Soup and a good book.

I have forsworn cake for lent. It’s not that I am worried about my eventual entry through the gates of heaven (though it could be a tight squeeze) but that I am concerned with the close-fitting nature of my jeans.

I have tried re-introducing the family to salads but the family was having none of it. They complained vociferously and informed me that it’s still too chilly for cold dinners. They have a point. It is surely the season for soup.

Aztec Soup

For my March edition of Cooking the Books, I have devised the ultimate soup recipe. It was almost too easy this time. The book, Umami by Laia Jufresa, practically spelled out the recipe to me. It all came together like some sort of literary magic.

 Find the review and the recipe for Aztec soup here.

Today is World Book Day. Small Girl is very excited about finally qualifying for a free book voucher and I’m happy to have an excuse for a bookshop outing. The books look great this year. Take a look at the list on I won’t be able to resist the Famous Five stories and I suspect Small Girl will want the one about underpants.The gallery of World Book Day doodles by well known illustrators is also well worth a look.

I like lists. I am a maker of lists and a dedicated ticker of lists. Best of all the lists, of course, are book lists and there are some fantastic book lists out there. If the internet had been invented just for the book lists it would have been worth it. These are some of my favourites:
The Agnes Reading List. I’m blowing my own trumpet here since I compiled this list of books for teenage girls. My all-time most loved books are on this list.
The Rory Gilmore Reading Challenge. Rory Gilmore is one extremely well-read young (and fictional, by the way) lady. These are all the books she reads or mentions over the seven seasons of The Gilmore Girls. You can tick the books you’ve read on this VERY good list (SO satisfying, I’m at 64 of the 339 books).
The Guardian’s list of 100 best novels ever written in English is a SERIOUS list, developed over two years by Robert McCrum. It’s compiled in chronological order. I’ve read 25 which is hardly very impressive.
The 100 Best Children’s Books from is a thing of beauty. I could flick through this quite contentedly all day long.
The 25 greatest cookbooks of all time is calling to me. So much temptation. The only one of these I own is Moro. My birthday is coming up soon…hello, family…can you hear me? Hint, hint, etc.
My favourite cookbooks are listed here.
Barack Obama’s Reading List: The 79 books recommended by a very bookish president during his time in office.
J.K Rowling’s Reading List: The books which have most influenced the world’s most successful author.

If you don’t find what you’re looking for in any of those lists you could take a glance through the books I’ve read since starting this blog in May 2015.
I hope you find a book you love today.

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To the one I love…

nigella Lawson, tessellating hearts.

There are days when I am convinced that Nigella Lawson was put on Earth to make me fat.

Negella Lawson, custard cream hearts.

Or happy. Let’s face it: the woman is a genius.

nigella Lawson, tessellating hearts.

Hearts tessellate, who knew?

Nigella Lawson, custard cream hearts.

Feast is one of my favourite cookbooks. It reads like a lesson in loving life, revelling in it.

Nigella Lawson, custard cream

Feast lives on my eye-level shelf for ease of access when an occasion needs to be celebrated, a success savoured, a sorrow consoled, a date marked.

Nigella Lawson Custard Cream Hearts

Happy St. Valentine’s Day to you all and, most especially, to the one I love.

Truly. Madly, deeply. To my Valentine.

The recipe for Nigella’s  Custard Cream Hearts is here.

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Cooking the Books while Elizabeth is Missing.

Tete a tete narcissus, table-top daffodils.

Elizabeth is Missing.That’s a great title, isn’t it? What a hook? You can’t help wondering who Elizabeth is and what’s happened to her.

Emma Healey‘s beautifully crafted book broke my heart a little bit, as all good books should.

Elizabeth is Missing by Emma Healey.

Maud is 82 and confused. Sometimes she can’t quite recall what the machine for heating bread, you know, making it brown, is called. Sometimes she’s not certain who that young woman in the kitchen is. And why are there six cups of cold tea lined up on the hall table?

