If you follow me on Twitter, or have conversed with me recently, you’ll know that I’m currently (and I hate this term) ‘dieting’.  Whilst I’m not attempting to lose weight by bleaching my insides with a potent mix of maple syrup, flat lemonade and cayenne pepper a la Beyoncé, I have signed my life away to the grand high church of Weight Watchers.

There are numerous reasons why I’ve decided to lose weight – and not all of them are due to unabashed vanity. Indeed, after more than one visit to the doctor where they’ve taken a look at my weight, then a look at my family health history and proceeded to spend 45 minutes telling me off for spending my 20s pickling myself in gin, I have finally realised that something has got to give. That give being….me.

Since starting the plan in June last year, I have managed to lose just over a stone (it should have been more, but my crippling addiction to cured pork products, baked desserts and red wine keeps getting in the way of things).  And whilst I don’t agree with everything Weight Watchers promote (their recent TV advertising campaign being one of them), it’s one of the few diets I’ve tried which really appear to be working for me. Yet, despite my positive experiences with Weight Watchers, when they asked me if I’d like to review one of their cookbooks, I was initially wary. I’m always slightly suspicious of cookbooks produced by diet clubs after a bad experience a few years ago where I attempted to make a Slimming World Carrot Cake from one of their publications and ended up with something which had the texture and taste of a used bathroom sponge. But, in the interests of fairness and decency, I am prepared to try anything once. Even if that ‘once’ does result in a cake I could scrub my bath with.

As it is, I was really pleasantly surprised with The Complete Kitchen. It’s full of lovely pictures, easy to read, and contains a wide range of appetising looking recipes. It’s divided into numerous sections, encompassing simple sauces, easy dinners for a family, Sunday roasts, quick breads vegetarian mains and desserts.

It’s a book which is very much aimed at the beginner cook – the person who is just making tentative steps into the kitchen, and therefore may lack the confidence to bake their own bread from scratch, or make their own stock.  There’s a great section at the front which contains some basic cooking terminology and guides you through simple kitchen processes such as how to brown meat and make your own breadcrumbs.

I’ll admit that I initially flicked through my review copy, I was worried that – as someone who likes to challenge themselves in the kitchen – I’d quickly become frustrated with its simplicity.  However, I’ve found myself referring back to it when I just want to make something quick and delicious for dinner without worrying about about a meal’s points value. I’ve even cooked quite a few recipes out of it for Mr. Cay who has wolfed them down quite happily.

I’ll admit though – some recipes have worked better than others. Whilst the Asian Pork Patties with Coriander Rice and Tiger Prawn Tagliatelle were a resounding success, it’s probably best that we don’t mention the Pea and Potato Samosas I attempted to make a few weeks ago which (despite containing a delicious filling) came out of the oven looking like little parcels of failure.

If there’s one criticism that I could make about The Complete Kitchen, it’s that it’s slightly inconsistent in some places, and has an over reliance on recipes which involve you using artificial, low-fat ingredients rather than showing people how to make things from scratch. For example, a recipe for a rather tasty looking Cashew Nut Curry advises the cook to make up a curry sauce from Bisto Chip Shop Curry granules (!) Wouldn’t it just be better (and healthier) to show how to make a simple curry gravy from scratch using lots of spices and fresh ingredients? Is it really that hard to make a curry?

Despite that, it’s a nice addition to my ever increasing cook book file, and a good thing to refer to when I come home from work and just want to make something quick, tasty and filling that won’t kick the arse out of my points allowance for the day. Much like this Kosheri – a vegetarian Egyptian carb-buster of a dish which comprises of rice, pasta, lentils, tomato sauce and is topped with caramelised onions. This is the kind of food that you wouldn’t expect to see being promoted by Weight Watchers and yet it is – meaning that I have carte blanche to consume piles of it when I come home from an especially tiring work out at the gym. Now, if they can just figure out a way where I can devour my own bodyweight in bacon and Pinot Noir and still lose weight…

KOSHERI (Serves four. It’s also 9 WW points per serving if you care about that sort of thing)

• 150g dried green lentils, rinsed
• 1 red chilli, de-seeded and diced
• 2 garlic cloves, crushed
• 1 tsp cumin
• 400g chopped tomatoes
• 1 tbsp red wine vinegar
• 1 litre (1 3/4 pints) vegetable stock
• 2 onions, sliced
• 1 tsp olive oil
• 1 tsp light brown sugar
• 150g basmati rice
• 50g dried pasta
• 1 cinnamon stick
• A kettleful of boiling water

Make It!

