Review: ‘My Kitchen’ by James Martin

So I get some pretty wacky PR approaches – you name it, everything from: ‘would you like to come to our breastfeeding seminar?’ 

Er, no.

and… ‘would you like to write an article on our intimate lubricant?  Go on, we’ll send you a free sample!’

Er, no.

…to: ‘would you like to come to Vinopolis in London for an evening of fine wine and dining with James Martin?’

Would I bloody ever!

Sadly, events (and transport plans) conspired against me and I was unable to make it.  Bad times.  Happily, James’ lovely PR folks not only sent me on a goody bag with a swanky new doobry for leaving in your dishwasher than cleans 12 washes without refilling – this will be passed on to a delighted English Grandma as English Towers 2 is still in the dark ages and we have a ‘woman who does’ (yup, that’d be me) to do our dishes – but also a signed copy of his new book, My Kitchen.  Good times!  

So far, I’m loving the book and instead of adding to the large and precarious pile of cookbooks that currently irritates my Hubby by clogging up my bedside table, it has been my constant companion in the kitchen.  I really like the fact that the recipes are split into seasons (yes I know, been done before, but I think it’s so useful arranged like that), and I love the earthy, simple dishes.  There’s no poncy restaurant cooking here, just good, honest home food.  It reminds me a little bit of Matt Tebbutt’s book Cook Country: Modern British Rural Cooking.

I’ve made quite a few of the recipes.  The honey madeleines were utterly delicious and the spicy crab linguini was quick and really tasty.  I also tried the sticky chicken wing recipe but used chicken breast instead (I hate chicken wings – what a ridiculous, scrawny waste of time) and it was scrummy served with steamed pak choi and rice.  Nom.

There you have it, then.  Me and James, we’re like bezzie mates, we are.  I’ve got his signature to prove it.

Heh.

That ‘special’ cuddle

Oh lord.  Oh lordy lord.

I’ll warn you now, this is going to be one of those ‘too much information’ posts to which I am especially prone.  But I need advice, so I’m going to have to overshare.  Brace yourself.

Last night, the husband and I retired to our ‘boudoir’ (yes, the £99 Ebay bed is holding up, thank you for asking) and erm… well… y’know, we… erm… had a ‘special cuddle’ (this is the name I used when my children enquired about what Mummies and Daddies do to make babies.

Later, I popped to the bathroom (I know, I know – oversharing again).  As I was sitting on the throne with the door open (listen, we’ve been married 15 years – there are no secrets), I noticed something.  Reader, I went cold.

#1′s bedroom light was on.

Oh good grief.

As I sat, horror-struck, debating whether I should pop my head round the door and enquire if he’d heard his parents engaging in a little bedroom gymnastics if everything was okay, the light suddenly went off again.

Well.  I scurried back to bed and whispered urgently that we might have been rumbled.  Sadly, all I got in response was a little snuffly snore-like sound.  Damn.  I slept fitfully.  My dreams invaded by pictures of small boys holding up little signs with scores on them: 5.5, 5.9, 5.4…

And then this morning, in response to my breezy ‘good morning!’, I swear I detected a hint of embarrassment amongst the usual looming clouds of deodorant and teenage mutterings that accompany a 7am start.

Oh god.  Did he hear?  Should I enquire?  HOW does one enquire?  ‘Darling?  Anything keep you awake last night particularly?’, or maybe ‘sweetheart, you know that chat we had when you were in junior school about the facts of life…’

I put a quick text in to the other half: ‘oh god, I think he heard us.  Kill me now’.

But it was the reply that really killed me:

‘Just hope he didn’t record us and isn’t currently entertaining his mates with his new ringtone’.

Argggghhhhhhhhhhh!

Promotional Codes and really dodgy jumpsuits

So fashion, then.  I know I’m not particularly trendy (I blame four years of living in rural Ireland for the whole jeans/wellies/big jumper look), but since being back amongst my beautifully turned out friends (yes, Tums, that means you).  I’m beginning to feel slightly like Worzel Gummage on dress-down day.

Righto, I thought, I’ll have a little looksy on the Next website and spend some of my Christmas money; bring myself kicking and screaming into the twentytens (or is it the twentyteens?).  But seriously, I suddenly feel really old: I don’t know what ‘treggings’ are, and I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for ‘hot florals’.  I was particularly taken by this 100% polyester little beauty.  My oldest child said ‘erm, is that a ladysuit?’  Well quite.