There is one thing of which Maud is absolutely certain; Elizabeth is missing. Elizabeth is not at home and her nasty son is acting suspiciously. The problem is that nobody will listen to Maud anymore. They won’t believe her and it’s very difficult to solve a mystery when the clues, a powder compact and a hair comb, don’t make sense and, furthermore, she can’t quite remember who it is she’s searching for. She has to rummage in her pockets to find the note she wrote to remind herself. Who was it that’s missing? Oh yes, that’s right, Elizabeth.

Oh Lord, this was heart-wrenching. To be honest, I wasn’t too concerned about Elizabeth. I guessed that she was either dead or grand. It was Maud’s loss that squeezed my guts – her loss of memory, loss of dignity and loss of identity.

If I were to cook a dish to represent this book, it could only be tea and toast as that’s about all Maud is up to.

Elizabeth is Missing is an intriguing and satisfying but, ultimately, terrifying read.

Notice how dark this photo is? It was snowing outside the window, just inches from the cup, when I took it. Perfect weather for tea and toast. My job has a lot of perks.

Elizabeth is Missing by Emma Healey

Speaking of which, I have exciting news for you. Well, it’s exciting for me but you’re welcome to come along for the ride.

As you know, I have been reviewing books for Bookwitty for a while now. I love it SO much. It is, without a shadow of a doubt, my dream job. I can’t believe my luck. Now, it gets even better because they have trusted me with a regular slot, combining my two favourite things in the world: books and food. You might almost call it a column although I’m wary of recalling my Carrie Bradshaw aspirations.

Every month I will write about a book and include a recipe that bears some relationship to that book. It might be a dish that was cooked in the book or it might be a representation of my own devising. I’m SO excited about this as I have already LOVED writing this type of blog post.

Remember A God In Ruins and a Far Breton.? People should eat more Far Breton. It’s great for readers due to the absence of crumbs! I also loved doing The Improbability Of Love On First Dates. That was an ideal book and an ideal recipe for Valentine’s Day if any of you are thinking that far ahead.

My Prue Leith review with a recipe for Mozzarella in Carozza  was the spark for the whole column idea. In December, I cooked some honey-soaked Greek cookies . For diet-conscious January I suggest puffy chouquettes as featured in Muriel Barbery’s Gourmet Rhapsody. These light-as-air morsels could hardly be considered a sin.

Gourmet Rhapsody by Muriel Barbery

Plans are afoot to have something naughty prepared in time for Valentine’s Day. Here’s a sneak (and, again, snow-lit) preview. I started re-reading this book last night. I’ve noted on the first page that I read it for the first time, as a barely legal 19-year-old in 1991. It still has the power to make my heart race. I must be still alive then.

Dangerous Liaisons by Choderlos de Laclos

I feel that my brain has been packed away in wadding for the past two decades while I have been raising children. Slowly but surely now, it is coming out of hibernation. This, this blog, the book reviews and the interaction with you, feels to me like a small miracle and I am very grateful.

Tete a tete narcissus, table-top daffodils.

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Best, Easy, Gluten-Free, Hassle-free, Make-Ahead Frozen Christmas Meringue.

frozen meringue cake

Consider this my gift to you this Christmas.

This frozen meringue cake hardly even merits the title of recipe and yet it has become the chameleon-like stalwart of my repertoire. It is easy child’s play to make. Everybody likes devours it. It can be made to feed any number of guests, young or old, transformed from cake to pudding simply by using a different container and flavours can be varied from season to season as the mood takes you.(You might remember the blackcurrant version, here.)

The only essentials are meringues and whipped cream. Beyond these two, the ingredients are open to creative interpretation. I might have added almonds but for an almond-allergic guest on my list. Walnuts would work. Marrons glacés would be delicious. Mixed citrus peel would be delightfully Sicilian.

I am luck enough to be the proud and fortunate mother of a Teenage Daughter who is happy to avoid studying for her exams by making meringues for me. TD always uses this recipe. Given the week that’s in it, feel free to use shop-bought meringues. They will be grand.

cranberry sauce

I usually find time to make my own cranberry sauce for Christmas and generally make too much (especially since we don’t have turkey) so this recipe puts it to good use.

making cranberry sauce

Homemade cranberry sauce is the work of mere minutes (7, to be exact) and certain to put you in the holiday mood but, again, the to-do lists are lengthy at this time of year so shop-bought will be absolutely fine. I use this recipe.

