‘Orange Julius’ Breakfast Fruit Salad

 

I remember as a teenager being very fond of Orange Julius. For those of you unfamiliar with this company, they have an iconic milky orange drink called, wait for it, the Orange Julius. Back in the olden days I think it was just orange but, looking on their website, they have all kinds of new-fangled fruity flavours. Not interested; love the original flavour. But like all favourite things in youth there’s a sting in the tail; or rather, an artificial chemical  in the cup. Not sure what they have in it, but what it doesn’t seem to have is real milk, all fruit and a hint of real vanilla. Maybe back in the day it did, but I bet my Kitchen Aid blender it doesn’t now. But no worries because in this recipe you get all the yummy nostalgic taste of the 70s version, but without the (alleged) stabililsers, preservatives, flavour enhancers and what not. I mean really, does fruit need flavour enhancers? Not my fruit salad, thank you very much.

Prawn, Tomato and Spaghetti Squash ‘Pasta’

Two weeks ago I was writing a post in bare feet and with a glass of freshly squeezed, tree-fresh orange juice at my elbow. Today, at a sparklingly sunny 5.5 C, I greet you with double layer socks, a woollen under-clothing shoulder warmer thingy, and a ridiculous number of layers. I am also jiggling my legs and flexing my toes to keep the circulation going. With any luck these fidgety movements will also burn a few calories. Don’t scoff: I’ve read that’s one reason slim people are slim. Must be worth a shot.

Across the northerly latitudes many a home-based worker will currently have on some version of my keep-warm-this-winter gear. Perhaps you yourself are sporting a fleecy leisure garment, or even some flannel. I am anticipating serious scarf action and fingerless gloves, a la Steptoe, in the not-too-distant future. And I’ve looked out my stash of jaunty berets and ski hats. I’m not joking.

At this time of year I can forget what a sight I must look, a combination of lost Inuit and itinerate gardener. Not infrequently do I open the door to wide-eyed unsuspecting neighbours hoping only for a small favour or to give me something from their garden. They cover it well but I must look such a wild contrast to how I appear when going out for the day. Or rather I hope it’s a wild contrast. I could in fact be setting myself up for an awful Trinny and Susannah-style makeover from ‘kind’ friends and relatives. As long as they let me keep my shoulder warmer…

Courgette, Pea and Pesto Soup

After promising from the little box on the right-hand side that I would post this recipe, at last it is here. Just in the nick of time, before the British seasonal courgettes are finished. I know you haven’t been waiting with bated breath, but I can’t believe I have waited so long to post this fabby soup.

I love soup (as any right-minded person would) and this one is one of my most favourite, and easiest to make. Because it is so quick and simple it often features at my summer Maggie’s Centre nutrition workshops, where everyone seems to really enjoy it and want to make it at home. Energy and tastebuds certainly take a hit during cancer treatment so it’s great to have a bung it all together kind of recipe that tastes great, is nutritious and freezes well for another day. I am always immensely pleased when anyone says that they enjoyed their lunch at Maggie’s, but especially so by those whose appetite and taste are affected by treatment. I will be putting more of my easy, Maggie’s Centre-tried and tested recipes up for you and your family to try. In the meantime I really hope you go for this one. If you like Italian tastes but want something ultra-light, creamy-tasting but still filling, this might just do.

Apple and Oat Bars

“I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul,” Jean Cocteau

A short post this week, but with a recipe that warmly invites Autumn into the kitchen. If you have an apple tree go out and gather any windfalls; give them a scrub and a chop. You are now one step closer to a house saturated with the comfort-blanket aroma of Autumn spices: like a Glade candle, but nicer – and more edible.

North African Okra Tagine with Spiced Crispy Tofu

The basis of of this delicious autumnal jackpot of a recipe is thanks to
the estimable Martha Rose Shulman, food editor at The New York Times. I saw a link to her recipe on Twitter, and as I just happened to have a wee bag of the hairy little guys, I thought I’d have a go.  The okra was originally destined for a dip in spiced cornmeal and then shallow-fried to crispy Southern perfection, but this sounded much healthier, and indeed would be a main meal.

We really loved it, so much so that I had to hide the pan away so that it could be re-presented the next day: ‘Greed, not need’ seems to be our family motto. 

Late-Summer Salad and Triple Tomato Soup

This morning I realised we are experiencing an inexorable slide to ‘porridge weather’. All summer I have been vacillating between starting the day with berries and yogurt, poached egg with asparagus, and a breakfast bruschetta of chopped cherry tomatoes, olive oil & basil on sourdough. All very delicious and light. But this morning – without any thought behind it – I reached into the cupboard and pulled out a forlorn packet of Scottish porridge oats. Using a half and half mixture of soya milk and water, I simmered this companionable pairing before adding dried goji berries and a grating of apple. And it was heavenly. If that doesn’t say ‘autumn’ I’m not sure what does.

But it wasn’t just the instinctively pre-hibernation breakfast that signaled summer’s end. Although it doesn’t yet feel too chilly, the other omens are abundantly clear: more than the odd brown leaf on the lawn, mystery mushrooms colonising under the oak tree, a lower, moodier sky. But my most accurate harbinger is the two extra bodies on the bed. Today Mr A and I awoke to find our cats nestled and immovable among the folds of the the duvet.

