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There are numerous boxes stacked high on top of one another in my mum and dad's garage. A treasure trove of forgotten objects and childhood memories. Dust clings to my hands as I rifle through soft teddies, school books, little trinkets. My old Driz-a-bone jacket, which still holds aromas of wet days and horse hair. A floppy disc labelled "Financial studies" brings back memories I would rather forget. I could get lost for hours - my head buried deep. It was my wooden flower press that I was on the hunt for. Mum had said that she was sure she had spotted in the garage. Years had passed since I had even thought about it and the simple joys it used to bring. To lay pretty coloured flowers in between cardboard squares, tightening up the screws and waiting for the petals to flatten over time. to be preserved. Offers a moment of slowness, of quietness and the art of patience. It was a crisp sparkling Winters day, we took an empty honey container with us to collect treasures. Brightly coloured flowers mingled with leaves, red berries and handfuls of grass which Beau insisted on adding. It would be a shame to just let them wilt and fade away. So I pulled one of my thickest cookbooks from the pile on the floor and carefully laid out the purple, orange, yellow and white petals onto one of the pages, a piece of baking paper in between. I snapped it shut and placed it back into the middle of the pile and waited. I felt like a little girl again and have since been opening up the book to check on them every few days. I haven't found my flower press as yet, that's going to require a full day of exploring as I know that once I start opening those boxes of forgotten objects I will indeed be sucked into a vortex of a memory rabbit hole, surrounded by things that tell the story of my childhood and teenage years. I may never find that flower press but I ill always have cookbooks, and when its time for those cookbooks to be handed down or passed on, I smile at the thought of a preserved, dried flower slipping from its pages - a memory from a crisp, sparkling winters day. Lime, nasturtium and poppyseed syrup cake makes a 20cm cake 250g unsalted butter, at room tempertaure zest of 3 limes 220g caster sugar 4 free range eggs 2 1/2 tsp baking powder 200g fine semolina 150g almond meal 150g plain flour 2 tsp grated fresh ginger 1 tbsp poppyseeds 125ml yoghurt pinch of salt Nasturtium leaves, flowers, violas, marigolds, or other edible flowers of your choice Mascarpone for serving, I like to stir through about 1/2 tsp of vanilla bean extract through before dolloping on the side of the cake For the syrup 220g caster sugar 80ml lemon juice 80ml water Preheat your oven to 160 degrees Celsius. Grease and line a 20 cm round cake tin. Then arrange your chosen edible flowers on the base to create a pretty pattern. Beat the butter, lime zest and sugar until thick and creamy, then add in the eggs one at a time until they are all combined. Sift baking powder and flour into a medium bowl and add semolina, almond meal, ginger, and poppyseeds then whisk together quickly just so its all combined. Add the flour mix into the creamed mixture along with the yoghurt and a pinch of salt and stir until it comes together. Spoon into the cake tin, being careful not to disrupt your flower design too much and bake for about 55-60 minutes. If at this time its not completely cooked just cover with some foil and continue to bake until a skewer inserted into the middle comes out clean. Meanwhile you can start with your syrup. Place everything into a saucepan and over a medium heat stir until the sugar has dissolved then bring to a boil, reduce down to a simmer and simmer away gently for at least 5 minutes. Once the cake is baked, carefully pour half of the hot syrup over the cake waiting for it to soak into the cake before adding a little more. Allow to cool in the tin for 20 minutes and then invert onto a cooling rack so that the pressed flower side is now facing up. Pour the rest of the syrup over the top and using a pastry brush carefully brush the syrup over the top and around the sides. Serve with a dollop of vanilla bean speckled mascarpone for something a little extra special.

They are the final addition to my basket, their long, slender rosy-red stems balance on top of a beautiful snow-white cauliflower, a butternut pumpkin, locally grown potatoes, broccoli, long green beans and brussels sprouts. I enter the large shed at Hawkes farm; an Aladdin's cave of inspiring produce. My mind happily racing, concocting ideas as my hands pick up whatever catches my eye at the time. I invariably leave with my basket overflowing and find myself saying to the staff every single time, "I knew I should have bought another bag in with me!" Crimson rhubarb and raspberry jam with a hint of floral essence from my last remaining bergamot gifted to me from Kath www.kulinaryadventuresofkath.com slowly bubbled away on the stovetop, sending the most wonderful aroma through the kitchen. My hands pressed the buttery shortbread base into the tin, fork marks followed - baked until tinged with a pale golden hue. The jam spread generously over the hot base. Eggwhites whipped until snowy soft peaks. Finely shredded coconut folded through. Baked. Cooled. Sliced. Shared. It's tart. Not too sweet, slightly chewy and makes for one very enjoyable afternoon (or anytime) treat. Rhubarb and coconut meringue slice Makes a 31cm x 17cm slice cut into fingers, squares or triangles Recipe inspired by Gourmet Traveller. For the jam. 1 bunch of rhubarb, ends trimmed and cut into 5cm lengths. 100g raw sugar juice of 1 bergamot (or lime, orange or lemon) 50g frozen raspberries Preheat your oven to 180 degrees Celsius and grease and line with baking paper so that the sides and ends sit about 5cm up from the tin. set aside. Place the rhubarb, sugar and juice into a medium pot over medium heat, stir everything together and allow to simmer away for at least 18-20 minutes until its beautifully jammy. Stir in the raspberries and continue to cook for another 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool while you make the base. For the base. 180g unsalted butter, at room temperature, cut into small chunks 100g caster sugar zest of bergamot (or lime, orange or lemon) 2 free-range egg yolks (reserving whites for topping) 225g plain flour 3/4 tsp baking powder pinch of salt In the bowl of a stand mixer or using electric beaters, cream the butter, sugar and zest until light and creamy. Add the egg yolks one at a time and beat until combined. Sift the flour and baking powder along with the salt and add this to the bowl. Very slowly turn the mixer on again being careful not to send flour flying all over the bench, or you! Mix until only just combined and then spoon out into the prepared slice tin. Using floured fingertips, gently ease the dough into the corners, pressing down until its all even. Dock the base with a fork a few times over and pop into the oven for 10-15 minutes or until lightly coloured. Remove and set aside while you make the meringue. For the meringue. 2 eggwhites 120g raw sugar 1 tsp vanilla bean paste 120g shredded coconut Once again in a very clean and dry bowl, add the eggwhites and starting slowly with the whisk attachment, whisk gently until small bubbles start to form, gradually increase the speed to medium until the whites have turned to soft peaks. Add the sugar a little at a time, about three batches should do it, whisking well in between each until the meringue is thick and glossy. Whisk in the vanilla. Gently fold in the coconut with a few turns. Bringing it all together. Spread the rhubarb over the top of the base then spoon over the meringue and either using the back of a spoon or an offset palette knife spread it all out evenly. Pop into the oven and bake for about 15-20 minutes or until the meringue is golden. Allow to cool in the tin and then slice into your desired shapes. I allowed my slice to rest in the fridge overnight and this also worked well and made slicing quite easy. It will keep in the fridge for at least 5 days.

