout fillet in a cheese and lemon glazed tart served with white asparagus, girolles mushrooms, cucumber, white and brown crabmeat, chilli, a thyme and onion cream sauce and Marie Rose mayonnaise.
It sounds like overkill, doesn't it? And yet it wasn't. The trout was allowed to be the star of the show while the other ingredients played supporting roles. This was clever cooking that only a talented professional could achieve.

Other dishes included a chicken, mushroom and leek pie (no ordinary pie, mind you, but one served with the likes of kohlrabi and piccalilli mayonnaise, morel and pimento squares and smoked bacon); smoked haddock baked in saffron and pink peppercorns and served with scallops, chickpeas and hazelnuts; beef fillet served with root vegetables, tarragon butter and a pea and mint purée; excellent cheeses; and the most imaginative desserts.

How does a Mars Bar, popcorn and Scottish shortbread brulée served with a fresh raspberry coulis, toffee, chocolate, caramel and oatmeal sound? It sounded odd to me but it made sense in the mouth, the flavours mingling in surprising ways and the sharp berries cutting through the sweetness.

There were so many highlights to this meal but I have to mention the cheeseboard which featured 11 types of cheeses from all over Britain and the continent, everyone one served at a perfect stage of ripeness; and the cheeky sommelier. He was from France but maintained he had been excommunicated because of his passion for New World wines. He helped us choose wines to complement our food with real enthusiasm and no pretension whatsoever.

My verdict on 21212? This is a restaurant that takes top-quality Scottish ingredients and combines them using an imaginative approach and with an emphasis on strong, gutsy flavours.

Dinner here costs £67 per person for five courses, excluding drinks.

The following day, we had lunch at 12 Picardy Place, where chef Mark Greenaway opened a restaurant in February.

This small, intimate restaurant is housed in one of Edinburgh's grand Georgian buildings. Its décor is minimalist yet plush and the food served here is seasonal, local and always cooked with passion.

We started with an amuse bouche of hazelnuts - a layer of salty broth topped with a creamy hazelnut mousse, crunchy hazelnuts and a slick of hazelnut oil. The combination of salty, creamy and nutty flavours and smooth and crunchy textures made for a good start to the meal.

My starter was a summer pea velouté - a soup that was the essence of pea served with a pea raviollo, chanterelles mushrooms, crisp pancetta and summer truffle. The sweetness of the peas contrasted with the earthiness of the mushrooms and truffles and the saltiness of the pancetta was a delight.

But my boyfriend definitely chose the more exciting starter. The Loch Fyne Crab 'Cannelloni' has become Mark Greenaway's signature dish:

The dish on top contains the 'cannelloni' which is crab meat wrapped in a herb butter and served with beetroot mayonnaise and baby coriander. Underneath is a dish of smoked cauliflower custard, lemon 'pearls' (bursting with citrus flavour) and more beetroot mayonnaise.
When you lift the top dish off the bottom, oaky smoke wafts out from the bowl underneath, adding another level to the dish.

For mains, I had pan-roasted hake served with a lobster tortellini, fennel and dill purée, pumpkin, radishes, a mash of purple potatoes and a ginger and spring onion broth.

The hake was perfectly cooked with a crisp skin and flaky flesh. The lobster lent a touch of luxury and the broth an unexpected flavour of the East.

My boyfriend had the 11-hour roasted belly of pork - a spiced fillet served with pomme purée, savoy cabbage and toffee apple jus. It was a simple dish; spicy and sweet, crispy and smooth and with lots of strong flavours.

For dessert, I had a chocolate fondant and my boyfriend had Mark's Eton Mess. Unfortunately, they didn't quite live up to the high standards of the rest of the meal. Although I like my chocolate bitter, I found my fondant lacking in sweetness. But the other elements of the dish - the vanilla tuile, white chocolate mousse, orange 'caviar' and tonka bean ice cream - helped make up for this.

Mark's deconstructed Eton Mess was interesting and had lots of contrasting sweet and tart flavours but I didn't think the meringue 'shards' were an improvement on ordinary meringue. I like the chewy texture of meringue and the way it contrasts with the soft berries and luscious cream in a regular Eton Mess

Overall though, I would recommend a visit to Mark Greenaway's restaurant at 12 Picardy Place. He's an ambitious chef with a daring approach to food and flavour.

Our three-course lunch with sparkling water cost £70. There is a £20 lunch menu for those seeking better value.

So, if ever you're in Edinburgh, don't feel you have to gorge on haggis and deep-fried confectionary. Discover just how much more this is to Scottish food by visiting 21212 and Restaurant Mark Greenaway.

21212,
3 Royal Terrace
Edinburgh, Midlothian EH7 5AB

Restaurant Mark Greenaway,
12 Picardy Place, Edinburgh EH1 3JT

I'm not dead. I've just been recuperating (and eating!)

2011-10-17T18:40:00.007+01:00

Don't worry. I haven't died from hyperventilation!
There are several reasons why I haven't posted anything here for the past two weeks and none of them has to do with my premature death as a result of trying to bake too much for the Dingle Food Festival!

Firstly, I had to spend some time recuperating. I'd worked myself ridiculously hard (59 hours over four days) and ended up a gibbering wreck. Thankfully, I'm over that now.

Despite my gibbering, I have to say I enjoyed the food festival this year. There was such a great atmosphere on the streets of Dingle as people wandered through the town, sampling little taster plates of local foods as they went. The two food markets were exceptionally busy and I loved meeting lots of Twitter friends and fellow food bloggers at my stall. I grabbed every opportunity to chat but unfortunately, I was so busy that there wasn't time to have a chinwag with everyone. Nor was there any time for me to take any photos of all that was happening around me but thankfully, Aoife of I Can Has Cook has a great write up here.

My second reason for not updating is that I've been away. I got a chance to go to Scotland for work and as my boyfriend has a lot of family in England, we decided to combine it with paying a visit to them. So, we climbed into the car at 6am on a Tuesday morning, drove to Larne just north of Belfast, took the ferry to Cairnryan in Scotland and arrived in Edinburgh just shortly before dinnertime. We spent three days in that wonderful city (where I once spent a happy summer as a student), then travelled north to Oban and the island of Mull and generally mooched and ate our way around the Highlands.

Isn't Scotland pretty?

We then travelled south to Hereford (with a pitstop to see the Angel of the North just outside Newcastle, which is totally worth a visit), followed by two days in London and another day in Gloucester. Finally, we arrived back in Dingle 12 days later, having travelled more than 2,000 miles and had an absolutely great time.

We ate lots of good food while we were away. I've got so much to tell you about eating in Edinburgh - having eaten in the fabulous 21212 and No. 12 Picardy Place - but I'm going to start my series of holiday posts by sharing some tips about three other great restaurants in that city.

Dingle may have a strong (and growing) food culture, as the success of its annual food festival attests. But the one thing I miss about not living in a city is the quality of Chinese, Indian, Japanese and other foreign cuisines. It’s something we just don’t have and I often wish we did. So, when I go to the city, I want to sample some of those foods – as well as foods that typify that city too.

I went to three places in Edinburgh: the Chinese Karen’s Unicorn, the Indian Mother India and the tapas bar Café Andaluz – all of which have lots to recommend them. (My apologies in advance for the quality of the photos - I only had my phone with which to take them.)

Karen’s Unicorn was recommended by Mark Greenaway, the chef at No 12 Picardy Place. We’d been impressed by the modern Scottish food he cooked for us and had to follow his advice as a result. The restaurant looks enticing from the outside, its blue twinkling brightly in a sedate Edinburgh square.

We were instantly greeted by the staff and what wonderful staff they were. I don't know if I've ever met any friendlier or kinder. We were dithering over our choices when the lovely Danny said that if we chose something we were unhappy with or didn't really like, we could always send it back.

“It’s important to us that our customers are happy,” he said. Wouldn’t it be great if all restaurants had that policy?

We had dim sum, steamed pork buns, war tip dumplings, battered ginger monkfish, crispy beef and a side dish of stir-fried vegetables. My favourites were the pork buns and the monkfish. The buns were soft and fluffy, steamy, slightly sweet and filled with a contrastingly spicy meat filling.

The monkfish was a lovely Chinese take on the Scottish classic of battered fish - the batter was crisp, the fish perfectly cooked and the spicing gave the dish a light, fresh taste. Yum!

Our meal, which was more than enough to feed two people and included four beers and one dessert of lychees, cost £50 - good value, don't you think?

Café Andaluz is an attempt to recreate the fiesta of Spain in Scotland. It's fabulously decorated with tiles, Moorish lamps and colourful fabrics and its menu is a varied range of classic Spanish tapas as well as some dishes - such as the beef carpaccio with wasabi and pickled ginger in a spicy dressing - that fuse Spanish cooking with other cuisines.

Unfortunately, I didn't take photos but I did enjoy my meal here. I had aubergine stuffed with herbed couscous and topped with melted manchego cheese, which was a dish of simple, strong flavours, and battered lime-scented prawns served with a lime aioli. This was fresh, crispy and bursting with citrus flavour.

Richard (I don't know if I've told you that that's my boyfriend's name!) had the beef carpaccio, which combined its strong flavours in a brave way and featured beef of a very high quality, as well as sea bass served in a citrus mango dressing, which was light and zingy.

The atmosphere here was buzzing. We drank delicious beers. And it cost us £20 each.

On another day, we had lunch at Mother India, one of Edinburgh's best-loved Indian restaurants. Everyone who works here is Indian. There are Indian film posters on the walls and the menu specialises in tapas-sized plates of Indian food, which means that you can mix and match different dishes.

We had aloo gobi with green beans, chicken korma, machi massala (a spiced fish dish), boiled rice, raita, coriander chutney and aloo paratha (Indian flat bread stuffed with potato) and it was all good. All of these dishes were simply and excellently spiced and tasted like something the best kind of Indian mamma would make - wholesome, hearty, homely food. The bill, which also included sparkling water for two, came to less than £25.

I would recommend all of these as places to eat in Edinburgh, particularly as places to eat with large groups of friends.

I'd also love to know where your favourite Indian, Spanish or Chinese restaurants are. After all, who knows when I'll next be in your city, craving some foreign foods.

Karen's Unicorn, 8 Abercromby Place, New Town, Edinburgh EH3 6LB

Café Andaluz, 77 George Street, Edinburgh EH2 3EE

Mother India, 3-5 Infirmary Street Edinburgh EH1 1LT

Breathing is always important, especially when it's time for the annual Dingle Food Festival

2011-09-29T09:19:00.001+01:00

Breathe, Sharon, breathe.

I'm suffering from mild hyperventilation at the moment because it's finally arrived: the Dingle Food Festival starts tomorrow and that means that today is officially my busiest day of the year. I ought to be mixing batters and baking and icing cakes now but the reason I'm sitting at my computer is because I've got so much work to do, I don't even want to start.

