Alternative vows

I’m in a reflective mood at the moment. It’s only natural I suppose, what with a wedding coming up.

Like most girls, when I got engaged I assumed that I would drift up the aisle as a lissom size 8. Well, maybe a 10, I have boobs. I had two and a bityears before the wedding plenty of time to lose the weight I need to lose and then some.

I don’t know why it didn’t happen. Well, it started to happen and then there was a backwards slide and then it started to happen again and another backwards slide…the point is, with all the forwarding and backwarding I’ve kind of ended up where I started.

It’s a question of motivation – it must be. But as D said to me the other week, with barely concealed frustration, what is more motivating than your wedding?

I suppose I was waiting for the magic switch to flick in my head. You know the one, where it suddenly all becomes easy. Where resisting high calorie food and wine (er, and cider and gin and…) no longer causes me to so much as blink. The one where I no longer turn to food and drink for solace when life goes a bit pearshaped. The one where cheese on toast isn’t the panacea to all ills. The one where exercise becomes enjoyable. The one where I suddenly become the person who says, “I really don’t like fatty foods anymore – and I get grumpy when I don’t go to the gym five times a week.”

Turns out there is no magic switch, not even one marked "Wedding". For me it will always be an effort of will – and I will NEVER be the person who stops liking cheese. But, (and this is the kicker) I have every tool that I need to make it happen close at hand and I’ve wilfully ignored them for the last two and a half years. Or, if not totally ignored them, let them lie fallow for long periods.

But I can’t change that now. And despite the fact that they have not seen me achieve any meaningful shrinkage, those same years have been good for the most part. I am finally enjoying my job, and feeling confident professionally. I am coping with my anxiety issues. I am (and apologies for the cliché) more at peace with myself than I was in my early twenties – despite the fact that I am bigger. I think that represents a degree of personal growth (of the spiritual rather than the literal kind!)

I wonder how sad I am that I will not be the slender bride I assumed I would be? You see, the closer I get to the big day, the more I realise that it is not about the wedding it is about the marriage. It’s not about the bride, it’s about the wife. The wedding is one day, and yes, I hope it is a glorious, happy day, but I’m doing it because I want to be Mrs D more than anything else in the world. I want to make him proud of me. I know at the moment he wishes I was thinner. Well, I can’t be a slim bride, but I can be a slim wife. And I will be.

Home on the Grange

As per my last post, my eating habits appear to have devolved recently. What better way to get those foodie juices flowing this weekend than to hit up the vibrant York restaurant scene?
Unfortunately, our beloved J Baker's was fully booked on Saturday night. Well, I say unfortunate; it is always gratifying to know that plenty of people share your good opinion of a place, I just wish they'd leave me a table. Anyway, we ended up at The Grange Hotel instead which has the advantage of being a mere five minute totter down the road from our flat.

Last time we ate here, they obviously had a chef with some high falutin' ideas - although I can't remember the details I do recall a tasting menu and a parade of very small amounts of food on very large plates. They have reverted back now to a more bistro like approach which is rather less exciting for a dinky food enthusiast like myself, but probably a safer bet for a kitchen that, on Saturday at least, didn't always get the balance of flavours bang on. For example, the vanilla cider shot that accompanied a mini pork pie and pickled onion starter was rather heavy handed vanilla-wise which left it far too cloying to complement its platefellows; a shame, because it was easily the most exciting sounding dish on the menu.

Mini pork pie with cider shot and pickled onions (from a very weird angle....)

There were some nice moments though. The stand out dish for me was a chargrilled rump of lamb with ricotta, sun dried tomatoes, and basil jus The lamb was as pink as a blushing bride and buttery soft, a truly delicious piece of meat that stood up surprisingly well to the bolshy Mediterranean flavours. It came with crispy gnocchi - which I take to have been pan fried in the manner of Nigella's rapid roastini, and which will be sure to make an appearance on our home menu before too long.

Chargrilled lamb Mediterranean style

Two courses each plus a shared pud, a bottle of wine and a double G&T apiece and we paid just over £50 a head which is not bad at all. And it certainly got me more in the mood for (proper) food, as I actually managed to serve up a home-cooked meal on Sunday (and we'll gloss over the fact that three out of the four constituents were home cooked a couple of months ago and retrieved from the freezer). Hey, baby steps...

The Grange Hotel
1 Clifton
York
YO30 6AA

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Post in search of a title

You may have noticed a lack of posting lately. So pull up a pew and let’s get you updated.

Firstly, since this is primarily a blog about food and Weight Watching what’s been going on there? Not much, is the answer. I spent quite a lot of August away from home working: I’ve recently been seconded part-time onto a team who write and deliver analyst training. It’s tremendous fun and I love the work but it does mean a lot of travelling. As I wrote here, my weight has remained steady, even drifted down a little, but there has not been a lot of cooking going on. In fact, my cooking mojo seems to have wandered off. I cooked myself a bowl of pasta pesto the other night, which was delicious, but does suggest a slight regression back to student days. It’ll be cereal for dinner next.

Of course, the big event for September is, well, my wedding. Just over two weeks to go. The dress is being collected on Friday, the shiny new ring is in D’s safekeeping, the shoes (oh, the shoes!) are so beautiful that I keep taking them out of the box to stroke. The wedding breakfast menu is, I flatter myself, awesome. We’ve had all the guests’ choices in now – and it turns out a surprising number of our family and friends are full on carnivores judging by the popularity of the black pudding and foie gras starter.

It has not been without its stress. I look back on that naïve girl who, two and a bit years ago, blithely assumed that it was actually possible to organise a wedding without having any arguments or unpleasantness and laugh. A hollow laugh it is too. You see, people tell you it is your day but what they mean is – it’s your day for as long as your wishes coincide with mine. One family member is boycotting because we decided not to invite her teenage children (who, quite frankly, couldn’t give two hoots about traipsing all the way up to Yorkshire to go to the wedding of a cousin that they’ve seen a mere handful of times in the last ten years). But she (and my parents) are of the generation who still cling to the Sacred Cow of Family. Frankly, I am more disappointed about the close friends who won’t be attending because of the limited numbers held by the venue. Close friends, incidentally, who still came to my hen do and still showered me with love and support despite the fact they hadn’t been invited, never once uttering a word of reproach.

Anyway. Think that’s got you all caught up. I’ll try and actually cook something over the weekend so I could post about, you know, food. Failing that – anyone for Special K?

Home and Away

I’m back from the wilderness. That is to say, back from a week and a half at a training centre in the back of beyond (well, a couple of miles outside of Lincoln). My weight has remained steady, even dropped a little, despite the best attempts of the canteen staff to feed me and every other poor soul there into submission.

I’ve been trying to put my finger on exactly what it is that distinguishes my eating habits in my home environment; that is to say, why is it that when three three-course meals a day are on offer plus mid morning and afternoon coffee and biscuits I lose a lot of interest in food and just naturally find myself eating more intuitively. I eat what I want of what is available but don’t feel the need to clear my plate, or choose something because it is “good” or “bad”. If I’m hungry at three o clock then I’ll have a biscuit with my coffee, if I’m not then I won’t.

