Happy New Lockdown

We watched that all time classic film Groundhog Day on NYE; it seemed peculiarly appropriate as we prepared to say farewell to 2021. And, turns out, peculiarly prescient too, as last night England was plunged back into the lockdown that everyone (apart, perhaps, from the actual government) knew was coming. And even though it won't make an awful lot of difference to my life in the immediate future (we had more or less decided to hunker down for the next few months anyway - and are blessed enough that we can do so) still, I lay awake for hours last night feeling sad and anxious.

I am worried for the health of my friends and family. I am worried for the sanity of those of them who have to go back to trying to home school their children alongside everything else. I am worried for all those businesses, particularly those in the hospitality trade, who must be limping along in hope of a miracle: what will survive when we finally make it out? I also realised, extremely selfishly, that I am worried about the food shortages that happened last time (who could forget that dreadful few days where I COULDN'T BUY EGGS*) and then started worrying about the fact that it is somewhat morally dubious to have such concerns in the face of all the others. 

*(And we get eggs delivered every week now, by our friendly local milkman, so we are usually overrun with them).

Let's talk of happier things, shall we? Did everyone manage to have some sort of Christmas? We were lucky enough to see my parents briefly on Christmas Day - I don't know how lucky they felt given that I wept all over them - which was gorgeous. I baked Gougeres for the first time in ages which almost made me feel like a hostess again. Christmas Dinner was our standard fare - confit duck leg, duck and black pudding bonbon, mash, red cabbage, creamy mustard sprouts - which, as ever, was sublime. And, for the first time ever I made a Yule log! I'd share a picture but, dear Teapot, my food photography skills, lacking at the best of times, have not been kind to the poor beast and I wouldn't want to put anyone in mind of...well, you know. Suffice to say, the sponge was light, the filling flavoured with cherries and Kirsch was airy and boozy and the chocolate ganache was dark and slightly bitter to balance everything out. I declare it a positive triumph.

Amazingly, our waist lines escaped the whole festive period relatively unscathed. We'd already been making efforts in that direction before Christmas (of which maybe more in a future post) and I think we naturally managed to balance the more indulgent days with lighter ones. My last hurrah meal before work re-started yesterday? A poached egg on toast. And very nice it was too.

A couple of recipes to share with you (I'll add the links to the relevant page). I used several different recipes for the Yule log, but the basic chocolate Swiss roll was from the GBBO site and I was extremely pleased with the way in which it turned out. Some recipes call for beating the eggs and sugar up over a pan of warm water, but warming the eggs slightly first is so much easier! My sponge was perfect after 8 minutes of cooking, but my oven is a beast so the 10 minutes specified in the recipe is probably fine for most. 

And this carrot and sesame seed bread by Dan Lepard (I'm getting slightly obsessed with the man) was divine - although I found that my mixture needed a splash more liquid than specified to completely come together. Marvellous flavour and texture in the finished loaf though - and a crisp crust that particularly suits it for toasting.

2021 may not have got off to the greatest of starts, but I hope everyone out there is bearing up. (Sort of ) happy new year all!

Hunger Directed Eating: Deja Vu or Deja Woo-hoo?

I apologise for the appalling title.  It is Friday and it is the end of the week and I am ready for the weekend.  A four day weekend, no less, since we have tacked an extra leave day on after the Bank Holiday.  We are off to London, but not to see the Queen - to see my brother, D2, my sister in law and my gorgeous nephew and nieces.  So, much to look forward to.

In the meantime, Hunger Directed Eating, or HDE, has been popping up a lot as a tag on my Instagram feed recently so obviously I clicked on it for a nosy around.  I might be missing something, but it seems to be VERY similar to the kind of thing that Paul McKenna was pushing years ago with his "I Can Make You Slim" programme, minus the slightly spooky hypnosis CD.

The gist is that if you eat like a slim person, you will get slim.  Which makes sense to a certain extent.  You have to listen to your body, eat what you want, when you want and stop when you are satisfied.  For dieters, this sounds like the Holy Grail - no restrictions, no counting, no nothing.

I must admit, while I think it sounds pretty great, I am slightly sceptical.

One: learning to eat instinctively is a VERY GOOD THING.  If someone is suffering from a binge eating disorder then reprogramming yourself that you no longer categorise food as "good" and "bad" is excellent.  And if you can crack it, it's the most natural way to maintain weight loss in the world.  But...