Ingredients for Christmas Frozen Meringue Pudding:

10 meringues, broken into chunks
250mls fresh cream, whipped
50g hazelnuts, toasted in a dry pan and chopped
1/2 tin of dulce de leche (or caramel sauce)
1/2 jar of cranberry sauce.

To decorate: 100 g melted dark chocolate
To decorate to excess: several Cadbury’s Crunchie (honeycomb) bars and a drizzle of cranberry sauce.
To decorate tastefully: sorry, you’ll have to come up with that one yourself, I’m all out.


Line a Christmas pudding bowl, or a 20cm cake tin, or individual freezer-proof cups with cling-film.

Scatter the broken meringues into the whipped cream. Dollop the sauces on top. Sprinkle in the nuts. Mix all the ingredients together.

making frozen meringue cake

Press firmly (to eliminate air gaps) into the lined container and freeze overnight.

That is it! Could anything be easier?

Ah, but wait…

…now, my big pudding is safely tucked away in the freezer for Christmas Eve but I made a special itty-bitty pudding just for you. This is just to say thanks, for being out there, listening to me, praising, advising and encouraging me, and keeping me company.

frozen meringue cake

Isn’t that just grand, turned out on to a sparkly plate and de-frocked of it’s cling film.

But wait…surely a lighted candle is called for on this, the second-shortest day of the year, when I want my blogland friends to know how much I appreciate them all, each and every one, and I’m certain a drizzle of dark chocolate could only make it better.

frozen meringue cake

Wait, wait, wait…I have a great idea (famous last words at Christmas)…

…let’s raid the kids’ selection boxes and find a Cadbury’s Crunchie. Then, let’s take a rolling pin and, thinking of that %^&&*^$ who stole the world’s last parking space at the supermarket, smash that Crunchie to smithereens. Ah, yes, that felt good. Are you still there? Have ye all given me up as a mad raving looney?

frozen meringue cake

Wait… last time, I promise,

…a drizzle of cranberry sauce just because I love the colour:

frozen meringue cake

Being serious, these few days leading up to Christmas are always hectic but also somehow the best part. A few goodies like this one stowed away in the freezer can be a genuine mental bulwark against panic.

My best mental health advice, however, is to keep a rolling pin and a large stack of Cadbury’s Crunchies to hand throughout the season.

We are down to the final stretch my friends, the year turns tomorrow and we can raise our heads and face the finishing line. Let’s cheer each other over the line.

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Relish, Reindeer and Melomakaronas.

Christmas Preparations.

Hah! Say that with your mouth full of cookies.

The sky is hanging about 12 feet above the ground. It’s not raining, exactly, but the finest mist is dangling there in the most exasperating fashion. It feels like a slight weight, a downwards pressure on the shoulders and the spirits.

I am feeling tired, perhaps under-caffeinated (more on that anon) and in dire need of cake.

If you fancy a delicious morsel pop over for a look at my melomakarona recipe and review of The Little Christmas Kitchen. I worked hard to make this a good recipe and it really is.

melomakaronasMelomakaronas are delicious Greek cookies, soaked in a spiced honey syrup and traditionally eaten at Christmas. We devoured (I say we because I don’t want to admit that I ate so very many) dozens of them as I was testing this recipe. The book, The Little Christmas Kitchen by Jenny Oliver was also a real treat. I didn’t expect it to have much bite but it caught me by surprise and really hit a nerve. I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it for holiday reading.

I went all out, hell for leather, on the Christmas preparations last week. The only problem is that there is almost no light at all so I have very little photographic evidence of my efforts. Here is one candle-lit photo which pretty much encapsulates my week:

Christmas Preparations.

Rudolf was the high-light. Isn’t he adorable? He is my very first crocheted toy and I am more than a little enamoured.If you are tempted, you can find the pattern here. He may get stuck with the name Rudolf Gilmore as I made him while watching The Gilmore Girls with my daughters. Anyone else watch it? It was terrible. Less said the better.