Like many lifetime dieters I normally have two states of being: on-a-diet and not-on-a-diet. The first means strictness, order, control. The second is the exact antithesis of that. Consuming with abandon. Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die(t). Being away from home for a prolonged amount of time, in a situation where much of the control and choice is removed, I have managed to achieve something between the two.

Which is all well and good, but how do I now translate that back to the home environment?

Without a plan (or a clue)

No meal planning for me this week. I'm off to deliver a training course which means four days of school dinners and medicinal gin and tonics.

The government department that I work for has a large training facility a few miles outside of Lincoln. Who knows why they put it there; possibly because it is equally difficult to get to wherever you live. I've stayed there quite a few times and never once made it out to Lincoln itself; the place has a curiously institutionalised feel, a bit like open prison (I imagine. I've never actually been.)

The food is equally institutional and presided over by a uniformed Valkyrie with the kind of magnificent bosom that is only ever seen on a dinner lady or a Wodehouse maiden aunt. You will NOT linger over your pre dinner drink and you will most certainly NOT get potatoes with your curry if the menu ordains that rice is the correct accompanying carbohydrate. I saw someone try and help himself to an additional prawn toast once. Let's just say that the bosom swelled to still more magnificent proportions.


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Meal planning Monday 12

I write this while sitting on a train heading off to Manchester for a couple of days. Sadly for business rather than pleasure, although I do plan on spending at least some of my paltry eating-out allowance on a nice, cold beer or two this evening. And so I abandon D to leftover tandoori chicken and the caprices of an eccentric tabby cat.

Now. I note that of the four meals I have so far planned for this week three involve fish, and two fish in some sort of butter. Which is not particularly varied or exciting, is it? Never mind – it may not be the most balanced of foodie weeks but fish and butter are two of my favourite things.

So we have…

• Min’s favourite: tuna steaks with anchovy and rosemary butter and crushed new potatoes.
• Linguine with broad beans, peas and goats’ cheese
• Salmon with pasta pesto (making an early reappearance in the weekly plan owing to the fact that I need to use up the other half of the pesto and, well, I like it).
• Sea bass with fennel butter and …? Mash?

This last one is actually a Waitrose ready to cook jobby that was recommended in this month’s Good Food magazine and sounds perfect for a lazy Saturday evening.

On Sunday I think we will be firing up the barbecue. I quite fancy grilling some steaks for extravagant sandwiches (I’ve been watching a lot of Man Vs Food: The Carnivore Edition recently), or perhaps spatchcocking a chicken…but will see how the mood (and the content of the butchers) takes me.

As always, head to Mrs M’s blog for more meal planning fun.

Introducing...

Many years ago, facing the prospect of her two children flying the nest and a husband who had a long commute and regular late night meetings, my mother went out and bought a cat. I should explain at this point that my father, while he has many excellent qualities, is not an animal lover, and had expressly forbidden us to have anything larger than a hamster throughout my childhood (and I think even the hamsters were borne with extreme sufferance). But, as I said, the thought of the long, lonely evenings finally drove Mum to rebellion. She set off for the pet shop round the corner and came back with a tiny tabby kitten mewling in a cardboard carrier.

Minerva McGonagall has been the Queen of the household ever since. She is really too silly a thing for such a long moniker, and so she is generally referred to as Min or Minnie, although she will also respond to “Cat” (my father refused to address her by name for much of her kittenhood). She is an eccentric creature and not the greatest fan of people outside her family; she especially adores my mother and follows her around like a familiar. D has been trying, for the seven odd years he has know her, to train her to sit, unresisting, on his lap – but she has a stubborn streak and is not to be tamed. She will sit next to you, close as anything, and submit to the occasional cuddle, but a lap cat she is not. Their relationship is, as a result, slightly strained.

I write this from my parents’ house in Knaresborough – once again, we are spending a few weeks cat-sitting as they travel Down Under. I thought, as a little tribute to my beloved Min, that I would let you in on her absolute favourite recipe. Tip: if you happen to have a cat of your own, I would not leave anchovy butter out and uncovered or you may enter the kitchen to find a rather sheepish kitty, an empty butter dish and a mess needing to be wiped up.

This recipe comes originally from the Good Food channel website (not to be confused with the Good Food magazine website). I have reduced the amount of butter – this still is plenty enough to be utterly delicious, but not so much that you will have to eat dust for the rest of the day to accommodate. Serve with new potatoes and something green and worthy.

Ingredients

25g (half a small tin) anchovy fillets
Small handful rosemary, finely chopped
Small handful parsley, chopped
60g butter
Tbsp lemon juice

2 x tuna steaks

Serves 2, 12 pro points per serving

Put everything except the lemon juice into a blender and process until smooth. This can then be chilled until you are ready to serve.

Season and then pan fry the tuna for as many minutes on each side as you wish to reach a desired level of pinkness. I always like my tuna pink in the middle so would tend to go for little more than 1-2 mins depending on the thickness of the steaks.

While the tuna cooks, gently warm the butter in a small pan and add the lemon juice to taste. Spoon the butter liberally over the tuna before serving. Something (i.e. bread or potatoes) will probably be required to soak up all the butter (but remember to add the additional points for this if you’re pointily inclined.)

I survived

So, the hen night. Despite requesting a discreet, classy affair I nevertheless found myself walking through Central London in a pink tutu with matching sequinned cowboy hat on Saturday afternoon. I did what any girl of my generation would do in such a situation and channelled Carrie Bradshaw for all that I was worth.

It was a fabulous afternoon that started with afternoon tea and champagne and ended, via a cocktail master class, in a piratical themed burlesque club. I probably drank a fortnight’s worth of points, but if you could earn activity points for laughing it may well have balanced out. My beautiful girls did me proud.

Having abandoned D for the night, it was only fair that we have a little celebration of our own when I returned (slightly bloodshot, but unbowed) to Yorkshire. And so it is I bring to your attention a second York institution in as many weeks, Le Langhe.

We were first introduced to Le Langhe, which is a delicatessen and importer of Italian food, when they ran an evening at the York Food Festival a few years ago. The produce that they sell is simply exquisite, even if the owners, a husband and wife team, are a little scary. Don’t let that put you off. In a time where a lot of small businesses have been struggling, Le Langhe has actually expanded; moving from a tiny city centre shop to a much larger establishment set a little walk out of town. Not only do they sell fantastic meats, cheeses and breads, they also serve up coffee and light meals in an adjoining café restaurant space. They have a fiercely loyal following among the people of York, some of whom make a weekly pilgrimage there.

D’s haul provided a stupendous Sunday night carpet picnic: olives and sundried tomatoes, slick with oil, ham cured in Barolo wine, braesola, a sharp, fruity cheese which had been aged in Chianti and an unctuous Gorgonzola, ciabatta and foccacia to be dunked in olive oil and balsamic vinegar and finally a luscious fig and almond tart.  We washed it all down with Prosecco. 

