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“It is a wet and miserable morning in this little part of the world, so I’ve left you both a stash of firewood and some simple slippers and cosy socks by the door…” explained Cheryl in her message to me. The weekend was forecast to be extremely wet, cold, and would leave one feeling like it was the middle of winter, when in fact we were only three weeks out of the beginning of summer. Ben and I didn’t mind one bit, for we had just arrived at the most perfect place to “hibernate” for the weekend. Low clouds drift through the valleys. The morning chant of cow’s dances upon the breeze as layer upon layer of birdsong fills the cool morning air with the intermittent chiming of bells that comes from the sheep in the opposite paddock. I’ve just woken from the enormous cloud-like bed lined with botanical sheets and a marshmallow doona - the most restful night’s sleep I’ve had in years. An artist’s palette of greens and golds brushes over the rolling green hills, the morning dew sparkles. The fire flickers, taking the chill off. It doesn’t take long for it to provide that cosy heat. I can hear the kettle whistling. The warm liquid hits my lips, my hands cradle the pretty China cup as I wrap the warm, woollen blanket tighter around my shoulders. The view from the front deck, from where I sit, only makes me fall deeper and deeper into the spell that Marge’s Cottage has cast over us. From the moment we turned into the silver birch lined driveway we knew we had arrived somewhere special. The incessant drizzle fell on our heads as we quickly dashed inside to the warmth of this inviting, wee little cottage set in what can only be described as a slice of lush, green pastured heaven. Every little detail has been run over with a fine toothcomb, Making Marge’s instantly feel like a home away from home – perfumed roses in soft blushing pinks and pale buttercup yellows take occupancy in differing vessels throughout the rooms; cookbooks line the shelf by the fireplace ready for escapism into the myriad worlds depicted by their authors. Cheryl had indeed surprised and delighted us with a freshly baked carrot cake smothered in the most delectable cream cheese frosting, adorned with a small crown of garden roses. It made for a very welcome afternoon tea treat. I had carefully tucked Belinda Jeffery’s brand-new cookbook, A year of Sundays into my bag before we left which I took the liberty of making my reading companion in the huge rainwater filled, claw-foot bath, which overlooked the undulating hills from the arched window. I scattered crimson rose petals upon the silky warm liquid and allowed myself to slide into the indulgence of it all. Candles were lit, creating a soft glow as the sun sunk behind the horizon, a simple cheese platter for which I had bought the ingredients at our local deli before leaving home, sat pride of place in the middle of the rustic kitchen table to which we filled our mouths with lavish, creamy d’affoinois; gruyere, muscatels, fiery hot olives, and paper-thin slices of salty prosciutto as we watched clips on the Yorke Peninsula, S.A. – our next destination as a family. Opening the well-loved hutch in the kitchen was like opening the little doors of an advent calendar. This one here filled with flour, sugar, granola, and cut-glass tumblers. And over here, pretty China plates, teacups, and saucers. The one above that housed a fresh loaf of sourdough, a jar of orange marmalade, and a glass butter keeper with perfectly spreadable butter inside. Tea, coffee, and everything else one may need to create the bones of breakfast, or dinner, supplied – olive oil, eggs, milk, salt, and pepper. As I wandered back inside to the warmth, I happened to quickly duck back into the bedroom before the beginnings of breakfast began and my goodness what a sight it was – there is something about that soft country light as it sweeps through the window, landing on crumpled, well-slept bed linen. It made me want to curl right back up into that marshmallow cloud, but our tummies were beckoning. Fresh eggs were swiftly whipped with a dollop of crème fraiche, smashed avocado mingled with the tangy brightness of lemon, and sourdough was sliced and toasted. In fact, upon popping the bread into the toaster I was momentarily kept company by two very cheeky superb fairy-wrens at the window, a female, and a striking blue male. They are my most favourite feathered friends and I do hope that they visit again, they are so quick! After filling our bellies with the fuel needed, we headed out on the winding country roads, its hard not to feel a little lighter when surrounded by these rolling hills. We passed through Korumburra headed towards a town called, Koonwarra, where we met a friend outside the inviting Paddlewheel Farmers market store. Wicker baskets brimming with local, seasonal produce – heirloom carrots in multiple shades of oranges, yellows, and purples; plump strawberries; earth-encrusted potatoes of differing varieties, and strings of Christmas red cocktail truss tomatoes all found a place in my bag. “The jap pumpkins are so very sweet at the moment…” the shop lady gestured, to which a perfect wedge just happened to fall into my hand. Warming cups of coffee and chai were a welcome elixir at Lyon and Bair, a gorgeous little café in Leongatha that made for the perfect cosy bunker to nestle into as the rain outside continued to fall. Café owner and dear friend, Candace, treated us to golden-encrusted sausage rolls and a most delicious veggie pie which was just what we needed to brace ourselves against the elements once we arrived at Eagles nest in Inverloch. It was a very quick dash to the lookout, coats wrapped tightly around our bodies before retreating to the car, destined for our return to our little haven. There was just the right amount of carrot cake left, two slices. So, I popped the kettle on while Ben burrowed into the army-green leather couch. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and positioned another on my lap before pouring myself a cup of tea and began to sink deeper and deeper into the stories on the pages of Diana Henry’s book, How to Eat a Peach, as the crisp breeze blew softly across the paddocks. It felt indulgent to do so. To allow another’s words to transport oneself to smoky afternoons of an autumn lunch; lingering over a dish of slow-roast duck legs with sweet-sour plums; celebrating the beginning of summer with burnished apricots atop a tart, and the pleasure that comes from a simple leaf salad with a good vinaigrette. I devoured the words like I would a luscious, golden, herbed-butter roast chook. Which is exactly what we had for dinner. I am going to call it, Anniversary chicken. Sage, thyme laced butter found its way under the skin. Ribbons of prosciutto tucked in on top. There she sat above sliced Dutch creams glistening with olive oil and sea salt flakes, wedges of pumpkin followed onions, garlic, and slender carrots. I placed those Christmas-red tomatoes on top, a bejewelled crown, before placing everything into the oven. The cottage was full of the most wonderfully lip-tingling aromas as the skin blistered under the heat, turning an insipid, pimply covering to a shattering sheet of gold. There we sat in the quietness of the cottage as the sun’s rays slowly retreated towards the horizon, the flicker of candlelight and the joy that comes from a roast chook. The pleasure in cooking for just two, knowing that the following day leftovers would be piled in between two slices of buttered bread, enjoyed somewhere on the return trip home. I am savouring these last few hours here at Marge’s, lingering over my pot of tea for just that little longer before I am going to have to peel myself away from the rustic timber table, gather our belongings, and farewell this land of golden-green brushstrokes, crisp country air, and a cottage that has allowed us to simply just be – to breathe, to relax, and to re-charge those inner batteries at a time when we both needed it most. Oh, and look there, those cheeky fairy-wrens have returned. I see you. I understand why they have decided to call this place home. We will return, one day, to this part of the world and allow Marge’s to wrap her warm, welcoming arms around us once again. It is truly a balm for the body and soul. Anniversary chicken Serves 2 with enough leftovers for sandwiches the following day and a couple of days after that too. Or serves 4-6 depending on how hungry you all are, you may just need to increase the quantities of the vegetables. 