1. Place the lentils in a small lidded saucepan, cover with cold water and bring to the boil. Cook briskly, uncovered, for 10 minutes, then reduce the heat and simmer, covered for 15 minutes or so until tender. Don’t over-cook, or the lentils will collapse.
2. Meanwhile, make the spicy tomato sauce. Heat a teaspoon of oil, and fry the cumin, garlic and chilli for 30 seconds, then add the chopped tomatoes, red wine vinegar and 175ml of vegetable stock. Bring to the boil and simmer, partially covered, for 20 minutes.
3. Next, cook the caramelised onions for the topping. Place the onions in a lidded, non stick pan with another 150ml of the stock. Cook, covered until soft, then remove the lid. Add the olive oil and brown sugar (these will both help the onions to caramelise), increase the heat and cook, stirring frequently, for 10 minutes or until they turn sticky and dark brown. Keep a close eye on them whilst they’re cooking to ensure that they aren’t sticking to the pan or burning.
4. To cook the rice and pasta, bring the rest of the stock to the boil in a lidded saucepan, adding the cinnamon stick. Stir in both the rice and pasta, and bring back to the boil together. Simmer briskly for 5 minutes, then reduce the heat to low, cover and cook for 15 minutes without lifting the lid. By the end of this time, the rice and pasta should be tender and have absorbed all the liquid. Remove from the heat and set aside for 5 minutes, covered with a clean tea towel to absorb the steam and to allow the rice to fluff up. Discard the cinnamon stick and then spoon the rice and pasta into four deep bowls.
5. Drain the lentils, and rinse briefly with some boiling water from the kettle. Drizzle over the spicy tomato sauce and serve topped with the lentils and caramelised onions.

You can purchase ‘The Complete Kitchen’ online or at your local Weight Watchers meeting. Thanks to Weight Watchers for the review copy of this publication.

I’ll be honest. I’ve had better Tuesdays. Mainly those which haven’t involved my fridge breaking down, my washing machine destroying my favourite cardigan and a nurse telling me off for my love of peanut butter (it’s bad for your cholesterol apparently). Hence why I am sitting here, watching Newsnight, eating huge handfuls of these Marinated Carrots with Basil and Mint and feeling more than a little sorry for myself.

I’m a sucker for anything pickled at the best of times (when we were kids, my sister and I would eat huge dill pickles by the jarful). So, seeing as I’m on a diet at the moment and therefor unable to indulge in cake and wine on a whim, it’s pickles I turn to when I’m craving sharp slices of comfort. When I found myself in posession of a glut of carrots recently, I decided not to turn them into soup, but douse them in vinegar, oil and herbs instead. The end result was delicious – bright, zingy and just on the right side of lip puckering, the perfect thing to garnish a dull winter salad (I’ve recently been adding them to huge bowls of couscous studded with crunchy chickpeas and nuggets of salty feta) or add a bit of life to a falafel wrap.

Whilst the original recipe for these over at Serious Eats calls for you to just use plain old oil, I decided to jazz mine up a bit with some homemade chilli oil that I keep stuffed away at the back of my cupboards for these type of occasions. If you want to make your own, it’s dead easy – just heat up some vegetable oil, and pour it over some dried chillies (or dried chilli flakes). Once it’s cooled, you’re ready to go.

A word to the wise when you’re pickling your carrots though – I’m not joking when I say that you need to keep these covered whilst they’re marinating. I left them uncovered in a glass bowl at the back of the fridge, leading Mr. Cay to tell me in no uncertain terms that opening our fridge was “like that scene in the X-Files where Mulder sees an alien and wakes up to discover burns around his eyes and mouth.” So if you don’t want to be hit in the face with a wave of pungent vinegar fumes every time you’re reaching for the milk, keep them safely sealed in a plastic tub until you need to use them.

MARINATED CARROTS WITH BASIL AND MINT (Makes four decent sized portions)

Adapted from Serious Eats

You will need:

• 6-7 medium sized carrots
• 3 tbsp chilli oil (although ordinary olive oil works just as well)
• 3 tbsp rice vinegar
• 2 tbsp chopped mint
• 2 tbsp chopped basil
• 1 small clove of garlic, minced finely
• Salt and Pepper to season

Make It!

1. Peel carrots and slice them into thick rounds (they should be roughly the thickness of a 2p coin). Simmer in a pot of salted water until just tender.
2. While carrots cook, whisk together the chilli oil, rice vinegar,  basil, mint, diced garlic and salt and pepper.
3. Drain the carrots, toss them together with the vinaigrette in a large bowl and let them sit until carrots are cool.
4. Place carrots in refrigerator and let them marinate for at least 1 hour before serving.(It’s best to cover the carrots with clingfilm whilst they’re marinating, otherwise they will stink out everything in your fridge). They’ll keep for around 4-5 days.

