Review: ‘My Kitchen’ by James Martin

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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

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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

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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.

Next printed wide leg jumpsuit (c) Next.co.uk

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)

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Cut onions in half then slice thinly

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.

Chana dal

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:

Spices

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):

Steamy translucent onions

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:

Stir spices and onion

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

Add chicken and lentils

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!:

Tada!

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.

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My lips are sealed.

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

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Shelterboxes arriving in Haiti

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

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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 contents

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…

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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.

#1 and DD

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:

#2 baby

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…

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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.

Pic (c) belgianwaffling.blogspot.com

Red crocodiles, Wiglet Noshers and other rubbish

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Snow

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…

Devil’s food cake with chocolate fudge icing

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Devils food cake

*sigh*

It’s bloody January again (to quote Flanders and Swann). Apparently there is no news in the whole world apart from the fact that it’s snowing. And if that, plus the fact that fate decided to dump 4″ of it upon English Towers II wasn’t quite bad enough, it seems that no teacher can possibly drive in slush, so the kids are off as well. It’s enough to make you want to make a big fat sodding great chocolate cake and eat it all yourself.

So I did. Well, I didn’t eat it all myself, but I did make it. This is, technically, a ‘devil’s food cake’, originally from some dog-eared 1980s Good Housekeeping cookery book, but twiddled and tweaked to make it easier and, well, more fattening basically.

I thought I’d treat you to a little ‘step by step’ with photos. If you’re on a diet, I suggest you step away from the screen, stick your fingers in your ears and shout ‘la la la’ until someone turns your computer off for you. Just saying.

Devil’s Food Cake

75g good quality dark chocolate
250g brown sugar
200ml milk
75g butter
2 eggs
175g plain flour
1 flat teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

Chocolate fudge icing:

225g caster sugar
75g butter
1 tin condensed milk
25g dark chocolate
30g cocoa powder
3 tbsp water

1. Preheat your oven to gas 4/ 180 degrees and butter and line two shallow round cake tins:

Butter and line two cake tins

2. Bung the chocolate and sugar into a saucepan:

Put sugar and chocolate into saucepan

Add the milk and butter in as well. Once it’s all melted, remove from the heat and allow to cool.

Melt butter

3. Whisk the eggs until light and creamy:

Eggs

4. Then fold in the flour, bicarbonate of soda and the cooled chocolate mixture. Pour into the two prepared tins and bake for about 25-30 minutes until the centres are just firm to the touch.

Cake batter

5. Meanwhile, make the fudge icing. Add all the ingredients into a heavy-based saucepan. Heat it gently until all the sugar has dissolved, then allow to boil and let it keep on bubbling until it’s looking fudgy (put a teaspoonful onto a plate and have a look , you want a spreading consistency - it’ll thicken when it cools). If you want to be poncy you can measure the temperature with a sugar thermometer - it should get to about 105 degrees C. Keep stirring, you don’t want it to burn on the bottom. When it’s ready, turn it off and leave to cool.

Chocolate fudge icing

6. Now just spread a load of the icing on one cake, sandwich with the other cake and bung the rest of the icing all over the top. Stuff into face. Oh, and if you’re still miserable, you can always take it out on your husband’s car:

Hubby's car

What? That wasn’t me.

Moules et frites! (That’s mussels and french fries to you and me)

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Mussels

So, starting as we mean to go on (eating seasonally, I mean), I thought I’d give a mention to the humble mussel. Now it took me a long time to come around to them. Let’s face it, they look kind of like giant orange bogeys, but a few sunny harbourside holidays in Brittany put paid to any illusions about their fabulous taste. Now I’m a convert.

According to Loch Fyne, owners of the most dreamy seafood restaurants known to man, their Scottish Mussels are actually in season from around October to May, after which time it gets all icky with the spawning season. So right now is the time to rush to your fishmonger for a net or two of these ugly little beauties. We prefer ours simply done in a white wine and cream broth, but when we were on holiday it was a case of anything goes - we had ‘Caribbean Mussels’, ‘Curried Mussels’, ‘Thai Mussels’, you name it. It’s easy to bung in whatever extra spices or herbs you fancy so be inventive (and let me know if you come up with something fantastic).

I have to say that the first couple of times I cooked them, I was terrified I was going to murder my family with some horrible, seafood-based plague, but as long as you ask how fresh the mussels are, choose ones that aren’t broken/open you’ll be fine. Honest.

