Mutiny

I am having a calorically challenged day so far and something tells me there is more scale misery to come. Just to name a few of my bad moves so far: pancake breakfast, Sunday lunch, a slice of cake the size of my head, and, of course, no exercise.
It's not even 6pm and I bet one of my stomachs will be requesting dinner soon enough. I have to act quick and get on that bike of mine but I'm finding loads of silly excuses to delay the pain like 'Superman 2 is on Channel 5 maybe I should watch it!' or 'exercise will only make me hungrier!' or (my personal favourite) 'I'm too cold to put my shorts on!'. Lame, lame, lame!

While I make up my mind about the whole exercise situation, let me drool again over the gateau de Savoie I made a couple of days ago. My favourite creation in months I think!

I had never tasted a sponge so light. It was almost like a meringue but I expect it is because the gateau de Savoie does not require any butter.  Surely then it must be healthy! So to make it a proper treat that's gonna stick to my thighs for the rest of my days, I enjoyed my cake with a dollop of my old friend, the redcurrant jelly.

The sight of it makes my eyes water! I am so greedy!

I think this cake would make a great base for a fraisier, where you sandwich creme patissiere and fresh strawberries between two layers of sponge. Nice summer picnic dessert that would put a lot of puds to shame I think!

For the sponge
4 eggs
125g caster sugar
60g plain flour
30g cornflour
pinch of salt
a small lemon

Screw the bike! I shall settle for weights instead...and a big green salad. I'm not laughing!

Yeast Affection!

Yesterday, I managed to find some fresh yeast in town and it's got me all excited about all the possible delicacies I could get out of it.

Who gets excited about yeast you might wonder? I do, but only with the fresh type cos I love its texture, its smell and basically I feel a bit like a professional baker when I have some in the house.
As it happens, my great grandfather was a baker so maybe the desire to bake runs in the family! Let's hope I don't inherit other (less savoury) family traits because, in terms of weirdos, alcoholics and other delightful types of people, my family can be thought of as rather 'gifted'. The axe story does spring to mind but now is not the time for this fine tale of French countryside!

So, I went home with my pot of yeast and started looking for potential recipes. I thought bread at first and then of course my gluttony dictated something sweet instead. I looked into making a brioche but again I wasn't completely satisfied with what I found online. Then, I came across a recipe for a tarte de ménage comtois (bit of a mouthful for the non-bilingual type I agree). Basically, it's a bit like a flat brioche with a soft custard centre. It's an old regional recipe from France, which I had never come across during the 21 years I lived there. I decided to give it a try as I love brioche and my husband loves custard. Marriage is all about compromise after all!

The dough was pretty easy to make but needed proving twice so it's not exactly a treat you bake at the last minute.
After the yeast has worked its magic, the dough goes in a flat dish and the centre gets flattened a bit in order to accommodate the custard.

 I brushed the outer ring of the tart with some egg yolk and baked it for about 20 minutes.

The smell coming from the kitchen was absolutely amazing and I was really pleased with the result. The centre was dead soft and the brioche itself was sweet and light.

The fresh yeast has defo delivered! I ate almost half the tart by myself whilst watching Hang'em High last night.
It's still soft today but I am trying to stay clear of it...for now.

 For the dough
250g plain flour
40g caster sugar
1 egg
30g butter
1 tbsp oil
10cl milk
12g fresh yeast
a pinch of salt


For the custard
1 egg
125ml creme fraiche (single cream works too)
50g caster sugar
a bit of vanilla extract

I think I might save the rest of the yeast for the weekend and maybe make some pains au chocolat. Those little bad boys take ages though so I'm not sure yet whether I'll have time or not.
For now I'm gonna enjoy the winter sun that's gracing Gateshead and let Proust take me to Combray!

TV Misery!

Daytime tv is like a box of chocolates from Poundland; it's bright and loud but has nothing nice to offer!