Olives!

Gorgonzola!



Bread!

And there we go – a weekend full of laughter and friends and amazing food and far more vodka than is good for one liver.  Normal (WW) service had better resume shortly...

Out to Dinner

So, last Saturday D and I, along with my brother (D2) and his wife (V) kept a longstanding date with one Mr Heston Blumenthal. Or rather, Heston Blumenthal’s former right-hand man at The Fat Duck and now head chef at Dinner. Not that we saw either of them. But to be fair, if Heston had happened to pop in for lunch that day he would have probably have popped right out again when presented with a squealing fan girl (I have a tendency to get as excited around famous chefs as pre-pubescent girls get around JLS).

The outing didn’t get off to the very best of starts; D2 and V got stuck on the Underground which meant they were late meeting us which meant that we were late getting to our table. Both D and I, but especially D, are pathologically punctual. Well, actually, I’d say that I am punctual, D is early. He started getting agitated at about quarter to twelve (admittedly, we had made tentative plans to meet them in the hotel bar at half past eleven, but equally, they had to convey a six month old baby and all the luggage that said small child generates to his grandparents’ house before setting off, and so I was unsurprised that they were running slightly behind schedule). By five to twelve I was also getting a little twitchy, although getting stuck into an appletini of mammoth proportions was taking the edge off. D had stopped hoovering up the Kettle Chips at this point – when D stops eating snacks then you know that the balance of his mind is seriously disturbed.

But they arrived and disaster was averted and the very charming staff, with nary a reference to the fact that we were nearly quarter of an hour late sitting down, offered us a seat on the terrace, with pashminas for the ladies if the slightly brisk July (!) weather became uncomfortable. And D calmed down and we all had a glass of champagne, at which point he probably regretted not smuggling the bar snacks in with him.

The menu at Dinner is rather exciting. The dishes are all “inspired by historic British gastronomy” and so often peculiarly named with unexpected ingredients, with the sources of origin listed on the back of the menu (which we snaffled). Personally, I felt a little adrift. Usually when I go to a fancy restaurant, I order a tasting menu. Not only because I am extraordinarily bad at decision making but because I want to get a feel for the restaurant and the cooking. Actually, the second half of that sentence makes me sound terribly poncey…let’s face it, it’s probably because I had a deep seated need to be told what to do rather than have to decide for myself. Here, not only did I have to decide for myself, but the language of the food was not what I was used to. There was a starter on there called “Rice and Flesh” for goodness sake (of which more in a second).

We kicked off with a pre starter, the “Meat fruit” which was a chicken liver parfait presented like an orange. Look at the picture – you’ll see what I mean. We got two of these for the table so as not to ruin our appetites. I wish we had ordered one each. This was amazing. Seriously, the best chicken liver parfait I have ever eaten and probably ever will eat. Silky, rich, that deeply savoury tang of iron that you get from liver, but overlaid with a delicate sweetness and the fragrance of citrus. We were back in plate licking territory here.

Best.  Chicken liver.  Ever.

I must credit my photographer at this point.  I had (for once) remembered to bring along my nifty little pink Nikon but unfortunately had not remembered to check that the battery was charged.  So these pictures come to you courtesy of D's mobile phone and with his apologies if they are not as clear as they could be (he informs me that the camera on his current phone is not as good as the one on his previous handset).  Considering I manage to make everything I photograph look awful, I don't think he has anything to worry about.

Both the boys, being boys, had ordered Rice and Flesh for their starters. The name put me off – I’ll hold my hands up to that. But lordy. This was probably the best risotto I’d ever eaten (on the basis of the spoonful D allowed me to try). D and D2 suggested that larger lumps of meat would have improved the dish. I think serving it up in a bucket big enough to stick your head in is the only way it could have been bettered. I mean, wow. My salamagundy was fine, don’t get me wrong, but I think I mainly ordered it because I like the word and it didn’t cause rampaging flavour fireworks to go off in my mouth – if anything I would have liked more of a horseradish kick. And I think V was a wee bit underwhelmed by her scallops.

Best.  Risotto.  Ever.

Onto the mains – and again one stand out dish. The pork chop, served with pointy cabbage (I ate it and I’m still not sure what the difference between pointy and normal cabbage really is) was the best. Pork. Chop. Ever. That’s three best evers in one meal! I don’t know what the hell this pig had been doing throughout its life (perhaps strumming a celestial harp on a cloud?) or how the kitchen had coaxed such extraordinary flavour out of the meat (fairy dust???) but it was amazing. Amazing. I will never eat a piece of pork again without thinking, a little sadly, it’s not the angel-fairy pig that I had at Dinner. On the other side of the table, the powdered duck (no, we couldn’t work out what the powdered bit referred to) was not provoking similar raptures. I mean it was fine, it tasted good and gamey. The accompanying pomme puree had more butter in it than pommes, which is always a good thing, but it was not…special enough.

Best.  Pork.  Ever.

We moved onto puddings and the two Ds went for the dish which is apparently becoming a bit of a Dinner signature – the roasted pineapple with tipsy cake. It was good – cake and cream and brandy cannot fail but to be good. The two girls, on the other hand, went for a dessert called a Chocolate Bar (I think I’ve mentioned my feelings on desserts before; if it isn’t chocolatey then I am generally a little disappointed, no matter how lovely it is). Which was scrummy – accompanied by a tangy layer of passion fruit (chocolate and passion fruit – a revelatory combination for me and one I must experiment with at home) and a scoop of ginger ice cream which worked very well, bringing a spicy note to the dish. No best evers in this course though. Nice puddings, great puddings in fact, but they didn’t reach the lofty bar set by some of their savoury compatriots. I was rather impressed by a complimentary little post dessert though – a white chocolate and Earl Grey ganache with a caraway biscuit. Again, a very interesting new chocolate/flavour combination which made me wonder about experimenting with some sort of white chocolate studded tea loaf.

So, great food including three best evers, friendly staff, good location – what’s the final verdict?  I actually think I liked it more than the others.  My brother said (while leaning back sipping his dessert wine – if he had a moustache he probably would have been twiddling it) that he didn’t feel that he had been taken on a “journey”.  I told him he was a pompous git, but I kind of get what he means.  Because the menu takes dishes from a variety of eras it overall lacks a little cohesion and, to be brutally honest, some of the dishes are a little humdrum (sometimes there is a reason as to why a dish has gone out of fashion).  Others are superlative.  But when you’re paying that sort of money for a meal you expect consistency.  Overall, it’s a solid seven. 

Recipe corner -Creamy butternutsquash and red pepper soup

Just for you, Starfish!!

Anyone who has ever followed the Weight Watchers plan with any degree of seriousness will have been indoctrinated into the Cult of the Butternut Squash. Or BNS as it is commonly referred to on the messageboards.

For those of you not au fait with the intricacies of pro points – butternut squash is what is called a free food, zero points, eat with impunity. Because of its sweetness and velvety texture when pureed, it features in many a soup recipe. Indeed, it features in a soup recipe that I’ve already posted on here. As well as a risotto recipe and a baked gnocchi recipe. What can I say…I’m clearly a member of the cult!

