DIY detox

So. Since I’m no longer going on detox at Anamchara I figured I’d just do it myself at home.  Because, really, it’s not as if there’s any great mystique behind the process and, now I come to think of it, I’ve written two darn books on detoxing sooo…

I pondered a juice detox but then decided against it. Not because I don’t like juicing (cos I really do – as evidenced here) but because it’s bloody cold, for pity’s sake, and I don’t know about you but I’m feeling the need for some warmth.  And it’s also because, while juice is great for a short detox (up to three days), you really need some protein going on for a longer-term detox (I plan on doing three weeks or more but, fundamentally, this is really just a healthy eating plan, so you could keep on and on...and become positively squeaky clean.)

It’s become fashionable lately to ridicule detoxing – and yes, there is a lot of garbage spoken about it.  Remember those detox foot patches?  Say no more.

And yes, the liver (and the lungs, skin, kidneys, lymphatic and digestive system etc.) can detox by themselves quite merrily.  But then again, sometimes they can do with a helping hand. If you’ve been overdoing the booze, fat, sugar and so on – your body could probably do with a break.  And that’s really all a detox or cleanse is – just giving your body the space to get on with what it’s supposed to be doing. Nothing particularly weird or arcane...

So, what will I be doing?  Well, keeping up what I started at Ti Sana really.  So, no booze, no caffeine, no sugar (other than naturally occurring in fruit and veg).  A pretty solid, sensible vegan diet – predominantly vegetables, pulses, legumes, some grains, some fruit, nuts, seeds.  Some olive oil (if I had the dosh it would argan oil too but hey)…

A few anomalies. No grapefruit, which saddens me as I adore grapefruit. But it isn’t so hot on detox as it puts the brakes on some aspects of the liver detox process.  And no rhubarb or oranges as they are quite acid-forming. 

Keep everything organic as far as you can – you don’t want to be putting pesticides into your body, do you?  And I guess it goes without saying that you should be aiming for seasonal food cooked without dollops of saturated fat (so think raw, steaming, roasting, boiling – not deep-frying).  And no, no fast food or crisps. And yes, a Bloody Mary does count as alcohol rather than fruit.

Drink plenty of water. This is the major good habit I picked up at Ti Sana cos, although I know I should drink plenty of water, I’m really crap at remembering.  But your body really does love it when you hydrate it.  Instead of tea (my addiction) I’m drinking herbal teas (hey, Pukka now do a mint and licorice one, and it’s slightly sweeter and nicer than the Yogi tea one – but no inspiring messages).  No, it isn’t quite the same but my adrenals will thank me.

So. Anyone gonna join me?  I’ll kick you off with a couple of recipes from Ti Sana (I haven’t tried them yet so, if you do, let me know)

…and I might just chart my progress on Twitter with the hashtag #DIYdetox – you could too. J 

I’ll try to add some more bits and pieces of detox ‘perceived wisdom’ on the blog.  Of course, if you’re mega keen you could follow the plans in my books, The Detox Plan or The Detox Kit (though not sure that one’s still in print).

btw, The Detox Plan (in Kindle form) is only a couple of quid or dollars...I detoxed the price! :-) 

Recipes from Ti Sana

Chickpea soup with lemon and cinnamon

400grams cooked chickpeas

100grams white cabbage, finely sliced

50grams daikon, finely sliced

1 sundried tomato

1 litre vegetable broth

2 tablespoons chopped parsley

1 teaspoon chilli

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Onion, chopped

2 cloves of garlic, chopped

2 teaspoons ground cumin

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Sea salt to taste

A little olive oil

Heat the oil in a saucepan and then add garlic and onion and sauté for a few minutes until soft. Add the spices, chickpeas, cabbage and daikon. Cover with the broth (or boiling water if you prefer) and bring to the boil. Boil for around ten minutes.  Add the parsley and lemon juice and serve. 

Black rice and carrots with lime

240grams black rice

33grams finely sliced carrots

2 tablespoons lime zest

60grams sunflower seeds

1 tablespoon sesame oil

Sea salt to taste

Boil the black rice for around 30 minutes.  Cook the carrots in a pan with a little salt and oil. Toss for 3-4 minutes then add the lime zest. Cook for around ten minutes.  Chop the sunflower seeds and add to the carrots.  Mix in the rice and mix together over a medium heat for a minute or two. 