Those of you who've been reading my blog for a while will remember that I was ambitious for last year's festival and made ten different types of cupcakes as well as my ever-popular brownies.

Well, this year I'm going one better. I'm making eleven kinds as well as a range of cake pops - which are new to my stall and, as I haven't practiced them very much, may end up looking so unpresentable that they'll go into the bin - a possible but hopefully avoidable outcome!

This year's flavours are:

White chocolate and raspberry

Cookies and cream

Banoffee

Carrot

Lemon meringue

Black Forest Gateau

Guinness and Baileys

Chocolate and coffee

Chocolate and peanut

Ginger and lime

And mixed berry cheesecakes

My cake pops will include a Madeira cake base and a chocolate cake base flavoured with orange, Baileys, raspberry or coffee covered in either dark or white chocolate and topped with rose petals, pollen, chopped hazelnuts, candied orange peel or chocolate shavings. If they work out, they'll look fabulous. If not, then the bin it is!

There's so much to look forward to at this year's festival - if you're lucky enough to be a visitor and not a stallholder. If I'm able to break free from my stall or the stove for any length of time, here's what I'd like to go to:

Some of the workshops, which include chocolate making with Benoit Lorge; rearing and curing a pig with Fingal Ferguson of Gubbeen Farmhouse Products and Ted Berner and Ivan Wheelan of Wildside Catering; hen keeping; foraging; and 'coffee from around the world' with Mark Kingston from the Golden Bean.

For Food's Sake: a series of thought-provoking talks, film screenings and discussions - all about food.

Come Dine with the Penguins: a seafood feast served in the penguins' enclosure at Oceanworld Aquarium.

And, finally, the wonderful taste trail where 55 businesses in the town play host to some of the area's food producers and serve creatively cooked local food. There's seafood in Curran's Bar, a kangaroo BBQ in Finn McCool's Surf Shop, Píog pies with a pint in Hannie Agnes' Bar, Terayaki salmon skewers with warm sake shots at Fish at the Marina and so much more.

So, who is coming to Dingle this weekend? If you are, do call by and say hello. I'll be manning my stall at the market on Holy Ground from 9am to 2.30pm tomorrow and from 11am to 4pm (ish) on Saturday and Sunday. The rest of the time, I'll be breathing - or should I say baking!

Don't you just love Cork?

2011-09-27T12:07:00.002+01:00

I love going to Cork. I was there for work last week and after spending the morning listening to the harrowing stories of two homeless people I had to interview, I was badly in need of some sustenance and comfort.

My first choice was the fabulously art deco Electric Cork where I have yet to eat but have heard such good reports about. But it was not to be as they don't serve lunch on Wednesdays. Hmm, I wondered, where to now?

I strolled through the English Market where I nibbled on some Frank Hederman smoked salmon and bought Macroom oats, some Clive McCabe teas, Vacherin cheese and orzo as I considered my options. (If you have yet to visit this wonderful place, it should be the first place on your list whenever you're next in Cork.)

I eventually hit upon the idea of going to The Liberty Grill.

Located on Washington Street, this is a bright, buzzy place with a modern vibe. It's always busy, no matter what the time of day, and its menu seems to have something to appeal to all appetites and tastes.

I was instantly greeted by a very friendly member of staff who offered me a copy of that day's paper as I was on my own. He also presented me with the menu, which tempted me with all sorts of great dishes. There are sandwiches - a choice of steak, chicken, club, crab, halloumi cheese and ham, chicken and Swiss cheese - served on sourdough or seeded rye bread. There are salads, ranging from classics such as Caesar salad and niceoise salad to more unusual combinations such as a vegan San Fran salad of soya and chilli-fried tempeh, herbed quinoa and dressed leaves. There are great brunch options which include the house muesli, porridge, pancakes, quesadillas, and baked eggs. I loved the idea of the posh toasts, which come with a range of toppings including sautéed mushrooms, spicy crab and tomato and avocado as well as more classic offerings such as eggs benedict.

But I was really hungry and none of these seemed enough. I wanted a proper lunch and I wanted it Liberty Grill style.The Liberty Grill is known for its burgers so I had to have one of those. But seeing as I didn't want meat, I opted for a crab burger.

It was a good choice. There was lots of crab and white fish in the burger which was coated in a pleasingly crunchy crust. It was served on a bed of rocket and with a zingy lemon and dill sauce and the crispest of chips. My only complaint was that the bun was a little dry and had too much of that sweet processed taste for my liking.

But these are niggling things. Overall, the Liberty Grill was a friendly, buzzing place with a great menu and I enjoyed my lunch there. The price was good too - €14.95 for my burger and a sparkling water. It ensured that my love affair with Cork continues and I'm looking forward to visiting the city again soon. Where should I go for lunch/dinner next time?

The Liberty Grill
32 Washington Street
Cork
021 427 1049
Open Mon-Thu 8am - 9pm; Fri-Sat 8am - 10pm

Blackberries and apples: the stars of the season

2011-09-20T10:49:00.003+01:00

I used to take blackberry picking very seriously when I was a child. As soon as the season started, my two sisters and I would go blackberry picking with the neighbour's children and it was a matter of family honour that we would pick more than they did. We would fight our way through thorny brambles to reach the juiciest specimens, clamber down steep riverbanks to reach out-of-the-way briars and arrive home, scratched and bloodied but victorious, clutching buckets overflowing with purple berries.

I went blackberry picking for the first time this year at the weekend and was a little disappointed with my haul. It seems as though the blackberries of West Kerry are slow to ripen this year.

Perhaps it's because we haven't had enough sunshine but the brambles aren't very heavy with fruits and had I presented my pitiful bowl of blackberries to my sisters (not to mention my neighbours) all those years ago, it would most definitely have been scoffed at.

Nevertheless, it was still enough to make a delicious blackberry and apple crumble. Blackberries and apples are two of the stars of the season and they are certainly the stars of this recipe - one you should all make before blackberry season is over for yet another year.

This recipe feeds six generously.

Ingredients:

250g blackberries

600g bramley apples or other cooking apple

The juice of half a lemon

80g to 120g of golden caster sugar (depending on how sweet you like your filling to be. I prefer mind slightly tart.)

125 cold, unsalted butter, cut into chunks

200g plain flour

100g golden caster sugar

A pinch of salt

75g porridge oats

A baking dish (I used a rectangular one measuring 20cm by 28cm)

Preheat the oven to 180 Celsius/350 F/Gas Mark 4.

Place your blackberries in a bowl of cold water for a few minutes to remove any dirt or insects. Drain in a sieve or colander.

Core and peel the apples and cut them into chunks. Place them in a bowl and toss them in the lemon juice, which will prevent them from discolouring and also add an extra level of flavour.

Add the blackberries and sugar and mix together.

Place in a baking dish.

Place the butter, flour, sugar and salt for the crumble mixture in a large bowl and combine by rubbing the butter into the dry ingredients with your fingers. Rub, lift and drop the mixture until it has the texture of breadcrumbs. (If you're lucky enough to have a food processor, it can do this step for you.)

Once you've achieved the correct texture, stir in the porridge oats.

Sprinkle the crumble over the fruit.

Cook in the oven for 35 to 45 minutes until the crumble is golden on top.

Serve with cream or ice cream.

My haul of blackberries may not have been enough to impress my competitive childhood self (or my siblings or indeed my neighbours) but what I did with it certainly was.

Excuse the erratic lighting in these pictures. It was still light when I started making the crumble but dark by the time it had finished baking. That's autumn in Ireland for you!

Sharon learns that eating yourself better doesn't mean scoffing endless bars of chocolate

2011-09-15T12:23:00.001+01:00

Down, down, down...
That's how I've been feeling lately.

It's a combination of the weather, which has been prematurely dark,dreary and dull, and the effect of this seemingly never-ending recession. It's had a huge impact on my income. A paper I used to write a weekly column and music features and reviews for has gone into liquidation, leaving me with a hole in my bank balance that really hurts. And many of the others have been cutting back on the work they commission from freelancers, which means I've had less work from them too.

It's been difficult and, as a result, I've been overindulging in chocolate - my ultimate go-to comfort food. However, much as I love chocolate, I can't help but notice that it doesn't appear to be helping me. Instead, I am spotty and I feel lethargic. Whisper it: perhaps chocolate isn't the cure to all woes?

Believing as I do in the importance of a good diet and giving your body what it needs, I looked up the best depression-busting foods and found this list: wholegrains, nuts, seeds, oily fish, lean meat, tomatoes, avocados, sweet potatoes, oatmeal, spinach and raw vegetables.

Yum, I thought. Why don't I eat myself better?

So, that's exactly what I started to do, beginning with last night's dinner, potato and sweet potato wedges, avocado and tomato salsa and lime-zested cod:

Here's how you can eat yourself better too.
Ingredients for four people:
4 medium-sized potatoes
1 large sweet potato
Salt and pepper
Olive oil

4 fillets of cod, weighing approximately 150g each
4 tbsp of breadcrumbs
1 tsp coriander seeds
Zest of one lime
Salt and pepper
Olive oil

3 avocados
12 cherry tomatoes
4 scallions/spring onions
3 tbsp chopped coriander
Juice of half a lime
Salt and pepper

I started by going to the greenhouse to pick my tomatoes. (I'm only saying this as it makes me happy. My boyfriend built it all by himself this summer and it's become a lovely place that smells like a tropical summer even on these damp and dreary September days.) So, if you've got a greenhouse, go there. But if you don't, just get down to work. It won't be long before this food puts a smile on your face.
Start by pre-heating your oven to 200 Celsius/400 F/Gas Mark 6.
Then prepare your potatoes. Peel the sweet potatoes but leave the regular ones as they are. Cut both kinds into wedges and set the sweet potatoes aside. Boil the regular potatoes in salted, boiling water for 10 minutes to soften them a little.
Place both varieties of potatoes in an oven proof roasting dish. Try to have them in a single layer if possible as they will become crispier that way. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Drizzle over two tablespoons of olive oil and cook for 30 minutes or until crispy at the edges.

Now start your fish. Place it on a baking tray which you've lightly oiled so that it won't stick. Season with salt and pepper.
Crush your coriander seeds in a pestle and mortar (or with the back of a spoon if that's all you have) and mix with the breadcrumbs. Add the zested lime juice and some salt and pepper. Cover the fish with the breadcrumb mixture and drizzle with a half tablespoon or so of olive oil.

The fish will cook in ten minutes in the same oven so place it in the oven ten minutes before the potatoes will be ready.
That will give you time to prepare your avocados. Peel and chop your avocados into bite-sized pieces. Halve or quarter your tomatoes depending on their size. Mix in the chopped coriander. Drizzle over the lime juice. Season to taste.