My heavy-based casserole pot sits on top of the stove even when it's not in use. It's covered in cooking stains, burnished marks that each tell a story...Vegetable laden curries, pot-roasted chicken complete with potatoes, cream and mustard, and slow-cooked lamb shanks have all added their splotches and splatters over time. In the early hours of the morning, at least once, if not twice a week she warms her insides up in the heat of the oven. Waiting patiently to cocoon the soft, pillow-like sourdough rounds that have been resting on the bench. She also makes the most perfect vessel to serve whatever it is that has been prepared in her, picked up from the stove and taken straight over to the table so that everyone can serve themselves. This is how I love to share meals, be it with a table full of special people or simply just the 4 of us. For me, it shows the abundant love that has been poured or stirred into the meals I create, just like this warming seafood meal. The orange-hued oil seeps out from the chorizo. Mussels, prawns, calamari and large chunks of fish follow. Fennel seeds, tomatoes, risoni. A splash of white wine, a scattering of peas, the juice of a lemon. Taken to the table, serving spoon in hand, fresh bread at the ready and a chunk of parmesan to the side. The open fire flickers as the rain falls softly, sending slow-moving trails down the fogged up windows. This is winter and what better way to fully embrace her icy conditions than warming up with a bowl full of this comforting, nourishing meal. Fennel, chorizo & marinara risoni Serves 4-6 1 chorizo sausage, casing removed and sliced lengthways, then sliced into half-moons 2 tbsp olive oil 1 red onion, thinly sliced 2 tsp fennel seeds 2 garlic cloves, finely diced 500g marinara mix 1 tin crushed tomatoes (i love using Mutti) 350g risoni (or a mix of rice and risoni also works well too) 1/4 cup white wine 1-litre chicken stock 1/2 cup of fresh or frozen peas a knob of butter zest and juice of a lemon a handful of parsley, chopped Parmesan for serving In a large heavy-based casserole, with a lid, add the chorizo and cook over medium heat until the oils release and it's just starting to colour. Remove from the pan and set aside. Leaving the oils behind. Add the olive oil and the red onion and cook until softened, now add the fennel seeds and the garlic cloves and continue to cook until fragrant. Now you can add the seafood and cook for 5 minutes or so. Pour in the tomatoes and continue to cook for another 3 minutes. Pour this mixture into a large bowl and set aside. Place the pot back over the heat, now you can add the risoni along with another glug of olive oil, stir it all together so that it's coated in the remaining sauce. Add the white wine and cook until reduced. Pour in the stock and simmer for 10 minutes, or until the stock has been absorbed by the rice/risoni, stirring so as to make sure that the rice/risoni is not sticking to the bottom. Add the seafood mix back into the pot now along with the chorizo, peas and continue to cook for a few more minutes. Turn off the heat and stir through the butter, lemon zest and juice and the parsley and season to taste. Pop the lid on and allow to sit for 10 minutes. Serve with a generous grating of parmesan, a crisp garden salad and fresh bread with lashings of butter.

The calmness of the bay and the wild unpredictable waters of the ocean can both be reached within minutes from our humble little weatherboard home. Ben and Beau quite often take off in the car bound for the back beach, only to return later with pockets full of sand, wind-swept hair and icy cold faces. It was a few weeks ago now, before the second round of lockdown that we packed up our picnic basket, donned our thick coats and set up our lunch in the boot of the car. With a beach towel laid out and freshly baked potato and garlic bread sliced, we warmed our hands around mugs of piping hot soup poured from the thermos and huddled together watching the waves crash to the shore. This is a recipe to soothe, comfort and nourish. And can be enjoyed in the comfort of your home, in front of the fire or huddled together in the boot of your car. I believe that picnics can be enjoyed in any season. Sometimes we just have to get a little creative... Pumpkin, ginger and lemongrass soup Makes quite a generous amount, perfect for freezing. 2 tbsp olive oil 1 onion, sliced 2 garlic cloves, finely diced 5cm piece of ginger, finely diced 1 lemongrass stalk, white part only, finely sliced 4cm piece of fresh turmeric, finely diced (if you don't have fresh simply substitute with 1/2 tsp of ground) 3 kaffir lime leaves, finely sliced 2 tsp cumin seeds 2 tsp ground coriander a pinch of ground cinnamon 1 tbsp ginger, lime jam (optional) 900g butternut pumpkin, skin removed and cut into 3cm chunks 150g carrots (about 2 large) cut into chunks 400g tin crushed tomatoes Salt and black pepper enough water or stock (vegetable or chicken) to cover (about 600ml) 400ml coconut milk fish sauce to taste the juice of 1 lemon or lime toasted shredded coconut and pepitas to scatter over the top In a large heavy-based pot, heat the oil and add the onion and a pinch of salt and cook over medium-low heat until softened. Add the garlic, ginger, lemongrass, turmeric, kaffir lime leaves, cumin, coriander, cinnamon and jam (if using) stir it all together and continue to cook for a couple of minutes until fragrant. Tumble in the pumpkin and carrots and give it a good stir so that everything is beautifully coated. Pour in the tomatoes and then fill the can with a little water to swish around to get those last remaining bits of tomato out, pour this in too, followed by the water or stock, a pinch of salt and a few cracks of black pepper. Bring this all to the boil and then reduce to a simmer, partly covered until the pumpkin is tender when pushed against with the back of a spoon. About 30-40 minutes should do it. Take off the heat and using a stick blender or carefully ladling it into a blender, blitz it until lovely and smooth. Pop it back over the heat over a low flame, become mesmerised with the marble effect as you pour in the coconut milk. Add a few dashes of fish sauce as well as the juice of a lemon or lime. Taste and check the seasoning. You may need a little more fish sauce, or a little more pepper, you decide what tastes good. Ladle into bowls and scatter over the toasted coconut and pepitas.