Craving something sweet? 

Raw truffles

100grams cashews

100grams dates (or half dates, half apricots)

1 tablespoon dried coconut

1 tablespoon cinnamon

Sesame seeds (for decoration)

Take out the stones from the dates and then blend the lot in a high speed blender. Form the truffles into balls and roll in sesame seeds.  Put in fridge for around an hour. 

Exmoor House vegetarian barbecues and picnics

As regular readers know, I'm not exactly a foodie and, left to my own devices, I will happily eat the same thing (or nothing) day after day.  But the one thing that does get me salivating are Rosi Davis' tweets about the food she's serving at her Exmoor guest house.

So I said to her, 'Hey, Rosi...how about doing me a blog post.'  Cos this is the season of barbecues and picnics and really, us vegetarians tend to draw the short straw - a handful of crisps and the odd corn on the cob, if we're lucky.

Anyhow, Rosi said yes, so I'll handy you over without further ado...

Rosi Davis:  Here are some ideas for summery vegetarian food that you could use for picnics and barbeques. At our guest house at Wheddon Cross on Exmoor we specialise in providing food to suit peoples’ dietary requirements – we design the menus around our guests each day - and much of this article is based on dinner recipes we use for guests who don’t eat meat or fish. I’m an omnivore, my husband Frank (who’s the chef) is definitely a carnivore – but we both just love good food and really enjoy experimenting with taste and texture. I’ve avoided being too prescriptive, so haven’t given detailed recipes here: the aim is more to help inspire you.

Picnics

Vegetarian scotch eggs

I had the idea for this a few weeks ago, we tried it out on ourselves first (as we always do) and it’s had the seal of approval from guests. The ‘scotch’ bit is pulse based; it can be any mixture that is the right sort of consistency to be moulded around the egg and not fall to pieces when fried. Coat peeled hardboiled eggs with, for example, flat green lentils cooked till soft with herbs and/or spices and (technical term) mushed up. You could also try using your favourite falafel-type chickpea mixture… or a nut roast recipe, if it’s the right sort of texture. You need to put a double layer of breadcrumbs (beaten egg, crumbs, beaten egg, crumbs) on the scotch eggs once they’re assembled, then deep-fry them. The scotch eggs go nicely with a garlicky mayonnaise or a tomatoey dip.

Quiches, pasties, filo parcels

Some suggested fillings: tomatoes and mixed peppers; goat’s cheese with spinach and mushrooms; brie with courgettes (Somerset brie is made with vegetarian rennet); blue cheese, cream cheese and lovage herb (Exmoor Jersey Blue cheese, made with vegetarian rennet, is very blue and tastes deliciously creamy); mixed mushrooms; spicy lentils.

Omelette wrap & roll (thanks to Michelle Vickers of Ras Mbisi Lodge for the inspiration for this one)

Make omelettes with your choice of fillings (or just spice ’em up a bit). The omelettes need to be about the same size as the wraps you’re using. Just use a small amount of filling, and don’t make it chunky – the omelettes don’t want to be too thick, or the wraps will split. Place each omelette on a wrap or soft tortilla, and roll up. Cut into slices diagonally for a pretty pinwheel effect.

The barbeque

Halloumi and courgette burgers

We found this recipe in the Morrison’s magazine. We adapted it a bit for our guests, but the original version is also wonderful: the link is here. 

You could do the burgers directly on the barbeque, or in a griddle or pan (definitely use a griddle if you want to do the aubergine slices).

Vegetable kebabs

Always good! We use aubergine, peppers, square slices of onion, courgette, cherry tomatoes, button mushrooms… Marinate the cubes of aubergine in olive oil first. The squares of onion are good for holding things in place; watch out that the cherry tomatoes don’t split. Once your kebabs are assembled on their skewers, brush everything with olive oil (flavoured with herbs, chilli etc if you like) before cooking; baste with oil while they’re cooking if necessary.

The best garlic mushrooms

Use big flat mushrooms (e.g. portabella). No need to peel them, just wipe any dirt off. Remove the stem if you like. Spread the gills side liberally with garlic or herb (or garlic and herb) butter. If you’re making garlic butter, try baking the garlic beforehand for a lovely mellow flavour; if you’re using herbs add a splash of lemon or lime juice too. Wrap the mushrooms lightly in foil, to keep all the juiciness in, and barbeque till soft.