Despite the fact that I spend a lot of time at home I don't watch much tv during the day. I usually listen to the radio or my own stuff on the computer. When I have my lunch, however, I want to entertain my eyes and my brain for a few minutes and invariably I make the same mistake: I turn the tv on.
Is it too much to ask for something not relating to property searching (like all of us have loads of cash to flaunt on a house in Dorset), something that won't involve charvers screaming at eachother in an attempt to figure out who fathered Donna's fifth kid, or something so old that even the great grandkids of the protagonists have long disappeared from this planet.

I just long for a program that will teach me something I can actually use in my daily existence. Or maybe just a tv series other than Friends and Gilmore Girls? I am sure that most of the retired people from this country who sit home all day do not really want to see Ross and Rachel reunited but wouldn't say no to a bit of Dallas or Dynasty. Dallas would definitely lighten up my lunch! Another cocktail to go with that Brandy Sue Helen?

I could write for hours about how I find modern tv frustrating, how it is pratonising and take people for utter idiots who have to be repeated the same fact five times in the course of a one-hour program. I could go on and describe how I hate weight-loss programs, singing contests and other mediocre mind-numbing distractions that try to keep us on our sofa every night. I could keep writing about this sore subject but will stop here because I am baking and the dough is ready to be worked!

By the way, last night's roasted fruit was delightful but I thought my meringues were a bit dense.

I added just over 100g of caster sugar, a dash of OJ and some vanilla extract to the fruit before roasting the lot for half an hour.
For the meringues I used 2 big egg whites and 160g of sugar, half caster and half icing.

Either the meringues will be used for an impromptu Eton Mess in the next few days or the birds of Gateshead will get a sweet change from the crackers I've been feeding them recently!

Home alone

I got up this morning and decided to stay home all day. No faffing with make-up, no eyebrow plucking, no decent clothes...just a good old day wearing comfy pjs and a one-to-one session with a few job sites.

A few applications later followed by a good session of aerobics in my bedroom and I find myself thinking about university and the fact that I miss it more than usual. I really enjoyed studying for my degree in Linguistics, adored most of my tutors for whom I had the deepest admiration and now looking back at the past 3 years I wish I could still be there. The student life is a nice sheltered life, even for mature students like me who have to keep a job on the side and can't afford getting plastered on Skittles three times a week, all that paid for by the bank of mum and dad.

I miss how learning new facts made me feel and I miss the sheer satisfaction (pointless as it was) I would get from sharing interesting facts about language with my husband over dinner at night. It was good to know things that few people actually took the time to consider.

Less than a year later and I'm forgetting the once known by heart Principles A, B and C of the Government and Binding Theory or how the use of modals evolved after 1500. That once cherished knowledge is slowly being replaced with more practical skills such as how to write the perfect covering letter in order to show yourself in the best possible light to potential employers. Mind you, I haven't cracked that skill yet cos I'm still  waiting for full-time employment to find me!

I know it's useless to look back and regret but I get a bit mellow at times and question my past choices. If I had the money I would register straight away either for an intergrated PhD or maybe a Master's. I believe life is about learning and when I get in that sort of miserable mood I need to focus on something else. I therefore baked a little chausson aux pommes as we call it in France with some remnants of puff pastry I had in the fridge. It's basically an apple turnover but calling it by its proper French name feels more appropriate.

A bit of apple and pear compote (a gift from my sister on her visit) a fold, and a bit of yolk with sugar for a lovely finish:

15 minutes in the oven...and a little heart to make it more personal.
(Note to self:  my kitchen worktop is reminiscent of a grave I know, we need to move big time)

My dad loves nothing more than a chausson aux pommes for breakfast. I remember working in his firm over the summer when I was 18 or 19 and sometimes on our way to work in the morning we would stop at the baker's and get a pastry. I have always been partial to a croissant in the morning but would sometimes go for a pain au chocolat or brioche but my dad always had the same. We would eat in the car, smiling faces with oily fingers and pastry crumbs on our lap. The little things!

In addition to this bit of baking I also some meringues to go with some roasted fruit I am making for tonight as dessert but as they're not quite done it's another story for tomorrow. They looked good before they went in the oven...