1.9kg free-range chook 1 lemon, halved About 60g softened butter 1 tbsp chopped sage leaves 5 sprigs of thyme, leaves removed Sea Salt and cracked black pepper 3 thin slices of Proscuitto Extra virgin olive for drizzling and coating 4 slender carrots, halved 1 brown onion, sliced thickly, skin left intact 4 small Dutch cream potatoes, scrubbed and sliced into 1.5cm rounds A few thinnish wedges of pumpkin, I used jap pumpkin and kept the skin on A string of cocktail truss tomatoes 2 bay leaves Before you do anything else, get your chicken from the fridge and place it on the bench for half an hour while you start prepping the veggies. Preheat your oven to 190 degrees Celsius, fan-forced. Place the potatoes into a medium bowl and toss well with a good glug of olive oil, salt and pepper, then arrange in a single layer in a large roasting pan, keeping them quite close together (the chicken will sit on top of these). In the same bowl add the rest of the vegetables and bay leaves along with another glug of oil and sea salt and black pepper. Toss to coat everything and then arrange in the roasting pan. Pat dry your chicken with paper towel, inside and outside and place the lemon halves inside the cavity. Combine the chopped herbs with the butter in a small bowl and season with sea salt and black pepper. Carefully use your fingers to separate the chicken skin from the breasts, trying your best not to tear it, if you do it doesn’t matter, you can just patch it up as best as you can. Now place a good amount of the herb butter mixture under the skin. Press down with your fingers on the outside so that the butter moves all the way down to the end, continue with the remaining butter. You should be left with a sheet of skin covering herb dotted butter underneath. Slide the prosciutto slices on top of the butter, under the skin. Position your chook on top of the potatoes, breast side up and drizzle with a good glug of extra virgin olive oil, scatter with sea salt flakes and massage all over the chicken. Place the tomatoes around the chicken, still intact, you may just need to halve them by snapping the stem in half. Pop the whole lot into the preheated oven and roast for 1 hour. By this stage, your home should be full of the most wonderfully comforting aromas. Open the oven, the skin should be blistered and a beautiful shade of gold. Now, depending on your oven your chook may be ready at this point. To check, insert the blade of a knife into the thickest part of the thigh, the juices that run free should be clear. If there is a hint of pink simply return to the oven. My chook took another 15 minutes after this, so just keep checking every 5 minutes or so. Once you are happy and confident that she is cooked to perfection, remove from the oven, and allow to rest for at least 15 minutes. This is the time that candles could be lit, and the table set for two (or however many people are joining you) Take to the table, roasting pan and all, and allow yourself, and the others around you to enjoy the simplicity of a good roast chook. my present to Ben sitting by the window. A Sophie Perez artwork capturing the place where he proposed to me. Contos cliffs, W.A.

I can't quite recall what we had done earlier in the day, but my mind, like most days, wandered off to thoughts about dinner. Two fennel bulbs with long, luscious fronds still intact (I cant quite understand why more often than not these are removed?) and a bag of olives that needed to be used were my starting ingredients. A tin of tomatoes, anchovies and hrmmm, what else? Fennel frond and garlic butter, whipped together until smooth. Chicken drumsticks would be the vehicle for said butter to be generously smeared all over and under the skin. A glug of extra virgin olive oil; a scattering of sea salt flakes and yes, I think this could work! Well, I am happy to report that yes it did, well and truly work. With Ben even declaring that it was the most delicious dinner he had eaten that week! Side note: The night before we had been treated to dad's speciality - Paella! Now that's saying something. I had not written anything down as I prepared it, as it was just a bit of a throw together, all-in-the-one-pan creation. So I grasped the closest pen and my notebook and quickly scribbled down what I could remember, going back over to the dish to look at what remained to make sure I had not missed anything. The perfect opportunity arose for me to test it out once again. Mum, Dad, my brother and his partner came over for dinner to celebrate Mum's birthday. This time I made sure to keep my pen and notebook next to me, quickly stopping every now and then to jot down measurements and quantities. A refreshing salad of crips gem lettuce, zucchini ribbons and roasted asparagus spears which were drizzled with a Dijon, garlic dressing and soft, creamy goats cheese crumbled on top made the perfect side dish. My attempts at homemade sourdough are slowly getting better and better each time with this particular loaf being my proudest one yet! Thanks to one very lovely lady who shared a few very helpful hints. It would have been a crime not to have had this on the table too, alongside a small dish of softened butter. It was the first day of summer so it only seemed fitting to set the table up outside on the front deck. There is something so very lovely to be able to sit outside and enjoy meals in the warmer months. Each dish made its way out onto the table. Serving ware followed and empty plates were waiting to be filled. Of course, a few photos had to be captured and then it was time to sit, eat and enjoy these special moments of simple pleasures; family, food and summer nights. Oh, and everyone loved the food! (thank goodness) Mum even asked where the chicken recipe came from.....I replied with a smile on my face, "Me". Fennel, olive and tomato baked chicken drumsticks with fennel and garlic butter Serves 4-6 with a couple of sides and good bread. 12 free-range chicken drumsticks, skin-on 2 fennel bulbs, sliced, fronds reserved for serving 4 red eschalots, peeled and sliced 1 cup of pitted black olives 2 lemons, sliced 2 400g cans of diced tomatoes 1 1/2 tbsp. red wine vinegar 2 tsp fennel seeds 6 anchovies 4 cloves of garlic, skins left on 1/2 cup of reserved fennel fronds glug of extra virgin olive oil pecorino or parmesan for scattering over the top For the fennel and garlic butter 100g unsalted butter, softened at room temperature 2 garlic cloves, finely diced 2 tbsp. chopped fennel fronds In a small bowl, beat the butter, garlic, and fennel fronds together and season with a pinch of salt. set aside. Pre-heat your oven to 200c (fan-forced). Place the sliced fennel, eschalots, olives, lemon slices, tomatoes, vinegar, fennel seeds, anchovies, garlic cloves and ½ cup of fennel fronds into a large baking dish (mine measures 30cm x 40cm). Give a pepper grinder a good few turns and then mix everything together. Pop the drumsticks on top and then with a sharp knife cut a few slits into the top of each one. Then rub your butter mixture all over the top and into the cuts of the chicken, nestling each one down into the sauce as best as you can. Drizzle over a good glug of olive oil and then a scattering of salt flakes and place it into the oven for about 45 minutes. Remove from the oven, spoon over some of the sauce from underneath then grate over a rather generous amount of pecorino or parmesan to your liking over the top and pop it back into the oven for another 10 minutes. I love serving it straight from the baking dish, scattered with a few reserved fennel fronds so that everyone can help themselves and once all the chicken has gone you can all take great pleasure in tearing off pieces of bread and dunking it into whatever remains. Serve with a crisp salad in the warmer months, or on top of polenta for the ultimate comfort meal in the cooler months. If you haven't got quite as many mouths to feed, then you can quite easily halve this recipe or make the whole amount and freeze. Leftovers make for a wonderful lunch the following day too.