A few weeks ago, my parents threw a party to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary. It was a great night, full of family, friends, whisky, laughter and Indian food. The next morning, I couldn’t feel my feet (no doubt due to dancing badly in the the silver disco heels pictured above), and was in desperate need of carbohydrates. Which is how I found myself enjoying some brunch at the site of my first (and so far only) job in the restaurant trade, the Cornerhouse.

As any Mancunian will know, the Cornerhouse isn’t, strictly speaking, a restaurant. Instead it’s a huge complex comprising of cinemas showing independent films, a small art gallery, some meeting spaces, a bar and a café. Back in the halcyon days of 2001 when I was a lot younger (and a lot thinner) than I am now, I spent my weekends working in their café and occasionally pulling pints. I’ve got some very fond memories of my time working at the Cornerhouse – it was the first place where I ever tried calimari and tapas, and I still have a scar on my leg after a table collapsed after myself and one of my colleagues flamenco danced on it after one too many post work sangrias. However, the quality of its food back then wasn’t exactly stellar. It was owned by Sodexho (that private catering company you usually find catering schools, hospitals and prisons) and relied heavily on the use of frozen ingredients and gloppy pre-packaged salads. Nowadays, the Cornerhouse does all of its own catering meaning that the range of its food has changed immensely. For one thing, it does brunch. And you’d never have found it serving that in my day unless by brunch, you meant ‘a massive slab of cake’.

My Devilled Mushrooms with Goats Cheese on Sourdough was delicious. The mushrooms were piquant with smoked paprika and just on the right side of spicy. The tangy goats cheese provided a richness which soaked up my hangover like a sponge. Best of all, the portion size was just right – any larger and the whole dish would have been overfacing, and I would have been reduced to wallowing on my chair like a beached whale.

I did feel a slight pang of envy when I saw Mr. Cay’s Croque Monsieur, especially when I saw the ham hanging over the side like a lolling tongue. Because he’s a kinder person than I am, he allowed me to take a bite. With its perfectly melted cheese, thick slabs of salty ham, and firm crunchy sourdough, it was an absolute delight to eat. I had to restrain myself from wolfing down the whole thing whilst his back was turned.

However, the real stand out of the day wasn’t the food, but a Bloody Mary. Shockingly, I’d never actually tried this most classic of cocktails prior to this moment. I’d once sampled one prepared by my ex boyfriend, but had been put off by the fact that it had the consistency of a watery tomato soup. Man, how wrong I was. A perfectly made Bloody Mary is a thing of glory – full of bite and umami. This fine specimen you see above was just the thing to soak up the remnants of my hangover, refreshing and with just enough spice to cut through the aching fug which had taken up residence in my head. It may have been my first Bloody Mary, but it definitely won’t be my last.

The Cornerhouse has changed a lot since the days I worked behind their bar, but it’s all been for the better. Whilst I won’t be dancing on their tables again anytime soon, I’ll definitely be returning for their food.

Some people have normal phobias, like spiders and the dark. Me? I have them of that pre-grated cheese which comes in giant plastic sacks and blood pressure monitors. The blood pressure monitor one meant that I had to spend my Wednesday strapped up to an automatic blood pressure doohickey which took a reading every fifteen minutes. Ever been stood next to someone in the supermarket when your arm suddenly decides to expand & vibrate? I DON’T RECOMMEND IT.

There’s not a lot you can do when you’re spending your day dressed in wires. Even cleaning the cooker becomes fraught with danger, as one especially hard scrub when you’re scouring your hobs could lead to your reading going off the scale. And if that wasn’t enough, it also had the indecency to go off when I was on the toilet. By lunchtime, I was feeling decidedly pissed off. There was only one thing for it. It was time for Shakshuka.

Shakshuka may sound like the name of a burly Israeli superhero, but in reality it’s an absolutely delicious dish of eggs poached in a spicy tomato sauce. It’s incredibly easy to make, uses ingredients which you’ll usually find festering away at the back of your fridge and (best of all) it’s ridiculously healthy. It’s the perfect comfort food to tackle those January blues, and makes an amazing lunch.  Due to my insatiable greed for all things egg-and-cheese based, I ate an entire pan of this stuff. However, if you’re more inclined to share your lunch (and believe in portion control), this will easily feed two.