Over the years we have realised that as soon as Max and Mimi pad up from the cool and serene downstairs to warm and cosy upstairs, summer is well and truly behind us. So, barring a freak heat wave (highly unlikely) it won’t be long until we fire up the central heating and start moaning about the cost of it.  Until then it is an extra layer and the comfort of cat-warmed feet.

So Summery Chickpea Salad

I love being away. Especially when it’s to familiar, yet massively exciting London with my family. But, boy do I love coming home. I bet you are the same. There is something about your own bed and bath that is quite primal. Safety and familiar-comforts ultimately trump the unknown – however much fun. But we really had a terrific time, despite some pre-travel nerves at arriving while the situation in London was still volatile. Well I was jittery, Mr A and Miss R were their usual breezy, up-for-it selves. And they of course were right. We had a ball.

Although the riots and the lead up to them were deeply worrying and unsettling, the London we experienced was universally uplifting and positive. Everyone we encountered was friendly, helpful and polite – from the harassed Tube station staff (I was the zillionth person to ask the same dumb question), the stall holders in every market we visited, to the alarmingly young and fresh-faced policemen and women we asked directions. Even when I just about took out an elderly lady with my oversized ‘new’ vintage bag, having spied yet another pop-up vintage market to blow my money in, she just smiled and said, ‘It’s awright, my love’.

We also have the same experience in Paris. It always surprises us that London, and Paris in particular, is perceived as being populated with surly, eye contact-avoiding citizens who would sooner spit on you than help you. A little effort with the language, a show of politeness, and a smile are all we have ever found necessary to get on in these famously bustling cities. Maybe we have just been lucky but I do think that a bit of the old ‘do unto others as you would be done by’ can’t hurt.

A Non-Purist’s Gazpacho

Pittenweem, the picture-postcard fishing village where we are staying the weekend, is gearing up for its week in the British cultural spotlight hosting the Pittenweem Arts Festival (6-14 August). This dinky village, so tiny that it doesn’t have a cash machine, or even the ubiquitous Tesco Metro, hosts one of the best, most accessible art shows to be found anywhere. By accessible I mean that the art displayed is wide-ranging enough to please the culture-vultures (my in-laws) and Philistines (that will be me) alike. Gorgeous, colour-soaked abstract canvases jostle with simple pen and ink studies, blowsy floral whimsies and beautiful sea-inspired tapestries in this most egalitarian of art festivals.

The Westshore, Pittenweem

Although Pittenweem boosts an unusually high number of galleries for such a bijou place, the ever-increasing number of artists who exhibit over the week means that the ground floors and gardens of many houses are co-opted and hung with paintings, dotted with sculptures and draped with textiles and decorative baubles. The village is always eye-achingly gorgeous, especially the Shore area, with its pastel tied fishermen’s cottages, tumbling gardens and step-gabled roofs, but it really comes alive in August. If you are anywhere near the east coast of Scotland come and have a browse around this uniquely homey art festival.

Even if nothing catches your eye art-wise there are always the home-baking stalls spilling out onto the pavement to tempt you. And the Cocoa Tree, where I use coffee-purchased wi-fi for the occasional blog post, has dangerously addictive chilli cocoa to sup while enjoying homemade crepes and other goodies. Great chocolate shop too. The fish and chip shop a few doors down is also a good find. Anstruther, the next village up, has a famous fish and chip shop (it boasts photos of celebs noshing with the plebes from cardboard trays). But Pittenweem Fish Bar is just as good at two-thirds of the price, with efficient staff to keep everyone in their place as they queue down the street for their portions of crisp-golden fish.  And no cardboard tray-plates, just good old paper to unwrap while sitting on the harbour wall watching the fishing boats go out for the night.

Tamarind Prawn Summer Rolls with Almond and Nam Chuoc Dipping Sauces

Today’s recipe (s) is one that I am really excited about sharing with you. I have had so much fun playing with/inhaling various versions over the past week. I really hope you want to try it. It hasn’t all been plain sailing though: poor Mr A has been pining for hot food (I think I heard him say ‘steak’ in his sleep), but he still cheerfully chomped his way through platters of rolls and sauces. What a trooper. Miss R is away in Geneva so has missed out on most of the concoctions. But because I’m a nice mum, I will make as many summer rolls as she can tackle -
if she brings back the black truffle brie that I asked for.

Chilli Prawns and Vegetables with Soba Noodles

It has been some week. I am normally a very ‘even’ person – not much ruffles me. Perhaps it is because I can tick nearly all of the boxes that add up to a nice life. I won’t bore – or irritate – with the details but trust me, I’m one lucky person. But that doesn’t mean that underneath it all I am not paddling furiously, like everyone else.  And this week I paddled hard enough for a personal best.

Recent events have given me pause to reflect on what I hold dear. Nothing horrible has happened, not at all, but let’s just say I was running the emotional gauntlet this week – deep happiness and fulfillment, sudden terror followed by shock, corrosive frustration, and finally – best of all – joy. My poor adrenal glands don’t know what has hit them. To be honest, I’m wrung out. Pathetic when compared to those who deal with tragedy and emotional upheaval – and the aftermath of it – on a daily basis. For many, just getting by requires strength of character and determination that the rest of us pray we never have to draw upon. I have merely dipped my toe into the roiling sea that is many peoples’ day-to-day existence. Man-alive it’s made me grateful, thankful and all of those other positive ‘-fuls’.