Plate up and before you know it, there will be a smile on everyone's face.

The Markets of Killarney: a new food business that places Irish food alongside the best in the world

2011-09-06T16:46:00.001+01:00

This (terrible) recession doesn't appear to be having that much of an impact on the burgeoning food culture of Ireland. There seem to be more farmers' markets, food festivals and shops specialising in fresh, natural foods that have been grown and produced with respect than ever before.

Places like The Markets in Killarney. I discovered The Markets today and I only wish it were in Dingle instead of in Killarney (which is more than an hour's drive away). Newly opened on New Market Lane in the heart of the town, I'm willing to bet that it will be a great success.

And do you know why I'm willing to bet that? It's because it has the emphasis just right. It's all about the food and letting the quality and value of that food speak for itself.

This food includes the freshest fruit and vegetables, Benoit Lorge's handmade chocolates and pastries, cheeses and wines from Manning's Emporium, fresh breads, fabulous Irish produce such as Glenilen yoghurts and Glenisk organic milk and the finest ingredients from the greatest food-producing countries in the world, particularly Italy and France.

I spoke to some of the staff there and all of them are very ambitious for The Markets. They want to stock more of the foods that make Ireland, and especially this part of southwest Ireland, special. Already, they stock (wonderful) seaweed products made by Olivier Beaujouan of The Wild Side, who has a stall at Dingle Farmers' Market. And because they only opened last Thursday, they are still in the process of sourcing new ingredients and making connections with new producers. I can't wait to see what they have on my next visit.

The Markets,
New Market Lane,
Killarney
Opening hours: Mon, Tues, Wed, Fri & Sat: 9am to 7pm
Thursday: 9am to 8pm
Sunday: 12pm to 6pm

I have a lot to learn...

2011-08-23T12:26:00.003+01:00

I'd never heard of Peggy Porschen before her book landed in my letterbox. But I was instantly smitten by how pretty it was and very much taken by its title.

'Peggy's Favourite Cakes and Cookies... to make every occasion special' - doesn't that sound like the perfect book for an enthusiastic baker like me?

I flipped to the back of the book to find out more about Peggy and was impressed by her credentials. A German lady who moved to London to study French patisserie; she has become cake maker to the stars. Her previous clients include the likes of Elton John, Stella McCartney and Madonna; all of whom have bought cakes from Peggy Porschen's Parlour in Belgravia.

There's obviously a lot I could learn from Peggy. Her book is bursting with beautiful photos of the most fabulous-looking cakes and cookies. Rather too fabulous, perhaps, for a learner such as me. A learner who has yet to take a course in sugar craft. A learner who sells cupcakes that are nicely - but very simply - decorated. A learner who doubts she will ever succeed in making anything look as good as these cookies:

Or these cakes:

Or this one:

Or this:

But should I be so defeatist? Should I not just think of this as a challenge? If I master the basics, as explained by Peggy, I might be surprised by what I could succeed in doing.

The final section of this book is devoted to these basics. Here, Peggy lists the equipment necessary to make her cakes and cookies. Once again, I feel disheartened because I don’t have very many of them.

However, I persevere and read Peggy’s recipes for sugar cookies, gingerbread cookies, Victoria sponge, rich dark chocolate cake, marble cake, sugar syrups, buttercream frosting and chocolate ganache. I go through the sections, complete with pictures, which demonstrate how to line cake tins, apply the perfect fondant icing, dip cupcakes, make royal icing and how to pipe different patterns and shapes such as sugar daisies, daffodils and rosebuds.

There’s a lot for me to take in and it can seem overwhelming at times but by the time I’m done, I think I can do it. I’ll start with some of her more simple-looking recipes – perhaps a marble cake covered with a chocolate ganache and decorated with sugar flowers.

This is definitely not a book for the novice cook. No, it’s a book for enthusiastic bakers with a degree of experience. It’s also a book that has inspired me to try harder, learn more and make more beautiful cakes. Thanks, Peggy!

Broken promises in bread making

2011-08-18T11:05:00.000+01:00

I am a bad, bad blogger. Months ago (and in this post)I promised myself and you that I would bake a loaf of bread every second day until I had mastered a variety of different breads and was able to rustle up a loaf in minutes.

Have I kept this promise? Indeed I have not. Instead, I have bought bread from Orla and Niall (of the excellent Bácús Bakery) who man the bread stall beside me at Dingle Farmers' Market and when their bread is not available, I (shh, whisper it) buy bread from LIDL.

My conscience has reminded me of my broken promise from time to time and at such guilt-ridden moments, I have experimented with bread. These experiments have included a sourdough fiasco, Kerstin Rodgers' wonderful pitta breads and many variations of this focaccia, which is based on a recipe by Nigel Slater.

This is a great recipe for beginners. It's easy to make. It always works out well. And you can add any sort of topping that you please.

Ingredients:
450g/1lb strong white bread flour (this is just flour with a high gluten content)
1 and a half tsp salt
1 7g packet of fast-acting yeast
400ml warm water
16 cherry tomatoes
3 sprigs of rosemary
1tbsp olive oil
Cornmeal/polenta
Sea salt

Place the flour, salt and yeast in a bowl.

Make a well in the middle and pour in the water. Stir it in until you have a dough of sorts. Don't worry if it's quite sticky and gloopy. Mine always is and it always comes right.

Flour your work surface generously and then turn your dough onto it.
Start kneading it lightly, incorporating the flour from the surface. If the mixture is still too wet and sticky, add a little more flour - until the dough no longer sticks to the work surface.

Knead the dough for five minutes more or so and then place it in a floured bowl. Cover it with clingfilm or a towel and leave it until it has risen to double its size or so. This will take 40 minutes to an hour.

Lightly oil the bottom of your baking tin (the one I used was 30cm by 20cm). Sprinkle it with a layer of the cornmeal, which will keep the base crisp and stop it from sticking.
Set your oven to 220 degrees Celsius/430F/Gas Mark 7.
Remove the dough from the bowl carefully. It will sink slightly. Push it into the baking tin, covering as much of the bottom as possible. Set aside once more, covered with clingfilm, for another 20 minutes or so until it has risen again.

Now for the fun part: cut your tomatoes in half and tear up your sprigs of rosemary. Push them into the dough. Then drizzle over the olive oil and scatter the flakes of sea salt. Soon, your dough will look pretty as a picture.

Place in the oven and bake for 25 to 30 minutes until the bread is golden and crisp on top.

This bread is best eaten warm. Cut into slices or torn into chunks, it's perfect with salads or soups. In fact, it's perfect with so many things that it's a bread that's well worth making. Perhaps I should persist with this bread-making lark after all.

Clafoutis: a delicious dessert (with a cherry on top)

2011-08-09T11:20:00.001+01:00

My boyfriend arrived home with cherries at the weekend. Lots and lots of cherries. So many cherries that even after we had gorged on them, we still had lots left over.

So, I decided to make cherry clafoutis. I used to love eating this simple dessert in France but what I didn't realise was just how simple it was to make.

I started with a recipe from Kerstin Rodger's Supper Club, added in some modifications from Julia Child's 'Mastering the Art of French Cooking' and came up with a dessert of custardy deliciousness that was perfect served with some cream and a drizzle of leftover juices.

Here's what you need to make it:
500g cherries, stalks removed. (Traditionalists leave the pits in the cherries for extra flavour. I didn't but the choice is yours.)
60ml kirsch or brandy
40g caster sugar

4 eggs
60g caster sugar
300ml milk
300ml cream
50g plain flour
A 25cm (10in) square ovenproof dish (or a dish of equivalent size)
Butter to grease the dish

Place the cherries in a bowl. Sprinkle over the 40g of caster sugar. Pour over the alcohol and mix. Leave to sit for one hour.

When the hour is almost up, preheat the oven to 180 Celsius/350F/Gas Mark 4.
Grease your ovenproof dish with butter.
Strain your fruit, reserving the liquid, and lay it in the bottom of the dish.

Whisk the eggs and add the remaining 60g of caster sugar. Once mixed, slowly stir in the flour.
Finally, add the milk and cream and whisk again.
Pour the batter over the cherries.

Bake in the oven for 30 to 40 minutes until the batter has set. Check by shaking the dish a little. It should wobble but hold its shape.
If you want, you can brush the top with the leftover Kirsh when it leaves the oven. And now comes the hard bit: allow your clafoutis to rest for 30 minutes before serving it still slightly warm.

I had mine with a little cream with some of the leftover Kirsh drizzled over it. Sweet cherries, custardy batter, softly whipped cream and the decadent booziness of the cherry brandy: just as with the cherries themselves, I couldn't stop eating it.

Crackbird Dublin: pop-up restaurants arrive in Dublin

2011-08-05T17:17:00.001+01:00

This post was originally written in May. I have NO IDEA why it has posted again. Ignore it and I'll do my best to post something new in its place over the weekend. Promise!

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Time is running out for those of you who have yet to eat at Crackbird, Dublin's very first pop-up restaurant.

Open since the 21st of February, this buzzy (and busy) little restaurant on Crane Lane in Temple Bar is going to close its doors and disappear forever on the 22nd of this month. This means you now have only 11 days left to try the tasty chicken and experience the laid-back atmosphere for which Crackbird has quickly become renowned.

Run by the same people who are behind the hugely popular Jo'Burger burger joint in Rathmines; the idea behind Crackbird is simple: serve the most ridiculously addictive fried chicken with a range of sides and sauces.

I had heard lots of hype about this restaurant before my boyfriend and I visited on Monday and was apprehensive as to whether Crackbird could live up to it. My scepticism deepened as we walked down the dingy side street that is Crane Lane. Had I got the address wrong?

The exterior didn't look too promising either. Dark and gloomy, it didn't bode well for what we'd find inside.

But once we stepped inside, I found myself getting excited again. Bare lightbulbs hung over long communal tables lined with smiling people sharing buckets of chicken, salads and dips. The staff - all skinny jeans and quiffs - were friendly and welcoming. And there was music. LOUD music.

We had booked 'tweetseats' through Twitter. (Basically, this meant that we got to eat for free. All we had to do was follow @CrackBIRDdublin on Twitter and send them a message specifying the time, date and number of diners. Simple.)

So, what did we eat?

We ordered the super crisp soy garlic chicken, the semolina chicken crunches, carrot and cranberry salad, chermoula sauce and a whipped feta and burnt lemon sauce with a lime ginger spritzer and a rhubard lemonade to drink.

The super crisp soy garlic chicken arrived in a cute little red bucket and was exactly what we hoped it would be. It was so crispy it crunched. It was perfectly seasoned, perfectly spicy and completely addictive.