I mean, I have no words.  Except maybe: ‘Oh. My. God’.  Would you wear it?  Would you?  Is anyone out there in the 18 – 24 age bracket?  Would you wear it?

Happily, there is some good news.  The lovely chaps at Promotional Codes have contacted me to let me know that they can give us all money off a new wardrobe.  Sadly, there’s no current Next ones, so I’m afraid if you want a jumpsuit with scarily positioned flowers adorning your crotch, you’ll have to keep popping back to the Promotional Codes website to check their latest offers.

But if ladysuits aren’t your bag (*cough*), then happily there  are money off codes for Laura Ashley, Wallis and even Comet if you’re a boy (I know.  Sexist.  Slapped wrist.)  There are codes for hotels, for shoes, for insurance, for restaurants, and pretty much everything else too.

I also noticed there’s a 20% code for Dell Vostro laptops.  So maybe I’ll persuade my Hubby to buy me a pink laptop for my birthday.  Happy days.

I’ll pass on the jumpsuit though, thanks.

For the latest promotional codes and discounts, just click here.

Chicken dhansak (spicy chicken and lentil stew)

Every time we have a takeaway from the local Indian Restaurant, Hubby always raves about their Chicken Dhansak.  It’s kind of a lentily, thick and very slightly sweet chicken curry with a powerful kick of chilli.  I’ve been trying to recreate it for a while and I think, judging by his reaction, I’m nearly there.  It’s great served with my cheaty flatbreads and once you’ve got the store-cupboard stuff, you’ll find you cook it again and again.  Here goes, then:

1 large onion, sliced

2 tbsp oil

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp dried chilli (more if you can take it)

1 tsp mustard seeds

1 tsp ground cumin

1 tsp ground coriander

1 tsp turmeric

1 tsp sugar

1/2 tsp black pepper, freshly ground

1 tsp grated ginger

1 tbsp dried fenugreek

750ml chicken stock

2 chicken breasts, cubed (cooked or raw – leftover tandoori chicken is perfect for this)

200g red lentils or dal/split peas

Righty ho, firstly a little word about lentils.  Generally I prefer the little red rentils that are readily available in the dry goods bit of the supermarket.  This time I tried Chana Dal, which only seem to be found in the Indian section of the big, enormous, superduper Tesco-a-go-go in the next town.  I found they didn’t break down as well as the smaller lentils and took longer to cook, but have an experiment and find out what’s best for you.

Onwards, then, to the main event:

The first and most important thing is to make sure you’ve got all your ingredients ready and measured.  Have all the spices ready on a plate, the ginger grated and the chicken cubed.  It will make your life a lot easier:

So firstly heat up the oil in a heavy based casserole (with a lid), sprinkle over the teaspoon of salt, and fry them gently until they’re translucent (forgive the picture, my lens got a bit steamed up):

Now add in all the spices and stir around for a minute to give them a time to infuse in the oil.  The mixture will become very dry, but don’t worry, just keep stirring:

Now just shove in the lentils/dal and the chicken, stir briefly to coat, and then pour in the stock. 

Cover and simmer for at least 20 minutes (especially if you’re using raw chicken) for the red lentils, and up to 45 minutes if you’re using the larger dal.  You might have to check and add a little extra hot water or stock if it thickens too much.

At the last minute, stir in a couple of handfuls of spinach, or coriander, or whatever you’ve got, and serve with steamed rice to which you’ve added a pinch of saffron and a few cardamom pods (warning: count them in and count them back out – nobody likes crunching on a whole cardamom!).  And yes, I know this is a rubbish photo, but I was flibbin starving!:

Next time, I’m going to attempt this recipe from Aktar Islam, Head Chef of Lasan, the winner of Gordon Ramsay’s F Word’s Best Local Restaurant competition to which I was bloody riveted (although I thought the Argentinian Restaurant should have won).  And no, I didn’t get free Cobra this time, but I still thought it was good (check out the video – the lady has a cat in her sink):

Aktar Islam’s Nawabi Pilau

Er… yup, I think that’s it.  Chicken dhansak: done.  (see what I did there?)

Nope, I’m all out. You’ll have to go elsewhere.

Okay, so after the madness that has been the last couple of days (I think I notched up 5 straight hours on Twitter on Saturday – ridiculous), and with our Shelterbox total standing at a very respectable £3622, today I thought I’d settle down and write a ‘normal’ blog post.  I sat at the computer awaiting inspiration.

Nope, nothing.

So I decided to catch up with some of the blog posts in my Google reader instead.  I follow a bloody ridiculous amount of blogs, which meant I had about 300 new blog posts to read.  It’s true, dearest reader, I’m a nerd.