I’m surprised, however, that I’ve never blogged this recipe because I’ve been making it for years and it never fails to satisfy. I like the way the sweetness of the squash interacts with the pepper – it somehow becomes less sickly than when the squash flies solo. A judicious amount of reduced fat soft cheese makes for a luxurious, velvety texture which tastes far more indulgent than it has any right to. And, as per usual with soup recipes, there isn’t an awful lot to it at all.

Ingredients

Small butternut squash, peeled and cubed
Red pepper, chopped
Onion, chopped
Litre of chicken or veg stock
100g soft reduced fat cheese
Salt and pepper to season

Serves 4, 1 pro point per serving*

*In my earlier meal planning post, I said that this was 2 pro points…but I forgot that I don’t add milk or a swirl of yoghurt as per the original recipe. So it’s an even more bargainous 1 – I would recommend some good crusty bread to go on the side.

Firstly I would recommend that you roast your squash which really enhances the flavour (although you can skip this step if you’re in a hurry). Toss the pieces in a little salt and pepper and roast in a hot oven for around 30 minutes until soft.

About five minutes before your squash is ready, gently soften the onion and pepper in a pan. You could use Fry Light here, or even a little splash of water to prevent the vegetables from catching. A good pinch of salt at this stage will help those vegetables get their sweat on.

Now add your roasted squash to the pan and cover the lot with stock. Simmer for 5-10 minutes.

Reduce the heat and stir through the soft cheese. Then, once cooled slightly, remove everything to the blender and give it a good whizz up. Check the seasoning and adjust before serving. If the soup is a little thick for your taste, you could let it down with a little milk, but you may need to adjust the points upwards in that case.

Meal Planning Monday 11

This week we will mostly be eating down the cupboards and the freezer. It’s the end of the month, the credit cards are groaning and next weekend we decamp to my parents’ house for a few weeks of cat sitting – which I for one am treating as a bit of a summer holiday in the absence of an actual summer holiday. So to save having to take across bags of produce, this week we’ll be doing a bit of strategic eating.

So the meal plan looks a bit like this:

• Monday – Creamy butternut squash and red pepper soup – a mere 2 pro points a serving, so there may have to be some crusty bread on the side.

• Tuesday – The last of our Scottish venison burgers – I’ve yet to calculate the points in these but venison is a lean meat so they should be quite light. Obviously, I’ll also need to factor in the ketchup and plastic cheese.

• Wednesday – Macaroni cheese, perfect storecupboard food at 14 pro points a serving.

• Thursday – Chilli con carne with rice made with lean mince – again, 14 pro points a serving.

The weekend I am leaving blank – for the very exciting reason that I am travelling down to London for my hen do! I would tell you which parts of the city to avoid, but all the arrangements are being kept a mystery to me. I’m hoping I do not get made to wear a sash or a tiara or (the horror!) a custom made T-shirt. Given that I picked my classiest friend to be chief bridesmaid and hen-do organiser, I am relatively optimistic.

Don’t forget to pop over to Mrs M’s blog for more meal planning fun.

Recipe corner – Spinach, ricotta and roasted tomato gnocchi bake

Catchy title, eh?

It struck me that a lot of the recipes listed in this blog are of the ooey-gooey, stodgy variety, often featuring some sort of cheese, and this bake is no different. I wonder if it is reflective of the way I eat – I don’t think so. Our daily diet is pretty varied. I suppose one of the reasons I started this blog is that I wanted to prove to myself as well as other people that following a healthy eating plan didn’t mean permanently going down the steamedchickenorfishandveg or stir fry route, so I like to share recipes that tick both the WW appropriate and the indulgence box. Which is not to say that I do not eat stir fries. I don’t generally eat steamedchickenorfishandveg though. It doesn’t sound overly interesting.

Anyway, back to the bake. I cooked this for tea last night and thought it was scrummy. Ricotta and spinach are an absolutely classic combination but it wouldn’t have occurred to me to use them with gnocchi had it not been for this recipe here. Ricotta is significantly lower in fat than mascarpone, but a good substitute to my mind.

I added the roasted tomatoes partly because I wanted to give this rich, creamy dish a bit of acidity and partly as a nod to one of the most popular (judging by page visits) recipes on this blog, the ricotta and roasted tomato risotto. I’m glad I did – the little bursts of freshness really worked well.

Incidentally, this recipe (which serves two) calls for half a tub of ricotta – I’ve found that it freezes perfectly well so the other half needn’t go to waste. OR you could make risotto the next day should you feel so inclined…

Ingredients

250g potato gnocchi (one day I will make my own, but shop bought sufficed here)
Handful of cherry tomatoes
Balsamic vinegar
Onion, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, crushed
125g ricotta cheese
Several large handfuls of fresh spinach
Lemon zest
Nutmeg
20g Parmesan
125g ball reduced fat mozzarella, sliced

Serves 2, 11 pro points each

The first thing you want to do is roast your tomatoes. Cut them in half and sit them, seed side up, on a baking sheet. Season well, drizzle with balsamic and put in a medium oven (say, 150) for an hour to an hour and a half, depending on how dehydrated you want them (the longer they are in, the more intense the flavour).

To prepare your spinach and ricotta sauce, soften the onion and the garlic over a low heat (I used a small splash of water to save points, but you could use a little oil if you feel so inclined) then add the spinach and cover. Allow to wilt for a couple of minutes. Then stir in the ricotta. Add lemon zest to taste (I used about a third of a large lemon) and good grating of nutmeg, black pepper, half the Parmesan cheese and salt if required. Simples.

Cook the gnocchi in boiling, salted water – they will float to the top of the pan when ready. Combine the gnocchi with the sauce (gently, to avoid breaking up the dumplings). Add the roasted tomatoes to the pan and crush them lightly with the back of the spoon so they bleed a little of their juice into the creamy ricotta.

Tip the gnocchi into a baking dish and cover with the sliced mozzarella. Bake in a hot oven (180) for about 15-20 minutes until the cheese is melted and bubbling.  Serve topped with the remaining Parmesan.

Curry Night (2)

In which we are introduced to a York institution and cook a delicious (Miss) dahl.

Sometimes, only a curry will do. But long time WWers, and indeed anyone who takes so much as a passing interest in the calorific content of their scran, will know that those fragrant foil trays from their local curry house are drenched in oil and ghee and all manner of fattening things. An Indian takeaway consisting of curry, pilau rice and half a naan will easily set you back over a day’s worth of points.

I don’t know an awful lot about genuine Indian cookery, but I have started in recent years to dip my toe in the water. There are few things more satisfying than making a curry from scratch – toasting and blending up all the spices…if I could just get over my bread baking phobia I’d be well on the way to calling myself an official Earth Mother. But for those days where one just can’t be bothered, there is always Rafi’s.