The burnt lemon and whipped feta sauce the waiter suggested we have with it was a revelation and my highlight of the entire meal. Its smoothness counterbalanced the spiciness of the chicken and the burnt lemon lent it great depth. (I loved this sauce so much that I'm going to have to try making it for myself. Watch this space for updates on my progress!)

The semolina chicken consisted of strips of moist chicken breast coated in crunchy semolina. It worked well with the herby, zesty chermoula.

The carrot and cranberry salad was sweet and fresh and provided a good contrast to the mostly fried food.

Finally, the drinks, served in repurposed jam jars, were zingy and refreshing.

My verdict? All that apprehension was unfounded. I loved the charming attention to detail - seating composed of picnic benches, homemade napkins in cute patterns, the jam jars for drinks... The food was great. As were the drinks (we didn't have any booze but if we had wanted to, there was beer, wine and cider to choose from). I liked the communal atmosphere and had the sense that we could have stayed there for as long as we wanted, sharing food, sipping drinks and chatting - not something you feel welcome to do in most restaurants.

The only negative was that I felt the chicken - the focus of the menu at Crackbird - should have been free-range. The menu tells us that the chicken comes from a cooperative farm in Cavan but I'd have felt happier if animal welfare were more of a priority.

Also - and this is going to make me sound SO old - the music was slightly too loud.

Those reservations aside, Crackbird is to be recommended.

Time is ticking people. Dublin's very first pop-up restaurant will soon be a thing of the past. Tuck into their chicken dishes, sides and sauces while you still can.

You should never forget to eat...

2011-08-04T10:14:00.004+01:00

Do you ever have days when you're so busy you forget to breathe, let alone eat? For me, these are days when editors bring deadlines forward so that they clash with when I've got classes to teach AND baking to do for the farmers' market.

On days like this, eight o'clock comes around, my head is reeling and, unless things have gone dramatically wrong, I can't believe I've somehow managed to get everything done on time. Everything that is except eat - as my suddenly ravenous stomach reminds me by growling.

This recipe is perfect for those sorts of days, perfect for when you crave something flavourful and substantial but don't have the energy to spend much time cooking.

I created it on one such day and, because it contains ingredients I usually have in my fridge, freezer and store cupboards, it's one I've cooked at the end of many a busy day since. Another great thing about this recipe is that it's infinitely adaptable. If you like chillis, I would add half a red chilli to this dish and cook it with the garlic. If you don't have as many prawns as the recipe suggests, make it with what you have. And if you like more or less of any of the other ingredients, the recipe allows for modification.

Ketjap Manis, shrimp paste and nam pla (or fish sauce) may seem like exotic ingredients to have in your store cupboard but, as they both last for ages, I would recommend them to you all. Ketjap Manis is an Indonesian flavouring/condiment similar to soy sauce. It has a complex, sweet taste and keeps indefinitely in a cool, dry place. Shrimp paste is made from fermented, ground shrimp and it's cooked into curries and sauces in Southeast Asia. It lends a fish-flavoured depth to dishes and it too keeps for ages. And nam pla is also made from fermented fish and brings a deep, salty flavour to food.

Here's what you need to make the simplest and most delicious of suppers:
Serves 2
150g rice noodles
200g tiger prawns (if you're using frozen ones, be sure to defrost them first!)
1 red pepper, cut into chunks
6 spring onions/scallions, cut into strips approximately 2 inches long
1 large clove garlic, crushed
2 tbsp fresh coriander, chopped
Shrimp paste
Ketjap manis
Nam pla
Oil to cook with

Prepare all of your vegetables. Chop the peppers. Shred the spring onions. Crush the garlic and chop the coriander.
Cook your noodles according to the instructions on the pack. Once they are cooked, stop them cooking any further by rinsing them in cold water and then drizzle them in a little oil to stop them sticking together. I like using sesame oil as it compliments the Asian flavours of this dish but if you don't have it, use a flavourless vegetable or groundnut oil instead.
Heat one tablespoon of your cooking oil (a vegetable, groundnut or olive oil that isn't extra virgin is best) in a wok over a medium heat.
Add your garlic and cook for one minute.
Add your chopped red peppers and move quickly in the oil and garlic for another minute or so.
By this stage, your garlic may be starting to stick to the pan so add half a tablespoon of ketjap manis to loosen things up. Cook for another minute.
Add one teaspoon of the shrimp paste and one teaspoon of the nam pla to the dish and cook for another minute.
Add your prawns and cook for another two to three minutes until they have turned pink. If at any stage you feel like your wok has become too dry, you can add some ketjap manis or nam pla. Be careful about adding the latter though as it is quite salty. I would usually add about half a tablespoon of each at this stage.
Add your spring onions. Cook for a minute until they are warm but still retain a crunchiness.
Sprinkle over the chopped coriander.

Then get the noodles which you have set aside, toss them into the wok with the prawns and mix the whole thing together.
Serve with some extra ketjap manis and coriander to sprinkle over and in ten minutes, you've got the simplest and most delicious of suppers. It's the best kind of fast food!

Desperately seeking summer...

2011-07-28T11:32:00.005+01:00

Summer has been rather non-committal in this part of the world. One day, the sun shines and I can soak in a view such as this:

The next, that view has vanished, only to be replaced by this:

View? What view, I hear you ask. There is one there; it's just been obscured by Atlantic fog for days. And days.

Even if I have to (reluctantly) forgo the sunny days of summer, I'm adamantly refusing to forgo the fresh flavours of the season. Even on evenings when it's cold and damp, with the fog closing in from the sea, I steadfastly refuse to eat the stodgy fare of winter. But on those evenings, a light summer salad simply doesn't seem appropriate and searching for something of a compromise, I came across a recipe for Pissaladiere from French Country Cooking by the Roux Brothers (a review of which I've previously written here).

This dish is from Provence and if there's anywhere in the world I associate with blue skies and sunshine, it has to be Provence. This dish - with its pizza base, sweet onion topping, salty anchovies and olives - seemed warming enough to ward off the unseasonal damp but retained the hint of summer I so desperately needed.

Before I tell you how to make it, I want to reassure you that even though this dish takes time, it's actually quite simple. Mostly it cooks away while you focus on other things.

Let's start with the bread/pizza base:
Ingredients:
250g strong bread flour
7g sugar
A pinch of salt
One 7g pack of fast-action dried yeast
125ml warm water

If you're making the bread by hand, put the flour, sugar and salt into a mixing bowl and make a well in the centre of the mixture.
In another bowl, mix the yeast and water and then pour into the well. Mix the ingredients with your hand until well blended.
If you're using a mixer, put the water and yeast in the mixing bowl and beat lightly with a whisk. Fit the dough hook, add the flour, sugar and salt and beat at the lowest speed until thoroughly mixed.
Cover the dough with a damp cloth and leave to rise in a warm place (I always use my hot press/airing cupboard) until it has doubled in size. This usually takes an hour or so.

While your bread is rising, you can work on the tart filling.
Ingredients:
1kg onions
100ml olive oil
3 garlic cloves, unpeeled
12 anchovy fillets
36 small olives
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Peel the onions and slice them as thinly as possible. Gently heat the olive oil in a saucepan with a thick bottom. Add the onions and garlic. Cover and cook over the lowest possible heat for up to two hours. Stir the onions every 30 minutes, making sure that they do not colour at all. After two hours, they should be cooked to a melted, aromatic wonderfulness. The original recipe recommends taking out the garlic at this stage but instead I squeezed the cloves - which had roasted - into the onion mixture and ended up with this:

By this stage, your bread should be ready so set your oven to 200 degrees C/ 390F/Gas Mark 6.
Knock the dough back a little by flipping it over with your fingers two or three times.
Sprinkle some flour onto a work surface and roll your dough into a circle that will fit your chosen baking tin. (My flan case was 20cm in diameter.) Oil your baking tin lightly and lay your pastry on top of it, pressing it into place.

Leave the dough base at room temperature for about 15 minutes to allow it to rise slightly.
Then bake it in the preheated oven for 10 minutes.
Remove from the oven and add the onions (draining off the oil, if necessary). Arrange the anchovies and olives on top and cook for another 20 minutes.

Serve hot with some fresh green salad and, regardless of what the weather is like outside, you'll have a taste of summer on your plate.

I'd love to hear what you are all eating this summer and I hope the sun is shining wherever you are.

Sharon's Food Heroes: Take Three

2011-07-21T12:38:00.002+01:00

It was the enthusiasm that struck me first. There she was, smiling behind her stand in SuperValu, urging passers-by to try her jellies. None of them could resist. When faced with the energetic Melanie Harty, few people can. And once you've admitted defeated and tasted one of her hot pepper jellies, she's got you in her clutches forever.

Since that day I met Melanie in the supermarket, a slice of hot toast spread with cheese and topped with her ginger hot pepper jelly has now become one of my favourite snacks. The sweetness of the sugar combined with the sweet peppers and the warmth and depth of the ginger and chillies set off by a tangy, salty cheese - I can't think of a better stop-gap between meals.

While I tasted her jellies that day in the supermarket, I also asked Melanie about her passion for food. It turns out that she's originally from Tralee but moved to America in the 1980s where she worked in the food industry. It was here that she first came across hot pepper jellies, which are very popular there, particularly in the spicy, home cooking of Texas and other southern states.

"They love using them in barbeques, in marinades, dips and sauces and with cold meats and cheeses," says Melanie.

She decided to learn how to make her own and once she had perfected her recipes, she brought her hot pepper and jalapeno jellies to farmers' markets, including the Eastern Market on Capitol Hill in Washington DC. It wasn't long before her jellies - made from entirely natural, simple ingredients - had lots of fans.

"When I returned to Ireland in 1996, I saw that sweet chilli sauce was getting popular," she says. "That made me think there might be a market for my jellies."

But she didn't start making them immediately. Instead, she focussed on setting up a restaurant in her home town of Tralee. The Cookery became an award-winning success, but ten years later, Melanie needed a change.
"I wanted a work/life balance," she explains. "With the restaurant, it was all work and no balance."

So, once again Melanie returned to her jellies. Making them at home, she started selling them at markets in Kerry and Cork. And she found she loved it.
"My passions are food and talking to people," she says. "This is a great way for me to bring the two together."

She now has six jellies in her range: ginger hot pepper, jalapeno pepper, char-grilled pepper, hot pepper, cranberry and cranberry hot pepper.

And I don't seem to be the only one who likes them either. Harty's Jellies have won two Shop Awards, Bridgestone Awards and the best emerging food product award at the 2010 Listowel Food Fair.

I'm looking forward to trying all of the jellies and if you see them for sale, you should try them too. In fact, if you happen to meet Melanie while she is handing out samples in supermarkets, you won't be able to resist.

Vive la France. Mangeons de la tarte tatin!

2011-07-14T11:01:00.011+01:00

Today is Bastille Day and it feels appropriate to celebrate with something French.