The monster within!

'A hangover (pronounced /ˈhæŋoʊvər/) describes the sum of unpleasant physiological effects following heavy consumption of alcoholic beverages'.

In its definition of the common noun hangover Wikipedia keeps it short and straight to the point. However, the way I felt yesterday was far more complex than that.
In French we call 'gueule de bois' which translates literally to 'wooden face' or 'face of wood'. It's not really my face that felt worse but I surely looked like crap all day!
Sangria + Jack Daniels is not the best combo one can choose to consume and I accept the consequences of my choices.

I thus woke up dead early (as I do when I've had too much to drink) and felt really dehydrated. I thought a big fat glass of OJ would sort me out but the sugar only worsened my budding headache. I reached for the aspirin and Alka Seltzer and went back to bed. I believe that in these situations a state of perfect horizontality is necessary in the early stages of recovery. I tried to read but Proust was just a tad bit too challenging in the state I was in. So I just lay there with my husband, listening to Classic FM and hoping for a time when I could get up and function again.
Then came the munchies and  I was weak. I made some toast...evil food. The usual balance of my diet had been disrupted! Me, who only ever eat fruit for my breakfast! It seemed that the few glasses of sangria and Jack Daniels I enjoyed the previous night shattered months and months of good work. After the toast I felt bloated, guilty and still hungover!

At some point we stumbled out of bed, got ready and went for a walk along the river. The freshness of the wind rid me of the wine stuck to my pores and I started to feel like I could still have a good day. Things were finally looking up but not for long.

2 hours later, I was starving again and this time for all sorts of savoury foods I never eat. I wanted pizza badly and after very little persuading on my part I got my husband to share my enthusiasm. We walked into a restaurant full of families and young kids. We usually carefully avoid these places cos we like to eat in peace but yesterday I wasn't myself anymore, I was a pizza craving animal with a stomach that needed filling! Despite children screaming for attention, spitting out food on the table and crying with open mouths full of half chewed dough I thoroughly enjoyed my mushroom pizza. It make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!

We went home tired but satisfied and I even had the strength to make a crab and leek quiche for today!

I will reheat it tonight and have it with some desperately needed greens. The recipe is very easy, 200ml of cream, 2 eggs and some seasoning and whatever fish you fancy. I used crab and prawns but I am considering smoked trout next time.


After being around so much savoury food I fancied something sweet and made a simple peach and pear sponge. I never had time to photograph it as I ate most of it warm, straight out of the oven.

I still managed soup and half a baguette for dinner. I must have grown a second stomach overnight!

I am officially ashamed of my eating conduct. I have to pay the price today and sit on that bike of mine for at least 75 minutes. Damned consequences!

Needless to say, I will not be weighing myself today.

Coffee by candelight!

Weird day that keeps giving!

Got woken at about 6.25 this morning by a house alarm going off closeby. My mind was confused by the lack of sleep I had enjoyed the previous night and therefore thought it was our alarm waking up everybody within a two-mile radius. Not that I care as we haven't managed in 4 years to befriend one single soul around here!

I was enjoying a bit of a silly dream where I was living in a caravan with my sister (must be what watching Big Fat Gypsy Weddings does to my subconscious) and the sound of the alarm brought me back to reality in the most uncouth way. My husband went to investigate and we soon realised that there was a power cut in the neighbourhood. He shone his iphone around the house like the light of Elendil, trying to figure out how to work the silly alarm we never actually use. It turned out that the alarm going off wasn't actually ours but our neighbours'. One problem sorted!

Since I was awake I went searching for a torch in the hope of making myself a coffee the old fashion way, using a pan on the stove (like when I visit my parents who refuse to use a kettle). No torch but a less than optimal candle was retrieved from the kitchen and I proceeded to prepare my favourite beverage. I took the coffee and candle to bed and felt weirdly excited by the whole unusualness (don't really like that word by the way) of the situation. It was all quiet and dark outside, very eerie actually with occasional shadows appearing behind windows checking we're all in the same boat.