OK, so there are better ways to spend a day off work than strapped up to a blood pressure monitor. But after a huge plate of this, and an America’s Next Top Model marathon on Living, it was just about bearable. Well, until it went off again when I was trying to put my coat on…

SHAKSHUKA (Feeds one greedy person, or two people with normal appetites)

Recipe adapted (very slightly) from Smitten Kitchen 

You will need:

• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 green chilli, stemmed, seeded, and finely chopped
• 1 small onion, chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, crushed then sliced
• 1 tsp ground cumin
• 1 1/2 tsp  paprika (I used smoked paprika to give it a bit more oomph)
• 1 tin of chopped tomatoes, undrained
• 2 medium eggs
• 50g feta cheese, crumbled
• 1 tablespoon chopped flat-leaf parsley
• Salt and Pepper to season
• Warm pita breads, for serving

Make It!

1. Cook the chilli and the diced onion, stirring occasionally, until the mixture turns soft and golden brown. Add garlic, cumin, and paprika, and cook, stirring frequently, until garlic is soft.
2. Add the chopped tomatoes to the pan along with 60ml water.  Reduce the heat to medium, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has thickened slightly. Season with salt and pepper.
3. Crack eggs over sauce so that eggs are evenly distributed across sauce’s surface. Cover the pan and cook for around 5 minutes until the yolks are just set. Baste the whites of the eggs with tomato mixture, being careful not to disturb the yolk. Sprinkle shakshuka with feta and parsley and serve with pitas, for dipping.

It’s the last Friday of 2011, and, as is customary, I am currently sat in my pyjamas scoffing leftover Christmas chocolates and thinking about the events of the past year. 2011 has been a funny one for me. Whilst there’s been no deaths in the family, or even (bar Mr. Cay’s dodgy mouth) any major health scares, I’d  be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly glad to see the back of it. There’s been one too many mistakes and regrets for my liking – friends who turned out to be anything but, chances which I cocked up due to my own idiocy, loaves of elaborately sweetened bread which descended into mires of gloop. And let’s not mention the calimari I attempted to make last night which turned into a rubbery, soggy mess.

As it is, I’m immensely looking forward to 2012, with the blind idiocy of a person who is trying not to panic about just how much she has to accomplish over the course of the next twelve months. After all, it’s the year where I have to write a book, get married and turn 30 whilst attempting to retain my sanity amidst the chaos. I could panic about it all, but that would be pointless. As it is, tomorrow night I shall just raise my whisky glass, shout BRING IT ON WORLD! at midnight, and indulge in another slice of this Milk Chocolate Tart.

Prior to making this, I’d never had much luck with tarts. The pastry always turned out to be too soggy, or cracked, or just couldn’t handle the strain of a huge custard filling. But then I turned to that guru of all things baked, Dan Lepard. And what do you know, I think I may have finally gotten to grips with this whole ‘pastry’ lark.

The recipe for this Milk Chocolate Tart is based (very loosely) on his Pecan Crusted Bourbon Chocolate Tart. There, he suggests chilling the dough twice, which helps to keep it firm, and reduces shrinkage whilst baking. Because it’s the season to get down and get merry, I added a good shot of Black Grouse whisky to the Milk Chocolate custard. Black Grouse is a peated malt with overtones of caramel, sugar and a slight hit of smoke – and is just the thing to cut through the sweetness of so much chocolate.

The cherry sorbet is also a must when you’re serving this – its sharpness perfectly compliments the tart. Indeed, I quite enjoyed just eating it on its own – scooping it out of the tub with a big spoon when no one was looking. All in all, this is a dessert to savour -  a small slice of indulgence to enjoy whilst you’re seeing out the old year and welcoming in the new. Happy New Year (and, because I don’t say it often enough, thank you for continuing to read Little Red Courgette!)

MILK CHOCOLATE TART WITH A CHERRY SORBET (Serves 8-10 slices)

Milk Chocolate Tart adapted from a recipe by Dan Lepard

You will need:

For the Milk Chocolate Tart

• 125g plain flour, plus a little extra for rolling
• 25g caster sugar
• 75g unsalted butter, softened
• 1 egg yolk

For the filling

• 300ml double cream
• 50g soft light brown sugar
• 400g good quality milk chocolate, chopped (I used a combination of Green & Blacks, and Lindt)
• 75g unsalted butter, chopped
• 50ml whisky

For the cherry sorbet

• 400g cherries, washed and de-pitted (be careful when you’re de-pitting your cherries – I did it by squishing them and my kitchen ended up looking like the scene of a particularly brutal murder)
• 200g white sugar
• 150ml water
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• Zest and juice of a lemon

Make It!