I am finding the scribbled notes on the lined piece of paper in my notebook hard for me to even decipher...Arrows pointing here another over there...did I mean that the hazelnuts, brown sugar and cinnamon were blitzed together? Was it mascarpone or creme fraiche? 4 or 6 pears in total? All of these questions and more spin around inside my head making me slightly dizzy!! Beau's little scribbles only add another layer in the decoding of it all, oh my! This is the way every recipe begins. My notebook close by as I jot down different ingredients and flavours that I want to incorporate. It's like a slowly simmering pot, bubbling its way to the surface. Sometimes it can take a couple of weeks before I am able to even get to the testing stage and sometimes I can trip over a happy accident - just like the pear, rosemary and apple tart recipe that I shared in a post over on Instagram. It is when this happens I give a little clap of my hands and then I have to madly write everything down before it completely leaves my headspace! It was the elegant Beurre Bosc pears at Hawkes Farm that inspired this cake. A tub of ricotta and a couple of day-old sourdough slices helped bring this winter warming sweet treat to life. The stickiness of the dates adds to the lovely moist crumb. brown sugar gives it a caramel note or two and cinnamon, ginger and star anise add comfort when we need it most. The spiced sourdough crumb that is finally scattered over the top makes use of stale bread ends and adds a heavenly crunch. It may be worlds apart from the Sara Lee sticky date pudding that I very much enjoyed when I was younger (I couldn't think of anything more ghastly now!!) But, I have to say I'm pretty thrilled with how my version of a somewhat "grown-up" sticky date cake turned out. On the day of baking and testing of this recipe, we enjoyed thick slices, still warm, on pretty china plates with Ben's mum and dad. The verdict was a resounding "Yes!" But the question of whether or not the ricotta layer had to be in there was brought up? I decided to keep it as I really love the way it looks once sliced into but, by all means, it could just as easily be left out, if you so desired. As could the poached pears, however, they may just be my favourite part followed very closely by that golden, crunchy crumbly topping! If you feel the need to be cocooned in your kitchen during these chilly days, poaching pears and licking spiced cake batter from the spoon then I can highly recommend giving this warming sweet treat a try. Please let me know if you do, it brings such a smile to my face knowing that a recipe I have shared has been welcomed into your home, into your kitchen and perhaps shared amongst friends - if where you live at the moment you are allowed to do such things, and if not, then perhaps you could leave a few slices on your neighbours' doorstep. Whatever you decide, I hope that it brings comfort and that it satisfies a sweet craving in these challenging times. Sticky date cake with poached pears and a sourdough crumb Makes a 20cm cake Don't let the extensive list here put you off, it really isn't a hard cake to make. It just asks you to give a little of your time. For the cake 250g dates, pitted and chopped roughly 1 1/2 cups of milk 1 teaspoon bi-carb soda 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 teaspoon ground ginger 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon 125g unsalted butter, at room temperature 1 cup brown sugar 2 free-range eggs, at room temperature 1 3/4 cups self-raising flour For the poached pears *I poached 6 pears in total, but the recipe only requires 3, however, they are quite handy to have stored in the fridge in their syrup to serve on top of porridge, or with a dollop of yoghurt and a sprinkle of granola. Or you could use them in cakes or for a crumble for a quick dessert. 6 beurre bosc pears, peeled halved and cored 250g caster sugar 800ml water cinnamon stick 2 star anise 1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped and pod used as well a peeled rind from an orange For the spiced sourdough crumb 2 - 3 slices of day-old sourdough 1/2 cup of hazelnuts 1/4 cup brown sugar 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon 50g unsalted butter, at room temperature For the ricotta layer 250g ricotta 50g creme Fraiche 1 tablespoon brown sugar the zest of an orange 1 tablespoon of poaching liquid Firstly we will begin with the poached pears. Dissolve the sugar in the water in a large heavy-based pot over medium heat. Add the cinnamon stick, star anise, vanilla seeds and pod and the orange rind, give this a stir and then carefully add the pears. Place a round circle of baking paper over the top and then cover and simmer gently for 20-25 minutes or until the pears are just tender when a knife is inserted. Remove the pears at this point and then bring the syrup up to a boil and reduce this down for about 15 minutes. Discard the aromatics and pour the syrup into a clean jar or container. Set aside. Preheat your oven to 160 degrees celsius. Grease and line a 20cm springform cake tin with butter and baking paper, extending the paper 5cm above the rim. Place the dates into a medium saucepan with the milk and cook until the milk is just about to reach boiling point. Remove from the heat and stir in the bi-carb. Be careful as it will rise so just keep stirring. Allow to sit while you get along with the rest of the recipe for now. Break up the slices of bread into chunks and lay them out onto a lined baking tray, pop into the oven for about 8-10 minutes, or until golden and crusty. Place them into a blender and blitz until you have fine crumbs. Tip out into a bowl and then blitz the hazelnuts with the sugar and cinnamon until chopped coarsely. Pour these into the bowl with the crumbs and then using your fingertips, rub the butter into the ingredients until you end up with a crumble like topping. Set aside. Now onto the ricotta filling. In the bowl of a stand mixer whisk together all of the ingredients until smooth and then set this aside too. Now onto the cake... Take your milk-soaked dates and pour these into a blender along with the vanilla and ginger and cinnamon and blend until smooth. Cream the butter and sugar together until light and creamy and then add the eggs, one at a time. Beating until incorporated. Fold through the sifted flour.5 Now comes the fun part. Pour half of the cake batter into your prepared tin, spread over the ricotta mixture using an offset spatula or the back of a spoon to level it out. Place the pears, cut side up on top, pressing down only very slightly. Now spoon the rest of the cake batter over the top and smooth out, scatter over the sourdough crumb mix. At this point, the cake will almost be to the top of the tin but do not worry as the excess baking paper around the edge will stop it from overflowing! Pop into your oven on the middle shelf and bake for an hour and 50 minutes (long and slow baking time), checking to make sure the top is not browning too much, if it is simply just cover with a sheet of foil. The cake should feel slightly firm to the touch once done. Allow to cool in the tin for at least 45 minutes before removing. It is lovely served still warm but it's just as good the following days. It will keep in the fridge for at least 5 days and could even be reheated in the microwave (if you have one)