I realised in panic, as I opened my last jar of rhubarb chutney, that I was in imminent danger of having NO CHUTNEY FOR CHRISTMAS! Action stations were assumed, my most humongous pot was excavated from the dreaded corner cupboard and filled to the brim with the stuff of toasted cheese sandwich fantasies. We call it fakeymaloe relish, it’s not so far off the real McCoy and you can find my not-so-secret recipe here.

Chutney crisis averted, I moved on to emergency mitten replacement for the Small Girl. If these look like exactly the same mittens I made last year it’s because they are, but one size bigger. I used the same ball of cheap yarn that refuses to come to an end regardless of how many Barbie dresses and babydoll blankets I make from it. The Small Girl is content because they match every other pink thing in her life and I won’t be heartbroken when she inevitably loses one of them (never both). Just looking back at last year’s mittens I was reminded of this post which I must try to bear in mind as I strive to resist strangling my Teenage Son in the run up to his Christmas exams.

So, we were going well (errant teenagers aside) with the reindeer and the mittens and the twelve jars of chutney and then…disaster struck…my beloved Burleigh mug took a nose dive off the arm of my chair, bounced a couple of times and skidded out the door to the hall where it spun around dramatically before striking a tragic handle-less pose.

It has been carrying a chip on its rear end for months now but that didn’t bother me. This mug is a champion, a hero amongst mugs. It can hold thirty percent more than the average mug which is just exactly how much more coffee you feel you need when you reach the bottom of an average mug. This ergonomically-shaped mug also keeps coffee hot for a good forty minutes which is exactly how long you need to drink a thirty percent longer cup of coffee. Also, it’s very pretty. And my favourite colour. Sob.

I was quite prepared to live with a handle-less-chipped-but-otherwise-perfect mug but when Husband attempted to fill it he discovered a fatal injury. Scroll back up to the photo and see if you can spot it.

‘Yes, you can still use your mug,’ he assured me, ‘but only if you are willing to approach it sideways on and never have more than an inch of coffee at a time.’

The family have little pity. They are all greatly relieved that I, as opposed to anyone else, broke my own mug.

Since then, I have achieved nothing. Zilch. Nada.

I have sliced the top off my left index finger bringing a halt to all yarny activity.

I have thrice stepped in dog poo and some incontinent, foul fowl has taken a shine to the windscreen and bonnet of my car.

The laundry basket has complained to the laundry basket union about over-time and over-crowding.

I ordered pizza for Sunday dinner.

There is every chance that my Husband is writing to Santa as we speak requesting a proper, functional housewife as his old one appears to have broken down.

Here…the man said it:


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Jamie Oliver’s Christmas Cookbook.

Yule Log. From Jamie Oliver's Christmas Cookbook.

I was humming and hawing about buying Jamie Oliver’s Christmas Cookbook pretty much from the moment I heard of its existence. This is my fix, my drug of choice.

Jamie does such luscious books and I have, wait while I go count, seven, oh dear, I can hardly believe that myself, seven of his books already and I hardly ever cook from them but they are soooo nice, so lovely and so pretty and sort of wholesome looking…

…but none of them a Christmas Cookbook, not that I need a Christmas Cookbook since we eat the same dinner every year (chicken liver pâté, forerib of beef, Christmas pudding and baked Alaska) but it would make me happy and maybe prevent my stabbing somebody which is often on the cards come Christmas…

…I definitely don’t need it but it would be a treat and I do need a treat. So?

‘We wants it. We needs it. Must have the precious.’

I made little deals with myself:

If I buy Jamie Oliver’s Christmas Cookbook I won’t buy any Christmas magazines.
I’ll buy Jamie Oliver’s Christmas Cookbook and maybe just one magazine but I won’t get my hair done until December.
I’ll buy Jamie Oliver’s Christmas Cookbook and one magazine that has something useful in it but I need to get my hair done because my resemblance to Mrs Malfoy is gone beyond a joke but, I know, I won’t order any ridiculously extravagant Christmas food from the M&S catalogue (the book, by the way, costs roughly the same as a jar of pâté).