1. Sift the flour and caster sugar into a bowl. Cut up the butter, add to the flour mixture and rub in with your fingertips until any lumps vanish.  Mix the egg yolk with a teaspoon of ice-cold water and add it to the bowl until a soft dough forms. Pat into a flat slab, cover it with cling film and chill in the fridge until firm (this should take around 20 – 30 minutes).
2. When you’re ready to roll, let the dough soften for five to 10 minutes at room temperature until pliable, then roll it out thinly on a floured surface (if you don’t own a rolling pin, you can use a floured empty wine bottle to do this). Line a tart tin with the pastry, then place the tart case in the fridge until it firmed.
3. Press a sheet of  greaseproof paper weighed down with baking beans against the base and side, bake at 170C (150C fan-assisted)/335F/gas mark 3 for 20 minutes, then remove the paper and bake for 10 minutes more.
4. For the filling, heat the cream until boiling, remove from the heat and stir in sugar until dissolved. Add the chocolate and butter, stir until both have melted, then stir in the whisky. Leave to cool until lukewarm, then beat the mixture slightly until it turns thick and gooey. Pour into the pastry case and chill until set.
5. For the sorbet: Place the cherries in a large bowl and macerate them with the side of a spoon until the flesh has turned pulpy. Put the cherries, sugar, water, lemon zest and vanilla essence in a heavy based, high sided saucepan . Place over a low to medium heat. Once the sugar has dissolved turn up the heat slightly and simmer for 3-4 minutes until the mixture has thickened slightly (be careful whilst doing this – the mixture will bubble up very quickly once it reaches boiling point). Squeeze over the lemon juice and stir to combine.
6. Place the sorbet mixture into an ice cream machine, and churn for around 30 minutes until the mixture has firmed up, yet is still slightly slushy when prodded with a fork. Place in the freezer until ready to serve.
7. Serve the tart and the sorbet together with a large shot of your favourite poison.

So, Christmas has come and Christmas has gone and I’m left poorer and fatter, yet full of seasonal cheer.  As is tradition, myself and Mr. Cay spent it in our usual manner – eating, drinking, and searching for the number of NHS Direct whilst pissed because (after all), the festive season just wouldn’t be the festive season without one minor medical emergency.  Whereas last year it was because I’d gotten a little too merry on the sherry and chopped my finger off whilst making roast potatoes, this time it was the turn of Mr. Cay who has developed a cracking dental abscess, which has led to half of his face swelling up and him being nigh on incapable of swallowing solids.

Because we are nothing if not resourceful, we weren’t going to let anything as minor as a bit of mouth knack ruin our Christmas dinner. So, I did what anyone would have done under the circumstances – dose the fella up with as much Bruichladdich as humanly possible, and serve him a (practically) liquid Christmas dinner. Whilst he may not have been able to enjoy any roast potatoes  cooked in sizzling Iberico pork fat, he was at least able to get his potato fix with a large streaming bowl of Cullen Skink. 

There is something wonderfully comforting about Cullen Skink – a traditional Scottish soup comprising of cream, potatoes and smoked haddock. Hearty and warming,  it reminds me slightly of the chowders you find being served up at restaurants across the East Coast of the USA – tailor made to stick to your ribs on a cold night.  Best of all, it’s the kind of thing you can make out of all the leftover Christmas dinner ingredients you may find mouldering away at the back of your fridge – that wrinkly stinky onion and forlorn shrivelled leek. Whilst some recipes suggest that you mash the potatoes prior to adding them to the broth, I worried that this may give the soup a ‘gluey’ texture, so merely diced them instead.

There’s no hard and fast rule about making this, and it’s the kind of dish that can easily be adapted to the ingredients that you may have on hand. Don’t skimp on the smoked haddock though. Its smokiness really does make this dish, so use the best that you can afford. We ate ours with nothing more than a sprinkle of fresh parsley, a crack of black pepper, and a shot of the best Scotch our pay packets could buy.

CULLEN SKINK (Makes five – six decent sized portions)

You will need:

• Two fillets of undyed smoked haddock, chopped
• Two potatoes, peeled and cubed (I used Rooster potatoes, as they are quite firm, and retain their shape well when cooked)
• One onion, finely diced
• One leek, washed and sliced
• 250ml fish stock (if you’re really pushed, you can buy some fresh white fish stock from any major supermarket, but if possible, do make your own out of leftover haddock bones and skin)
• 300ml double cream
• Two bay leaves
• A sprinkle of chopped fresh parsley for garnish

Make It!