Two:  if you have a significant amount of weight to lose, I am unconvinced that you will manage to do it with a programme that sells itself on the notion that there is no restriction whatsoever.  I am no biologist, but I am fairly sure that the human body is instinctively (key word here) more likely to want to maintain the status quo (including fat stores which are a useful defence against future famine) than it is to get smaller.  Obviously, if you go from bingeing seven days a week to eating a normal diet, you will create an initial calorie deficit and you will lose some weight.  But to lose four stone (say) you would have to create an overall calorie deficit of (roughly) 196,000 calories.  Over the course of a year, to do this you would need to instinctively undereat by 536 calories a day.  For a woman that's a quarter of their daily maintenance requirements.

Three:  again, if you are someone with a significant amount of weight to lose, you have likely been ignoring your instincts and your body for a very long time.  You are likely to be very, very good at it.  So to expect to completely reprogramme yourself and lose weight at the same time seems a tough ask.  It's a bit like...well, say you are a really terrible driver and you take a driving test and end up mounting the pavement and ploughing into a load of pedestrians before ending up in a duck pond.  You have utterly failed at something which is a very natural and instinctive skill for other people.  HDE strikes me a bit like you've climbed out of the pond and are wondering what to do next and the driving instructor hands you the keys, rips up the L plates and says, "Yep, you've proved to be really bad at this driving but the instincts are probably there somewhere so just trust yourself in the future and you'll be fine."  It just doesn't make logical sense.

Four: almost without fail, every photograph I saw with an HDE tag was of high calorie, high fat food.  Now, it might well be that the user is eating a Full English for breakfast and then is so full afterwards that they pick on fruit and carrot sticks for the rest of the day.  That's kind of the point.  But when you see pictures like that, all captioned: "I can eat this and still lose weight!" you being to wonder if we've got a bit of a case of the Emperor's New Diet here. 

Anyway, I would love to be proved wrong here - so if anyone has come across a genuine, long-term success story then please share.  I'm going to see if I've still got that Paul McKenna book kicking around somewhere; aside from anything else, that CD was one of the best insomnia aids that I have ever yet encountered for all that it didn't help to make me thin...

Birthday wishes

Today is my brother’s birthday. Happy birthday D2! Fun fact - not only do my brother and my husband share the same first name, but I have exactly the same first AND middle name combo as my husband’s sister. Oh, and D’s mother and my maternal grandmother shared not only a first name but a birthday. I like these sorts of coincidences, they allow me to sort of believe in the notion of a cosmic pattern. Of course, it could just be that Irish Catholic families tend to be slightly predictable in their name choices.

But anyway, happy birthday brother! I hope that you have a wonderful day. I’m trying to think of another fun fact that is rather more sibling centric but failing (it is still quite early and this bus is making a horrendous droning sound that is really quite distracting). All I can offer is that my brother has many admirable attributes and is a far more sensible and balanced person than his sister so it’s probably for the best that he produced the grandchildren ;-).

It’s yet possible that I may be exhibiting some personal growth since I managed to drag myself along to my WW meeting last night despite the fact I suspected bad news. My digestion is absolutely all over the place at the moment which is making my eating habits slightly (very) erratic. I’m due to see a consultant at the end of November, so that’s good news. Although the scales were slightly (1.5lbs) up this week, I’m still hopeful of getting another stone off by Christmas; D and I have already agreed that November needs to be a quiet and calm month once we get back from Venice, so that will help a lot.

Right, my stop is coming up so I will bid you adieu for now but I will be back at some point to post the saag paneer pizza recipe because it is entirely necessary that you all have that in your lives this year.

Norse, revisited

It was my Mum’s birthday last weekend so we popped across to Harrogate to go out for dinner.  Now, I’ve written about Norse not once but twice before, and there are only so many ways that you can say somewhere is super delicious and lovely and that everyone should go.  But this visit was worthy of a slight further note because it was our first since the Norse team moved into their new location.   Where previously they were situated in Balthezen’s café, only emerging at night after the last coffee and cinnamon bun had been served, now they are down in the Montpelier quarter and you can visit for lunch!  Hurrah!

The new restaurant is in a cellar underneath a hotel but still manages to be a bright, airy space, in perfect keeping with the light, Scandi influenced food.  It seemed a lot bigger than before (I’m not sure how the number of covers compares) and yet was still packed out on Saturday night, with people several deep at the bar.  In fact, if there was one small criticism to level it is that they could have done with another staff member out front – the ones on hand were rushed off their feet and, occasionally, plates took slightly longer to clear than they should have done.  (NB: We fed this back to them and they have been in touch to thank us and to say that they are looking into it.)