We have two very cheeky Common Mynas that stealthily squeeze themselves through the wire of our "Girls'" (aka Chooks) yard. I watch them through the window as I stand over the kitchen sink. A red wattlebird startles one of the pair, it makes for an entertaining moment as I clear the dishes. We have been without the luxury of a dishwasher for close to three months now. I really must give that man a call, surely it doesn't take that long for a part to be ordered in, even if it is a turbinado-whats-a-Jigga-ma-thingy. The funny thing is that I actually haven't missed it all that much, well, the unpacking of it anyway. My hands, however, tell a different story. Whether it's been purposeful or not, I have been cooking meals of an evening that require fewer pots, pans, and utensils. A mountain of dishes at the end of the day makes for a very unwelcome gift. This is where the always welcomed one-pan, one-pot meals come into their own. Nothing is quite as simple as combining sliced fennel, white wine, parmesan, and a good dose of cream to a roasting tray. Chicken drumsticks are positioned on top. A bouquet of thyme sprigs. An extra shower of Parmigiano Reggiano over it all for good measure. The resulting dish will inevitably find one, maybe two, reaching for a slice of fresh sourdough to mop up the ridiculously luscious sauce. I imagine that if there were any of these saucy bits leftover that it would enrich slender strands of spaghetti, or enhance a potato salad to the next level. In fact, the fat that forms on top of the sauce once refrigerated makes for a wonderfully golden, crunchy roast potato. At the end of it all, when bellies are satisfied and the last of the daylight slips behind the trees, there will be a pan, a few plates, and some cutlery to wash. Of course, if one is so fortunate to have a working dishwasher, then those dishes would consist of just one roasting pan. Lucky you! One-pan Roast Chicken Drumsticks with Parmesan, Cream, and White Wine serves 4-6 depending on how hungry you and your diners are, we generally get a 4 person meal out of this, (2 adults and 2 small children) but you could very well serve alongside crunchy roast potatoes, beans, and a loaf of sourdough to feed 6, or just pop a few extra drumsticks into the pan. 6-7 chicken drumsticks, approx 1.3kg, skin on 1/2 a large fennel, (350g) cut into 2cm slices 3 spring onions, trimmed 3 garlic cloves, finely diced 1/2 cup vegetable stock 1/2 cup white wine 1/4 cup light olive oil 1/3 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano (or Parmesan if that is what you have) 2 tsp wholegrain mustard 1/2 cup thickened cream 1/2 cup creme fraiche 15 sprigs of thyme 1/3 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano, extra Preheat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius (fan-forced). Have ready a large baking dish or roasting tray, mine measures 23cm x 32cm. Season chicken with salt and pepper, using your hands to massage it in. Place the sliced fennel into the bottom of the tray, followed by the spring onions. In a large bowl, mix garlic, stock, wine, olive oil, parmesan, mustard, cream, and creme fraiche. Season with a pinch of salt and a good grind of black pepper. Pour this over the fennel and sit the chicken on top, turning to coat in the sauce. Tuck the thyme sprigs in and around the chicken. Scatter over the remaining extra 1/3 cup grated parmesan and drizzle with 1 tbsp of olive oil. Place into the oven for about 45-50 minutes, or until golden and crispy. *This recipe has been adapted from Alexandras Kitchen.

On the far left corner of the stovetop sits one of my silver saucepans. It is a spot I find myself coming back to time and time again - a bubbling pot of water is positioned far enough away from inquisitive little hands, as well as allowing the many splatters and splutters of a simmering ragu or the spitting and hissing of hot oil that resembles a fireworks display to mostly miss the floor. I've never actually given this minor detail much thought, but I have been made aware through these slower, repetitive days of late that it is in these minor details that we find the things that make us happy or the things that help make us feel at ease - like when I'm standing over the stove watching small, pebble-like pieces of chocolate meld into one another, slowly swirling that decadent river of darkness in a figure of eight motion - I am for a moment drawn into a vortex where there is not a worry in the world. I guess that is why so many of us have found solace within the kitchen. A way to mark our days throughout the many stages of lockdown that so many of us have been challenged with. Is it lockdown number 6 or 7 here in Victoria? I seem to have lost count.. As I look over my shoulder, the sun has moved far enough around to shine its light through the kitchen window, illuminating the daffodil that I plucked from the garden the other day. The bright, cheery petals are a beacon of hope, paired with the orchestra of birdsong and the florescence of new life visible on spindly late winter branches. Hope for what is to come, and come it will. As I fold the dry ingredients into the wet, I am once again reminded of the magic, the joy, and the comfort of what it means to bake a cake and why so many of us enjoy this simple act of creating something out of nothing. It warms the very centre of our being and is something that we have the power to emit onto others - leaving a freshly baked cake, a batch of biscuits or a jar of jam on the doorstep of a loved one, a neighbour and even a stranger can cure many an emotion for both the giver and the receiver, putting us in a state of ease, if only for a moment. Pear & Chocolate Cake Makes one 23-24 cm round cake 3 free-range eggs, at room temperature 300g caster sugar 200ml light olive oil 50ml freshly brewed black tea 150g dark chocolate, melted and cooled slightly 1 tsp vanilla extract 300g plain flour 100g almond meal 2 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp bi-carb soda 1 tsp ground ginger pinch of salt 100ml milk 1 medium-sized pear (I use beurre bosc) Grease with butter and line with baking paper a 23-24 cm springform cake tin, set aside. Preheat your oven to 160 degrees Celsius (fan-forced) 180 degrees Celsius (conventional). In the bowl of a stand mixer add in the eggs and the sugar and beat for at least 10-15 minutes on medium speed until the mixture is light, creamy and almost doubled in volume. Reduce the speed of the mixer to low and slowly drizzle in the olive oil in a steady stream. Pour in the black tea and the melted chocolate followed by the vanilla extract and mix until combined. Sift the flour, baking powder, bi-carb soda and ginger into a large bowl, add the almond meal and the salt and whisk to combine. Remove the bowl with the chocolate from the stand mixer. Using a spatula, gently fold the dry ingredients and milk into the chocolate mixture, in two batches until it's combined. Making sure to scrape down the very bottom to ensure everything is mixed in properly. Spoon into the prepared cake tin and smooth out the top. Slice your pear into quarters and then slice the quarters into thin slivers, arrange on top of the cake, pressing down lightly. Place into your preheated oven, on the middle shelf and bake for about 60 minutes. I like to check mine at about the 40-minute mark to make sure it is baking evenly, turning my cake around if need be. Once baked the cake should lightly spring back when pressed lightly, insert a cake tester or skewer to check if it's ready, it should come out clean. Allow to cool in the tin for 10 minutes before carefully removing. It will sink a little in the middle upon cooling but do not worry about this. This cake is equally as delicious served warm as it is served at room temperature. It is soft, delicate and surprisingly light in flavour. Perfect for when a slice of comfort is needed most. It will keep in an airtight container for at least 5 days, but I doubt it will last that long.