1. Sweat the onions and leeks in a tablespoon of oil until they turn translucent. Add the potatoes and cook for a minute or so until they have just begun to colour slightly.
2. Add the fish stock, the bay leaves and 150ml of double cream. Bring to the boil and cook until the potatoes have softened slightly (there should be a slight bit of give when you insert a knife into them).
3. Flake the chopped smoked haddock into the pot. Add the rest of the cream, season and simmer for another ten minutes.
4. Strain the bay leaves out of the pot, and serve immediately with fresh parsley and lots of black pepper.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been helping my friend Sid of Sid’s Food Fascination on a secret project. It’s a secret project which has seen us meeting up in pubs across the city, drinking far too much beer, eating burgers and thinking up interesting names. So, after a lot of discussion (and more than one mild hangover), I’m quite happy to see that he’s launched Scousetroclub, Liverpool’s first (and so far only) dining club.

Modelled around Manchester’s award winning Gastroclub (@gastroclub_mcr), Scousetroclub is a chance for gastronomes across Merseyside to get together,  enjoy great food, meet new people and discover new restaurants. Each restaurant will be producing a special set menu for each event (This won’t be  food that you can walk in off the street and order). It also gives you the chance to try something new and different, prepared by a professional chef in a top Liverpool restaurant.

I’ve been to quite a few Gastroclub nights in Manchester, and I’ve never had a bad meal. Indeed, the Gastroclub evening held at Harvey Nichols in March stands out in my mind as being one of the best dining experiences I’ve had this year. So, I’m excited to see how Scousetroclub is going to take off  – and the chance to meet some cool, interesting new people.

The first Scousetroclub is being held at Lunya on 1st February 2012, and the meal menu will include a cava sangria on arrival and a five course meal for £29 per person. I’ve long been a fan of Lunya (and their amazing chorizo sausage rolls). Indeed, I’d even go so far to say that it’s one of my favourite restaurants in the city. I think it’s the perfect place to hold the first event, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what Peter Kinsella and his team will be serving up.

Liverpool’s had an awful reputation for food in the past – one which (in my opinion) is really quite undeserved. Hopefully, events like Scousetroclub, the birth of the (reportedly excellent) Liverpool Supper Club, and the legion of new restaurant openings that we’ve seen in the city over the past twelve months will go some way to convincing outsiders that it is possible to get a damn good meal in this city.

If you’re interested in attending Scousetroclub, a place can be booked by emailing scousetroclub@me.com. Alternatively, keep an eye on their website, and on their Twitter account.  I’ll see you there.

I have become mildly addicted to all things ginger recently. Personally, I blame the changing of the seasons. As soon as the temperature drops, I start seeking the fiery delights of all things ginger – from slugs of ginger wine in my nightly shot of whisky to huge glugs of ginger cordial thrown into a stir fry. And, once December rolls around, I also resume my annual quest for the perfect gingerbread recipe.

When I was a little girl, I was not the biggest fan of gingerbread. Most probably because my overwhelming memory of it is the tooth-chippingly-hard gingerbread people you find being sold in Greggs. But then I discovered the delights of gingerbread cake. And, as regular readers of this blog will already know, if there is one thing I like in this life, then it’s huge slabs of cake.

The road to this particular gingerbread cake recipe is littered with the carcasses of previous attempts. Attempts which have seen me using golden syrup and fresh ginger and too much lemon juice, leading to an end result which managed to be both overly fibrous and tooth-crackingly-sweet. But, during a recent trip to ASDA,  I  finally found the perfect solution to all of my gingery woes. Namely, the discovery of ginger cordial.

Seriously, this stuff is the business. So much so in fact that I’ve managed to go through nearly an entire bottle’s worth in the space of a day. Zingy, with a refreshing citrus punch, it provides just the kick you need to get this gingerbread party started. Whilst it may be gilding the lily somewhat, this (along with ginger jam and a good dollop of black treacle)  is used in both the loaf cake and the glaze, which provides with a real oomph. The end result is a cake which is as dark as a December night, sugary, sticky, dense and ever so moist. Indeed, I would suggest that  it’s the type of cake that you stick in your bag, and merrily munch on as you brave the Christmas shopping crowds. And if you’re wondering whether this really is the ultimate gingerbread cake, then why don’t you make it for yourself and find out?

GINGERBREAD CAKE WITH A SPICY ORANGE GLAZE

For the gingerbread cake

• 260g plain flour
• 113g unsalted butter
• 110g muscovado sugar
• 3 medium sized eggs
• 1 1/2 tbsps ginger jam
• 1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
• 1 1/2 tsps cinnamon
• 1 tsp powdered ginger
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp ground cloves (I mashed mine up in my pestle and mortar)
• 1/2 tsp nutmeg
• 1/2 tsp allspice
• 120ml black treacle
• 100ml ginger cordial
• 150ml semi skimmed milk
• Zest of an orange

For the spicy orange glaze

• 150g icing sugar
• The juice of an orange
• 1 tbsp ginger cordial

Make It!