Rafi’s is a modest looking little shop, tucked away behind the York Minster. The premise is simple – you request a curry and they make up, fresh, before your eyes, a pack of spices that will form the basis of it. Just add water, simmer for a few minutes, then tip in raw ingredients to suit and pow – curry in a hurry and no need to wash out the pestle and mortar. They recommend that you make it up the day before you wish to eat it to allow the flavours to develop, which is no great hardship. The results are delicious – the curries have the depth and complexity of flavour that one would expect to find in the very best curry houses, but without the gleaming slick of oil on top. Having closely examined the content of last week’s bhuna pack I decided to point it at 1 tbsp of oil per portion (assuming 4 portions) which I suspect is slightly on the high side. I added king prawns, onion, celery and a diced red pepper and cursed myself for not having any mushrooms. The result was a gorgeous, medium hot king prawn bhuna for 5 pro points.

Rafi’s do mail order, so if you are a curry fan, I would urge you to check out their website. And if you’re ever in York do go for a browse around – they sell all manner of yummy looking pickles and sauces.

Meanwhile, I would also like to commend to your attention this rather delicious split pea dahl recipe, which I served on the side. It came from a blog and is presented here with only the minorest of tweaks – but unfortunately I can’t remember which one, so if it was yours then I apologise for not giving credit where it is due. If it is any consolation, I thought it was delicious. I’m eating leftovers for lunch today.

Ingredients

2 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 piece of ginger, about 1 inch long, grated
Small onion, finely chopped
1 tsp black mustard seeds
1 tsp turmeric
1-2 tsp dried chillies
1 tbsp garam masala
200g yellow split peas
1 tomato, diced roughly
Large handful of fresh spinach
Salt
Tbsp vegetable oil
Lemon juice
Fresh coriander, to garnish

Serves 4, 5 pro points per serving

Heat the oil in a pan and when it is hot and shimmering, add the mustard seeds. When these start to pop (expect a few to come flying across your kitchen) add the onion and cook until starting to soften and then add the garlic and ginger and cook for a further couple of minutes, being careful that nothing starts to stick or burn.

Next, add the garam masala, chillies, chopped tomatoes and turmeric and stir fry for another minutes or so, until the spices are deeply aromatic. Now is the time to tip in your split peas and a good pinch of salt. Stir the peas around to get them well coated in spice and then add enough water to cover and simmer on a low heat, with a lid on for about 45 minutes. Check regularly and top up the water as necessary. At the end of cooking the peas should still retain some bite – you’re not looking for mush here.

Cook’s Note: As with any curry the flavours will develop on sitting, so I would recommend doing up to this stage a few hours before you intend to serve and then cover and let the peas sit and ponder their existence for a while.

Just before serving, chuck in your spinach (it will reduce down dramatically, so use slightly more than you think you need) cover, and put over a low heat for about 5 minutes to allow the spinach to wilt. Finish with a squeeze of lemon juice and some fresh chopped coriander.

Meal Planning Monday 10

What, Monday already??


My last couple of meal plans have been a little on the vague side. But a sudden resurgence of my WW mojo means that this week I am feeling smugly on top of things.

Who knows why some weeks it is easy to eat well and others it seems like an impossible task? What I do know - planning, for me at least, is essential, as is ensuring that what I eat isn't too worthy.

So, what's happening this week? Well, Saturday sees us in London having a long anticipated lunch at Dinner, Heston Blumenthal's new(ish) venture. We'll be driving down Friday afternoon and spending the evening with my brother, so no planning required there.

Here's the outlook for Monday to Thursday:

Monday - pesto pasta and salmon
Tuesday - a North African style chicken and squash tagine with couscous
Wednesday - gnocchi, spinach and roasted pepper bake
Thursday - jerk pork with rice and peas and mango salsa

I'm going to be a divil and wing Sunday. After a rich meal the day before, I may very well want nothing more than scrambled eggs.

As always, pop over to Mrs M's blog for more meal planning fun.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Recipe corner - Three cheese pasta

Yet again, my photo makes this incredibly tasty dish look pale and anything but interesting. You'll just have to take my word that this delivers on flavour.



I was trying to recreate a meal my Mum used to cook when I was younger; I believe her recipe came from an Antonio Carluccio book, and I'm pretty sure that he did not recommend Philadelphia Light as an essential ingredient in Italian cooking. More likely it was marscapone that was used as the creamy base - and if you fancied trying that then I am sure it would be absolutely wonderful.  Certainly, three cheese pasta was regarded as a special treat in our household - something to be eaten off our knees on a Saturday night in front of Gladiators and Noel's House Party.

Still, I was pleased with how my slightly lighter version turned out. It's tasty, rich and very quick to cook. In terms of points, at 15 it will count for about half a day's allowance - but for a pasta loving cheese monster like me, that's not too great a hardship.

Ingredients

140g dried pasta
Tsp butter
65g pancetta, cubed
1 fat garlic clove, peeled
25ml white wine
Nutmeg
60g low fat cream cheese
30g strong blue cheese
20g Parmesan

Serves 2, 15 pro points per portion

Put a pan of heavily salted water on to boil and have your pasta weighed out and ready to go.

While you're waiting, prepare your other ingredients: in a bowl weight out your cream cheese, blue cheese and half the Parmesan. Season this heavily with black pepper and a good grind of nutmeg.

Using the back of a knife, or the heel of your palm, squish the peeled garlic.

With the pasta on to cook, put the butter into a large pan and melt over a medium high heat. Add the pancetta and garlic and fry until the meat is golden brown.

Tip in the white wine and let it fiercely bubble down to almost nothing.

Now turn your heat down low and throw in your cheese. Slowly allow them to melt into a gooey mass.

When the pasta is ready reserve a couple of ladles of cooking water - this will transfer your goo into a clinging sauce. Drain the pasta and add to the cheese pan, stirring well and splashing in enough water to allow the sauce to lightly coat the pasta.

Serve, sprinkled with the remaining Parmesan.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Meal Planning Monday 9

The last menu planning post I did was two weeks ago, and I still haven’t managed to cook all of the dishes from it. It seems to have had some sort of magical, bottomless property – like a pot of soup in a fairytale.

Actually, I think it more likely it has something to do with the relentless, muggy heat we have been experiencing recently. It turns me into something akin to a Victorian Miss – all languid and droopy and not inclined to cook. A good job I live in a country that tends towards the chilly end of the scale really, or else I’d actually start to look like a piece of toast.

So, what’s on the menu this week? Well, I still want to cook the three cheese and bacon pasta I mentioned a couple of weeks ago (think we’ll have this tonight) and a yummy looking fish stew with fennel which was also first mooted a while back (that takes care of tomorrow).

Saturday, I’m thinking curry – something seriously spicy with naan breads, carrot salad and some sort of pulse accompaniment – I’ve got some yellow split peas in the cupboard which might make a tasty dhal (dahl? Daal?)

We’ve also got a couple of spice packs to use up that we were given as a gift from this website a while back (NB: the particular ones we have don’t appear to be on there any longer). This means at some point we shall be having jerk pork with rice and peas and mango salsa, and also a Portuguese layered fish and potato dish called Caldeirada, which sounds rather intriguing.