The natural order of mornings had been altered; some people were gonna be late for work today, some would have to shower in the dark, some wouldn't be able to have breakfast or enjoy their little dose of shitty morning tv. Some sort of quiet hurricane had hit The Staiths!
I read for a bit and sipped my coffee in silence while my husband and cat lay beside me trying to catch up on the sleep they should not have lost. The warmth of the bed and Nellie's regular feline breathing made me feel safe and content despite my routine being rudely interrupted.

The powercut lasted for an hour but the feeling that something utterly pointless and which will remain unexplained is lingering and giving my day a weird character. It's either that or the fact that I'm tired and cranky for lack of food! I took the baking too far this week and the scales are showing me figures I don't want to see. Gonna have to stay away from what my heart longs for until balance has been restored once more :(

I am not gonna enjoy my weekend...

Raspberry Wednesday!

I started the day full of good intentions. I had a fruity breakfast while my heart desperately longed for the cinnamon hot-cross bun I toasted for my husband. I looked for jobs for a while and spent 75 minutes on my exercise bike. So far, so good!

Then landed on my doormat the answer to a job application I sent a few weeks ago. I looked at the envelope for a few seconds, opened it and before I could actually read it I was visually attacked by the adverb I was dreading the most: unfortunately. It's a five-syllable adverbial, usually placed at the beginning of sentences with a big fat capital 'u' so how could I see anything else?

The mood was therefore set for the day! I felt a bit crap for a while, asked myself what Marcel Proust would do and thought 'do something girl instead of pitying yourself'. I was thus going to watch Quantum Leap (feel good tv) but it wasn't on so I thought about baking something that would make me happy. I settled for a flan patissier, which is a bit like a custard tart but without the nutmeg finish. To make it more interesting I decided to add raspberries and tinned peaches.

Slight digression but when I was a teenager, like 18 or 19, I used to babysit a couple of kids whose parents used to work a lot and spent zero time in the kitchen cooking for their offspring. The dad was often away on business trips and had to spend a lot of time in Paris so I never saw much of him. He scared me a bit to be honest so I didn't mind! He was a bit like a bear: big, hairy and growling at the kids a lot. I started baking cakes while I was there cos the children never got to eat much homecooked stuff. It also killed the time nicely!
I made a flan once and the bear somehow got his paws on it. After that, whenever I worked there was a note for me in the kitchen prompting me to bake a flan for him that he could take away 'for his week'...for his snack more like!

I thus perfected the art of flan from a young age and introduced this dessert to my husband who likes it very much but only when it is baked on puff pastry, which is optional in France. I baked the pastry first for 10 minutes:

Then, I made the filling and laid it on the warm pastry:

I sprinkled some demerara sugar on the top to give the flan a caramelised finish and baked it for about 40 minutes:

Defo having a soup tonight then!

Flan patissier:
1 puff pastry (I used the leftover pastry to make a mini pancetta and raclette pie)
650ml milk
2 large eggs
100g sugar
60g plain flour
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp vanilla sugar
2 handfuls of chopped up fruit

Shame I don't like brownies!

Valentine day was here! Town was full of men running around Marks and Spencer, reaching for roses and looking desperate in the wine aisle, wondering what the difference is between a pink Prosecco and a Reserva Cava. Bless! My advice lads, you can't go wrong with a bit of Prosecco...especially from Marks!

For lack of decent funds this year I decided to treat my husband the old fashion way...with a meal. He had decided he wanted steak-frites so all I had to worry about was dessert. To show him my true love and selflessness I chose to bake him something he liked very much but does not eat very often i.e. a brownie. I don't make brownies cos I don't like them. I find them too rich, a bit too gooey and far too chocolatey to be safely digested. A woman who doesn't like chocolate you might ask? I do like chocolate in small doses but surely not in a sponge. I'm getting all boring in my old days and happily settle for something fruity instead. I have recently developed an addiction to rhubard compote but now is not the time for this fine tale.