On I went, striking bargains with myself, all the while knowing I was going to buy the bloomin’ book and kind of enjoying the bitter-sweet torment of waiting for exactly the right moment. I do this all the time. I am that annoying person who can put a bar of chocolate in a drawer and think about it for three weeks before eating it. It drives the Husband crazy. I’m not so good at resisting cheese toasties but then, who would want a three week old cheese toastie?

Anyway, I was near the point of saying;

‘d’you know what, I’ll live without Jamie Oliver’s Christmas Cookbook. I shall instead embrace the spirit of the season and buy the RHS book of Herbs for Gourmet Gardeners which I have seen Husband drooling over.’

Then suddenly, like a Christmas miracle, I was offered the opportunity to review Jamie Oliver’s Christmas Cookbook for and I grabbed that chance like a woman possessed. Click here to read on…

Manhattan. Jamie Oliver's Christmas Cookbook.


[PS. A little aside: I don’t get paid for referring you to In this case, given that Bookwitty offers free postage worldwide, I think they are offering Jamie Oliver’s Christmas Cookbook at the best price around. However, depending where you live, you might want to check how long it will take to arrive.]

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Gourmet Rhapsody.

Muriel Barbery. Gourmet Rhapsody. toast.

Cardiac insufficiency. A man is dying because he has not heart enough to support his own passions (food, mainly, and possibly wine). This near-heartless man cares not a whisker about final adieus to his long-suffering wife or steadfast mistress. He has no wisdom to impart to his under-valued children. In the space that his heart should have filled there is only an insatiable longing for one particular food, a flavor par excellence, that he cannot quite identify. From his deathbed, Monsieur Arthens explores his culinary memories from appreciation of his grandmother’s gravy to becoming France’s most revered food critic.

In a lifetime of writing about food the gourmet has entirely missed the point. Food should be relished, not picked apart. In dissecting every meal he has let the heart of it escape. By excluding his family he has turned his back on the most essential of all seasonings. In bite-sized  chapters his wife, children, neighbours, employees and protégé each take turns to pour scorn, defend or grieve the dying gourmet. Meanwhile, Monsieur continues his search for a single, elusive taste of…something.

Muriel Barbery. Gourmet Rhapsody. toast.

Muriel Barbery‘s Gourmet Rhapsody is a book to make your mouth water. Every single page exudes an aroma of browning butter, or drips a deeply reduced jus, or is stained with a ring of Burgundian wine. It is a delicious book but, like a balanced cocktail, Gourmet Rhapsody has an Angostura bitter note. It brings to mind the very best of food you have ever eaten while at the same time reminding you that you will most likely never experience that food, in the same place and in the same way, ever again.

Sometimes, most times, when we recall a food it is the whole experience that is stamped upon our hearts. Rice pudding with jam by firelight. Mince pies by fairylight. Sausages on a barbecue in a midsummer garden. Red wine at a long table in the dim cellar of a house in the Pyrenees. Tayto sandwiches on the beach and dripping 99s in the car on the way home. Toast in bed at 2AM in a maternity ward. Toast in bed on a Sunday morning with a good book and a frothy coffee. Toast.

I have long sought to rediscover a certain whiskey-orange sorbet. Husband and I were in Co. Clare on our first holiday together. The climax of our week was a meal in a restaurant called Barr Trá. We ate in the conservatory which had a spectacular view of sunset on Liscannor Bay. I can’t remember a single other thing I ate, I suspect there were mussels and I’m certain there was brandy, but that sorbet has taunted me for two decades.

How could I possibly recreate that moment? I can’t get back the perfect ninety seconds, with my foot wrapped around his calf, that it took to let five or six sunlit spoonfuls dissolve on my tongue. I hope, when I am on my deathbed, that it comes to mind.

Once a year or so, maybe even less, I take a fancy for an egg-in-a-cup. That’s the official name, at least in my head. My Granny used to make this for my breakfast along with bread which was first buttered and then toasted under the grill, most importantly, on the buttered side only. Monsieur Arthens has something to say about buttering bread before you toast it:

‘Why is it that in France we obstinately refrain from buttering our bread until after it has been toasted? The reason the two entities should be subjected together to the flickering flame is that in this intimate moment of burning they attain an unequalled complicity. The butter loses some of its creamy consistency, but nevertheless is not as liquid as when it is melted on its own, in a bain-marie or a saucepan. Likewise, the toast is spared a somewhat dreary dryness, an becomes a moist, warm substance, neither sponge nor bread but something in between, ready to tantalize one’s taste buds with its contemplative delicacy.’