I used to live in France and many memories of my time there are of its wonderful food. The garlicky scent of snails wafting past me in a restaurant; queuing for Poilane sourdough bread in the mornings; a friend's mum demonstrating just how stringy the perfect aligot ought to be; choosing the freshest baguettes, the runniest cheeses and vegetables still encrusted in earth at Richard Lenoir and Rue de Grenelle markets in Paris...

I could go on (and, to be honest, I already have) but I'll stop there.

Instead, I'll share a recipe from Kerstin Rodger's Supper Club (a book I loved, as you'll see here). Tarte tatin is one of those quintessentially French recipes and there are many different versions. This is one of the best I've tasted and I can't think of a better day to celebrate Bastille Day.

Ingredients:
Juice of two lemons
1kg (about 8 to 10) eating apples, such as Cox, Russet or Braeburn *
125g to 175g unsalted butter, softened
125g to 175g caster sugar
4 to 6 star anise
200g puff pastry, rolled to a disc the same size as your frying pan
Cream or ice cream to serve
You will also need a pan with a handle that can go in the oven.

* My frying pan wasn't big enough to take this amount of apples. I only used half and adjusted the other ingredients accordingly.

Squeeze both lemons into a large bowl. Peel and core the apples and then slice them before putting them in the bowl of lemon juice to prevent them going brown.

Smear the butter generously over the frying pan, including the sides. Sprinkle the sugar over the top in a thick layer. This will become your caramel so if you'd like it to be extra caramel-y, use more butter and sugar.

Remove your apple slices from the lemon juice and embed them in the butter/sugar mixture. Pack them in as tightly and as attractively as you can. Tuck in the star anise too.

Preheat the oven to 220 degrees Celsius/425 F/Gas Mark 7.
Put the frying pan over a medium flame on your hob and keep an eye on it while it caramelises. Kerstin says this will take up to 15 minutes but I found it took longer, more like 25 minutes. Perhaps my heat was too low. But what you're aiming for is a deep golden caramel colour like this:

Once you've got this far, you need to let your pan cool before you place your pastry on top of the apples. Tuck in the edges and don't worry if you've got extra pastry in places. Imagine how good it will taste once it's dripping with caramel!

Place the pan in the oven for 15 minutes or until the pastry has risen.
The tricky bit comes once you take it out of the oven. Find a plate that is larger than your frying pan and lay it over the top. Holding the handle firmly and keeping the plate pressed tightly to the pan, flip it over. The plate will now be on the bottom and the frying pan on top. Lift the pan off to reveal a golden, caramel-encrusted apple tart. Don't worry if some of the apple slices become displaced. You can always prod them back in place using a fork.
Serve hot with a scoop of cream or ice cream.

So, there you have it: a tarte that is sweet and caramel-y, gooey, fruity and delicious. It's also inexpensive and easy to make.
Happy Bastille Day!

A cookbook to love (and a magical chance to win!)

2011-07-07T09:39:00.000+01:00

Sometimes you know that it has to be love.

From the moment I heard that Kerstin Rodgers (the cook behind one of London's first and best known supper clubs, The Underground Restaurant) was writing a book, I knew I'd love it. And, as soon as I laid eyes on the book, that love only intensified.

I should make some things clear before I continue:
1. I've never been to Kerstin's supper club. But everything I've heard about it makes me want to go. She's the type of cook I most admire: someone who cooks from the heart out of a simple desire to make people happy. My next trip to London is definitely going to coincide with one of her supper nights.
2. I've been thinking about starting a supper club of my own for a while now. I tried to start a revolving supper club in Dingle last winter but seeing as nothing came of it, I approached this book with the thought that it might just convince me to set one up, London-style.

Anyway, back to the book. And isn't it lovely?

Underneath its dust jacket, it's even lovelier.

Kerstin begins the book with a story of revolution. The first revolution in food was the French Revolution which led to chefs from the households of a destroyed aristocracy opening the world's first restaurants - places where anybody who had the money could pay to eat.

London in 2009 was ripe for a new food revolution and Kerstin was one of its figureheads. An idealist with strong political beliefs and a single mother keen to make money working from home, Kerstin had seen home restaurants in Latin America and thought they could work in London. She - along with Horton Jupiter of The Secret Ingredient Supper Club - was the first person in the UK to open a restaurant in her own home.

Kerstin's politics are reflected in the food she serves in her living room. She doesn't eat meat and, as a result, never serves it. However, she does serve things that restaurants simply wouldn't have the time to make, such as towering Croquembouche. And because she knows what it's like to be strapped for cash in London, she offers reduced rates for those on benefits.

For Kerstin's restaurant is an extension of her life. It's all about her do-it-yourself attitude, her belief that everyone has a right to good food at a reasonable price and her mission to improve the image of vegetarian food.

Her life in food is an interesting one and the book is full of her stories. She starts with the chocolate butterfly cakes she baked in nursery school. She tells of the copy of 'Good Housekeeping's Children's Cookbook' she was given aged eight, from which she learned how to make macaroni cheese and peppermint creams. There are tales of childhoold holidays too when her parents introduced her to snails, horse and never-ending, ten-course Italian feasts.

Kerstin became a photographer after leaving school but continued to cook. She cooked at anti-G8 camps using food scavenged from dumpsters; in vegan cafés; and in squats such as the swimming pool changing room she once lived in with a boyfriend.

All of which eventually led to her opening The Underground Restaurant and now writing this book encouraging us all to follow her example.

The book tells the story of her supper club and offers practical tips about how you can set up your own - everything from how to publicise it to advice on how to arrange payment. These tips are invaluable for anybody who might be thinking of following in Kerstin's footsteps.

But it's the recipes that will win everyone over to Kerstin's book. Such wonderful recipes, most of which I can't wait to try.

There are cocktails and nibbles, including Harry Potter Butter Beer and dukkah (a nutty Arabian dip) that I'm planning to serve with Kerstin's homemade pitta breads.

Of her starters, I'm dreaming of her savoury yoghurt granita and yuzu ceviche - white fish 'cooked' in citrus fruits.

There are soups such as the Thai green spinach soup; fabulous salads such as the mint, coriander, onion and pomegranate cachumber (an Indian salsa); vegetarian main courses such as tinda masala and Kerstin's 'really good' mac and cheese; instructions for how to cure your own salmon; a fantastic stargazy pie; meat dishes from London's other supper clubs; and the most amazing desserts.

Is there anybody alive who wouldn't drool over this giant pavlova drizzled with salted caramel?

Kerstin finishes the book with her piece de résistance - a section devoted to her themed menus. There's an Elvis night complete with deep-fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches, cheese 'n' grits and pecan pie.

There's a midnight feast where all the food is black. And there's a flower menu where every dish contains edible flowers and is as pretty as a picture.

All of Kerstin's recipes come with a short description of where the recipe is from, how she created it and who she learned it from. This brings you into her world and makes you feel as though you know her. In fact, the way she describes her recipes makes you feel as though she's cooking right beside you - just as all cookbooks should.

At the very end of the book, Kerstin gives a list of all the supper clubs she knows of in the UK, Ireland, Europe and worldwide.

This book should come with a warning. Actually, it should come with several warnings.
First of all, you should know that the recipes contained within its pages are going to make you want to cook, cook and then cook some more.
Secondly, after reading Kerstin's descriptions of the communal nature of supper clubs and the introduction they give you to the cooking of different cultures, you are going to want to explore all of the supper clubs in the world.
Finally, you may just decide to open one of your own. I'm seriously considering it. Watch this space!

Before I sign off, I must tell you that this wonderful cookbook came my way courtesy of the Fairy Hobmother, a good fairy that prowls the online world generously spreading fairy dust wherever he goes. I won't tell you who he is but he belongs to http://www.appliancesonline.co.uk/ and if you leave a comment below telling him what you'd like him to buy you from Amazon, he might just make your wish come true!

The ups and downs of life at a farmers' market

2011-07-05T11:03:00.000+01:00

It's raining outside and I can't help but feel downhearted. Rain is forecast for all this week and I'm not relishing the thought of another deluge of a day at Dingle Farmers' Market this Friday.

The past two weeks at the market have proven just how unpredictable the life of a market stallholder can be. A fortnight ago, it rained so hard and so long that all of my customers stayed away. There was a break in the rainfall for approximately 20 minutes at around 11 o'clock and any cupcakes that were sold were sold during those precious few minutes.

Those types of days are hard to take. All of the work and preparation amounts to little and you wonder what on earth ever possessed you to set up a market stall in a country where the weather is as variable as it is in Ireland.

The only thing that makes up for it is that you can swap those same leftover cupcakes for some of the other stallholders' produce. That rainy day, I arrived home soaked but bearing bread, new potatoes, homemade chocolates, organic salad leaves, fresh fish and even a pot of handmade, organic moisturiser.

The other stallholders make up for it too. Klaus cheered my spirits with his renditions of 'Singing in the Rain' and 'Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head' while Saorla and I swapped horror stories about stalkers.

Such a different day to last week when the sun shone and hordes of customers descended upon us. We'd organised a special kids' day to celebrate school being out for the summer and had face painters, a drum band, jugglers and a choir from the local Camphill community. Everyone was smiling. Lots of cupcakes were sold. And there was lots of cheery banter.

Here's Klaus with his stall of the most wonderful cosmetics. He and his wife (under their company name Flourish Cosmetics) make amazing cleansers, toners, moisturisers and other products, using completely natural and organic ingredients. Nothing has been tested on animals and everything feels luxurious on the skin.
Here's Saorla, with her ever-popular cookies and chocolate lollipops. What you can't see in this picture is her growing range of handmade chocolates. One of her latest additions is the Green Faerie - an absinthe flavoured truffle that really is to die for.And here am I with my cupcakes, smiling in the sunshine.

Here's hoping I'm smiling this Friday. When I'll be selling chocolate brownies, Black Forest gateau cupcakes, white chocolate and raspberry cupcakes, banoffee cupcakes, Oreo cupcakes and Guinness and Baileys cupcakes - that's what I've decided on so far at least.

Fingers crossed for sunshine. And hope to see you there, if not this Friday, then some time.

Sayonara, Kappa-ya. I'll be back...

2011-06-29T09:50:00.000+01:00

I love Japanese food. In fact, if I had to choose just one nation's cuisine to eat for the rest of my life, I might choose to eat the food of Japan.

Sadly for me, Ireland isn't home to very many Japanese people and as a result, we don't have a huge amount of Japanese restaurants. This means that whenever I happen upon one, I simply have to sample the food.

I'd heard good reports about Kappa-ya in Galway and when I spotted it as I was wandering the streets of the city on Monday, the decision as to where I would eat my lunch was immediately made.