It was close to midday by the time I had wiped down the kitchen sink. Two loaves of freshly baked sourdough sat proudly on the bench as the crust crackled and cooled. Half a dozen frozen balls of cookie dough waited patiently in line next to the oven, which was next to my white baking dish that was full of grated granny smith apples and finely diced pieces of crystalised ginger, both had been stirred through melted butter, a touch of spice, some flour and a scattering of brown sugar - an old fashioned favourite, self-saucing pudding. A chicken and sausage cassoulet slowly bubbled away in the oven, the rich red sauce thickening around the sides of the pan; the sausages - thick and plump, a gorgeous golden hue. I plucked a pumpkin pancake from the pile and covered its golden surface with a lick of butter. The cool, crisp late morning air was refreshing as it hit my cheeks as I stepped outside, I tightened the belt of my dressing gown around my waist and melted into the comforting lightly spiced flavour of the fluffy pancake. The recipe for which came about after having seen Penny Todman post a recipe for her pumpkin pancakes over on her Instagram feed. I had also made The Clever Carrot's Fluffy sourdough pancakes a week or two before and so I combined the two which resulted in a rather happy experiment. It seemed that our dog, three chickens and one dirt-stained little boy wanted in on the fluffy pancake action too as it wasn't long before they were all huddled around my legs, eager for a taste! I handed one to Beau, took my last mouthful and stepped back inside to the warmth. A quick check of the timer on the oven told me I had at least half an hour before lunch would be ready to take out. It was time for a shower! If there has been one thing I have taken great pleasure in doing every Sunday since we went into lockdown it is this - these slow Sunday mornings when Ben is home, it is the planning of a special lunch. A dessert. Baking bread and generally just, being. Being at home, together. Being in the kitchen. Being well-fed. Being nourished. Being happy for the simple, for what we have and continue to create in this little home of ours. It is being grateful for the small, insignificant happenings and goings-on of daily life during a pandemic and it is enjoying piping hot, spiced pumpkin sourdough pancakes on a chilly late winters morning. Spiced Pumpkin Sourdough Pancakes Makes approx 10, depending on size 1 cup cooled mashed roasted butternut pumpkin 50g almond meal 50g buckwheat flour 50g plain flour 1 tbsp caster sugar pinch of salt 1 tsp baking powder 1 1/2 tsp bi-carb soda 1 tsp ground cinnamon 120g sourdough starter 1 free-range egg 1/2 cup of milk 1 1/2 tbsp unsalted butter, melted, plus extra for the pan In a medium-sized bowl, whisk the sourdough starter with the egg and milk, add the almond meal, flour, buckwheat, sugar, salt, baking powder, bi-carb and cinnamon and then whisk to combine. Lastly, add the melted butter and once again whisk until its lovely and smooth. Cover and place in the fridge to rest overnight. The next morning, whisk in the mashed pumpkin until smooth once again. Heat a large frypan over medium heat and add in a good knob of butter, swirl it around so that it coats the bottom. Drop about 2 tbsp worth of batter to make one pancake, I can fit three pancakes in mine at a time, but you just fit in as many as you can. As soon as the tops of the pancakes have little bubbles appearing all over them, its time to flip. They should be beautiful and golden. Continue to cook for another minute or so, or until golden on both sides. Remove and keep warm while you continue with the rest of the batter. Serve with butter, maple syrup, fresh berries, vanilla-infused ricotta, honey or even ice cream if you so desire. They are also enjoyable as a mid-morning snack in the days following if you find that they are not all eaten on a Sunday morning...I have been looking forward to my morning tea these last couple of days as I smear mine with a good dollop of ricotta followed by a drizzle of honey, hot cacao by my side as we sit out on the back deck. And only when we have finished the very last crumbs are the chooks allowed out... those girls are fierce when it comes to food!

A tussie mussie of foraged spring beauties sits on the windowsill above our kitchen sink - the light mauve, deep burnt orange and faded yellow petals of wild freesias sit below pink-stained star-shaped petals of whimsical jasmine stems. Their fragrance the epitome of spring. There is a change in the air. The mornings become lighter. The birds begin their chorus earlier. The days become more alive - its as if nature is singing, shes opening up once again after the dark, damp, cold days and weeks of winter. Her song is very much welcomed. I thought what better way to celebrate than by baking a batch of scones, studded with ruby-red rhubarb and the tangy zest of lemon for freshness. I was mesmerised as the jasmine-scented icing slowly fell from my antique spoon, forming thin whirls over the golden, buttery, still-warm treats. I was in bliss as I sat out under the warm rays of the sun to enjoy one after capturing them on my camera. However, there was no dilly-dallying around to savour every mouthful...oh no, there was a certain little boy with a nose for anything sweet who was creeping about and would have, if I took my eye off him, gobbled up every last crumb! Why he even managed to drink the last half of my warm beverage...but that's Beau bear! The recipe for these has been adapted from The Kitchenista Diaries, Strawberry buttermilk scones with lemon glaze. Angela also has some really great tips included in her blog post. These are American scones and are very different from British scones but are delicious and well worth baking all the same. Rhubarb & Lemon scones with a jasmine scented drizzle Makes 8 1 cup diced rhubarb, about two large stems, halved down the middle and diced 1 cup of plain flour 1 cup of wholemeal flour 1 tablespoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon bi-carb soda 1 teaspoon salt a few grinds of black pepper 3 tablesppons raw sugar zest of a lemon 90g frozen butter 1 free range egg 3/4 cup buttermilk (or full cream milk with 1 tsp of vinegar or lemon juice added and stirred) 1/4 cup thickened cream For the Jasmine sugar syrup 1/4 cup caster sugar 1/2 cup water 1/4 cup of picked pink jasmine flowers (jasminum polyanthum) For the drizzle 1/2 cup of icing sugar, sifted 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 tablespoon of jasmine syrup (or more if needed) Place the flours, baking powder, bi-carb soda, salt, pepper, sugar and lemon zest in a medium mixing bowl and whisk together to combine. Add the egg, milk and cream into a seperate bowl and whisk together until smooth. set asisde while you grate the butter using the large holes of a box grater into the flour mixture. Gently toss the butter and flour together and then pour in the milk mixture, followed by 3/4 of the rhubarb and using your hands, gently bring it together to a sticky dough. Turn out the dough onto a floured bench and dust with flour. using your hands or a dough scraper fold the dough over itself three times, a side over to the other side, and then that side over to the other side and then take it up from the bottom and you have your three folds. Press the dough into a circle, roughly 2.5cm thick. Then cut the dough into 8 wedges. Place each wedge onto a lined baking tray keeping each one at least 5cm apart. Press the remaining rhubarb into the tops of the scones and then place into the fridge for 20 minutes or so while you preheat your oven to 200 degrees celsius. Meanwhile you can make your sugar syrup. Place the sugar and water in a small saucepan and bring to the boil , stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Boil for a minute and then remove from the heat and pop the flowers in to steep for at least an hour. This will make slightly more than what you will need for the drizzle but you can pour it into a jar and keep it in the fridge. It can be used to drizzle over your next lemon cake or stirred into a glass of sparkling water or used where any sort of sugar syrup is required. For the icing you will need to mix everything together until its a thick, pourable consisitency. It should fall off the spoon in ribbons. Brush your scones with a little extra cream or buttermilk using a pastry brush and Place your chilled scones into the oven for about 18-20 minutes or until golden. Allow the scones to cool, only slightly before drizzling with the icing. Pop the kettle on and put your feet up in a quiet spot (or at least try to anyway if you have little kiddies) and then maybe you might need to share one with them too. They are best eaten on the day they are made, but arent too bad the next day. I have also frozen them and then reheated them in the oven by wrapping them in some foil. You could even toast them as well.