I made the brownie and thought it looked a bit sad:

Bad, bad look! I had time on my hands so I make a chocolate sauce and worked on the presentation. You can't go giving your husband a cake that looks like it's been punched in the face or dropped from a height.

Looking better but still not the masterpiece I wanted.

For the brownie
200g dark chocolate
180g butter
3 eggs
220g caster sugar
110g plain flour
About 80g of walnuts and pecans


For the topping
80g dark chocolate
30g butter
More nuts for decoration

Next on my list was to get rid of the half pack of lardons we have in the fridge, leftovers from raclette night on Saturday. I wanted to make something my husband could have for his lunch at work, to give him a break from soups and sandwiches. I had a look on my usual French website and found a fougasse recipe that looked good. A fougasse is a sort of hybrid between a bread and a pie.
I made the dough, let it rise for a while, fried lardons, onions and mushrooms together before laying them on a bed of creme fraiche. I added some Stilton to give it some depth and voila before baking:

I brushed the fougasse with a bit of milk and put it in the oven for about 25 minutes:

 

 (Please note that after several attempts I cannot get this damned picture to rotate).

I am currently waiting to hear whether it was a success or whether I should bin the recipe! Comments to follow.

Fougasse:
250g flour (I used strong white)
pinch of salt
2 tsps of olive oil
2 tbps of creme fraiche
whatever toppings you have in the fridge, tuna, ham, mushrooms, onions, lardons...

As one last bit of preparation I made some garlic butter as my husband had mentioned it would make a difference to his meal! Husband, I give you the gift of cholesterol and shortened life:

The meal was a success.

Look at me playing it all healthy and stuff! Homemade (by moi) tuna quiche and vegs:

and then the killer piece de resistance:

and it's only Monday!

Resistance was futile!

Another Sunday with too much time on my hands and as I am sitting at my computer, slightly bored with a daily jobsearch that is not going my way , I start browsing recipes on my usual French website. I've had my lunch and by that time I'm in sweet mode so straight to the dessert page for some sweet inspiration.

I've been wanting crepes for the past week but been resisting the urge cos I'm trying to watch my diet, lose weight or whatever misery women put themselves through...I exercised for 40 minutes in the morning so I manage to convince myself it's ok to enjoy a couple of crepes after dinner. Decision made! Now to turn this treat into what I can only think of as a diabetic nightmare I decide to team my crepes with an accompagnement and settle for salted butter caramel. I had always wanted to give it a go after all so now is the time. How wrong can it be after all? Sugar, butter, and cream...All well-known natural healthy ingredients guaranteeing cellulite will never leave my thighs for the next 10 years! At the time I'm happy though so who cares about the rest?

The caramel (and the crepes) turned out lovely but I must admit that, for me, nothing quite compares with jam or jelly in terms of filling. So reminiscent of my childhood in France when, on Wednesday afternoons when we were off school, my grandma would  make crepes for the family. We weren't allowed to eat them there and then; they were to be kept as a dessert to be enjoyed after dinner.The smell would get me out of my room and I would beg for the first one in the batch, the messed up one. I usually shared it with my younger sister in the kitchen where we would be standing by the stove, burning our fingers holding shreds of hot crepe.
In the evening the crepes would be reheated in the oven and enjoyed with whatever jam we had at home that week, strawberry, raspberry, rhubarb or if we were very lucky homemade redcurrant jelly. Happy days!
Now I'm gonna have to cycle hard for an hour on that damned bike of mine! The price to pay I guess when you pig out on 3 crepes after dinner!