The restaurant looks unassuming from the outside, its only decoration being the Japanese signs hanging in the doorway.

Inside, it's a higgledy-piggledy place crammed with tables, chairs, diners and all sorts of Japanese trinkets. Luckily, I quite like higgledy-piggledy places so this didn't put me off at all.

Several of Galway's resident Japanese were also eating at the restaurant - something I took to be a very good sign.

I decided to have the fish and vegetable tempura served with a side salad. It's quite a basic Japanese dish but done well, it can be extremely satisfying.

So, what was it like? The tempura - a mix of prawns, a white fish that I think was haddock, green beans, red pepper and some sort of squash (butternut was my guess) - was great. The batter was light and melted in the mouth. The fish was perfectly cooked. The prawns were sweet. The vegetables retained a crunch, apart from the squash whose soft texture contrasted nicely with the crisp batter.

All of this sat on top of a bowl of rice and was sprinkled with dashi - a seaweed broth or stock that is fundamental to Japanese cooking.
The salad was a mix of salad leaves and tomatoes with a fresh and spicy dressing.

Overall, the entire meal was simple but a simple success. I'll definitely have to come again.
Especially as I've heard that the chef here creates fabulous feasts on Saturday nights, feasts which include such tempting dishes as tempura of banana with black sesame ice-cream. I really have to try that...

If you've been to Kappa-ya, I'd love to hear your thoughts about it and your suggestions as to what I should eat there next time. Also, if you've been to any Japanese restaurants in Ireland or even further afield that you think I should visit, do let me know about them.

Kappa-ya
4 Middle Street
Galway City
Ireland

What's for lunch?

2011-06-22T14:43:00.001+01:00

I work from home a lot. This means that I don't often have the luxury of going out for lunch. I have to make my own instead.

If I'm lucky (and organised), I'll have leftovers from the previous night's dinner. In which case, all I'll have to do is heat them up, plonk myself on the sofa, choose some trashy afternoon TV show to watch and tuck in.

But, more often than not, we'll have scoffed all of the previous night's dinner and I'll have no option but to create something from the contents of my fridge. Something quick and tasty that will power me through the rest of the afternoon. Something exactly like this:

This quinoa salad with roasted butternut squash, green beans, red onion, chilli, coriander and rocket has a great mix of flavours and textures. There's a bite to the grains and a crunch to the green beans. The chilli lends heat while the rocket and coriander add freshness. Combine this with the soft sweetness of the squash and you couldn't ask for a better lunch

Here's how you make it for two people:
Ingredients:
150g quinoa*
Half of a medium-sized squash, cut into 1cm cubes
Half of a red onion
Half of a red chilli (or more if you like your food hot)
120g green beans, trimmed and cut in half
A handful of fresh rocket
3tbsp of chopped coriander

* This works just as well with other grains such as bulgur wheat, couscous or even rice.

Put the cubes of squash in a roasting tin. Season them with salt and pepper and drizzle with a tablespoon or so of olive oil. Place in an oven at 200 degrees Celsius/390F and cook for approximately 20 minutes or until soft.

Cook the quinoa as you would rice. Place in a saucepan with double the amount of boiling water. Cover the pan and cook for 10 to 15 minutes.

Prepare the rest of the ingredients while the squash and quinoa are cooking.

Soften the onion and the chilli in half a teaspoon of olive oil.

Boil the green beans in salted boiling water for up to four minutes, until they are tender but still retain a bit of crunch.

Mix the onion, chilli and green beans with the cooked quinoa. Add the roasted squash and finally the rocket and coriander.

Find the TV remote control. Choose your favourite programme. Sit back on the sofa and tuck in!

My conflict with the caterpillars: an update

2011-06-16T10:25:00.000+01:00

Do you remember my conflict with the caterpillars? How I had to compete with them for the nettles I wanted for my nettle soups and risottos? If you don't recall my boyfriend telling me to stay away from 'the caterpillars' nettles', you can read all about it here.

Well, this conflict had abated in recent weeks as the caterpillars went into chrysalis and no longer needed to be fed copious amounts of nettles. So, I had my nettle patch all to myself.

In fact, I'd almost forgotten about the caterpillars until my boyfriend excitedly informed me last night that some of them had emerged as butterflies. We decided to leave them overnight - apparently, it takes a while for their wings to become strong enough to fly - and we released them into the wild this morning.

Watching them tentatively flutter their wings and take off into a sunny morning was a happy way to start the day. It made all of that conflict worthwhile.

Here's my boyfriend upending the structure he designed for the caterpillars while they pupated:
And here are some of the lovely tortoiseshell butterflies before they flew away:

Meet Prannie Rhatigan, a lady with a mission.

2011-06-14T10:11:00.000+01:00

People can be so inspiring, can't they?

This is what I found myself thinking when I spoke to Prannie Rhatigan (great name, right?) a short time ago.

Prannie lives in Sligo and is the author of a wonderful book called 'The Irish Seaweed Kitchen'. With this book, she is hoping to revive the age-old Irish tradition of seaweed harvesting. You may have thought the Japanese were the world's most passionate fans of seaweed but for generations, Irish people used to comb our shorelines for edible seaweeds such as carrageen, sea spaghetti and duileasc.

It was Prannie's father who taught her all she knows about seaweed. He would bring her to the beach to collect seaweed; starting with sleabhac (the traditional Irish name for nori, also known as sloke and laver) after the first frosts of Christmas and continuing throughout the year with alaria, kelp and many other types of seaweed.

She has fond memories of this time. "It was always great fun," she remembers. "Even as kids, there was a tremendous satisfation in careful harvesting, watching the purple-black glistening prize slowly fill the basins. Before the winter evening closed in, we piled back into the car, chugged and bumped up the track to the main road and into the village, where we drew to a halt outside the door of my father's favourite public house; bearers of great treasure. In we trooped and very soon, my father was benignly dispensing little portions in bags to old men in big overcoats who normally huddled over a pint but now became animated at the thought of fresh sleabhac."

However, even when Prannie was a child, the practice of harvesting seaweed was dying away. "By the 1970s, we were among the very few families who harvested from the shore," she says. "I think folk memory still associated it with extreme poverty and the famine."

Her passion for seaweed never abated and she has since become something of an expert in sourcing, identifying, preparing and cooking it. So much of an expert that her family and friends urged her to write this book.

They love my seaweed recipes and kept telling me I should write them down before the knowledge was lost," says Prannie. "So, I finally did."

The result is a book that features 150 recipes covering everything from soup to sushi by way of beetroot and sea lettuce salad and even chocolate and seaweed cake. Most of the recipes are Prannie's own. Others come from her family and friends. And still more come from well-known chefs and cooks such as Darina and Myrtle Allen, Richard Corrigan, Rick Stein and Alice Waters.
But this book is much more than simply a collection of recipes. In it, Prannie captures many of the traditions and folklore associated with seaweed. She tells her readers how the Brehon Laws of the 5th century mention duileasc as a condiment to be served with bread, whey milk and butter (I, for one, would love to try this!). She talks about a survey carried out in Connemara in 1938 which found that the local people ate 32 different types of seaweed.

Prannie also informs her readers about how to source, identify, prepare and store seaweed. She does this because she really wants them to go down to the shoreline and pick some for themselves. "Seaweeds are tasty, healthy and nutritious," she says. "I've always known this but now I really want to pass it on to others. I want everyone to realise just what a living treasure we have on our shores."

She has me convinced. I'm planning to harvest some seaweed the next time we have a new or full moon (the best times to do so, apparently).

Even more excitingly, I'm planning to cook with it. Depending on what type of seaweed I find, I might try seaweed crepes with prawns, laver bread cakes with duileasc or Rick Stein's recipe for black bream steamed over seaweed with a fennel butter sauce.

Yum.
Seriously yum.

If any of you have cooked with seaweed and have any recipes or advice to share, I'd love to hear all about it.

Cake banishes all woes

2011-06-09T10:51:00.001+01:00

Life has been difficult lately. Like many others here in Ireland, my boyfriend and I have started to worry about money. Our incomes have fallen as prices have risen and we can't help but feel anxious about paying our ever escalating bills.

It's hard to stay positive when faced with money worries. It's hard to stay open to the many possibilities of life when you're focussing on how you're going to pay the mortgage...

There's one thing that always helps me when I find myself overwhelmed by worry, one thing that can always be relied upon to banish all anxious thoughts and instantly make me feel better.

Can you guess that that one thing is? If you know me at all, you are sure to guess correctly. It simply has to be cake.

I found the recipe for these 'Summer Bakewells' in this week's Sunday Times Style section. Created by London's wonderfully-named Lily Vanilli, their sweet citrus-infused pastry, melt-in-the-mouth frangipane and smoooth vanilla buttercream instantly banished all thoughts of woe.

Here are the ingredients and instructions for making 12 of these lovelies. (Don't be put off by how long the list looks: these are actually easy to make.)

For the pastry:
250g flour, plus extra for dusting
50g icing sugar
125g cold butter, cut into cubes
1 large egg, beaten
Zest of 1 orange
A splash of milk

For the coulis:
200g frozen mixed berries
50g caster sugar
50ml water

For the frangipane:
85g unsalted butter at room temperature
85g golden caster sugar
85g ground almonds
Zest of 1 oraange
1 egg

For the vanilla buttercream:
55g unsalted butter at room temperature
250 icing sugar
4 tbsp ground almonds
125ml double cream
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Toasted flaked almonds and berries to decorate

Make the pastry. I made mine in a food processor, combining the sugar and the flour, whizzing in the butter, adding the egg and the zest and then the milk until I had a dough. If you don't have a food processor, all you have to do is sieve the flour and sugar into a bowl and rub in the butter until you get a fine, crumb-like mixture. Add the egg, zest and milk and work it into a ball.

Flour the ball lightly. Wrap it in clingfilm and refridgerate for 30 mins.

Make the coulis by placing the fruit, sugar and water in a heavy-bottomed pan. Bring it to the boil, stirring continously. Reduce the heat and simmer until it has thickened. Leave to cool.

Make the frangipane by beating all of the ingredients together until they are smooth. Spoon into a piping bag. (Don't worry if you don't have one. You can also use a spoon.)

Make the buttercream by beating the butter for 5 mins. Add the sugar, ground almonds and half the cream and beat slowly until incorporated. Add the rest of the cream graduallly and finally add the vanilla extract to taste. Beat well for 3 mins or so or until smooth and light.

Heat the oven to 190C/Gas Mark 5/370F.

Roll out the pastry and cut into rounds to fit a cupcake pan. Press into place. (As you can see, my attempt was a bit of a patchwork affair.)

Spoon in some coulis.

Pipe in the frangipane (spoon it in if you don't have a piping bag).

Top with flaked almonds and bake for 25 to 30 mins.