The egg, or two, should be placed in a small pot of cold water and brought to the boil. Simmer for three minutes for a runny yolk. A dear friend gave me a brilliant and fool-proof egg-timer gadget that goes in the pot and changes colour as the egg cooks. You can find one here.

When the time is up, chip the top off the egg with a spoon and scrape the innards into a cup. Add a generous corner off a block of butter and a pinch of salt. Now, use the spoon to whack the egg around the sides of the cup until it has absorbed the butter into itself. You don’t want to liquidise the whole thing, just break it up. The chipping and the scraping and the whacking and the eating are all marvellously satisfying.

I watched my mother make eggs-in-a-cup like this for all my little sisters when they were babies so I can only presume she made them like this for me too. I know that when she handed me the cup to spoon feed a hungry sibling I was as likely as not to eat most of it myself between turns of chugga-chugga-here-comes-the-train. I made eggs-in-a-cup for my own babies and it always made me feel that I was doing my job right.


Unlike the whiskey-orange sorbet, egg-in-a-cup is a blend of many memories. It doesn’t rely upon an Atlantic sunset, a particular whiskey or the added frisson of young love. I needs only a warm kitchen, an egg, bread, butter and a spoon. The bare essentials.

Muriel Barbery has created a book which defies criticism. How could I tear asunder a meal, I mean book, which has so painstakingly been constructed. This is a book to be savoured, meditated upon and remembered. Like the very best of books, I mean meals, there is a lesson in it. Live. Live and love and eat every bit of it now. Now.

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Murphy’s Crab Apple, Rose Hip and Quince Jelly and, even better, Murphy’s Membrillo.

wild crab apples, rosehips and japonica.

If only I could learn to trust, when September turns rotten, that October will blaze through with golden light.wild crab apples, rosehips and japonica.

Can you believe all this was foraged from the very hedge which marks the boundary of Cork city and county. The hedge runs through a bit of land known as Murphy’s farm. Not even my extremely knowledgeable father-in-law has been able to tell me who Murphy was but I guess he must have planted these crab apple trees. I thank you, Mr. Murphy.

Husband did the tree-shaking while Small Girl and I hopped about gathering these fairy-sized apples.The rose hips were somewhat more painstaking. There are a handful of Rosa rugosa, probably planted by the city council, but most are common dog rose (Rosa canina) and hail from the county side of the hedge. In the background of the above photo you can see a colander full of red crabs from our garden tree which is a red sentinel. We also threw in a half dozen fruits from our ornamental quince (Chaenomeles japonica) which Alys Fowler assures me (in this book) is edible and suitable for jelly-making.

So, it all went into a pot. 800g of garden crab apples, 800g of  2 different unknown varieties of foraged crab apples, 350g of rose hips and 100g of ornamental quince.wild crab apples, domestic crab apples, rosehips and japonica.

That made 2050g, let’s call it 2 Kg, so I added 2 litres of water and the pared zest of 2 lemons and cooked the whole lot to a mush which took about an hour. I then poured the pulpy mess into a large square of muslin and hung it over a big bowl to drip overnight. These are Darina Allen’s instructions which, no doubt, are better than mine.

Meanwhile, I grasped the opportunity to catch-up on some dead-heading. It is worth growing poppies and calendula just for the satisfaction of having a job to call you out to the garden at this time of year.

We have some chamomile growing wild. It smells SO much better than the teabags and gives my Easter Island buddy quite an interesting hairdo:img_2348-2

Fennel. Cripes, I love this stuff. I can’t get enough of it. img_2350-2

The roses, like myself, have found their second wind. img_2353-2img_2362-2

I’m reluctant to strip the garden bare but I did scavenge a small and sunny bouquet to bring indoors.img_2367

Back to Murphy’s jelly…

Next morning I was left with 1050mls of strained juice (I must remember to brush my hair in future).img_2368

To this I added the juice of 2 lemons and 790g of warmed sugar. (It’s 450g of sugar per 600mls of liquid.) I boiled all that for about 10 minutes until it showed signs of setting on my marble counter top (I’m very lazy). When potted up I had this much jelly:crab apple jelly,Seriously, look at the colour of that. I hereby name that colour Murphy’s October. I know I have shown you quite a few jellies this year but this one, I think because of the mix of fruits, is the outstanding winner. The white currant came close but this is more complex and satisfying.