This, plus the fact that my beloved, but completely mental friends had filled up my inbox with about 62 emails entitled stuff like ‘shitballs’ (we have these long, ridiculous, rambling conversations via email where we all hit ‘reply all’, it’s utterly confusing) meant that I had rather a lot of reading.

Another happy and unexpected bonus to all this tweeting and blogging for Haiti is that I’ve discovered tons of new foodie and winey (?) blogs to read, so happily I can send you elsewhere for some inspiration.  One of my faves is a fantastic wine blog called Knackered Mother’s Wine Blog.  Afterwards, I was tweeting about the amazing Lucy, who at just 14 writes possibly my favourite foodie blog, Teen Baker.  I think I’m particularly impressed as my own 14 year old, The Mad Professor, would have no chance of writing, spelling and punctuating a blog post, let alone cooking the food in the first place.  He does cook pretty well, but needs constant supervision as he tends to wander off muttering half way through the recipe, or forgets stuff, or just doesn’t stop talking ( things like the entire plots of books, in jaw-clenching detail, or, worse: the step-by-step walk-through of the dream he had last night) so that he drives me mad and I have to throw him out of the kitchen.

Where was I? Oh yes, blogs.  I also adore Epicute for no other reason than that I love food and I love cuteness, and this blog combines the two so perfectly.  And on the subject of gorgeous food, look no further than the utterly stylish Cannelle et Vanille.  And no list of fabulous food-bloggers would be complete without the Irish legend that is The Daily Spud (don’t be fooled, this blog is so much more than potatoes, I assure you), and while we’re in Ireland, my first port of call when lacking a little bit of inspiration in the kitchen is Italian Foodies.  And of course normally, I’d send you in the direction of Belly Rumbles when talking of food, but madame currently has something more important in the oven, if you get my drift.

And lastly but not leastly, nothing to do with food this one.  You MUST read this post by the delectable More than just a mother.  I defy you not to wet your pants (see what I did there?) laughing.

So there you have it.  I have absolutely nothing to say.

Oh.

Bloggers for Haiti: with a little help from my friends

Apologies for channelling The Beatles there.  But an amazing thing has happened.  A little email chat between friends has turned into a really amazing thing.  And I’m so, so proud.  Really, I am.

Our JustGiving page total stands at just over £3000, which means that so far we have raised enough money to send six whole boxes of help to the people of Haiti. 

And how did it all happen?  Well, it went something like this:

First, Erica at Little Mummy did a blog post…

then Laura at Are we nearly there yet, Mummy? did a blog post…

then Tara at Sticky Fingers did a blog post…

Then Alice at Dulwich Divorcée did a blog post…

then Rosie at Rosie Scribble did a blog post…

then Jo Beaufoix did a blog post…

Then Lulu at Family Affairs did a blog post…

Then Jane at Diary of a Desperate Exmoor Woman did a blog post…

And then Linda at You’ve got your hands full did a blog post…

and then Susanna at A Modern Mother and her amazing British Mummy Bloggers all did posts…

and then bloggers all around the world started blogging about it:

There was Grandad at HeadRambles in Ireland…

and Coastal Aussie and Baino in Australia…

and Don’t Bug Me in Canada…

and even Hails at Coffee Helps in South Korea…

and then all their wonderful readers donated money, and those readers that were bloggers did blog posts about it.  Then their readers donated money, and their readers who were bloggers spread the word by blogging, and the British Mummy Bloggers all blogged about it, and suddenly everyone was tweeting about it: Chris Evans tweeted about it, for goodness’ sake!

And not only did we make an enormous amount of money for Shelterbox to send their fabulous boxes to Haiti, but we made new friends, read new blogs, learned new things about each other.

And no, I doubt that many people will ever make a living out of blogging.  But bloody hell, we can make a difference.

STOP PRESS:

ShelterBox Press Officer Angelina Lambourn said: ‘The devastation in Haiti has moved everyone here. We now have our boxes on the ground and it’s a privilege to help. The scale of devastation is huge.   By the sheer grit and determination of our staff and volunteers we have been able to respond in record time.  Our thanks go to the teams of volunteers, as well as to our donors such as Englishmum.com, who have allowed us to do this.  ShelterBox relies entirely on public donations and people’s generosity. We receive no institutional funding and no DEC money. I’d urge, if you can, to help us.’