There is always at least half a dozen or so tinned varieties of pulses sitting on the shelf of our pantry. They are my go-to for adding into soups and salads and adding an extra layer of robust goodness and sustenance when needed most. They have also saved me more times than I dare to count when I have had hungry tummies to fill - a tin of beans, a tin of tuna, celery, carrot, chunks of avocado, parsley, mayonnaise and a splash of lemon juice often finds its way onto the menu for lunch. They are there in times where you haven't had the forethought to soak the dried variety and I find it comforting to know that with a swift flick of the lid one can still enjoy these nutritional fillers. It is the humble chickpea that takes centre stage in this simple, flavour-packed one-pan meal. Partnered with kasundi coated chicken thighs, burnished in all the right places, before being showered with a handful of crumbled feta. It is a meal that can be served just as it is, straight from the pan, allowing everyone to help themselves. You may well end up with some leftovers (perfect for lunch the following day) but in our house, we always seem to reach for a slice of buttered bread and inevitably pile a spoonful of tomato-encrusted chickpeas on top, to which then there will be no leftovers at all. One-pan roast chicken, chickpea and eggplant kasundi serves 4 2 tbsp olive oil 800g chicken thighs, skin on 1 brown onion, sliced 3 garlic cloves, chopped finely 1 tsp cumin seeds 2 400g tins of chickpeas, drained and rinsed 400g tin crushed tomatoes (I like to use Mutti) 1 cup vegetable or chicken stock 1/4 eggplant kasundi (recipe follows) zest and juice of a lemon 1 tbsp olive oil 2 tsp honey feta and flat-leaf parlsey for scattering over the top Preheat your oven to 200 degrees celsius, fan-forced. Heat oil in a large oven-proof frypan over a medium heat, place chicken skin side down and cook until golden, turn over and cook for another 2 minutes, remove from the pan and set aside. (If you dont have an oven-proof frypan you can just transfer into a large roasting pan when its time to put everything into the oven) Add the onion and cook until softened, about 10 minutes. Scrape in the garlic, cumin and a pinch of salt and stir to coat, it will smell wonderfully fragrant. Add the chickpeas, tomatoes and stock and bring to the boil, reduce the heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, combine the kasundi (as per recipe below or a shop-bought one) lemon zest and juice, olive oil, honey and salt and pepper. Place the chicken on top of the chickpea mix, spread the kasundi mixture over the top of the chicken, scatter a little more salt and pepper over the top and a splash of olive oil and place into the oven for 30-40 minutes until golden and slightly burnished. Scatter over the feta and parsley and take it straight over to the table so that everyone can help themselves. It is quite lovely with a simple leafy green salad on the side. Dont forget the bread! Eggplant Kasundi 2kg roma tomatoes, chopped olive oil 1 medium eggplant, cut into 2cm cubes 1 brown onion, diced 3 cloves of garlic, finely chopped 2 tsp mustard seeds 2 tsp cumin seeds 2 chillies 1 cup white wine vinegar 1 1/2 cups sugar Pour in 2 tbsp of olive oil into a large saucepan, place over a medium heat and add the onion, garlic, mustard seeds, cumin seeds and eggplant and cook until softened. Add in the tomaotoes, chillies, vinegar and sugar and stir it all together. Bring to a boil then reduce heat a little so that it is bubbling away nicely. Continue to cook until it has reduced and thickened. This can take at least 45 minutes, but just keep an eye on it and stir every now and then. Once done, spoon into sterilsed jars. It will keep in a cool, dark spot for quite a while, once opened store in the fridge. I love using it on ham and salad sandwiches, serving it alongside a vegetable tart and adding into soups.

A package arrived the other day, the accompanying note read - Dear Amy, with the colder weather settling, we are now firmly in Gluhwein season. Gluhwein season I thought, how interesting. I had never heard of this term before and so was intrigued. Inside the small cardboard box, a small drawstring bag held treasures in the form of vanilla bean sugar, delicate infuser bags and a packet of Gluhwein Gewurz. I opened it up and inhaled what can only be described as festive joy - cloves, cinnamon, orange, lemon all danced under my nose. I continued reading the note... To brew add 2 tsp of Gluhwein Gewurz to the infuser bag, pour a bottle of red wine into a large pot, add 60g vanilla bean sugar and gently heat for 20-30 minutes, Serve with sliced oranges or a cinnamon quill. Not one to enjoy a glass of mulled wine I immediately began to dream of all the ways I could incorporate these soul-warming elements into a baked treat. Is it any wonder chocolate was a front runner, paired effortlessly with red wine? Lush. Decadent. Rich. Warming. A sprinkle of fragrant vanilla bean sugar on top results in a crisp outer shell which pairs perfectly with the fudgy, stick-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth insides. It can, of course, be enjoyed still warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or, if like me you prefer a truffle-like texture in small bite-sized pieces it can be eaten straight from the fridge, just don't go eating too many pieces all in the one go...I speak from experience! Makes a 20cm x 20cm slab *Recipe inspired by Broma Bakery 115g unsalted butter 115g dark chocolate, chopped 220g brown sugar 100g caster sugar zest of an orange 2 free-range eggs, at room temperature 125g cocoa powder (try and use the best you can afford, I love using Callebaut) 60g plain flour 2 tsp Gluhwein Gewurz (you can find this at Gewurzhaus) If you don't want to purchase it, however, you can use 1tsp ground cinnamon, 1/4tsp ground cloves, 1/4tsp ground fennel, the zest of an orange and the zest of a lemon along with a few cracks of black pepper a pinch of salt 1tsp vanilla bean extract 1/4 cup red wine 1tsp vanilla bean sugar, for sprinkling on top Preheat your oven to 170 degrees Celsius, fan-forced. Grease and line a 20cm x 20xm square cake tin, overlapping the baking paper in a criss-cross pattern to make it easier to remove the brownie once baked. In a large saucepan over medium heat melt butter, then add in the chocolate and whisk until it's smooth and glossy. Remove from the heat and whisk in the spice/s. Whisk in the sugars followed by the eggs and the orange zest and then combine well. Sift the cocoa and flour over the top and then add the salt, vanilla and red wine stirring until everything is lusciously combined. Spoon into the prepared cake tin and smooth the surface with the back of a spoon or an offset palette knife. Scatter over the vanilla bean sugar and pop into the oven for 30-40 minutes. Remove and allow to cool in the tin for at least 15 minutes before taking out of the tin and placing on a cooling rack. You can now enjoy it warm or wait until it's completely cooled before placing it in the fridge to enjoy its rich, decadent truffle-like texture. It will keep for at least a week, maybe longer, in an airtight container in the fridge.