Experimentally, I took Alys Fowler at her word and pressed the remaining pulp through a fine sieve. That took a good deal of patience and resulted in a fairly unattractive and bitter 600g lump of…something. I had very little faith in this but I kept going. crab apple pulp for membrillo

I added an equal measure of sugar, the pared zest and juice of one lemon and a split vanilla pod. This mixture was brought to the boil and simmered for half an hour until it was coming away from the sides of the pan and almost forming a ball. I think I probably should have held my nerve a few minutes longer because the resulting paste is still a bit moist. I present to you, a new and wonderful foodstuff…

Murphy’s Membrillo:wild membrillo. crab apple, japonica quince, rosehip.

It is, I swear to you, one of the most incredibly delicious things I have ever tasted. It gets into all your taste buds, you know, even the ones under your tongue and at the back of your cheeks. It was delicious with roast chicken. It was a total knock-out when shmeared on top of a toastie made with some Toonsbridge scamorza.

The Small Girl tossed and turned with a raging temperature last night. She was kind enough to come in to my bed to keep me apace with how she was feeling. ‘Don’t worry about that strange noise, Mum,’ she reassured me in the wee hours, ‘that’s just my nose rattling.’

She is still under the weather today so she and I are having a quiet time. A bit of cutting and sticking  accompanied by several doses of Calpol have passed the morning nicely.img_2388

Not to mention many large cups of coffee and a couple of jelly-topped scones. If you need a scone recipe to go with your jelly you could do worse than this one.wholemeal scone with wild jelly.

I’m going to join her now for the junior bake-off and a bit of knitting.

Can you guess where this is going? I’ve never done intarsia before so this requires serious concentration on my part, maybe a large latte…Mrs Weasley jumper.

and probably several more doses of Murphy’s Jelly.



Carrageen Moss Seaweed Pudding.

Carrageen Moss Pudding.

My mother believed in a good tonic.

By tonic I mean a concoction administered with the aim of reviving the spirits and protecting against all manner of ailment. My mother had some sort of internal clock that sounded an alarm when the tonic was due. It may have been signaled by the failing of the light or perhaps the first frost or the clock going back an hour or just a mother’s instinct.

If the timing was regular, the formulation was anything but.

Back in the 1970s, the tonic was a vibrant yellow and viscous fluid that went by the worrisome name of radiomulsion. The exact contents, or the reason for the ‘radio’ in the name, I fear to google. The stuff came in a brown glass bottle that needed to be stored in the fridge for fear it would spontaneously combust. I loved it and would regularly sneak a swig of it when no-one was looking.I suspect I may have lived through the 70s with a glowing yellow aura about my person.

Much later on, as the stress of exams was added to the risk of viruses new and old, a vitamin supplement known as Vivioptal was the tonic-du-jour. This waxy brown capsule was of a size designed to lend credence to its extraordinary claims. Never mind raising your flagging spirits; this stuff would resurrect the dead. The thing was, the timing was crucial. You were to take a course of it at exactly the right interval before the exam. Too early and you would waste your burst of energy and crash before English Paper One, too late and you would only be lifting off just as the state examiner packed up his papers and left. One imagines that the stress of getting it right could only have been counter-productive.

In between these dubious concoctions, my mother placed her faith in a gentler remedy called Carrageen Moss. Chondrus crispus, also called Irish Moss, is a seaweed that grows along North Atlantic coastlines. It is hugely rich in iron, magnesium and iodine and has been taken in Ireland for centuries as a cough remedy. You can read about the many, genuine benefits here and,  you can buy it here. It’s practically weightless so the postage shouldn’t cost much wherever you are. This little 40g bag contains enough for 4 batches of 8 servings each.

