The first bite yields tender and tasty meat with undertones of warm spice and fresh orange. It’s redolent of dusty streets and bright fruits, secret blue tiled courtyards and bustling souks. This is a Sunday roast that’s holidayed in exotic locations.
Chicken is rarely better than when it’s roasted. And that usually calls for lemon and thyme, onions and black pepper. But sometimes, just sometimes you crave something a little different. Continue reading
I’m funny when it comes to fish. I don’t tend to cook very much during winter months, and when I do, it is often a far-eastern style braise, a fish pie or a spicy Creole stew. But when the sun comes out to play it’s like a switch has been flipped.
The strutting little tyrant in my head orders my appetite to about turn. Don’t focus on those oxtail stews, lamb tagines or slow cooked pork bellies! It’s time to turn back to fish. Continue reading
This is the rest of the the meal I cooked for Where’s My Pork Chop. And this is where, in the time honoured fashion of all young *cough* heroes *cough cough* on their quest for: the holy grail/the destruction of The Ring/their Shadow/cook a half decent meal, I hit a bump in the road. Continue reading
There was no dinner as such last night, just a snack in the pub during the break between a conference and a gallery event run by Bizarre magazine. Instead, I’m going post about the curative lemon, honey and ginger drink I made before heading off to bed.
I love these sorts of drinks when I am feeling physically down and am not really in the mood for tea (green, white, black or oolong), my fall-back cure-all. There’s not much that doesn’t look/feel better after a cup of well made tea, it’s just sometimes not the right drink. I can’t explain it better than that. Continue reading