Lately, my mind has been abuzz with all things encased in that flaky, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth combination that makes up one of the greatest loves of my life - pastry. Perhaps the blast of fresh icy winter winds is to blame for the constant dreaming of what to pair with earthy, semi-sweet buckwheat infused doughs, or the fact that my freezer has been full of frozen polenta studded pastry rounds, destined to become the vessel in which creamy goats cheese mingles with the sweetness of caramelised onions and irregular chunks of roasted pumpkin which resemble mountain peaks elevated above clouds. It has been the former, however, which has been fighting for my attention. I adore the earthy, grassy flavours of buckwheat - whether it be in cookies, muffins or pancakes (Olia Hercules Buckwheat sourdough pancakes from her book, Summer Kitchens are a firm favourite) Combining it with another type of flour - be it plain, wholemeal, spelt or the like will ensure it is not too overpowering, especially if you are not familiar with its flavour profile. I was originally going to pair it with persimmon, but then I was gifted two armfuls of freshly picked quince. And So the testing began. A soggy bottom was the result of the first test, but the flavour was beautiful. So it was back to the drawing board, or should I say, the kitchen bench, armed with a few recommendations from the Bakeclub Facebook community, I rolled up my sleeves and rolled out my pastry base. Sprinkled over a mixture of almond meal, ground ginger and a touch of sugar. Arranged the glistening, ruby-hued wedges of quince on top before folding over the edges, scattering the remaining pastry, which had been grated over the top. I can't tell you how pleased I was with the final result. It is equally as good served alone, with a dollop of creme fraiche or, if you are like my husband, a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream. The resulting texture of the crumble-like pastry topping is heavenly. It adds a little interest as well as a few small "windows" in which to spy those rose-scented fruits through. A fine sifting of icing sugar is all that is needed and you have yourself a fine, rustic looking tart to enjoy any time of the day. Quince crumble tart Makes a 23cm tart For the pastry 200g plain flour 50g buckwheat a pinch of salt 2 tbsp caster sugar 150g unsalted butter, cold, cut into small chunks 1/4 - 1/2 cup cold water In a medium-sized bowl, sift flour, add salt and sugar and then using the tips of your fingers rub the butter into the flour until it resembles somewhat of a coarse crumb. small chunks of butter are actually ok here. Add in enough water to bring the dough together, gently. Shape into a round disc and wrap in baking paper. Allow to rest in the fridge for at least an hour, or even better, overnight if you can. After this time, cut off a little over half of the pastry and then rewrap the smaller piece once again and pop it back into the fridge. You can also freeze your pastry round, I like to store mine in a container if I do this and then defrost in the fridge overnight. If it feels too hard to roll out, allow to sit on the bench until it is pliable enough to work with. For the poached quinces, you can refer to this recipe here. For the filling 3-4 poached quince, cut into wedges 1/2 cup almond meal 1 tbsp caster sugar 1 tsp ground ginger Mix the almond meal, sugar and ginger together. Now to bring it all together... Preheat your oven to 180 degrees fan-forced. Have ready your loose-bottomed tart tin and then on a lightly floured surface roll out the larger piece of pastry into a large round, about 2mm thick. Roll the pastry back onto your rolling pin and then carefully drape it into your tart tin. Lifting the edges up and using your fingers to gently push it into the sides. Scatter over the almond and ginger mixture evenly. Place the quinces on top, quite close together creating circles within circles. now take the smaller piece of dough from the fridge and using the large holes of a box grater, grate the dough until you have a pile of what could almost be mistaken for grated cheese on your board. Fold over the edges of the pastry and then scatter over the grated pastry dough. Brushing with a little milk before placing into the oven for about 45 minutes or until golden. Remove from the oven and allow to cool slightly, before ever so carefully removing from the tin. Dust with a little icing sugar if you so desire. Serve with a dollop of creme fraiche, a scoop of ice cream or simply on its own. It will keep for a couple of days in the fridge but is best enjoyed on the day it is made, however, I can say that it was very much enjoyed on about the 4th day, wrapped in foil and heated in the oven for a few minutes, the pastry was a little soft but it still tasted wonderful.

As soon as there is the slightest hint of a chill in the air I instantly crave meals that require long, slow cooking. It is comforting knowing that with a little forethought and prep in the morning one is rewarded with a rich and luscious meal that will satisfy the hungriest of appetites hours later. In fact, I believe that it is one of the greatest gifts that the cooler weather gives us. sending out a message into the air as the aromas fill every room in the house (our home is quite small so this is very easily achieved) notifying everyone in residence that something special awaits. Be it a large pot lazily bubbling away on the stovetop, or a slow cooker working its magic on the kitchen bench. Or, in this case, a casserole pot sitting proudly in the oven. They all provide that wonderful fuzzy feeling of home-cooked comfort. The type of meal that makes me feel as if I've been wrapped up in a thick, hand-knitted woollen blanket. These are the meals I love and the ones I so look forward to as the days become increasingly shorter. This flavourful lamb shank curry requires minimal effort - a quick curry paste. Browning of the lamb. A tin of chickpeas. A potato. Passata. Stock and coconut cream. The oven does the rest. 2 and 1/2 hours later the meat is so delicate it falls from the bone. The pot can be taken straight to the table along with some rice and perhaps even some homemade flatbread too, or store-bought, I will leave that up to. Lamb Shank Curry Makes enough for 4-6 hungry humans 4 lamb shanks, preferably organic or the best you can afford 1 tbsp of ghee tin of chickpeas 1 small potato or a small sweet potato (the sweet potato will make the curry a little bit sweeter) cut into largish chunks 700g passata 700ml either vegetable or chicken stock 1 tin of coconut cream A good couple of handfuls of spinach greek yoghurt, to serve For the curry paste a small onion, chopped 1 spring onion, white and green sliced 3cm piece of ginger, peeled and sliced 3cm piece of turmeric, peeled and sliced 2 tsp garam masala a pinch of chilli flakes salt and pepper zest of a lemon In a small food processor, blitz all of the curry paste ingredients together until a smooth-ish paste forms. Rub this all over the shanks and set it aside in a bowl to rest in the fridge for at least one hour, even better if it can sit overnight to really allow the flavours to get to know one another. Set the oven to 150 degrees Celsius (fan-forced). Heat the ghee (or light olive oil and a knob of butter) in a large pot with a lid and add the lamb. You may need to do this in batches like I do as my pot is not big enough to fit them all into to brown at the same time. Once they have a beautiful brown tinge to them add all 4 back to the pot along with the chickpeas, potato (or sweet potato) passata, stock and coconut cream and bring to the boil. Pop the lid on and place it into the oven for 2 hours. Once the two hours are up and you have done a load of washing, hung it out, sat down with a good book or whatever takes your fancy, remove the lid and continue to cook for another 1/2 hour. At this stage, you can either stir the spinach through or you can place a bed of it in the bottom of the bowl along with a good spoonful of steaming rice and a generous portion of lamb on top. A good dollop of Greek yoghurt doesn't go astray here either. Then rip off a piece of flatbread, scoop that luscious warming curry up and savour every mouthful.

Beau and I had to grit our teeth as we pulled the rather robust spring onions from the earth in which they were grasped tightly into. So much so that Beau, at one stage, fell right back onto his bottom. We laughed so hard. He was eager to get them all out, without any help mind you. Some were long and slender - your typical spring onion, while others had grown quite the girth. They are by far one of the easiest vegetables to grow from seed and I always seem to have great success with them. They tend to just look after themselves, which is an added bonus. Their mild, onion-y flavour is a rather lovely addition to a simple salad - gently folded into a dressing of extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper. They take on an entirely different flavour when slowly braised so that they are as delicate as their soft, creamy slender stems and snow-white bulbs. It was upon caramelising them that they really sang to me though - sweet, soft, buttery notes. I had made the almond and spelt pastry the day before. I love doing this. Allowing the buttery disc to rest in the fridge overnight. It makes me feel somewhat organised as all that is needed to do the following day is to make the filling, which in this case is so very simple and I am all for simple these days - what with having two little scallywags - one at my feet, the other standing right next to me at the kitchen bench. The latter little person more often than not "stealing" my ingredients for his own creations! And I don't think it will be too long before the little lady will be fighting for her position up at the bench either! Oh goodness. This tart is rustic beauty at its finest, just the way I like it. A whisk, a rolling pin and your own two hands are pretty much all that is needed, along with a few simple ingredients to have this ready for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Any leftovers make for a wonderful easy lunch the following day too, cold, straight from the fridge. Spring onion cheese tart makes a 35cm tart For the pastry 180g spelt flour 45g almond meal pinch of salt 125g cold, unsalted butter, cut into small chunks 1 egg yolk approx 1/4 cup cold water Whisk the flour, almond meal and salt together in a medium sized bowl. Rub the butter in with your fingertips until it resembles coarse breadcrumbs (its ok to have some larger pieces of butter throughout) add the yolk and mix in with your fingertips followed by the water bit by bit until it comes together. Try to do this as gently as possible as you don't want to overwork it which will develop gluten resulting in a dough that is hard to roll out and will quite often be tough when cooked. Bring into a flattish disc and wrap in baking paper. Set aside in the fridge for at least 30 minutes or overnight if you are feeling organised. The following day, remove the pastry from the fridge to bring back to a roll-able temperature while you make the filling. For the filling A big bunch of spring onions, about 2 bunches if buying from the market (about 400g) 40g butter 2 tbsp olive oil 1 tbsp red wine vinegar 1/2 cup cream 1 egg 1 tsp dijon mustard 1 cup grated raw milk Yarrawa (I love using Pecora Dairy) 1/2 cup grated cheddar Eggwash (optional) 1 egg 1 tbsp cream or milk Preheat your oven to 190 degrees celsius (fan-forced) In a large pan over a medium-low heat add in the butter and oil. Slice off the ends and any straggly bits of the spring onions and then slice both the white and the green. Add these to the pan once the butter has melted, stirring to coat. Continue to cook slowly until they have collapsed and smell sweet and buttery. This can take about 15-20 minutes. Add in the vinegar and cook for another minute until it has evaporated. Now you can remove it from the heat. In a seperate bowl whisk the egg, cream, dijon and both cheeses together until combined. Season with salt and a good grinding of pepper. Stir through the spring onions. Roll out the pastry on to the baking paper in which it was wrapped with until you get as close to a 35cm round. Have ready a baking tray or round pizza tray and place your round in the center. Spoon the spring onion mixture into the center and then spread it out to a 20cm round. Fold the edges of the pastry up and over and pleat. Brush with egg wash if you so desire - 1 egg mixed with a dash of cream or milk and then cook for about 35 minutes or until just set and the pastry is lusciously golden. Allow to sit for 10 minutes and then serve.