Allow to cool then pipe with the buttercream and top with the berry of your choice.

Regulars at Dingle Farmers' Market: I'll be tweaking this recipe a little and these cakes will be making an appearance on my stall. This means that you too will be able to banish your woes while indulging in decadent cakes!

Ugh is for aubergines. Or is it?

2011-06-01T13:40:00.001+01:00

Ugh.
Isn't there anything else to eat?

I've lost count of the times I've heard this reaction when I've told people we're having aubergines for dinner (if you're scrunching up your nose and wondering what aubergines are, you probably call them eggplant). It seems as though this plant - often served up brown and mushy - isn't the most loved in the veggie patch.

I'm on a mission to change this. I've got several aubergine recipes which have become hugely popular in my house and if you try them, I'm sure they will restore this vegetable to its rightful place up near the top of your list of favourite foods.

I'm sharing the first of those with you today. It's adapted from Yotam Ottolenghi's fantastic cookbook of Middle Eastern inspired recipes 'Plenty'.

Serves 4
Ingredients:
2 large and long aubergines
80ml olive oil
1 and a half tsp lemon thyme leaves, plus a few whole sprigs to garnish (I often substitute ordinary thyme here)
Dried pomegranate seeds (the original recipe asks for 1 whole pomegranate but when I couldn't find any in the shops, these were just as good. Crunchy too.)
Salt and black pepper

1 small bunch of coriander (about 10 sprigs)
1 small bunch of basil (about 10 sprigs)
Half of a red chilli
2 tbsp olive oil

140ml buttermilk
100g Greek yoghurt
1 and a half tbsp olive oil
1 small garlic clove, crushed
Pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 200 C/Gas Mark 6/400 F.

Cut the aubergines in half lengthways.

Use a small, sharp knife to make three or four parallel incisions in the cut side of each aubergine half, without cutting through to the skin. Repeat at a 45-degree angle to get a diamond shape pattern.

Place the aubergine halves, cut side up, on a baking sheet lined with parchment. Brush them with olive oil. Keep on brushing until all of the oil has been absorbed.

Sprinkle with the thyme leaves and some salt and pepper.

Roast for 35-40 minutes, by which point the flesh should be soft and nicely browned.

While the aubergines are in the oven, pluck the leaves from the coriander and basil, chop the chilli roughly and place in a food processor. Slowly add the olive oil until you've got what resembles a spicy pesto. (If you don't have a food processor, you could chop the chilli into smaller dice and crush the pesto in a pestle and mortar.)

Next, you need to make the sauce. Whisk the buttermilk, yoghurt, crushed garlic, olive oil and salt together. Taste for seasoning.

Now, it's just a question of assembly. Spoon plenty of the buttermilk mixture over the aubergine halves. Sprinkle the pesto and pomegranate seeds over the top.

Serve this with crusty white bread, pitta or rice.

Taste this once and you'll never say 'ugh' to aubergines again. That's a promise.

Competing with caterpillars: my first time making nettle soup

2011-05-24T11:15:00.001+01:00

You know that feeling you get when you put your hands in the pockets of a coat you haven't worn in ages and discover money - preferably of the larger denomination variety? Well, that's the feeling I get when I succeed in foraging for food. A feeling that I'm one up on the world and have somehow managed to get something for nothing.

I'm far from being an expert forager. To date, I've only picked wild garlic to make butters and pestos (see here for more). That's why I decided to expand my range further today by foraging for nettles.

There are many things I didn't know about nettles. I didn't know how nutritious they are. They contain vitamins A and C as well as iron, calcium and magnesium. There are people who swear by their medicinal benefits, including a friend of my mother's who used to have recurring kidney problems until she started to drink nettle tea every morning.

Nor did I realise that nettles would bring me into direct competition with my boyfriend's latest hobby - caterpillars.

Yup, you read that correctly. His latest hobby is caterpillars.
He spent his childhood chasing butterflies and moths and has retained a passion for them to this day. A few weeks ago, he decided to cultivate this passion by trying to reintroduce native species to our corner of southwest Ireland. He orders baby caterpillars online. They arrive in boxes and he feeds and looks after them until they emerge into the butterflies and moths they are destined to become. This requires feeding them the foods they would naturally eat in the wild and, in most cases, this means nettles. When he saw me heading for the nettle patch at the bottom of our garden, I was warned not to take too much. "Those nettles belong to the caterpillars," I was told.

Luckily, there were lots of nettles and I didn't need that many to make my very first nutritious, and surprisingly delicious, nettle soup.

Here's what you need to know about picking nettles:
You don't want to get stung so wear gloves and use scissors to protect yourself.
You should only pick the tops of young, small nettle plants as the older ones become bitter with age.
Be sure to wash them thoroughly before cooking to remove all dirt and insects. Otherwise, you may find yourself eating some of my boyfriend's beloved caterpillars! (Be careful while washing them too as the sting isn't entirely removed from the leaves until they are cooked.)

Here's how I made my soup:
Ingredients: 150g young nettles
50g butter
1 medium sized onion, diced
1 large carrot, diced
1 celery stick, chopped
1 large clove of garlic, crushed
2 medium potatoes, chopped
1 litre vegetable stock (I used Marigold vegetable bouillon in boiling water)
Salt and pepper
Freshly grated nutmeg

Go through the nettles, discarding any really tough stalks.

Melt the butter in a large pan over a medium heat and sweat the onion, carrot and celery until soft but not coloured.

Add the crushed garlic and potatoes and cook for another minute or so.

Add the stock and simmer for ten minutes to cook the potatoes.

Add the nettles, pushing them down into the liquid.

Bring to the boil and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes until the nettles are really tender.

Season with salt and pepper.

Allow to cool and then pureé in a blender.

Pour back into the saucepan and add some freshly grated nutmeg. It's hard to say how much of this you will need as it really is a question of taste but I used slightly less than half a teaspoon.

You could serve this with a swirl of cream and some chopped chives. But I wanted my first experience of nettle soup to be simple and unadulterated.

It tasted just as I hoped it would: fresh, healthy and wholesome. I'm definitely going to make it again and I'm also planning to try nettle risotto. If I get to our nettle patch before my boyfriend and his caterpillars do, that is!

Nigel Slater's 'Toast' and memories of my mother being mortified by her children

2011-05-17T10:54:00.000+01:00

A drizzly Saturday morning spent poking through odds and ends at a car boot sale resulted in this haul:

I was excited to read them all but Nigel Slater’s food memoir ‘Toast’ was top of my list. I've been meaning to read it for absolutely ages.

It turns out to be a surprising book. It tells the tale of a boy born with a passion for food to parents who care little about it. Nigel was born 15 years after his older brothers. His mother developed asthma while pregnant with him and was a sickly – though loving – presence in his childhood. His father was well intentioned but had a terrifying temper. Nigel craved their love and attention and this craving is represented in his hunger for food.

His mother – “a peas and chops sort of cook” – cooked plain food badly. She burnt the toast every morning. Her rice pudding was always too milky. And the icing on her Christmas cake was once so hard his father set about it with a hammer and chisel.

She was baffled by her son who would spend hours fantasising about the dishes described in a cookbook he found hidden at the back of the bookcase: dishes such as gammon steak with pineapple and cherries, steak and kidney pudding and stuffed eggs.

The highlight of Nigel’s week was visiting Percy Salt’s grocers with his mother. Its hams, kippers, sugared almonds and fresh pineapples delighted Nigel. He loved it so much he would often play at being a grocer and selling cheese to his imaginary customers.

Nigel’s warmest memories are those that involve him making food with his mother: the sound of raw cake mixture plopping into the cake tin, rubbing butter into pastry for jam tarts and flipping pancakes on Shrove Tuesday before sprinkling them with granulated sugar and Jif lemon juice.

Other memories are bittersweet. Nigel wrote a school essay in which he described marshmallows as the nearest food to a kiss. When Nigel’s mother dies, his father remembers this and knowing that Nigel will miss his mother’s bedtime kisses most of all, leaves marshmallows on his son’s bedside table every night for two years. There are funny moments too. 1960s Britain was a different world when it comes to food and Nigel captures this perfectly. He talks about parents’ pride in possessing an item as glamorous as a grapefruit knife and the first time they ate grilled grapefruits – a fruit nobody they knew had ever eaten.

And then there’s the first time they cook spaghetti bolognaise. They panic as the strands of spaghetti escape through the holes of the colander and they decide that the parmesan cheese must be off because it “smells like sick”. So traumatised are they by the entire incident that they never speak of it again.

Food was also defined by class. Crisps, baked beans, chips, sandwich spread, ketchup, bubblegum and HP sauce are among the items that never feature on the Slater table.
But Artic Rolls – those tubes of vanilla ice cream covered in jam and sponge – were considered the ultimate in food as was a grapefruit spiked with cocktail sticks bearing cubes and cheese and pineapple.

Nigel’s life changes after his mother dies and so does what he and his father eat. His father never ate his favourite foods – tripe and onions, liver and bacon, cauliflower cheese – again.
In fact, the pair hardly eat at all until Mrs Potter enters their lives.

Mrs Potter becomes their cleaner and eventually Nigel’s stepmother. She is a fabulous cook and brings delights such as homemade parsley sauce, Victoria sponge cakes and pork chops with apple rings into their lives.
However, she is possessive of her culinary skills and reluctant to share them with budding chef Nigel. When he shows prowess at making her Victoria sponge, she never shows him how to make anything again.
Not even her lemon meringue, which attains the status of legend in this book. Nigel describes it as having a “warm, painfully sharp lemon filling, airy pastry and a billowing hat of thick, teeth-judderingly sweet meringue.”

There is so much to savour in this book besides the fabulous descriptions of food. Nigel’s classes in home economics, his first jobs in catering, his exploration of his sexuality; these tales are interwoven with stories of the relationships that shaped him and the food that made him into the cook he is today.

While reading this book, I couldn’t help but think back to the food memories that have shaped my own life.

The scrambled eggs my mother would make when I was sick as a child: hot buttered toast made a little soggy by the slightly milky scrambled eggs on top. To this day, this is all I want to eat whenever I’m ill and nobody can ever make it taste the same.

The dish of brown rice with umeboshi plum and tahini sauce my boyfriend made to impress me early in our relationship: I was a strict vegetarian then and I loved its mix of sharp and smooth flavours. However, I wasn’t particularly enamoured when he told me he had learned how to make it when he took a macrobiotic cookery course to impress a previous girlfriend. Still, I suppose the dish counts as a success for him: it helped him score on at least two occasions!

Meringue and mortifying my mother: the stations are still a popular tradition in West Kerry. The local parish priest comes to your home and holds mass there, blessing your house and all who live in it.
After the mass, there is usually a lunch of sandwiches, salads, roast meats, poached fish, cakes and such. The priest and all of the neighbours are invited.