Crepes (makes about 6 small ones):
200g plain flour
2 eggs
275ml milk
2 tbsp oil
a bit of vanilla extract or a pinch of vanilla sugar

Salted butter caramel
70g caster sugar
10cl single cream
40g salted butter
1 tsp of seasalt 

Valentine's minus 3

Yesterday was a particularly grey day in little Gateshead and for no apparent reason, other than we needed something to look forward to, my husband decided to take me for a Valentine's meal in the evening.
After worrying about the fact we can't afford an expensive meal (only for about 5 minutes cos I love eating out more than I love his bank account) I started looking at where to go, what to wear and what to do with my hair. We settled for a rather posh establishment in town and all afternoon I fantasized about perfectly assembled desserts, delicious wines and delicately prepared fish courses. My expectations were more than met!
We shared the loveliest bottle of Picpoul de Pinet I had in a fair while. After a couple of sips I had forgotten about the tight budget we should be on and dived in the basket of homemade bread...and the butter that came with it!
The starters were amazing! I had a craster kipper salad and my husband went for the cheese and spinach soufflé.  The sauce that came with the soufflé was rich but somehow light. I do need to perfect my soufflé technique cos mine tend to sink once they've left the comfort and warmth of the oven. Surely, that's a beginner's mistake only witnessed in the first round of Masterchef!

We ate our mains so quick that there was no time for any photo opportunity. I had smoked haddock with colcannon and a cream sauce while Nick went for grilled halibut served with chips and tartar sauce. I literally adore fish and mash, not sure why but it's a combo that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
I would have liked some visual evidence of my husband actually ordering and having fish in a restaurant. He's usually a dedicated meat fan who only settles for venison, beef or lamb. That was therefore a pleasant change cos it meant I could eat some of his food as well as mine (I don't eat meat you see).

Dessert was refined too and consisted of meringue and jelly. Said like that it sounds a bit lame but it was really nice. 

 To finish off the meal we shared a plate of cheese and by the time the taxi arrived I think I must have put on 4 pounds. As I walked  through the restaurant to get my coat (or should I say rolled out of the restaurant) I remembered feeling grateful I had worn a black top which was a bit loose round the waist.
Got home, ate a rennie, had an alka seltzer and slept on the side as to not disturb my overworked stomach. Greed, greed, greed!
Note to myself: got to make soufflés soon!

Hug needed!

Slow day! My sister came to visit for a few days and she left last night. Living in a different country I don't get a lot of visits so when my sister is over from France I try to make the most of our time together. It always goes too quick though!
She never gets to sample a lot of my cooking because we end up eating out a lot and this time was no exception. I want her to try all the varieties of food on offer in the UK you see. France is much more traditional in terms of cooking so it was a great occasion for her to enjoy curries, burgers, fish and chips and of course Sunday dinner. At this point of the story it is wise to avoid mentioning the weight gained during her 4-day visit.

I did, however, bake her a batch of scones which turned out lovely surprisingly enough. She loves scones and they're not easy to find back home. All my previous attempts at baking scones fell flat (very literally) and I ended up with anorexic scones that looked like they had purged themselves from all raising agents by the time they came out of the oven ! For this reason I'm defo keeping hold of this recipe cos it seems foolproof!
The result:

Scones:
300g plain flour
2tbsps baking powder
1 pinch of salt
40g caster sugar
50g unslated butter
1 egg, beaten
150ml milk a little extra to brush the scones
100g of sulatanas or cranberries (I used a mixture of both)

After dropping my sis off at the airport and having a little cry and moan, I went home and fancied some comfort food, French style. I browsed recipes for a while and found one for a tart that would make use of the apples I had recently been buying by the shedload (my new low-fat breakfast best friends). I used the puff pastry that had been lying in the freezer for the past 2 months and boom! It got my mind distracted for a while so I guess it did the trick. The smell in the house while I was frying the flaked almonds, sugar and butter!

Being from Normandy, I used to eat a lot of apple tarts as a kid. My grandma used to bake one almost every week. I overdosed as a teenager and for a long time I stopped eating them. What I wouldn't give for my grandma's apple tart now!

And now, after my husband has used his posh camera and equipment to make it look all professional and proper:

For the tart filling:
4 apples (think I will add peaches or pears next time to give it a different texture)
120g caster sugar
35g corn flour
3 egg yolks
250ml milk
1tsp of cinnamon


For the topping:
60g flaked almonds
20g butter
2 tbsps caster sugar

I served the tart with a bit of sweet creme fraiche but my husband reached for the vanilla ice cream instead. He took some to work today and people were very complimentary...so he says!