Bloggers for Haiti

UPDATE:  We have received a lovely message from James at ShelterBox:

‘ShelterBox would like to say a big thank you to the Bloggers for Haiti group. The money that you raise will help alleviate the suffering of people all over the world who have lost everything due to disaster and we are exceptionally grateful for your support.’

Original post:

So some eminently sensible person once said that nobody ever gets rich from blogging.  This, I fear, is true.  However, it does have some advantages.  I’ve been to Walt Disney World, Florida, for example, and I’ve been invited places and given things, and well, suffice it to say I’m very lucky.

The other advantage is that I’ve met (both in person and electronically!) loads and loads of really nice people.  My commenters, for example, are supportive.  They laugh at my jokes.  They sympathise when I’m miserable, cheer my successes and commiserate my failures. 

So you know me, right?  Well, if you’ve read even a tiny portion of all these thousands of words, you should have some idea.  I don’t ask for much.  I don’t even ask that you visit if you don’t want to.  But seeing as you’re here, I’d like a favour.  With several of my blogging friends, I’ve created a JustGiving page for the Haiti disaster.  I’d really, really like to be able to collect enough money to send one of these amazing ShelterBoxes.  They cost around £500.  That means that if just 50 of you give a tenner (and what’s a tenner?  A bottle of wine? – or two if you drink crappy ones like me), we’ll be able to pay for a whole one just on our own.  Multiply that by all the amazing bloggers dotted across the globe, and we could really make a difference.

ShelterBox is such a unique organisation, because what they provide is an entire rescue kit in a box.  Each box contains:

• A ten-person tent with privacy partitions that allow its occupants to divide the space as they see fit
• A range of other survival equipment including thermal blankets and insulated ground sheets, essential in areas where temperatures plummet at nightfall
• Life-saving means of water purification. Water supplies often become contaminated after a major disaster, as infrastructure and sanitation systems are destroyed, this presents a secondary but no less dangerous threat to survivors than the initial disaster itself.
• A basic tool kit containing a hammer, axe, saw, trenching shovel, hoe head, pliers and wire cutters.  These items enable people to improve their immediate environment, by chopping firewood or digging a latrine, for example. Then, when it is possible, to start repairing or rebuilding the home they were forced to leave.
• A wood burning or multi-fuel stove that can burn anything from diesel to old paint.  This provides the heart of the new home where water is boiled, food is cooked and families congregate. In addition, there are pans, utensils, bowls, mugs and water storage containers.
• Each box can be adapted to the individual needs of the disaster area, for example, following the Javanese earthquake in 2006, when some resources were available locally or could be salvaged from one storey buildings, the overwhelming need was for shelter – so ShelterBox just sent tents, packing two in each box.  The box itself is lightweight and waterproof and has been used for a variety of purposes in the past – from water and food storage containers to a cot for a newly born baby.
• And lastly, but I think just as importantly, each box contains a children’s pack containing drawing books, crayons and pens.  For children who have lost most, if not all, of their possessions, these small gifts are treasured.

So a small donation, then?  That’s all I ask.  And then I’ll feel like I’ve really achieved something out of blogging.  Even if it doesn’t make me rich.  Thanks xx

http://www.justgiving.com/Bloggers-For-Haiti

Oh and if you’re a blogger, please join us in promoting Bloggers for Haiti.  You’ll be amongst some serious blogging legends!

(Please note that if you prefer, you can also donate to the DEC Haiti Earthquake appeal and UNICEF by clicking on these links.)

A few of my favourite things…

So I finally got tagged in Tara Cain’s ‘favourite photo meme’.  I was beginning to feel  like Norma-no-mates as blogger after blogger got tagged (no, Tara, I’m not bitter…).  Finally, though, the fabulous, 51% Linda from Got Your Hands Full and the lovely Zoe over at Diary of a Surprise Mum took pity on me and  challenged me to publish my favourite photo…

And actually, I’ve cheated a bit as there are two.  The first is a picture of my firstborn, the wondrous Mad Professor, giving his beloved Grandad a piece of his mind, as usual.  I love the look on his face (it’s obviously a good story), and you can see that my Dad’s smiling as he’s listens to his Grandson waffling on.  Magical.