I was about six years old when a relative of ours invited my parents, my two younger sisters and I to her stations.
The custom was that everyone invited to stations would bring along a contribution: usually a cake of some sort. My mother made a cake and when we arrived at the stations, I was told to leave it in the room where the other cakes were being stored until after the mass.

My jaw dropped when I opened the door to this room. Every single surface was covered with cakes and desserts: fruit cakes, chocolate cakes, meringues, cheesecakes, mousses… You name it and it was there.
Returning to my sisters, I whispered the wonders to be found in this room. Our overwhelming greed meant that within minutes, we had sneaked away from our parents and into this room.
Then, we went on the rampage. Mouthfuls of chocolate mousse, spoons of strawberry soufflé, slices of sponge…

We were beginning to feel a little ill when we heard our mother’s voice calling for us. As the handle began to turn on the door, we started to feel even worse.
My sister was hastily licking the sticky, sugary crumbs of a cream-filled meringue from her lips when my mother’s face appeared, along with the shocked face of the woman hosting the stations.
My mother was never more embarrassed. We had never before been in such trouble. But it was worth it for those cakes.

One last memory: my father is a farmer and when I was growing up, it was common for local farmers to come together and help each other making hay, silage and harvesting crops. Instead of spending money that was scarce hiring extra farmhands or machinery, they shared energy and effort in lending each other a hand.

The kitchen of our house would be frantic on these days. Huge vats of stew bubbled on the range, along with pots of potatoes, while loaves of bread baked in the oven. I always thought my mother had made far too much food but when the men came in from the fields – big and strong and sweaty – they would drink bottles of Guinness (those old-fashioned black glass bottles that were always kept in the cupboard under the kitchen sink) and would finish off the bowls of stew, heaps of potatoes and mounds of bread and butter in record time.

These are the memories that came to me as I was reading this book. I’d love to hear yours. What were the flavours of your childhood? What are the culinary highlights and lowlights of your life to date?

Please do share. And if, like me, you have yet to read Nigel Slater’s ‘Toast’, you should do so soon. It’s a treat.

Foodie Heroes: Take Two

2011-05-03T14:51:00.000+01:00

I've been busy. So busy that I've been neglecting my blog. But not so busy that I haven't been eating, thinking about eating and thinking about the wonderful people who produce the food that I love to eat.

On a recent visit to Limerick, I met Peter Ward, a passionate man who - along with his wife Mary - has run one of the country's most fabulous food shops for the past 30 years. I've been visiting this shop, which also has a small café area, as a pitstop on the way to Dublin for years but have only recently visited their new outlet in Limerick City's Milk Market.

It's just as wonderful as the shop in Nenagh and I thought it was time to tell you all about it and all about Peter.

Peter is fanatical about food and practically evangelical about the quality of the food we produce here in Ireland.
"The excellence of Irish food is our oldest commodity," he says. "Think of our milk products, our black puddings, our seafood, even the oatmeal we've been producing for more than 2,000 years. All of these compare with the very best in the world."

This man should know what he is talking about given that he has devoted his life to food. Growing up in Navan, he lived in a house he describes as "the type of house where the food on the table was more important than the type of car in the drive".
His father loved food. "He was my original food hero," says Peter. "He travelled the country selling cattle and always brought food home from wherever he had been: beef, cheese, fish or black pudding."

After leaving school , Peter got a job with the Dunnes Stores supermarket chain. They sent him to Tipperary, where he met Mary - the woman he was to marry - at a local dance.
They shared a love of good food and decided to set up a speciality food store in Mary's home town of Nenagh. It opened in 1982 and in the years since then, it has become a haven for anyone with an interest in food.

Homemade salad dressings, pestos, the finest coffee beans, olives, farmhouse cheeses, wines; the list of foods you'll find here is long and drool inducing. The one thing they all have in common is that they are all of the highest possible quality.
Or as Peter puts it: "we sell the food we like ourselves, food we'd serve our visitors on a Sunday".

When they first opened their shop, their stock consisted of Mary's jams and the finest produce to be found at local agricultural shows and country markets. "I'd visit every show and market and see who had won what prizes," says Peter. "Then I'd ring them up and ask them if they could supply the shop. That's how we developed our contacts with people."

Their focus was always on organic, natural food. "We had duck eggs, brown soda bread and jam in our window that first day," remembers Peter. "They could be our family crest because they are still the basis of what we do today."

In the 30 years since then, Peter and Mary have added more and more produce to their shelves, including some of the finest artisanal produce from all over Europe. They also make and serve the best of Irish food in their café. Free-range chicken and leek gratin with colcannon, anyone?

"For us, it's all about where the food comes from," explains Peter. "Who makes it and how do they make it? These are the important questions."

This attention to quality explains why Country Choice has become a mecca for foodies in Tipperary and now in Limerick.

It's an attitude that Peter would like to see in all of Ireland's cafés, restaurants and eateries. In fact, he thinks it might be part of the solution to our current economic problems.
"Nobody is going to drop out of the skies into the rural parishes of Ireland," he says. "We need to look to our own and to what we are good at. We are good at tourism and food. Combine the two and work from there."
He believes that every tourist coming to Ireland should look forward to tasting Irish lamb, beef, butter, bread and milk. "And we should deliver on that promise," he continues. "It's treasonable to give our valuable guests cheap, foreign, mass-produced food."

You certainly won't find this at Country Choice in Nenagh. Nor will you find it in Limerick's Milk Market. Instead you will find the very best Irish food and in Peter, you will find a man enthusiastic to show you just how good Irish food can be.

Wild Garlic: the green growth and sunshine of springtime in Ireland

2011-04-24T11:24:00.001+01:00

The month of April has been wonderful here in Dingle. The sun has been shining. Nature has erupted in a growth spurt of green. I can hardly remember the grey, dark days of winter.

One of the best things about living in the countryside in the spring is watching nature come alive. You can't help but feel a thrill when you see the first buds on the trees and green leaves where there had only been barren grey...

What I hadn't realised until recently was just how much you can find to eat if you forage for it at this time of the year. Last year, I met many foraging enthusiasts who have taught me to see nature in an entirely new way: as a living larder on my doorstep.

So, when I was driving through a wooded area on Friday and spotted this:

I practically ground my car to a screeching halt.
Was it what I thought it was? I hurried into the woods to find out.

The closer I got, the more excited I became. Was it really what I hoped it was?

My nose was already telling me that my hunch was right. I'd found one of my favourite springtime foods: wild garlic.

I think wild garlic is the essence of springtime. It has such a fresh and delicate flavour, a flavour that is closer to chives than it is to the more pungent garlic you can buy in the shops.
If you are keen to forage for it, all you need to know is that it grows in woodlands, often among bluebells and that you can identify it by its garlic-like smell, its long leaves and its pretty white flowers.

As I gathered a bunch, I was already deciding how I'd cook it for that night's dinner. Combining it with some unsalted butter, crunchy sea salt and the freshest of fish seemed like a simple dish that would maximise its subtle flavour.

For the simplest and most delicious of springtime suppers for two, here's what I used:

70g unsalted flour
40g wild garlic
Sea salt

2 whole sole
Baby new potatoes

Green beans
1 tbsp unsalted butter
Half a lemon

I chopped the wild garlic and mixed it with the butter in a bowl, seasoning with sea salt.

I melted half of the garlic butter in a hot pan, adding a little bit of sunflower oil to stop it burning and cooked the sole in the melted butter (approx 3 mins each side).

I served the simply cooked fish with some boiled baby potatoes and lemony green beans. (Nigella Lawson suggests boiling beans in salted water and once they are tender straining them and transferring them to a saucepan with some butter and half a lemon that has been cut into segments. Stir until the butter has melted and the lemon segments have disintegrated slightly. Lemony goodness that sets the fish off to perfection!)

Serve the buttered fish with the potatoes and lemony green beans with some of the extra wild garlic butter alongside.

Pour yourself a glass of wine and savour the simple flavours of springtime.

What a wonderful time of year it is.

All together now: send me some sunshine

2011-04-14T10:18:00.000+01:00

I've got cupcakes baking in the oven at this very moment. Chocolate cupcakes, strawberry ones, Black Forest Gateau cupcakes, banoffee, white chocolate and raspberry and even lemon meringue ones: all destined for my stall at Dingle Farmers' Market tomorrow.

And lest fans of my brownies despair, they'll be on my stall too.

I've been back at the market for the past two weeks and it's been a bit of a rollercoaster ride so far. Two weeks ago, I ignored the weather forecast, mixed up some cupcake batter and decided the time was right for Little Miss Cupcake to return. After all, how bad could the weather really be?

It turns out that the question I should have asked was: how foolish can a cupcake maker really be? When I arrived at the market that Friday morning, it was so windy that everyone's canopy umbrella's were literally taking off. Anything that wasn't firmly tied down was blown away.

Hmm, thought Sharon. I don't have anything to tie my canopy down with and I don't really have anything to tie it to either.

Fortunately, my ever-resourceful boyfriend was nearby and together we found rope and tied my stall to a phone box, a tree, an electricity pole and my car! On a normal morning, it takes between 20 and 30 minutes to get my stall set up but on this windswept morning, it took two whole hours. Two hours of tying everything as tightly as possible, of chasing objects that would suddenly become windborne and at one stage rescuing a box of 50 cupcakes that was about to crash to the ground. STRESS!

Even worse was the fact that all but the most weather-beaten of our customers were scared off by the wind and I had very few sales. I was hugely disappointed that this was the outcome of my first day back at the market but the fact that I was able to barter cupcakes for produce from the other stalls made up for it a little.

Last Friday, the sun shone and things were better. More of the stallholders had returned too and with them came more customers. It felt like the market had come back to life after its winter slumbers.

Saorla was there with her vegan delights and delicious sandwiches (you should all try her roasted veggie sandwiches - they're scrummy!)

Mary had returned with her jams, home baking and hand-knitted cardigans for babies.

Janet's stall displayed her farm-fresh eggs, wonderful honey products and sweet treats.

Vegetable man Tom was especially proud of his rhubarb.

Eithne was pleased with her pancakes.

Lorna (who runs the Phonenix Restaurant in Keale and makes fabulous vegetarian food) had brought along someone who serenaded us with her violin.

Marie (from Quebec) is new to the market and as well as her excellent preserves and chutneys, she makes fudge that is to die for.

Greg is new too and one of the things he sells is bird houses that he crafts himself.

Neil's bread stall (with bread made by his wife Orla) is one of the market's busiest and last week, he was joined by Aine who was learning how to bake as part of her transition year work experience.

We will all be back again tomorrow and so will Olivier, Bríd, Britta, Sarah, Betsy and more. If you're there, do call by to say hello.

And don't forget: send some sunshine our way!