For a basic mussels with white wine and cream sauce you’ll need:

Couple of nets of fresh mussels (you’ll probably need a couple of kg for 4 people)

Small onion or a couple of shallots, very finely chopped

A big chunk of butter (say 50g)

Large glass white wine

The same amount of double cream

Fresh parsley

To prepare the mussels, firstly bung them into a big bowl of fresh cold water and give them a good rinse. Now’s the time to throw away any broken ones or any that don’t close completely when you give them a little tap (trust me, they’re dead). Now work methodically through them, picking off the hairy ‘beard’ bit from every one and giving them a quick scrub to remove any crusty stuff or barnacles.

Now in a big, heavy pan (to which you have a suitable well-fitting lid), melt the butter and gently fry the shallots until they’re translucent. Turn the heat up a bit and pour in the wine - let it bubble away for a bit, then chuck in the mussels. Pour over the cream, give them a bit of a stir then pop on the lid and leave it for a few minutes, shaking the pot occasionally.

The mussels really don’t take long to steam - they’re ready when they’re all open (about 3-4 minutes). Don’t overcook them, if they’re open, they’re done. Otherwise they’ll be rubbery and nasty. Sprinkle over the chopped parsley and serve with skinny little french fries (I’m rubbish at these so I buy oven ones).

Et voila. Bon appetite mes petites!

Frites a la oven

Five little things for 2010

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Ah, the bollocks pie. Delicious AND entertaining...

Happy New Year! We spent a happy evening with my lovely friend Jules, her hubby and her two little rugrats. We drank wine, giggled, played scrabble, watched Bob the Builder and ate beef stew and dumplings followed by chocolate brownies topped with splodges of double cream, butterscotch angel delight and chocolate sprinkles. Heaven.

I’ve no resolutions for this year. I’ve probably got a bit of extra flesh on the ol’ spare tyre, but I won’t be dieting. Why? Well for one thing I have absolutely no willpower, and for another, I love baking (and eating the results), and for anotherer (what? that’s so a word), my Hubby still thinks I’m sexy. Well, he doesn’t actually vomit when he looks at me. So it’s not going to happen. Uh uh. No way.

What I will do, though, is ask you to join me in doing five little things. These five things won’t make us better people, nor will they save the planet. No, these five little things will plant a little smile on your face. And what’s more important than that?

1. Buy free range chicken and eggs. Okay, so they might cost a little more, but do what I do and buy them slightly less. Having owned and loved a little gaggle of my very own chickens and got to know their quirky characters and intelligent natures, I can categorically tell you that a battery/barn/intensively reared hen has lead a miserable life. And we can’t live with that on our conscience, can we?

2. Cook something that you’ve never cooked before. Go on, be a devil. I’m going to try my hand at marmalade this year. It might be a disaster as I am possibly the most cack handed person in Hertfordshire, if not the world, but hey, it’ll be a new skill. Oh and send me a photo. You know I love that.

3. Buy stuff that’s in season but don’t be precious about it. Let’s face it, we all eat pineapples and bananas and drink tea and coffee. Air miles are always going to be part of the equation, and with the advent of Fair Trade we can salve our consciences at the same time. No, I mean buying fresh English (or Irish - wherever you happen to live) produce where you have the choice and cooking it with love. Hubby arrived home on Christmas Eve with three proper ‘trees’ of sprouts. The children actually didn’t realise that sprouts grew like that.

4. Love yourself. No, I’m not going all new-agey and ‘knit your own yoghurt’, I just mean give yourself a break. How many times have you looked in the mirror and hated what you saw? Criticised yourself in some way? Brushed off a compliment (‘what, this old face? Oh I’ve had it years….’? In 2010, look in the mirror and give yourself a big, sexy wink. Remember, how do you expect anyone else to love you if you can’t even do it yourself? And let’s face it, you’re gorgeous. Smile. Sing. Be a bit bonkers. Have a dance. Talk bollocks on Twitter (I’m @EnglishMum) - whatever makes you happy.

5. And finally, une petite challenge. This came from a silly Twitter conversation with my friends Jen and the presents queen. This competition is open to all comers and will last the entire year. It’s the grand ‘mental cookbook’ competition. Whoever finds (and actually owns) the maddest cookery book wins the prize (don’t worry, I’ll make it a good’un). If you reckon you’ve got a contender, drop me a line. I’ll be updating you with the action throughout the year. Obviously my Merry Kitschmas book doesn’t count. Ebay cruising will never be the same again. Bring it on, then.

Anyone got anything to add? Come on now, don’t be shy…