The smell of tomato plants always reminds me of my Nanna. As I brush my hand over their leaves and bring them to my nose I am a little girl once again, in the backyard of their garden, under the clothesline where the cherry tomatoes grew up the trellis against the fence. I can almost feel the warmth of the summer sunshine on the backs of my shoulders. ​My Nanna would spread two slices of lightly toasted bread with generous lashings of butter, which was applied with a bone handled knife with great precision right into the corners of the crusts. Sliced tomatoes would follow along with cracked black pepper and a rather hefty pinch of salt! ​​When tomato season arrives I can almost hear the collective squeals of delight from all who admire these shiny, taught-skinned treasures. They really are very deserving of a celebration. Which is why I decided to make this honey-roasted tomato and goat cheese tart. Its luscious and all that is needed to accompany it is a vibrant green leafy salad dressed in nothing but a good glug of extra virgin olive oil, a splash of apple cider vinegar, salt and pepper to make it perfect for any time of the day. We enjoy the leftovers straight from the fridge in the days that follow but it also re-heats extremely well too. The polenta adds a lovely texture to the pastry making it one of my favourite tarts to date. ​ ​ I have shared the recipe below for you, in the hope that during this somewhat slower pace of life that most of us find ourselves in at the moment, that you can enjoy the process of standing at a floured bench, rolling out butter streaked pastry and filling it with ingredients that deserve to be celebrated. Because at the end of the day it is the simple things in life that really matter. ​ ​ Honey-roasted tomato and goat cheese tart Makes a 23cm tart 500g tomatoes, I used a mixture of cherry tomatoes and slightly larger ones as well. The smaller ones can be halved and the larger can be quartered. 3 tbsp olive oil 1 tbsp honey 3 sprigs of thyme, leaves removed 1 garlic clove, finely diced 1 cup of cream 3 free range eggs 1 cup of milk 100g goat cheese For the pastry 225g plain flour pinch of salt 1 tbsp polenta 125g cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes about 60ml of cold water Put the flour, salt and polenta into a medium bowl and give it a quick stir with your hand. Add in the butter and using your fingertips rub the butter into the flour until it resembles coarse breadcrumbs, some larger chunks of butter are ok. add in some water a little at a time and bring the dough together into a ball. Wrap it in a sheet of baking paper and pop it into the fridge for at least 30 minutes or overnight. If you are keeping it overnight just make sure you take it out of the fridge to come to room temperature again, this will make it easier when it comes to rolling it out. Grease a 23cm loose-bottomed tart tin with butter. On a lightly floured bench, roll out your pastry until its slightly bigger then your tart tin, roll the pastry back onto your rolling pin and then drape it over the top of the tin. Carefully ease the pastry into the tin, pressing down into the sides. Trim the top and keep to the side just in case you need to use it to patch up any cracks. Place the tin on a baking tray and pop back into the fridge for 30 minutes to rest. Preheat your oven to 200 degrees. Tear off a sheet of foil and press into the tart shell, making sure you have covered the sides as well, pour in baking beads or rice to weigh it down and place into the oven for 20 minutes, after this time remove the foil and weights, check to see if there are any cracks and if there are, simply patch them up with the reserved pastry offcuts, pressing it into the cracks, the heat from the tart shell will make it stick, pop back into the oven for another 5 minutes or until the pastry is golden. Adjust your oven to 180 degrees. Place the tomatoes onto a baking tray lined with baking paper and mix the olive oil, honey, thyme and garlic along with salt and pepper into a small bowl and stir well. Pour over the tomatoes and stir it all really well to coat. Pop into the oven for about 30 minutes. The tomatoes should collapse and will be swimming in a delicious pool of honey spiked juice. Set aside. Whip half the cream until soft peaks are reached. In a medium bowl pour in the remaining cream along with the eggs, milk and half of the goat cheese, a pinch of salt and a good grind of black pepper. Gently fold in the whipped cream. Pour this into the tart shell and then place the tomatoes on top, drizzle over a couple of spoonfuls of the juices and crumble over the remaining goat cheese. Place into the oven for 40-45 minutes or until its golden and just set when shaken gently. Remove from the oven and let it rest for at least 30 minutes.. Remove very carefully from the tin, I find it easier to place a small bowl underneath the tin so that you can then pull down the rim and then place the tart onto a plate and serve.