It has been a relatively cool start to the summer season down here in this part of the world. The earth has been soaking up the heavy raindrops, much to the delight of my veggie garden which has tripled in size this past week. It seems that the surrounding stonefruit trees that are dotted about our neighbours' yards have also been relishing in the liquid gifts from above too. From our kitchen window the long "claw-like" leaves of a nectarine tree sway in the breeze, revealing the ruby cheeks of the juicy gems that hang from their branches. At the forefront is an apricot tree, to the right is a peach and from over the top of the chooks yard there sits a tree that looks as though it could topple over any moment with the weight of the small rounds that are the colour of midnight. It is around this time that we receive a precious bounty from our neighbours on the high side. A box of blushing apricots, followed days later by another haul accompanied with a bundle of plums cradled into a makeshift newspaper pouch. My eyes were delighted as were all of our tummies - I think we may have eaten our weight in them already. They are by far my favourite fruit. What has not been eaten fresh has been bottled up and now sits on my preserving shelf (which is nothing more than a space carved out in amongst the folders and files in the study) It is these jars of spreadable sweetness that make me happy and that I so enjoy gifting. Wrapping each one up with a piece of twine, a little label and a sprig of something fragrant. I love knowing that it will inevitably be spread on to hot buttered toast, providing comfort with each luscious mouthful, washed down, of course, with a cup of something hot. Because no matter what the days bring, there is always time for tea and toast. Apricot & Rosemary Jam Makes 4-5 medium-sized jars 1kg Apricots 375ml water 850g sugar a large sprig of rosemary Cut each apricot in half and remove the stone. Place the apricots into a large pot along with the water and bring to the boil. Allow them to bubble away happily for 20 minutes or so until they have softened making sure to stir every now and then. Strip the leaves from the rosemary and chop them finely, add these to the apricots along with the sugar and stir until the sugar has dissolved. Return to a boil and let it once again happily bubble away, adjusting the heat if necessary. Stir frequently as you do not want to end up with a pot that has burnt bits stuck to the bottom, it doesn't make for a fun clean up! While this is all happening, select your jars and matching lids and place them into a sink full of hot water. Pop them onto a baking tray and place into the oven at about 150 degrees to dry out, this is the way I sterilise my jars and also allows for the jars to be super hot so that they are ready to pour the hot jam into them. After about 20 - 30 minutes your jam should be quite thick and should fall off the spoon a bit like lava. If you want to you can place a small plate into the freezer and then once its cold take it out and drop a little of the jam in the centre and then return it back to the freezer for a moment before running your finger down through the middle of it, if it leaves a mark down the middle your jam is ready to be poured into the jars, if not just continue to cook, but do keep an eye on it as it is at this stage that it can very easily go from being perfect to burnt within the click of a finger! Once you are happy that it is ready, pour into the jars, tightly seal each one and turn upside down for a couple of minutes before turning the right way up once again. Leave them on the bench to cool and then store in a cool place. Once opened, store in the fridge. Plum, ginger and orange jam makes 3-4 medium jars 850g plums 200ml water a thumb-size piece of ginger one long strand of orange peel 400g sugar 300g raw caster sugar Cut the plums in half and remove their stones, place them into a large pot along with the water and allow them to come to the boil. Let them bubble away happily for about 20 minutes or until they have softened. Stir through the grated ginger and the peel of the orange followed by the sugars and stir until dissolved. Bring it back to the boil and allow to cook, while stirring frequently for at least 40 minutes until thickened. You can always use the freezer plate test as mentioned above to make sure. Pour into hot sterilised jars and follow the method above. Always be extra careful when handling jam, it can spit and splutter when you stir it, especially towards the end when it is almost ready and a hot jam splatter on your hands or arms really does hurt! And clean your pots and pans and spoons as soon as you can, dried jam takes a fair bit of elbow grease to remove. I always fill my pots with water and allow the jug and spoon to have a bit of a swim around in there as well to make for an easier cleanup.