Carrageen Moss for pudding

My mother began by using Carrageen Moss to make a honey-sweetened and lemony tea which was palatable enough but slightly reminiscent of the radiomulsion in its gloopiness. Never a quitter, she experimented with Carrageen Moss Pudding and so we discovered the greatest of medicines; a restorative tonic that was good for both body and soul.

Here is what you do:

Selfie with seaweed.

Weigh, as best you can, just a scant 10g of Carrageen Moss. Err, if you must, on the side of less rather than more or your pudding will be too stiff.

Carrageen Moss.

I desperately want to find yarn of this colourway. Isn’t it gorgeous?

Add the dried seaweed to 500 mls of full-fat milk. You can replace up to half the milk with cream if you like but there really is no need. Add 150g of sugar and 2 teaspoons of vanilla extract.

Bring the milk slowly to the boil and then simmer for 10 minutes. You will feel it thickening as the natural gelling agent is released.

Carrageen Moss dissolved in milk.

Strain the thickened mixture through a nylon sieve into serving glasses. Let it set for 30 minutes in the fridge.

Leave it plain which is more than good enough.

Carrageen Moss Pudding

Or, make it pretty with some freshly made bramble jam and the last of your summer roses.

Carrageen Moss Pudding with Bramble Jam.

There you have it. Carrageen Moss pudding: guilt free, in fact it is positively good for you and properly delicious. Now, that is a tonic.

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Pennsylvania-Cork Jewish Apple Cake with Cheering Cream.

Jewish Apple Cake recipe.

Step 6 of the Give Depression The Boot Programme was to cook something delicious. Here it is:

Jewish Apple Cake recipe.

This heavenly apple and walnut cake came to me, as though delivered by an angel, from Jodi at The Creative Life In Between. I love walnut cake and I’ve never met an apple cake I didn’t like but this one is spectacular. Three of my four children declared this to be their ‘new favourite dessert’ and the fourth is a teenage boy who hoovered it up without tasting it so that counts as unanimous.

My cake looks much paler than Jodi’s. I’m not sure why that is but who cares! Jodi makes the cake as three loaves. I put one third of the mix in a high-sided, loose-bottomed (sounds like myself) sandwich tin and this we scoffed, hot from the oven, after our Sunday Roast.

I used Bramley apples which are probably a far cry from the authentic version but I like to bake with apples that are tart and mushy (again, like myself).

It’s a very easy cake, a total crowd-pleaser and even quite nutritious if you can resist the whiskey-spiked chantilly  cream on the side. Don’t, life is short: whisk together 200mls fresh cream with a tablespoon of icing sugar and a splash of whiskey. Sláinte (pronounced Sh-laawn-che)

I could call that sláintilly cream…say it with me: sh-laawn-chilly creamá. Cute, huh?

The recipe for the cake and some really interesting notes on its history are on Jodi’s lovely blog…CLICK HERE FOR BEST APPLE CAKE EVER.

I hope Jodi won’t mind if I give you the metric conversions for the ingredients here. That’s how much I want you to discover this cake…I’m even willing to do the sums for you! I can’t be 100% certain that my cake tasted exactly like Jodi’s but, again, who cares!

Metric Measurements for Jodi’s Jewish Apple Cake (Americans, take your cups and go directly here.)

4 Bramley cooking apples.
125g chopped walnuts (I didn’t chop them as I was making gravy at the same time and somewhat harried. I like them whole: suit yourself).
500g caster sugar (that’s 100g on the apples and 4oog in the cake. It sounds like a lot but you are making a lot of cake!).
2 tsp cinnamon.
4 eggs.
2 1/2 tsp vanilla (I used whiskey. Double Sláinte).
120 mls orange juice.
240 mls sunflower oil.
360 g plain flour.
2 tsp baking powder.

Bake at 180 degrees Celsius for 45 minutes or until the smell of apple and cinnamon filled your heart with joy.

Thanks Jodi, this cake made my day. The kids all have a slice in their lunch boxes and I have a wedge tucked away for my afternoon cuppa. Truly, life is beautiful.

You can tell I’m feeling better, right?