At times it begins with a thought; an idea starts to form in my mind. It may have been something I had read, smelt or tasted and in some cases it comes about from having a few egg whites leftover, a small amount of sour cream sitting in the fridge or I just generally have a wave of inspiration wash over me and allow those flood gates to open wide. Since taking part in Anneka Manning's "The science of baking e-course" which you can have a look at over on www.bakeclub.com.au, I have found myself feeling more confident in trialling out the different recipes that pop into my head. Having an understanding about the structure certain bakes need and the way in which each ingredient plays a vital role was not only extremely interesting to learn about but it also has made me an even more observant baker in the process. It was this luscious dark chocolate and cumquat maramlade cake that had been weaving its way to the forefront of my mind for a while. Once I was finally given the chance to bring her to life I grabbed at with both hands. Melted velvety smooth dark chocolate rivers were swirled through feather-light meringue creating that wonderful marble effect that always has me stopping for a moment to admire. With the bowl scraped clean, a cheeky taste of the batter, the timer set. All I could do was cross my fingers and wait. With my notebook on the bench, I quickly scribbled down some words, weights and oven temperature and times. Allowed to cool, she was then dusted in a fine layer of rich cocoa powder. her fragrance was magnificent. I carefully cut a small wedge and gave a little clap of my hands. Now all that was left to do was to taste. I took my cake fork to the pointy end and as I popped it into my mouth, my eyes closed and I could feel the flavours, the texture, the warmth dancing around every surface of my mouth. The very slight, subtle bitterness of the marmalade peeking through. And just like that, as if by magic, Ben arrived home, eyes wide as he spied the cake on the bench, "can I have some, or do I need to wait until its been photographed?" he said with longing."you can have that piece" I gestured. As I waited, he too closed his eyes, took another mouthful, looked at me and said with a puzzled expression, "What's in it?" my shoulders slumped ever so slightly as i waited for his verdict once told that it was marmalade... "it's delicious" A sigh of relief. "I thought you were going to say something else!" I replied as he helped himself to another piece. Two days later all that remained on the plate were crumbs. Dark chocolate, roasted almond and cumquat marmalade cake. Makes a 22cm cake You can use any marmalade you like, I just so happened to have a few jars of cumquat marmalade on the shelf. 180g dark chocolate 180g unsalted butter, at room temperature 140g caster sugar zest from one orange 4 free-range eggs, at room temperature 90g sour cream 100g plain flour 150g roasted almonds extra 2 tbsp. caster sugar 1/4 cup of marmalade of your choice Preheat your oven to 160 degrees, fan-forced. Grease a 22cm springform cake tin with butter and line the base and sides with baking paper. Lay the almonds out onto a baking tray and pop into the oven for about 10-15 minutes or until they have that lovely roasted taste to them. Set aside and allow to cool. Once cool, place them into a processor and blitz until they turn into a meal. Don't go too far though otherwise you will end up with a paste instead. Pop the chocolate into a heatproof bowl set over a pot of slowly simmering water and allow to melt until lovely and smooth. Set aside. Cream the butter, sugar and zest until light and fluffy. Separate the eggs and add the yolks, one at a time to the creamed mixture, mixing well between additions. Pour in the melted chocolate and mix until combined. stir through the almond meal, flour and sour cream. In a clean bowl, pour in the eggwhites and with the whisk attached and the power to low to start with start whisking. Gradually building up speed to medium once there are small bubbles appearing, add in the 2 tbsp. of sugar and continue to whisk until it reaches the soft peak stage. Carefully fold the meringue through the chocolate mixture in two batches until just combined. Spread half of the batter into the tin and then spread the marmalade over the top, finally finishing with the remaining batter. Smooth it all out with an offset spatula or the back of the spoon and pop it into the oven for about 45 minutes. Allow to cool in the tin for about 20 minutes before removing and placing onto a wire rack to cool completely. Dust with a fine layer of cocoa powder and serve with crème fraiche, vanilla ice cream or simply by itself. It can be stored in the fridge for at least 5 days but I really don't think it will last that long anyway.

A slice of oozy creamy brie sat on top of a piece of Smyrna sun-dried quince and I was in heaven. As I stood there savouring every last morsel I cold feel the ideas blooming in my mind. Walnuts! Yes, walnuts! What if I was to put these three things together - the quince, the brie and the walnuts to create some sort of savoury dish. And so the process began. My pen and notebook at the ready as words quickly appeared on the page. Books were opened and the pages flicked through with a flurry. I was on a mission. I closed my eyes and imagined tasting these things together. I had remembered that Sue from Singing Magpie Produce had told me that the quince paired really well with salmon, so I naturally had to include this into the equation, however, it was in the form of flaked hot-smoked salmon that it appeared and what followed was a creamy yet light filling encased in a crisp and buttery walnut and rosemary crust. A tart was born and with it came a new-found love affair with sun-dried quince. I have now made this tart three times, tweaking and changing things here and there in the hope that you too may create it in your own kitchen. It can be served hot, at room temperature or simply straight out of the fridge, cold, for when those hunger pangs just cant wait a minute longer. It would be perfect to take along to a picnic or gathering and even better gifted to a friend or family member. I will leave that choice up to you. But I can without doubt be sure that you will fall head over heels for Sue's quince and find yourself having to refrain from eating the whole packet when it arrives in your mailbox, consequently re-ordering some and perhaps sneaking a couple of other of her delicious products in your online shopping basket too! Makes one 23-25cm tart Walnut and Rosemary pastry 100g toasted walnuts 350g plain flour 1/2 teaspoon salt 200g cold, unsalted butter, cut into small chunks 1 free-range egg a sprig of rosemary Add the walnuts and rosemary leaves to a small food processor and blitz to a fine crumb. Pop into a bowl with the flour, salt and butter. Using your fingertips, rub the butter into the flour until it resembles course breadcrumbs. Add the egg and bring the dough together with your hands. Lightly flour your bench and knead the dough into a ball, very briefly just so that it all comes together. Pat it out into a disc and wrap in cling film. Place into the fridge to have a little rest for at least 30 minutes. Or, overnight. Just make sure you take it out to reach room temperature again before rolling out. This will make it much easier to handle. Grease the base and sides of a 23-25cm loose bottomed tart tin well using a pastry brush and a little melted butter, making sure you really get into all of the fluted edges of the sides and line the base with a circle of baking paper. Pre-heat your oven to 190 degrees. When the pastry has finished resting, roll out onto a lightly floured bench until it is just a bit bigger than your tin and then carefully place into the tin. The easiest way to do this is to take your rolling pin and roll the pastry onto it, then carefully roll it back down on top of the tin. If the pastry is quite soft or, if its a warm day place the pastry lined tin back into the fridge for 20 minutes. I do this regardless. Sit the tin on a baking tray lined with baking paper. Trim the edges and Carefully place foil onto the pastry and push down so its sits flat, then fill with pie weights, or if you don't have these you can use rice. Place into the oven for 20 minutes then lift up the foil just to check that there are no holes or cracks and bake for another 10 minutes. Or until the pastry feels dry to the touch, patch up any cracks with leftover dough. You may have leftover pastry which is always a good thing, simply wrap it up tightly and place into the freezer for another time or you can make smaller mini tarts with whatever you have leftover. For the filling 2 leeks, top and tailed and sliced thinly 40g butter 1 tbsp. olive oil 150g creamy Brie 300g ricotta 6 eggs 300ml thickened cream 85g sun-dried smyrna quince (I order these through Singing Magpie Produce) 150g hot smoked salmon Set your oven temperature to 170 degrees. First of all you will need to cook your leeks, so place a large frypan on the stove with a medium heat, pop in the butter and oil and allow to melt, add the leeks and a pinch of salt and stir frequently until softened and just starting to colour. Set aside. Using a food processor or high powered blender, place the ricotta and brie in and then blitz them together until smooth. Add in the eggs, cream and a grinding of black pepper and a pinch of salt and then blend again until lovely and smooth. Stir through the leeks. Now you need to pour in about half of the ricotta mixture into your tart shell and then place the quince slices on top of this followed by the flaked salmon. Pour the rest of the ricotta mix over the top, it should come just below the rim of the pastry. Carefully place into the oven and cook for about 60 minutes. It will puff up and look wonderfully golden on top. Dont worry that it then deflates on resting, its supposed to and you havent done anything wrong. Remove from the oven and allow to sit for at least 15-20 minutes before removing from the tin. Slice and serve with a simple green salad and a zesty dressing. Leftovers can be enjoyed straight from the fridge, warmed in the oven or wrapped tightly and stored in the freezer for at least 2 months.