It was a little after 11 am, I had just set the table. I took a step back as I counted the chairs - 6 in total. A smile spread across my face, it had been far too long since we last had guests over and my excitement at having those 2 extra place settings was palpable. Cooking for others is my way of showing and giving love. Taking the time to decide on a menu; writing down my plan of what has to go into the oven when and navigating the time it will take to have everything ready and laid out on the table at the same time is something that brings joy to my whole being. It is the whole process though, from the initial invitation to our home, right through to the buying of the produce, (or picking from our very own garden) to the prepping, the stirring, the cooking, the setting of the table, the freshly pressed napkins, the foraged florals, the choosing of the plates and platters and then watching as it all comes together - sometimes with ease and others...well, let's just say it can get a little interesting with two small children to worry about as well! It was my Mum and Dad who were the first to sit at our small but mighty kitchen table after lockdown. The table groaned with a piping hot pan of glistening pork chops perfumed with fresh sage and fennel seeds, the crackling so crisp it was as if we were stood upon a carpet of Autumn leaves. Slow-cooked cabbage mingled with crispy bacon and the subtle smokiness of caraway. Burnished florets of cauliflower were dotted with vibrant pickled red cabbage and the potatoes - golden and crunchy, had been showered with a smoky almond dukkah from Gewurzhaus It was a celebration of togetherness, one that was well overdue and one that made it even more obvious just how important it is to cherish these moments of sitting at the table sharing food and laughing. Where the conversation is allowed to flow in between mouthfuls; where cutlery scrapes against china plates and where, as always, some of the best memories are made. So, here it is, a menu for celebrating being together once again. I recommend reading through the whole recipe steps here before starting so that you can get all of your cooking times organised and what needs to go into the oven when. I would generally get my potatoes and cabbage ready and cooking, along with the cauliflower and then concentrate on the pork. The apple pie can be made the day before right up to when you need to bake it so that it is ready to go in the oven once everything else has been taken out. For the Pork *Recipe from Jamie Oliver's cookbook, 30 Minute Meals. Slightly adapted. 7 good-quality pork chops, skin on 8 cloves of garlic 4 eschalots or 1 red onion, skin removed and sliced 1 leek, sliced 1 teaspoon fennel seeds a small bunch of fresh sage leaves honey for drizzling olive oil Preheat your oven to 180 degrees celsius. Trim the skin off the chops, leaving a bit of fat behind on each chop. Cut the skin into 3cm slices and put them into a frying pan fat side down, over high heat and cook until it starts to crisp up and turn golden. Leave them to work their magic while you score across the fat side of the chops all the way along. Season with salt and pepper. Squash the unpeeled cloves of garlic with the heel of your hand and add these to the pan along with the onion and leek and stir to combine. Push the crackling to the side of pan and then stand all of the chops up in the pan with the fat side down. Use tongs to transfer the crackling and garlic to a large roasting tray. Scatter over the fennel seeds and place into the oven while you pick the sage leaves. When the fat side of the chops are golden, lay them flat side down and cook for another 4 minutes until golden on both sides. Take the tray from the oven and place the chops and sage leaves into it. Arranging the crackling and garlic in and around the chops. Drizzle with a little honey and olive oil and return the tray to the oven for about 10 minutes until it all looks golden and luscious. For the Crispy potatoes... *This recipe was inspired by the lovely Kathy Tsaples from her book My shared table. 1 kg potatoes (I used sebago) sea salt 1/2 cup olive oil 1/2 cup water 1 tbsp Smoky almond dukkah (from Gewurzhaus) Wash the potatoes and then cut them into largish wedges or quarters. Pat them dry with a tea towel or paper towel and place them into a non-stick baking tray. Scatter over the salt and then pour in the olive oil and water. Bake for at least an hour to an hour and a half until they are so gloriously crisped they shatter in between your teeth. Sprinkle over the dukkah. For the Cauliflower... Half a large cauliflower, broken into small florets and the stems sliced olive oil 1 tsp cumin seeds enough pickled cabbage (homemade or store-bought) to scatter over the top Place the cauliflower into a baking tray lined with baking paper and drizzle with a good glug of olive oil, a scattering of salt and a good crack of black pepper, add the cumin seeds and give everything a good mix. Pop into the oven for about 30 minutes until the cauliflower is golden and slightly charred. You can do this step before anything else, as it can be served either hot or at room temperature. When ready to serve place on to a serving dish and scatter the pickled cabbage over the top. For the slow-cooked cabbage with bacon... *recipe inspired by Jul's Kitchen 6 rashers of bacon, thinly sliced 1 medium white cabbage, finely shredded salt 4 tbsp apple cider vinegar 2 tbsp olive oil 2 tsp caraway seeds 2 tbsp honey 1 tbsp dijon mustard Fill a large pot with water and add a good pinch of salt and the apple cider vinegar, bring to the boil and drop the cabbage in, blanching for 5 minutes. Drain the cabbage and place it under cold running water, using tongs to lift it up to make sure the water gets it all. This will halt the cooking process. Squeeze as much of the liquid out of the cabbage as you can and then place it into a colander. Heat a large frying pan over high heat and add the bacon, cooking until it starts to release its fat and turns golden, add in a little olive oil followed by the cabbage, stirring to coat everything together. Now reduce the heat to low-medium and continue to cook, stirring every now and then for at least half an hour. Add in the caraway seeds and cook for another 3 minutes and then add the honey and dijon and stir to combine. Season with salt and pepper. And now for dessert... Apple and Rhubarb pie with a fennel seed crust *Recipe inspired by one from Gourmet Traveller by Emma Knowles 100g unsalted butter, chopped 1.2kg granny smith apples, thickly sliced 1kg rhubarb, trimmed and cut into 3cm pieces 450g raw caster sugar 4 cinnamon quills 1 vanilla bean, split and seeds scraped juice and zest of an orange and lemon 60g fresh breadcrumbs 1 egg, beaten lightly, for brushing 20g demerara sugar for sprinkling on top 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon 1 egg, lightly beaten for egg wash For the pastry 450g plain flour 120g pure icing sugar 225g cold unsalted butter, chopped seeds of a vanilla bean or 1 tsp of vanilla bean paste 1 tbsp ground fennel seeds 1 egg 1-2 tbsp cold water Starting with the pastry, sift the flour and icing sugar into a large bowl along with a pinch of salt. Add the butter and the fennel seeds and using the tips of your fingers rub the butter into the flour until it resembles coarse crumbs, a few chunks of butter are ok here. Add in the egg and use your fingertips to break it apart in with the flour, next add in the water bit by bit until it comes together, try not to handle it too much, it's ok if it looks shaggy. Wrap it up in baking paper and place in the fridge to rest for at least an hour or overnight. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a large pot over medium-high heat and then add the apple, stirring to combine for about 5 minutes. Add the rhubarb, sugar, cinnamon, vanilla seeds and bean and stir to combine. continue to cook, while stirring occasionally for about 10 minutes or until it is beginning to soften. Stir in the citrus juices and rinds and then pour this mixture through a sieve which is sitting over the top of a large bowl. You may need to push down on the mixture slightly. Reserve the syrup and remove the vanilla bean and cinnamon. Spread the apple mixture onto a large tray and allow to cool and then stir through the breadcrumbs. (you can always make this the day before too) Simmer the reserved syrup until reduced to a thin syrup, about 10-15 minutes. When you are ready to make your pie, preheat the oven to 180 degrees celsius. If you have rested your pastry overnight in the fridge make sure to take it out at least an hour or so before so it is easier to roll out. Roll two-thirds of the pastry out onto a lightly floured bench to about 3mm thick. Give a 23cm pie tin, with 4cm high sides a quick once over with some softened butter and then lay your pastry very carefully into the base, picking up the edges and pressing them down into the dish, trim off the excess pastry and then tip in the fruit, levelling it all out so that it sits evenly. Roll out the remaining pastry on a lightly floured bench into a round until 3mm thick. Brush the edges of the base with egg wash and place the lid on top, crimping the edges in whatever fashion you so desire. Cut out a small round in the centre and either discard, give to your chooks or pop it into your mouth, as I do! I am a great lover of raw pastry... Brush the top of the pastry with eggwash once again and then scatter over the combined demerara sugar and cinnamon, bake until dark golden for about 45 minutes - 1 hour. If you notice it is colouring too quickly simply just cover the top with a piece of foil. Make sure if you have little ones that they haven't accidentally hit the oven setting over to grill as my little man did!! Luckily I caught it just in time! Allow to rest for at least 1/2 an hour before serving and then serve with a generous scoop of vanilla bean ice cream and a drizzle of the reserved syrup. If you find you have leftover syrup it is particularly good drizzled over your morning bowl of granola or porridge...