Second up is my favourite photo of The Death Wish Child.  He’s on a very windy beach in Lanzarote.  I’m not sure why I love it so much, but I love his scrunched up little smile and his funky denim hat: 

And lastly, here’s my absolute favourite song.  Hubby has it on his laptop, my rockin’, Slipknot loving #1 has this on his phone, as does funky, Chipmunk loving son #2.  It’s a proper family favourite:

So now, I tag the lovely Liz at Living with Kids, and let’s open it up a little farther shall we?  To Coastal Aussie in the land of Vegemite.  Off you go, then…

Curse you, Supersleepover Mum…

Picture the scene:

It’s dinner time. My child has come home from a sleepover and is enthusing about it, telling me every little detail. He’s stabbed a chip and is currently waving it about as he tells us how cool his mate’s mum is. I’m trying to sound interested, I really am, but frankly, the old eyes are starting to glaze over…

‘…and she’s, like, really trendy – and like, really interested in all the same music as us…’

['but I like your music...', I fight the urge to wail, 'I can name every member of N-Dubz... even the one with the hat...']‘, but actually I smile and say: ‘no way?  That’s great!’

The chip continues to wave around in mid-air.

‘…and we got a chinese and were allowed to order anything we wanted…spare ribs, crispy duck… anything.’

['No veg, then?']

‘…I had tons.  It was gorgeous…’

['but I cook you nice stuff too...'  Home made stuff...']  I follow the chip as it waves around in front of his mouth: ‘Wow, chinese?  You’re so lucky’.

‘…and she made wicked cookies with Green and Black’s and we were allowed to eat all of them…’

['but I do cookies - don't I?  I do!  I do cookies all the time!  Okay, mine say 'bollocks' on, but hey...  And cake!  I do cake!]  ‘Ooh yummy, bet they were gorgeous’.

The chip finally hits the target and there’s a brief pause before my torture continues:

‘…and she let us go on the trampoline in the snow.  It was awesome!’

[Shit.  Broken twisted limbs - no fucking way I'd let you do that...]  ‘Gosh, really?’.

Come on, admit it. You’ve all been there. Your child has come back from a sleepover and ‘X’s mum is awesome!’  Oh God.

X’s mum is obviously far trendier than me.  She must have the patience of Mother flippin’ Theresa and be as deaf as a geriatric.  I feel inadequate.  I’m crap at sleepovers.  I get really grumpy.  It has been known for me to request that their friends ‘shut the f*ck up’ when they’re still giggling at 2am.

But X’s mum goes above and beyond.  There was trifle.  Eaten in bed.  And she’s, like, so funny too…

['But wait, what about my hilarious parody of Kardinal's rap in Akon's 'Beautiful' ... pretty funny huh?...']

The thing is, she’s actually a really, really nice person.  It’s just that at the end of every sleepover, I want to poke out her eyes with a blunt kebab stick.  Talk about raising the bar.

Red crocodiles, Wiglet Noshers and other rubbish

Bloody snow. I’m so over it. Go away and let me go out to the shops already. I’ve spent the whole day at home AGAIN. It’s driving me ballistic. I went out and cleared the path only to be told that I could sued if someone slipped on it. How silly – if you’re coming down my path you must be coming to see me, in which case it would be a bit counterproductive to sue me, wouldn’t it? I mean, I’d be all cross and then I wouldn’t want you to visit me any more…

And then there’s the whole school/kid thing. Today, the school was open for year 10 to year 13 only, and then open only from 10am, and then only if they stayed on school property and didn’t go outside. For #1, this all proved far too much information. Apparently, the usual ‘one way systems’ didn’t apply, so they could break the rules (a good thing), but had to walk miles to get to a block that would take two seconds to get to if only they could walk across a teeny bit of playground (a bad thing). All this added to a head already stuffed full of quadratic equations and Shakespeare and tectonic plates… the poor child nearly spontaneously combusted.

Anyway, that first bit’s a bit of a lie as we did manage to walk to Tesco (imagine – a trip that once took up an entire day of driving and now I can walk there in ten minutes), did two crosswords, two loads of washing (another pain in the arse when it’s snowing – ten minutes of snowball fighting leads to a semi-naked pink child standing in the hallway surrounded by piles of soaking wet clothes, who decides to go back out an hour later and wants all his clothes back again) and read my old tweets back for several months (I do talk rubbish – did you know that Wiglet Noshers is an anagram of English Towers?).

Anyway, enough of this moaning. On the plus side, I’ve had a very exciting invitation (more news of this later), ordered some red mock-croc (well surely there can’t be real red crocodiles?) wellies on Ebay (yes, they’re a shameless rip off of the Jimmy Choo for Hunter wellies – and what of it?) and (after more emails, texts and phone calls than you can shake a stick at) finally decided to spend next New Year in a snowy log cabin in Sweden with my family.

Not a bad day then, really…