My feet quickly scurried over the icy-cold pavers towards the carport; our second fridge lives out there and I grasped whatever it was that I was heading outside to get firmly in my hands before rushing back up to our blue front door. It was when I took that first step inside that for a moment I was back in my Nanna Joy's home, her home in Box Hill. It always felt so large and the driveway was so long, with the grass strip running right the way down the middle. The grass was thick and spongy and she always kept the odd fork or two in the garden beds, which stuck upright, the tines resting in the dark, rich soil. A hills hoist stood proudly in the centre of the back lawn which provided many a cheeky swing around by my brother and I, before being told "get down from there!" My imagination ran wild at the thought of all the creepy crawlies that lurked in the shadows of the old, un-used outback toilet that sat up on the left hand side of the garden, thank goodness there was another, more user friendly one closer to the house! And then there was the green, long-corded rotary dial telephone that sat next to the black teledex, I loved listening to the sound it made as I turned the dial.... It was in her kitchen however, that I have perhaps the fondest of memories. It had this certain smell of baking and cooking which intermingled and infused the air. My brother and I would sit at the high bench waiting patiently for the sausage rolls to be pulled from the oven. Their golden, flaky pastry shells shining under the light that filtered in through the kitchen windows. Her strong hands handled them delicately as she pulled one by one off the trays to cool. Soon after a plate would appear in front of us and a giant dollop of "Black Crow" tomato sauce would dive out of the glass bottle, I remember always having to "smack" the bottom of the bottle to will it on out. We would greedily scoop the sauce up with our almost too-hot-to-handle sausage rolls which would leave a trail of pastry flakes in the smear that was left behind. More often than not, fluffy pikelets would follow, flipped with an expert ease and magically appear before our wide hungry eyes. Those days seem so long ago but then they also feel as though they happened only yesterday. It only takes a batch of sausage rolls to take me back to those days of sitting in Nanna Joy's kitchen. She lives on in many ways, but it is through her sausage rolls where much of the happiness and "joy" are shared. A party was never complete without a tray piled high and they were always the first to disappear. They were well known amongst many of the customers at the café too and my Aunty became quite the expert maker/roller/baker, I wouldn't dare try to count how many she would have made over the years! Perhaps its the addition of diced bacon or the dash of savoury/sweet Worcestershire sauce that gives it that little something special that makes myself and many others reach for "just one more". I think it has something to do with both, but I also think that its the memories that will be forever rolled into each one. That first bite when lips become covered in flaky pastry crumbs and the smear of rich red tomato sauce on the plate is all that remains. Yes, it is these and many more thoughts that will always put a smile on my face. More so now, knowing that these same memories will be created for Beau, for there will always be a plate piled high at every one of his parties and the occasional batch will be (allowed) to cool on the kitchen bench, lined up as straight as soldiers, ready to tempt any hungry tummies after time spent out in the crisp winter air. And each time I will give Nanna Joy a little nod and thank her for the moments and memories that she helped to create, that made our childhood as special as it was. Nanna Joy's Sausage Rolls Makes about 16 large or quite a few party sized 2kg Sausage meat 2 brown onions, finely diced 6 rashers of bacon, diced, fat trimmed 4 tbsp. tomato sauce 4 tbsp. Worcestershire sauce 1 cup breadcrumbs about 8 sheets of puff pastry (I like to use Borgs) 1 egg & a dash of milk for brushing Pre-heat your oven to 180 degrees. line trays with baking paper so they are ready and waiting. In a large bowl combine the sausage meat, onions, bacon, tomato sauce, worcestershire sauce, and breadcrumbs. season well. Your hands will be the best tools for this next part as it requires a bit of mixing and squishing together so that all of the ingredients are thoroughly combined. Lay out the pastry sheets and then using a sharp knife cut down the middle of each one so that you now have two long sheets. Take a good handful of the meat mix and first squish it into a ball and then using two hands start to form it into a sausage shape. lay it down towards the left hand side of one of the halved sheets and then stretch it out so that its an even shape and touches the top and bottom of the pastry sheet. You may need to add more mixture or take some away, just don't overfill them as they will burst their bottoms when they cook! Maybe try a practice one and see how it rolls up and then you will be able to judge better for the rest of them. Continue to do this until all the mixture has been used up. In a small bowl, combine the egg and milk and mix together and then using a pastry brush, brush the egg wash down the centre of each sheet and then one by one roll them up so that the seam is on the bottom. Now you can either just cup them in half and have 2 large sausage rolls or you can cut them into 4 and have party sized ones. I will leave that up to you. Place them onto the prepared trays, leaving a bit of space in between each one. Brush with egg wash and then pop them into your oven for about 40 minutes (swapping trays around half way through) or until they are golden, shiny and look good enough to eat! Allow them to cool on the trays until they are cool enough to handle, or you could pluck a couple from the tray, minding your fingers, onto a plate, a good dollop of tomato sauce (or a lovely chutney) and enjoy them hot, straight from the oven. Pop the rest onto some cooling racks and allow to cool completely before storing them in airtight containers, with sheets of baking paper in between the layers. They will keep in the fridge, for at least 5 days ready for a quick re-heat in the oven for lunches in the days that follow. Or you can freeze them for up to 2 months.