As ever, if you are looking for meal planning inspiration, pop over to Mrs M’s blog.

You know you’re middle aged….(Part 2)

…When your hangover lasts the whole of Sunday.

It’s very distressing. Admittedly, we did hit the pub at about noon on Saturday and kept going until…well, I vaguely remember D and I watching Wallander on BBC4 which is on between nine and ten thirty, although I couldn’t tell you whodunnit. And we were definitely drinking a bottle of wine while we did so.

But I am not a sufferer of hangovers in general. A cup of tea, something with butter on it and I’m sorted out. Not so this weekend. I spent most of Sunday slumped in a pathetic heap either on the bed or the sofa. I didn’t get dressed. I couldn’t face much by way of food (this is generally the prime indication that all is not well. Most illnesses and traumas in my life, I eat my way through.)

I hate to say it, but perhaps my body is telling me that it is time to quit the binge drinking. A pint or two of cider in a sunny pub garden, or a tinkling gin and tonic as the clock strikes six, or even a glass of wine or three with a meal – all of these things are fine, but just not in rapid succession throughout the course of a single day.

This, of course, can only be good news for both my liver and my waistline.

But, oh. It’s yet another nail in the coffin of my fast receding youth. Along with the grey hairs I keep stumbling across and the fact that I can’t bear to listen to Radio 1 anymore. And, and, (I’ve just re-read my opening paragraph) the fact that on a Saturday night, in an advanced state of inebriation, I chose to go home, watch a subtitled Scandanavian police drama and eat a toasted teacake.

Classic recipe corner - chicken Caesar salad

I love chicken Caesar salad. It’s become a bit of a cliché, hasn’t it, a stalwart of a certain type of restaurant menu. I don’t care. I think it’s scrummy.

I did some research when I came to write this (by which I mean I looked at Wikipedia. God bless the Internet) and was surprised to discover that this dish supposedly dates back to the 1920s. Also, that the original does not contain actual anchovies (which I always assumed were a given) – but that a faint anchovy flavour was bestowed by a splash of Worcestershire sauce.

As with most recipes, there are potentially endless variations of the Caesar salad – and here is mine. Plonking a chicken breast on top makes it a more substantial meal, but of course, if you are less carniverous or less greedy than me then leaving it off will reduce the total pro points in the recipe to 6.

I don’t know where I originally found this particular method of making the dressing, but it works very well. The combination of the soft boiled egg and the yoghurt give a good silken texture while the other components pack the requisite Caesar punch. The addition of the chilli flakes, by the way, is a new one on me and comes following a recent post on one of my very favourite food blogs, Jenny Eatwell’s. Jenny suggests that the hint of heat adds a je ne sais quoi to the dressing and I really liked how it worked – especially since it picked up on the slight chilli note in the Cajunated chicken.

Ingredients

For the dressing:
1 medium egg
2 tbsp 0% fat Greek yoghurt
3-4 fat garlic cloves
1 anchovy fillet, rinsed and patted dry
Tsp Dijon mustard
Pinch of chilli flakes
Squeeze of lemon juice
15g Parmesan cheese, grated

For the croutons:
2 slices of bread from a medium white loaf, crusts removed
1 tbsp olive oil

2 heads of Little Gem lettuce
2 medium chicken breasts
Cajun seasoning (optional)

Serves 2, 10 pro points per serving

First of all, prepare the ingredients for your dressing. Wrap the garlic cloves, skin and all, up in a little foil package and roast in a hot oven for around 45 minutes, at which point the sweet flesh will slip easily from the papery skins.

Put the egg in a medium saucepan, cover with cold water and bring up to simmering point. Simmer for 2 minutes.

Place your peeled egg, the roasted garlic and all the other constituent parts, along with a good scrunch of black pepper, in a mini processor and whizz until smooth. Reserve until ready to serve (dressing the lettuce to early will make it soggy).

To make the croutons, cut your bread into squares, toss with olive oil, salt and pepper, and bake in a hot (180 – 200) oven for 15 minutes until crisp and golden.

If using, rub Cajun seasoning to taste into your chicken breasts, and then bake in a hot oven for about 20 minutes until cooked through and juicy. Allow the chicken to rest for 5 minutes before serving.

Assemble: tear your lettuce up, anoint with dressing and top with your crunchy croutons and your warm chicken.

You know you're middle aged when...

…Pretty much the highlight of your weekend was a trip to Waitrose.

I love Waitrose. Usually, I refuse to set foot in any supermarkets, preferring instead to stump up a fiver a week for a man in a van to bring my shopping to my front door. I have stopped even attempting to justify this to myself – it is a luxury that I point blank refuse to give up.

Waitrose, though. That’s another thing entirely. We had originally gone over there because I was craving roasted belly pork and we wanted to check out their meat counter. And we not only scored a beautiful 2 kilo slab of the stuff (bargainous at £12 – it will easily do 6 if not 8 meals) but the seemingly pre-pubescent butcher offered us a hefty discount to relieve him of three slightly tired looking pieces of pork fillet. So now we have rather a lot of pig in our freezer – if anyone has a particularly good piggy recipe to volunteer it would be most welcome!

And I finally realised why paying out for shopping delivery is a good idea. D and I wandered the aisles quite happily for a good long while (engaging in particularly earnest debate in the substantial gin section before we came away with a bottle of Tanqueray Rangpur) but on the whole were reasonably restrained. It therefore took an awful lot of willpower to keep my jaw from dropping open when the final tally came to over £75. I mean, that’s a week and a half’s shopping budget for me normally. And it doesn’t matter how many times I try and remember that I’ve got the basis of around twelve portions of porcine based suppers now, it’s still painful.

Fortunately, I was able to sooth my troubled spirit with gin (tasting notes: very fresh and citrusy. Nice.)

Meal Planning Monday 8

Meal planning didn't quite work out last week as one or other of us was out five nights out of seven.  I've mentioned before that I absolutely hate cooking for one, so when I'm on my own I don't tend to bother with anything more than a microwave meal.  Yes, I know, my foodie credentials get smaller and smaller don't they?  Of course, if I was really organised I'd keep a load of pre-portioned homecooked meals in the freezer for such occasions.  One day, I will be that person.

So, given the recent heat, I've been trying to come up with lighter meals for this week.  I think I'm naturally more of a winter cook (if there is such a thing) as I do find summer meal planning a little bit more difficult.  Or perhaps I just find meal planning difficult full stop because I long to be spontaneous and fabulous.  Ah well.

So, in particular order:

• Chilli con carne.  Not particularly light or summery, but a firm household favourite
• Three cheese pasta.  Oh look, another not particularly light or summery dish.  But I've had this in my head for a while now - I want to try and make a version of a childhood favourite that is slightly WW friendly.  Stay tuned for a recipe if it is successful.
• Chicken Caesar Salad - salad cos it's summer, see?
• Prawn and scrambled egg stir fry.  
• Mediterranean style fish stew with crusty bread on the side
• Sweet mustard salmon with roasted veg

As always, if you're lacking in a bit of meal planning inspiration you can head over to Mrs M's blog for more ideas.