1. Sift  the flour, baking soda, salt and spices together into a medium sized bowl.
2. Next, beat together the butter and muscovado sugar until they becomes dark and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well with a hand mixer after each addition. Make sure you scrape down the sides with a plastic spatula, so none of the mix escapes, flies off, sticks to a diamond hard sheen on your cupboards and slowly reduces the value of your house. Add the orange zest, black treacle, milk, ginger jam and ginger cordial and beat to combine.
3. Add the wet ingredients to the flour mixture until it forms a thick, dark gloopy batter. Pour into a loaf tin, smooth the top with a spatula, and bake on 177 degrees c/Gas Mark 4 for 35-45 minutes. The cake is done when you insert a toothpick into it and it comes out clean.
4. Whilst the cake is cooling, make the glaze. This can be done by sifting the icing sugar together with the orange juice and ginger cordial, and mixing it together until it becomes smooth and glossy. Once the cake is lukewarm to the touch, brush it over the cake with a pastry brush. If your cake has cracked slightly in the oven, the glaze will run into all of the ridges for an extra sugar hit.
5. Serve with a mug of builders tea, and a dollop of lemon curd.

If you’re looking for another gingerbread recipe – this one for Guinness Pumpkin Gingerbread  from North South Food looks pretty tasty too!

And so, December rolls around again like a tinsel-bedecked juggernaut. The big kid in me always loves this month, with the promise of Christmas (and the prospect of a week devoted to immense gluttony) just around the corner.  The part of me that appreciates not working to walk in the middle of a howling hailstone storm, however, isn’t as keen.

I always think that Bootle looks especially bleak in the Winter months, when not even the sight of the Seaforth docks, with its grain silos wrapped in fairy lights and cheap tinsel, can alleviate some of the gloom. I walked home last night in the rain; the slick wet pavements lit up by the sodium glare of streetlights the same dirty colour as the snood I’d bundled into, and decided that I needed three things to get me through a cold Monday night:

1) Tea

2) A hug from Mr. Cay

3) Soup. And plenty of it

One of my favourite soups to make when the weather take a turn for the worse is this Red Lentil & Lemon soup. I first read it about it on Orangette, who describes it (quite aptly in my opinion) as being ‘a quiet soup’. Indeed, there is something reassuringly simple and comforting about this combination of lentils, cumin and lemon juice – although it doesn’t smack you in the face with spice, there is a certain ‘something’ about it which makes it so much more than just another lentil soup. The dab of tomato paste also lends it a certain umami zing, which is just the thing to put some life back into cold bones.

Because I like a bit of crunch with my soup, I also whipped up some Harissa Croutons from the leftovers of a sourdough loaf I’d baked on Sunday. Whilst I am a firm believer in the benefits of making your own Harissa (Eat Like a Girl has an excellent recipe on her blog if you feel like whipping up a batch sometime soon), I am also terribly lazy. So, I just used the stuff from a jar which I’d recently bought from Steenberg’s Organics.

Warm soup, spicy croutons, hot tea and Masterchef on the telly. Winter may have hit Bootle with a vengeance, but so long as I have all of these things at my disposal, life will always be good.

RED LENTIL & LEMON SOUP WITH HARISSA CROUTONS (Serves four)

Soup recipe adapted slightly from ‘In the kitchen with a good appetite’ by Melissa Clark. Harissa Croutons recipe originally by Eat Like a Girl

You will need:

• 2 tbsp. olive oil
• 1 large onions, finely diced
• 2 garlic cloves, finely diced
• 1 tbsp. tomato paste
• 1 tsp ground cumin (I like to use whole cumin seeds, which are toasted in a pan and then ground in a pestle and mortar)
• 100g  red lentils
• 2 large carrots, peeled and diced
• ½ tsp  salt, or more to taste
• A few grinds of black pepper
• Pinch of red chilli flakes
• 2 pints of chicken or vegetable stock (I used chicken)
• Juice of a lemon  to taste
• A good handful of fresh coriander, finely chopped

For the croutons

• 1 tbsp harissa
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 100g sourdough bread, cubed

Make It!

1. Preheat the oven to 150°C/300°F/gas mark 2. Combine the harissa and olive oil and season. Toss with the bread to coat. Bake for 20-25 minutes until crisp, shaking occasionally.
2. In a large pot, warm the oil over medium-high heat until hot and shimmering. Add the onions and garlic and sweat for around 4 minutes  until golden.
3. Stir in the tomato paste, cumin, salt, pepper, and cayenne, and cook for another two minutes. Add the stock,  the lentils, and the carrots. Bring to a simmer, then partially cover the pot and reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Continue to cook for around half an hour  until the lentils and carrots are soft. Taste, and add more salt if necessary.
4. Once cooked, puree around half of the soup using a hand blender (or a food processor if you’re lucky enough to own one) . It should still be slightly chunky. Reheat if necessary, then stir in the lemon juice and fresh coriander. Serve the soup drizzled with good olive oil and topped with the harissa croutons.
   