Butter; What is it that makes it so special? What is the very first thing that pops into your mind at the mention of it? Is it a golden, crispy-skinned roast chicken that has been smeared in the stuff? Perhaps it’s the sound of the knife, scratching over the surface of toasted sourdough, crumbs flying here, there and everywhere all over the kitchen bench as you try to spread fridge-cold butter right to the crusty edges. When I think of butter I often think of baking. Rubbing cold cubes of butter into flour for the first stages of pastry making. Creaming it with sugar until its pale and fluffy. And melting it on the stove until it has reached that gorgeous nut-brown stage, sending a blanket of caramel-like aromas throughout the kitchen. The latter takes me back to a day. One that I will never forget. We used to make a burnt butter tart at the café, which quite often would very quickly disappear from the counter before lunch time arrived. It would be topped with seasonal fruits, spices and even the scattering of dark chocolate and coconut at times. I always loved coming up with different flavour combinations as it could withstand just about anything, making it a very good vessel to become experimental with. This particular day saw us have a rush of orders come in all at the one time. I had just put the pot with the butter in it on to the stove to “burn” it before being whisked from the kitchen to help out the front. Stuck out there a little longer than I had imagined I turned to face a customer who appeared to have a look of concern on her face, “your kitchen is on fire!” My eyes darted over to the kitchen and there flying high above the pot on the stove were some very angry looking flames! Quickly opening the door, I had lost all memory of where the fire blanket was (It was of course right where it always was) and for a moment I was frozen. My dad came in, grabbed one of the lids off the stock pots and threw it over the top of the flames. The butter was indeed burnt, burnt to oblivion and the pot wasn’t in very good shape either, it was never quite the same after that. I however, continued on with “burning” butter, always erring on the side of caution and never leaving it out of my sight. Lesson learnt! I had been playing around with an idea that had been swirling in my mind for a while now, jotting down notes in my baking journal as they appeared. It was a tart that I wanted to create, using poached quince of course, I just can’t seem to get enough of them at the moment. My first trial run was ok, but it was lacking that something special. It was during a conversation with the ever so lovely, Sally Frawley @sallyfrawley during a day of photographing and styling together that the “something special” was unearthed…. Quince butter. A glorious smooth paste of pureed poached quince poured into a baking dish and cooked until it reaches an even more intense colour and flavour. I could happily have eaten it just like that, perhaps on a slice or two of freshly baked sourdough with a scattering of creamy goats’ cheese… I had an idea, however, and I was determined on bringing it to life. And so, this quince and frangipane tart with a burnt butter crust was created, with a very last-minute sprinkling of coarsely crushed almonds added on top. It was lovely. So much so that I am sharing it with you in the hope that you too may find a moment or two to have a couple of hours to yourself in the kitchen, rolling, stirring and sprinkling. Just remember to always keep a watchful eye on that burning butter! Quince frangipane burnt butter tart Makes 1 23cm tart 125g unsalted butter 200g flour 50g polenta 70g caster sugar 1 egg Pinch of salt 1-2 tbsp cold water In a small saucepan over a medium heat, melt the butter and cook until it has reached that lovely nut-brown colour, but be careful you don’t take it too far! Pour into a small bowl, scraping out those burnt bits on the bottom too and then place into the fridge to harden. Sift the flour into a bowl and add the polenta, sugar and salt and then take your butter from the fridge and using a spoon, scoop it out into the bowl. Now you need to rub the butter and flour mix in between your fingertips until there are no longer large chunks of butter left. Add the egg and stir together with your fingertips, add in the water a little at a time until it forms into a neat ball of dough. Flatten it out slightly and press any cracks that have formed back together, wrap in cling wrap and then pop into the fridge for at least 1 hour or overnight. When ready to roll out take out of the fridge 30 minutes before hand, depending on how hot or cold your kitchen is you may need to wait longer or get on with rolling soon after you have taken it from the fridge. On a lightly floured bench, roll out until it is slightly larger than the tin you will be using. Roll it up onto the rolling pin and then drape over your tin and very carefully ease it in, trimming a little of the excess pastry away. (keep this handy though) Pop into the fridge again for another 30 minutes. For the Quince butter…. Preheat your oven to 180 degrees. You will need to have poached quinces on hand for this, I do have a recipe for this together with the quince and apple tart in the recipe before this one. You will need 500g of poached quince, blitzed in a food processor until lovely and smooth and then poured into a baking dish lined with baking paper. Now you can pop this into the oven for an hour, stirring halfway through. Once it’s done, set aside to cool. You can do this a few days beforehand if you like and keep it in the fridge. Now to blind bake your pastry. Increase the oven to 200 degrees and either using baking paper or foil to line the pastry case you will then need to fill this with pie weights or rice or dried beans. Place the tart tin onto a baking tray lined with baking paper and place on the bottom shelf of the oven for 20 minutes, then take it out and lift the paper very carefully just to take a peek to see if you need to patch any cracks or holes in your pastry with the pastry offcuts. Once this has been done, pop it back into the oven, on the middle shelf for a further 10 minutes and then remove from the oven and remove the baking paper and weights. Allow to cool. To make the Frangipane… 100g unsalted butter, softened 100g caster sugar 1 tsp vanilla bean paste Finely grated zest of an orange 2 eggs, lightly whisked 100g almond meal 100g almonds, coarsely crushed in a food processor or in a zip lock back and bash with a rolling pin Beat the butter, sugar, vanilla and zest together until creamy and smooth, then gradually add the egg and beat until combined, you may need to scrape down the side of your bowl and then continue to beat. Fold in the almond meal until everything is combined. Now to fill your tart… Reduce the oven back to 180degrees. Using a palette knife or the back of a spoon spread the quince butter evenly over the base then do the same with the frangipane and then finally scatter over the crushed almonds and smooth it all out evenly. Place the tart into the oven and bake for about 40 minutes or until golden and just firm to the touch when lightly pressed with your fingertip in the centre. If you find that the edges of the tart are browning a little too much, simply create a collar, of sorts, with some pieces of foil and then continue to bake. Once she’s done, remove from the oven and allow to cool in the tin before placing onto a lovely platter and serving with a big dollop of thick Greek yoghurt, crème fraiche or vanilla bean ice cream. I hope you enjoy, and I would love to see your creation of this if you do get the chance to have that quiet moment in the kitchen. Don’t forget to tag @amy_minichiello_ if you do, Amy xx