No electricity, water from a pump, distant toilet, primitive cooking facilities, dark and cramped and not so much as a Kath Kidston cushion to brighten the outlook.
Sunday dinner in the spring and early summer is always a great chance to move away from the traditional Sunday roast and eat whatever takes our fancy. Something that I always associate with summer holidays is a big plate of mussels. It brings back memories of holidays in Brittany, when the kids were young, when … Continue reading Respect the Mussels
West Cork Asparagus taking centre stage…
Whilst whizzing around Fields Supervalu in Skibbereen to pick up a few supplies for the weekend I couldn’t resist picking up a bunch of local asparagus. Grown organically down the road in Ballydehob, Gra produce a beautiful early Irish Asparagus without chemicals. And yes, it certainly was more expensive, but there’s a very good reason for that. It tastes blooming gorgeous.
We spent a whole day in the garden starting work on the strange looking art installation that will be our outdoor kitchen no less. Expect much speculation in the townland! I finally put my very productive, but now going to seed Kale out of its misery and it was dispatched to the compost heap with due ceremony. The raised beds are ready for French beans, leeks, cavola nero and yet more kale. I have hopefully deterred whatever was nibbling my broad bean seedlings with sharp and spikey bamboo skewers.
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And yes, it certainly was more expensive, but there’s a very good reason for that. It tastes blooming gorgeous.
As the evenings get lighter, I pull on a jumper and spend as much time outdoors as I can, popping indoors only to put something on that will simmer down gently and eventually draw you in with some spicy, fragrant aromas as the afternoon takes on the evening chill.
I was the daughter who was most fascinated by the alchemy of cooking.
A sort of Paddy's Smorrebrod taking inspiration from its Danish namesake.
Growing up in England on Saint Patrick's Day we were allowed to ditch the drab, brown school uniform and dress in every shade of green. We were variously adorned with tricolour rosettes, green ribbons in our hair and wilting shamrock, which had barely survived the postage from our Granny in Ireland! I loved this day - as … Continue reading The Wearing of the Green….
I have a vivid memory of rhubarb from my childhood. I am sitting in a young friend’s garden on a summers day aged about eight years old and I am gnawing at large, tough, raw, green stems straight out of the ground and dipped occasionally in a cup of sugar stolen from the kitchen. Not … Continue reading Pretty in Pink
The nineteen seventies provided many wondrous things. However, decent bread was not one of them.