The skinny on...Warburtons sandwich thins

The older I get, the less likely you are to find ostensibly diet products in my kitchen. One of the lessons that I have learned over my years of Weight Watching, of which I still need to remind myself on a regular basis is, I never need as much food as I think I do (i.e. I am fundamentally greedy) and another is that quality is almost always better than quantity. It is for this reason that I have stopped buying low fat plastic spreads – I eat real butter, just in a measured way. And, much as I am a fan of their eating plan, I very seldom purchase Weight Watchers branded products. I just don’t like them that much.

Of course there are exceptions. While my aim is that the recipes and products that I talk about on this blog are healthy-living friendly rather than expressly designed for us slaves to the calorie counting, I do sometimes have to bend my own rules, especially when it comes to dairy. Take the asparagus cream pasta I made last week for example – I used Elmlea, a cream alternative, which, the website tells me, is made of buttermilk and vegetable oils. I sometimes choose reduced fat cheese for cooking with and I almost always eat reduced fat yoghurts rather than the real deal. You pick your battles, depending on your taste.  And I don't think that there is anything wrong with a bit of compromise.

The actual point of this post was to enthuse about a new product I have stumbled across, after years of reading about them on American food and dieting blogs – sandwich thins ( and I should add at this point that I pretty sure that no one in the Warburtons marketing department knows I exist, particularly as that last line sounds a bit like marketeer speak.)

As far as I can see it, the point of the sandwich thin, which is basically…a square, flattish, slimmish bread roll type thing but without a crust (er, am I selling it yet?  See, definitely not in the employ of Warburtons!) is that it minimises the points (calories, grams of carb etc. etc.) that you spend on the receptacle which you are using to convey your sandwich filling to your mouth. Don’t get me wrong. I am a massive fan of bread – proper, yummy, warm, crusty bread. But when I eat a sandwich, I’m more bothered about what is in the middle of the bread. Otherwise I’d just be eating the bread on its own. Well, thickly smeared with butter anyway.

The thins are 3 pro points each and, I think, around 100 calories. And, as I discovered at breakfast time on Sunday, they are just about the right size to accommodate a fried egg (done in just the merest teaspoon of oil). Hurrah.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…

That’s it my friends. It’s all over.

I knew in my heart it must be. But still, a little quiver of hope arose in my breast when I saw Tesco were doing 2 for £2.50 on what I dared to believe was the tail end of the season’s harvest.

Not so. When my shopping arrived on Tuesday evening, the asparagus within was from Peru.

So, looks like British asparagus is done and dusted for another year. And, since I really wouldn’t bother with the Peruvian stuff as a general rule, that’s another ten or so months before I can enjoy it’s rich, greeney goodness again (to me, the best way to describe the flavour of asparagus is just to say it tastes “green”. You can understand why I don’t hold out any hope for a long-term career as a food writer). Anyway, to celebrate and commiserate in equal measure, (and to give me some inspiration next year) here’s a little retrospective of the whirlwind romance of the season.

It started off simple, classic. Egg, lemon, salty cheese, all classic asparagus adjuncts. But this dish was so much more than the sum of its parts.


I could never decide whether to steam or roast my asparagus until the lovely Mr Heston Blumenthal introduced me to a method that gave me the best of both worlds. Oh, and his soft boiled egg and smoked salmon and asparagus soldiers combo was pretty tasty and worked equally well when the smoked salmon was subbed for Parma ham.

Asparagus doesn’t always have to be the star of the show – it doesn’t mind playing a supporting role as long as you keep the accompanying flavours simple with a bit of zing. We’ve had it with simple roast chicken and lemon couscous (which is always a favourite dish in our household at this time of year) and also with some lovely, garlicky lamb and a fresh little potato salad.

And finally, this dish which I cooked the other night despite the fact that Tesco failed to provide me with the Real Deal. It was very simple and very tasty, and is recorded here for posterity so I remember to cook it again. Please don’t judge me for using a cream substitute (here, Elmlea) – there is simply no way I can build 70ml of full fat double cream into my daily points allowance without subsisting on dust for the rest of the day. And the dish itself didn’t appear to suffer overly much for my shortcomings – although I imagine should you use proper double cream you’d end up with something even more luxurious and decadent.

Asparagus Cream Pasta

Ingredients

1 bunch of asparagus
142ml reduced fat double cream substitute
2 small garlic cloves, peeled and slightly bruised
40g Parmesan, half finely grated, the other shaved
200g pasta

Serves 2, 19 pro points per serving

Put a large sauce pan of salted water on to boil. Meanwhile, snap the woody ends from your asparagus and slice off the tips.

Boil the asparagus stalks for about five minutes – I reckon that slightly overcooking them makes them softer and easier to blend later on.

Remove the stalks from the water and drain. Tip your pasta into the water, bring back to the boil and set a timer for 10 minutes.

Now put your cream into a small saucepan, add your garlic cloves and bring slowly up to the boil. When it gets there remove from the heat, stir through the finely grated Parmesan and put the resulting mixture into a blender along with the asparagus stalks. Whizz up into a beautiful pale green sauce. You could remove the garlic but I wouldn’t bother – it doesn’t overpower by any means.

2 minutes before the pasta is ready, thrown the tips into the boiling water.

Drain the pasta and asparagus tips, stir through the sauce over a gentle heat to warm through. Taste for seasoning – Parmesan is quite salty so you will need to be judicious with the salt, but I like plenty of scrunches of black pepper here, and then serve with the Parmesan shaving strewn over the top.

Lunch at the Ledbury

It was actually writing restaurant reviews that first got me thinking about blogging. When D and I first started venturing out to higher end restaurants, I started writing reviews - just to amuse ourselves you understand. I wasn't of the opinion then (and am certainly not now) that I had anything particularly new or innovative to add to the milieu. But I have a decent palate and, more importantly, a fully paid up membership to the club of Food Obsessiveness, which means I am endlessly interested in the ways in which chefs combine ingredients and utilise techniques both classic and modern and I endlessly wish to communicate that interest to other people, whether or not they share it.

This blog is not a restaurant review blog. I don't eat out enough for a start. And if I did eat out more I'd probably be even plumper than I already am. But I hope that you will indulge me the odd swerve from the path of WW righteousness once in a while (!) for some full on Food Porn.

We went to The Ledbury a couple of Saturdays ago you see - two Michelin stars and much praise from People Who Know. And I really, really wanted to write something witty and fabulous to pay tribute to such a gorgeous meal. But when it came down to trying to write some notes about it, all I found myself scribbling was “Food = VG”. Then I started doodling daisies. Yeah, Fay Maschler must really be trembling in her boots.