Birthdays. Like Starbucks coffee, Harry Potter and the musical oeuvre of Lady Gaga, I have always found them to be slightly overrated. The only birthday I’ve ever really found myself getting excited about was my 21st which started with me drinking too much champagne on a train to Newcastle, and ended with me falling arse over tit down a hill whilst dressed as a PacMan ghost. Unfortunately, seeing as I’m turning the grand old age of 29, I fear I may be too old for that kind of thing nowadays.

As it is, I have learnt to lower my expectations when it comes to the annual celebration of the day of my birth. After all, what are birthdays but just another day – albeit another day where your parents call you up to cry and tell you the story of your birth (I was two weeks late, had to be pulled out with a pair of forceps, and the consultant told my Mum off because I’d made him miss Coronation Street). The best thing about the whole affair in my opinion is that they give you an excuse to legitimately drink during the day (I like to do my daytime drinking in the bath fact fans) and eat cake. Lots and lots and lots of cake.

Lets face it – most birthday cake is rotten. It’s usually too dry, covered in globs of disgusting buttercream and tastes like a one way ticket to a hypoglycemic coma. In my opinion, it’s high time it had a makeover. And what better way to reinvent the birthday cake by turning it into a Chocolate Chestnut Meringue Cake?

This cake is everything a dessert should be – a rich, flourless chocolate truffle cake topped with a firm, chewy, toothsome meringue. I had a tube of Créme de Marrons (aka sweetened Chestnut paste) that I’d found being sold for 99p in my local deli so I decided to throw that into the mix as well – lending the cake a nice nutty sweetness which cut through the denseness of the chocolate. I also finally relented and finally invested in a hand mixer which I found being sold for £6.00 in my local ASDA. Seriously people, if you don’t own one of these, I highly suggest that you go out and buy one as soon as you can. They’re amazing. All I want to do now is meringue the shit out of everything in sight.

As it is, I’ll just be content to bask in the gorgeous meringue joy of this cake instead – a cake which tasted pretty bloody good half an hour out of the oven, and even better the next day when all the flavours had melded together to form a slice of fudgey chocolatey delight. Birthdays may be overrated, but this cake certainly isn’t.

CHOCOLATE CHESTNUT MERINGUE CAKE

Adapted from Tartelette

You will need

For the cake:

• 10 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for pan
• 130g firmly packed light-brown sugar
• 6 large eggs, separated
• 200g dark chocolate (I used Lindt 70% Cacao), melted and cooled
• 80g Chestnut Puree
• 1 1/2 tablespoons vanilla essence
• 1 1/2 tablespoons spiced rum
• A pinch of salt

For the meringue:

• 50g dark chocolate, roughly chopped
• 1 tablespoon cornstarch
• 4 large egg whites
• 150g white sugar

Make It!

Bake that cake

• Cream the butter and brown sugar until pale and smooth. Add the egg yolks, one at a time, beating well after each addition and scraping the bottom and sides of your bowl with a spatula if necessary. Add the melted chocolate, vanilla essence, chestnut puree, rum and salt. Mix well until fully combined combined.
• In a clean mixer bowl, beat the 6 egg whites until they have turned fluffy and soft peaks can be formed on top. Fold one-third of the egg whites into chocolate mixture and combine well. Fold in remaining egg whites, pour the cake batter into a well greased cake tin, and bake 25 minutes on Gas Mark 4/180 degrees centigrade. The cake is done when it looks  as though it has only just firmed up – don’t worry if a skewer doesn’t come out clean so long as it’s not too gloopy with uncooked batter.

Slam that meringue:

• Combine the chopped chocolate and cornflour in a small bowl, and set aside. Place remaining 4 egg whites in a clean mixer bowl and beat with a hand mixer on a high speed until they turn thick and frothy. With the mixer running, slowly add the sugar and continue beating until stiff peaks form, about 8 minutes.

Assemble and Finish:

• Remove cake from oven. Using a large offset spatula, spread meringue mixture on top of cake using as little strokes as possible not to deflate the meringue, and return to oven. Bake for around 25 to 30 minutes until the meringue is lightly browned and crisp, Let the cake cool for around 30 minutes, before slicing and serving.