The latch of our front gate can quite often be heard from inside our little weatherboard home heralding the arrival of guests. Beau more often than not will jump up from whatever it is that he has been doing and race to the door, or to our bedroom window to see who it is! Lately, it has been delivery drivers dropping off our groceries and fruit and vegetables from the local farm. But every so often it is our next-door neighbour, Paul, who so generously gifts us a large container of his mouth-watering bolognese sauce... I have lost count as to how many times we have received this now-famous (in our home) meat sauce and those times have often been on "one of those days" where nothing has quite gone to plan and I feel as if I have been chasing my tail all day long! So it is a welcome relief, to say the least when that container is passed over...Spaghetti bolognese for dinner it is, much to everyone's delight! I don't know why it took me so long to realise that I could in fact use the sauce between layers of lasagne sheets...perhaps it's because, much to Ben's disappointment, lasagne - the meat variety anyway, just isn't something I generally make. until now! For lasagne to be truly memorable it absolutely must have the addition of that creamy white bechamel sauce and at least three types of cheese...now let's be honest here, I am a firm believer in enjoying everything in moderation and this particular dish is something that one would not indulge in every second night but, if you are to enjoy a good lasagne then you may as well do it with all the bells and whistles. All that is needed to accompany it is the torn leaves of a crisp iceberg or cos lettuce; refreshing slices of cucumber dressed in nothing more than a good glug of extra virgin olive oil, pepper and a generous scattering of sea salt flakes to balance the richness of all those comforting flavours. Ben has even gone so far as to say that is the best lasagne he has eaten, and he is my harshest critic. But this story is not just about lasagne and the many cheesy, meaty layers it involves, it's about more than that. It is about connecting with your neighbours, letting them know that you are there for them. It doesn't require lengthy conversations or even an invitation to sit around your kitchen table, it can be as simple as a quick hello, how are you? or a container of bolognese sauce left at the front door, it doesn't matter what it is, what does matter is the feeling that comes with these acts of kindness, and you really can't put a price on that. Oh, and the empty containers...they are of course filled with freshly baked treats and then left at Paul's front door...and so the cycle continues. We recently had this as part of our Sunday lunch and so I wanted to share it here with you in the hope that it may just make it on to your "to Cook" list. Now the sauce does make rather a lot, Paul likes to cook for a crowd! You could halve this recipe (which is the amount that you will need for the lasagne) but why not cook the whole lot and then divide it up and freeze for a quick midweek meal tossed with some pasta. You could, however, pop it into a container and leave it at the front door of a loved one or even your next-door neighbour, you never know you may just get something back in return... And what better way to end such an indulgent meal than with the refreshingly tingly tang of a scoop of lemon gelato. This recipe comes from the always lovely, always kind and extremely generous Belinda Jeffery. It is from her book, The Country Cookbook, which is one of my favourites, not only for the recipes but for the words that are weaved onto the pages as well. We served ours in vintage glass footed bowls topped with a single strawberry, but we have also enjoyed a scoop or two in waffle cones, which is also equally as lovely. You will ideally need an ice-cream churner, however, Belinda does say that it can be done by hand as well, it just won't be as smooth and it will most definitely require a fair bit of elbow grease, but if you are up for the challenge then the results will be well and truly worth it! The meat sauce Recipe kindly shared by Paul, our next-door neighbour This makes quite a lot of sauce, so feel free to halve it, or cook the whole lot and portion it up to freeze. You will only need 1kg of sauce for the lasagne. 1kg pork mince 1kg veal mince 200g bacon, diced large punnet of mushrooms, finely diced 2 large brown onions, chopped large bunch of parsley, remove stalks and chop very finely (Paul states that this is very important to use the stalks) bunch of fresh basil chopped the same as the parsley 1 head of garlic, cloves peeled and finely diced 1 carrot, finely chopped 4 cans of diced tomatoes (Mutti brand if you can find them) Ariosto Italian herb mix (or something similar such as Gewhurzhaus Maria's pizza pasta blend) salt and pepper olive oil In a large pot, heat 4 tbsp olive oil and add the mushrooms, onions, parsley stalks and basil stalks, garlic and carrot and cook over a low heat with the lid on until soft and slightly caramelised, about 40minutes to an hour. Stirring every now and then. Add the pork, veal and bacon and once again place the lid back on. Once the meat has begun to cook, mix it all in with the vegetables. Add 1 tbsp herb mix along with a pinch of salt and a good grind of black pepper. Add the tomatoes and mix it all together. Paul uses a potato masher to break up the meat at this stage. Cook with the lid on for an hour or so over low heat. season to taste. You can at this point cool to room temperature and store in the fridge. Paul says that the second cook works really well to break the meat down even further. The flavours will also develop if left for a day or two too. You can also use pancetta instead of bacon, as Paul's son does. Assembling the Lasagne 1kg meat sauce 250g packet lasagne sheets, I like to use Barilla 200g mozzarella, grated 200g parmesan, grated 200g buffalo mozzarella, torn For the Bechamel 100g flour 100g butter 1 1/2 cups buttermilk or cream 1 1/2 cups milk 1/4 tsp grated nutmeg salt and pepper Melt the butter in a medium saucepan and then add the flour, stirring together until it starts to smell slightly nutty. Add the warmed cream and milk mixture bit by bit, whisking constantly until thick and luscious. Continue to cook for another minute and then grate in the nutmeg and season with salt and pepper. Preheat the oven to 200 degrees celsius. Oil a lasagne dish, mine measures 30cm x 19cm. Mis together the grated mozzarella and parmesan. I also should mention that you can add in whatever cheese you have handy, I have also made this with some leftover fets and grated halloumi too. Cover the base with a layer of meat sauce followed by lasagne sheets. Meat sauce, half of the bechamel, half of the cheese, half of the torn mozzarella, lasagne, rest of the meat sauce, rest of the grated cheese, lasagne, bechamel and finally the rest of the torn mozzarella. Cover with a sheet of baking paper followed by a sheet of foil and pop into the oven for 40 minutes or until bubbling around the edges. Uncover and continue to cook for a further 15 minutes, until golden. Crisp Green Salad Meanwhile, you can prepare your salad... Tear off as many leaves from a midi cos lettuce (or iceberg, something with a crisp green leaf is good here) place them into a pretty serving bowl along with sliced cucumber and perhaps even some sliced radishes. Drizzle over a good glug of extra virgin olive oil followed by a few grinds of black pepper, salt and a swoosh of white wine vinegar if you so desire. And now for dessert... Tingly Lemon Gelato A recipe by Belinda Jeffery You can start this recipe a few days in advance as you need time to churn it and rest in the freezer before serving. Or as Belinda puts it "to ripen the flavours" finely grated zest of 3-4 lemons 2 cups (500ml) of lemon juice, strained 330-440g caster sugar, you can vary the quantity of sugar depending on how sweet you would like it, the sweeter version will result in a slightly softer texture. 1/2 cup (125ml) cold water 1 cup (250ml) thickened cream Put the lemon zest, lemon juice, caster sugar and water into a large bowl and whisk them together until the sugar has dissolved. Add the cream and whisk it all until it is very well combined. Make sure you have placed your ice cream churner bowl into the freezer before you start this recipe too. If you have one, pour the mixture in and then churn until frozen. Spoon the mixture into a container, I have an insulated ice cream tub that I use but you can use a loaf tin or recycled ice cream container, cover it tightly and place into the freezer for at least 6 hours or overnight, or even a few days before. If you don't have an ice-cream churner you can do this by hand...pour the mixture into a large stainless steel bowl and pop into the freezer for 4-5 hours, or until its frozen 5cm in from the edge, remove the bowl from the freezer and give it a really good whisk either by hand or with a handheld electric beater to break up the ice crystals and to smooth it out. Place the bowl back into the freezer, freeze again and follow the same steps as before, repeating the whisking/beating. For an even smoother texture, you can repeat this a few more times. Your muscles will indeed be stronger for it! The gelato keeps well for up to a fortnight.