But I really don’t know how to be more eloquent about it. After every single course I wanted to send a request back to the chef to send me out a second, supersized version. After every single course I wanted to pick up the plate and give it a damned thorough licking. In fact, D succumbed to this, perfectly understandable, urge at one point (well, ran his finger round and licked that, almost the same thing) and got caught out by the charming Aussie sommelier. Who laughed, but agreed with D’s assertion that there can be no greater compliment to the chef than to risk turning oneself into an object of ridicule in a crowded dining room.

I suppose (and this is by no means a criticism) it wasn’t desperately exciting. And exciting is a dangerous adjective when applied to food: exciting can mean tongue tingling new combinations of flavours, can mean theatre and fireworks, or it can mean (and I have said this in both The Fat Duck and Noma – regarded as two of the world’s best restaurants) “I just don’t like this.” There were no dizzying highs, when I felt sure that the dish in front of me would be remembered for ever as one of the pinnacles of my foodie experiences. But equally, there were no dips down from the level of “Wow, this tastes so gooooood. Waiter, bring me a bucket of them there rabbit beignets and don’t spare the pine salt”.

Rabbit!

Picking a favourite dish was tough.  My Dad was all about the meat: he couldn’t decide between the melting pork cheek which was slow cooked with liquorice and spices, and served with a smear of bitter chicory and little spots of soft, honeyed sherry jelly, or the equally tender beef short rib which was accompanied by a cloudy mouthful of buttery mash.  I mean, pomme puree. 




Pork cheek!



Beef!

 But D and I were very taken with a fantastic plate of mackerel – a flame grilled fillet accompanied by a little mackerel tartare wrapped in cucumber gel, celtic mustard and shiso.  I also think an honourable mention needs to go to the scallop tartare which was served with a horseradish snow and managed to be sweet and cool and fiery all at the same time.

Mackerel!

Scallop!

Because we were having the tasting menu, there was no element of choice as to what we were served.  Perhaps that is why I remember the puddings as slightly underwhelming: the caramelised banana tatin with peanut parfait was lovely, but I’m always slightly disappointed when I have a pudding that is not chocolate.  The three of us did sterling work on the impressive cheese board though, picking fourteen of the twenty odd on offer between us, to the slight bemusement of the waitress who had evidently assumed we would want one cheese course between three.  D fixed her with a somewhat steely glare.  “We like cheese,” he said.

Banana!

Cheese!

Of course it was expensive. You don’t go for a lunch at a top London restaurant, order the tasting menu and attendant wine flight and expect any change out of can’tbringherselftosayanactualfigure quid. But I believe they do a very reasonable set lunchtime deal which I will definitely be trying to persuade friends along to next time I’m down in London. I’ll be aiming for a secluded table in the corner as well, so I can indulge in plenty of plate licking without the risk of being spotted.

My Elephant

This morning as I was getting dressed, I pulled out a top that I hadn’t worn in a while despite the fact I am fond of the colour and the fit. As I stood there, still rather bleary (it was six o clock after all), I remembered that the reason it had ended up at the back of the wardrobe was that the cut of the neck and shoulders leave my bra straps rather visible. Which isn’t really a big deal these days (sometimes it is positively de rigueur) but I had relegated the top to weekend wear only because I was concerned that the whole bra strap on display look wasn’t suitable for work. I went through the whole thought process in my mind. Then I put the top on reasoning, “I like this top, I want to wear it and that whole bra thing probably isn’t that bad. I’ll just do some subtle hoiking if it becomes a problem”.

And of course, now I’m sitting here, painfully aware that I am displaying greying bra straps to the world and his boss. And his boss too. And yes, I did not even bother to put on a nice bra at any point in this decision making process.

For those of you struggling to see the connection between whether or not my underwear is visible and food / WW then here we go. I am a supposedly intelligent person. And yet I make the same mistakes over and over and over again. Not only that, but sometimes (as this morning) the logical part of my brain chips in to say, “Hang on a minute, is that really such a good idea?” and then some other entirely irrational part notes the objection and goes ahead anyway.

Every time I’ve made a bad food decision, every time I’ve eschewed the gym in order to loll on the couch watching old episodes of “Charmed”, somewhere there has been a voice screaming “Noooooo! Don’t do it!” in a slightly melodramatic manner. But you only have to look at my recent track record (particularly in relation to exercise) to see that the voice is being well and truly drowned out.

And I don’t think it is just me. My brother was telling me about this self help book the other week which is all about instigating change. The analogy that the book uses is that your logical self is a Rider upon the Elephant of your emotional self (bear with). If the logical Rider and emotional Elephant want to go in different directions, then the Elephant will almost always win because it is stronger. The Rider therefore has to come up with strategies that will allow him to retain control and the Elephant to remain calm and biddable. For example, shaping the outside environment – in a weight loss scenario this might mean getting rid of anything in the house that will trigger overeating - or setting small, achievable goals that will not spook the Elephant but will give it something tangible to walk towards. And so on and so forth until the analogy is stretched beyond all recognition.

It’s an analogy I recognise and like. So much so that I’ve invested in a little silver elephant charm for my Pandora to remind me to keep control of my Elephant. Getting the mental stuff right is, I reckon, a good 99% of the battle.

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to nip to the ladies to rearrange my clothing. Again.

Meal Planning Monday 7

The eagle eyed amongst you will have noticed the lack of a meal planning post last week. Well, there are no excuses. Or rather, there are plenty but they are so pathetic that if I type them out I risk losing all remaining self respect. In the end it didn’t matter too much because I was struck down by a horrible stomach lurgie towards the end of the week which meant for several days I could face nothing more exotic than plastic cheese slices on toast.

This week needs to be different – poor D will revolt if he doesn’t start getting proper meals.

So. Tonight we have peppered chicken with roasted courgettes and cherry tomatoes and sun dried tomato and garlic couscous.

On Sunday I want to do a proper roast dinner. I love roast dinners and we don’t have them nearly enough. A recent post by the very lovely Jenny has put me in the mood for a slow roast pork shoulder, which I’ll serve with all the trimmings.

Then in between: they’ll be prick and ping for me one night when D is out carousing (much as I adore cooking I absolutely loathe cooking for one. I think it dates back to a rather miserable period in my life when I was living alone in an absolute hovel where the kitchen was so disgusting I refused to use it other than to make tea and toast.) I’ll be making what might well prove to be our last asparagus dish of the season, a rather delicious and sinful looking asparagus cream pasta from the BBC Good Food magazine website. We have a couple of squashes that need using, so I’m thinking of revisiting this rather lovely risotto recipe (and updating it to include the pro points value in the process). And alongside said squashes, there are some slightly mournful looking new potatoes languishing in our storecupboard, so I think I’ll keep it simple and serve up the salmon, roasted new potatoes and crushed, minted peas that I cooked a couple of weeks ago.

Finally, D was muttering something about having a yen for whitebait at the weekend which I think would be a fantastic Friday night supper – simply dusted with seasoned flour and fried in a little oil and then served with some mayonnaise for dunking. I don’t know yet whether I’ll be able to get hold of any, but I’m going to have a go.

Pop over to Mrs M's blog for more meal planning fun.