The food, though, was fabulous.  They no longer do a set tasting menu but offer a list of thirteen savoury plates of various sizes, recommending three apiece.  We ordered the entire menu between four, with a view to sharing everything.  Thirteen plates plus two snacks and three desserts and yet, such was the lightness of touch and balanced parade of ingredients that none of us left feeling over-full.

General consensus round the table that the top dishes were, surprisingly, two vegetarian ones.  The Hasselback potatoes with cheddar and pickled leeks were always going to appeal to a family of cheese monsters.

The grilled hen of the woods were a revelation though – who on Earth knew that mushrooms could taste so luscious and smoky and meaty? 

I must also give a special mention to the hake, beautifully cooked and bathed in a fabulous, run-your-finger-round-the-bowl shellfish sauce.  The only problem with sharing was that I only got a bite or two – this was one that I was tempted to hide under the table and keep to myself.

Puddings: marginally less successful, as it turns out that D fundamentally objects to Jerusalem artichoke ice cream (I didn’t really mind it myself).  I do think that the elderflower parfait was terribly, terribly pretty though.

It goes without saying that, if you’re in the Harrogate area, this is a top destination.  And it was gratifying to see the place doing so well.  Long may it stay so bustling and busy, even if it does mean that dirty plates linger a little longer than they should do – fabulous local places like this are to be treasured.

Father's Day

My Dad doesn't really believe in Father's Day.  In addition to that, I doubt very much that he knows how to find my blog.  But I'm going to write him a little post anyway.

While in terms of personality, I am very similar to my Mum, when it comes to looks I am very much my father's daughter.  We are both short and round and curly.  Exacerbating the tendency towards the round is our shared love of good food, (lots of) good drink and a slight obsession with cheese.  Whenever I am sad, I always find myself craving cheese on toast or cheese sandwiches or pasta bake and I suspect that this is because, deep in my subconscious, cheese means Daddy and home.

I admire my Dad tremendously.  He has a work ethic and a tenaciousness that I wish I had inherited along with the cheese thing.  He went to a top university, despite the fact that he did not come from a family of academics, and achieved great success both there and later in his chosen career, all through dint of incredible hard work.  He can be stubborn, ridiculously so, but he knows how to channel his stubbornness to achieve results.

He has a love of adventure, of new experiences, and has the endless curiosity of the academic.  He is loyal and steadfast and, undoubtedly, adores his family.

And if he were here right now he would probably tell me to stop procrastinating and to get on with some work (remember, I didn't inherit the work ethic).  So I will, but happy Father's Day to him and to all the fathers out there, quiet fixed points in a moving world.

TWTWTW: Goodbye to an old friend

Beautiful Minerva McGonagall Cat left us this week. She was diagnosed with a tumour several months ago which had, at last, started to have an impact on her general health and so my Mum made the heartbreaking decision to put our little friend to sleep. She had been a part of our family for 16 years. I have been surprised at quite how much it has affected me; I mean, I cry at the drop of a hat anyway, but this feels like genuine grief. The level of impact that animals have on our lives cannot be underestimated - poor Minx has been subjected to a LOT of weepy cuddles this week. At the same time, it was the right decision to make and I take a lot of comfort from the fact that my Mum allowed a much loved, elderly cat to end her long and happy life peacefully and with dignity. We should all be so lucky.

D and I went over to spend the evening with my parents to say a proper goodbye to Minnie and, while there, cooked an absolutely gorgeous recipe - this cauliflower risotto by Jamie Oliver. Nothing is as luxurious and comforting as a risotto and this is a particularly delicious example of the genre and brought a smile to all our faces even in the sad circumstances.

Elsewhere this week, D and I popped to Headingley for an end-of-the-working week lunch and had some very nice sandwiches at White's Cafe Bar. I like White's - it has a nice atmosphere with just the right balance of buzzy and laid back, and is equally amenable if you want a good cup of coffee or if you want to drown your sorrows at the bottom of a large glass of wine. The group of very LOUD, very ENTHUSIASTIC students at the table next to us did threaten the mood a bit and, as D pointed out, it is quite dark if you sit at a table near the back of the room. Still, behold these sandwiches:

I went for the Philly cheesesteak which was doused with a pleasing amount of black pepper and American mustard, while D had a BLT with cheddar and coleslaw which was huuuuge. I mean, not "Man Versus Food" huge but still, required a bit of a jaw stretch. How does Adam Richman do it?

Right, I am off to cuddle my cat again - and to all pet owners out there, give your furry friend an extra kiss this week and remind yourself how lucky we all are to share a bit of our lives with them.

x

To all the Mums

It is Mothers' Day this Sunday. Yes a gimmick, yes a cynical attempt from the card companies and florists to extract money, yes cheesy. But it's nice to stop and think about mothers and what they do from time to time. I know I'm guilty of not doing it enough.

I went for afternoon tea with my Mum on Thursday, at Harvey Nichols:


Which was lovely (albeit FILLING). What was even more lovely was the chance to spend some time together, just the two of us. We gossiped, pored over the Charlotte Tilbury counter in the HN beauty hall and generally idled away a couple of hours in very girlish and pleasing style.

Our relationship has not always been easy over the years - we're very alike which makes us very close but, equally, capable of hurting each other very much when things get fraught. She's a worrier and I know she constantly frets about not just me but all the family, which drains her and makes her tense. If I could wish her one thing this Mothers' Day it would be the chance to put all her worries into a big balloon and let them go for a little while.

Picture from pusheen.com

I would also remind her of how the next years are going to be AMAZING. She and my Dad are having adventures all over the world, she has two beautiful grandchildren whom we are all excited to watch grow (not to mention a beautiful if highly strung grand-cat) and her children are happy and healthy and secure so her job is done and done well.

So happy Mothers' Day Mum, I think about you and worry about you more than you know and am always, always wishing you lhos.

And to all Mums out there, doing a difficult and sometimes unrecognised job - have a good weekend and remember that raising the next generation is probably the most important work in the world. The future is literally in your hands. Kudos and - keep going. But remember to demand breakfast in bed on Sunday.

Scones for Nanny

My grandmother passed away this week.  She was in her late eighties and suffered from vascular dementia; in such circumstances these things are never entirely unexpected.  But her decline was sudden.  Her stubbornness was legendary within our family; we had expected her to carry on for years, dementia or no.

And just like that, a whole generation of my immediate family is gone.  I have been a little maudlin over the last couple of days but today am feeling a little more...well, carpe diem-ish.  All four of my grandparents lived long and full lives and left behind many fond memories and now we have a new generation in our family (my little nephew started school just the other week - how time has flown!) which is just as it should be.

My Nanny F was the first person who ever allowed me to crack an egg.  Unsurprisingly, it went everywhere.  We used to bake scones together in the kitchen her, my brother and I, using the old fashioned type of scales that come with weights to balance them.  I remember her telling me that a good cook always cleans up as she works which is an adage I adhere to still.  Whenever we went over to stay, she and my grandfather would buy in Coco Pops - it was the only time that we were allowed to eat them - and chocolate digestives which we would have with milk first thing in the morning, still tucked up in bed in the spare room.  The radio was always on in the kitchen, unless it was time for the soaps or the news, in which case it was the small black and white TV on top of the fridge.  She knew how fond I was of salmon and made sure that she always bought some in for me, serving it with a combination of mayonnaise and tomato sauce in a little dish on the side which I thought was terribly sophisticated.

I will miss her, miss all of them, very much and hope that they have all found each other again.  And I think that I shall bake a batch of scones very soon.

The treadmill

I am continuing to try to blog even though I fear what I am producing is little more than a ramble.  Actually, I have a gorgeous recipe that I will try and post at the weekend (makes mental note).  No pictures unfortunately - or fortunately if you consider my woeful food photography skills.  Perhaps I shall headline it with a picture of the cat looking winsome.

I got on the scales this morning, out of idle curiosity, and was surprised to see that I've lost a couple of kilos (they remain set to kilograms for the time being although the temptation to convert to pounds is often too hard to resist).  It's a slow drift but it is a drift down which is interesting.  It got me to thinking about the whole diet treadmill thing.  You know - you're either on it, and jogging along with everything going swimmingly, or you're flat on your black on the floor, having been violently hurled from the belt, and you're pouring molten chocolate into your mouth.  Have I, quite accidentally, managed to stumble across the happy medium?

I spent the weekend with my young nephew and niece and my great wish for them (my niece in particular since it is often a female issue) is that they never get on that treadmill, because once you do it is always there.  If they are wise they will follow my brother's example; he loves his food and his wine and his beer and always has, but even as a small child he instinctively ate in moderation and was naturally active.  He has had his faddier moments - and I still don't approve of cottage cheese pancakes for breakfast (he is a fan of a protein rich diet) - but his relationship with food has always seemed to me to be pretty good.  Me - I've feasted and famined, been fat and thin and probably always will be ever so slightly weird when it comes to eating.

Having said all that, the number on the scales this morning shows that when I actually stop thinking about it and try and act like a normal person, I do pretty well.  Counting points makes it hard to be normal - and don't get me wrong, I know I need to count points to get down to where I need to be - but it gives me some hope that maybe when I get there I'll finally get that balance right.