Salads

No summer meal is complete without them…here are a few with a slight difference.

Add a new dimension to a Russian salad (finely diced cooked potato & carrots, peas, bound with mayonnaise) by including a touch of smoked paprika.

Try ‘coleslaw’ made with grated carrots and courgettes instead of cabbage. Salt the courgettes lightly once grated and leave in a sieve for about an hour to drain, then rinse and squeeze out gently to get rid of the moisture. If you want a change from mayonnaise, use yoghurt, a light vinaigrette or just olive oil.

This is a simple and lovely pepper salad. Roast red peppers till the skin is charred and the flesh is tender; remove the skin (use the plastic bag trick*), slice and dress with olive oil, garlic and some ground cumin and/or coriander – or whatever you fancy! It’s even better when left to marinate for several hours.

Tomato salad with mint instead of the ubiquitous basil makes a nice change.

If you’d like us to do the cooking for you, you’ll find details of our dinner bed & breakfast packages at http://www.exmoorhotel.co.uk 

We also do dinner for people who are not staying with us at Exmoor House; because we make everything ourselves, taking dietary needs and preferences into account, bookings are needed at least 24 hours in advance.

Rosi Davis, Exmoor House Wheddon Cross, Somerset

* The plastic bag trick for peeling roasted peppers: once they’re cooked, put the peppers into a freezer bag (or similar – one that’s not going to melt) squeeze as much air out as you can, seal and leave till cool. The pepper skin should then be easy to pull off.

Astral cookies

I have decided to shift the focus of my life to the dream world. Really. It’s much nicer there and, major plus point, it’s warm. Last night I spent the majority of my time splashing around in the Pacific and running down waterfalls. It was heaven. Okay, so there was the small matter of all the dead/sleeping people littering the boats by the cliffs but hey… Then I wake up and there is ice on the inside of the window and even the dog is shivering. But no…this isn’t going to be a post about astral travel and lucid dreaming…not quite yet…

Adrian comes in and stands at the foot of the bed looking revoltingly cheerful.
‘I’m off then…’
He’s going shooting. Not some big fancy shoot, I hasten to add, just a bunch of mates.
‘Looking forward to it?’ I say, just eyes and nose visible over the four duvets, still shaking off the turquoise waters in my mind.
‘I dunno,’ he replies. ‘Seems a bit weird to be looking forward to killing something…’

Huh? Don’t tell me the vegetarianism is catching? He has been eating a lot less meat lately. And going to the gym. Last night he even had a cup of tea instead of another beer. Hmm.

But then, when I drag myself out of bed and creep to the kitchen there’s a slab of Sherman’s bacon defrosting on the top (no, it’s not really carved from Sherman’s haunches – not much meat there, come to think of it – but from one of his ex-pigs). And Hugh F-W’s MEAT (you gotta like the open honesty of that title, huh?) cookbook is open on the page for pork pies. Ah well…

Anyhow, his departure leaves me and James home alone… again. The poor boy is in the wars… again. He’s injured himself…again. Policeman’s foot apparently (plantar fasciitis). ‘He’s the youngest person I’ve ever seen with it,’ said the doctor, with that gleam of eye that medical people can’t quite suppress at something more interesting than piles and flu.

‘Yeah, well he’s got form,’ I replied. ‘He was the youngest person to have Bell’s palsy too.’
‘So he was!’ Dr B’s eyes light up even more. ‘Maybe he’s a medical conundrum.’
James wasn’t remotely impressed. He didn’t want to be a conundrum; he wanted the magic wand of medicine. He wanted to jump up and walk out cured, like the guy in the Bible. Dr B would make a cracking Jesus, come to think of it – he’s got the bone structure and does a good line in pithy comments. But he’s not hot on miracles. Instead he told James exactly what the apostle St Google had already told me – do the exercises, rest, get some orthotics.

It’s tough though. When you’re thirteen and your greatest joy is to run, to play rugby, to play squash, to play football, to do anything really that involves getting out there, being physical, hurling your body around cos, like a puppy, you have way too much energy. Yes, he reads; yes, he plays on the Xbox; yes, he watches TV; yes, he chats on Facebook but still…

So, don’t laugh…we’ve been baking, he and I. Well, he’s been baking; I’ve been nicking the cake mix. Cos, though food in general doesn’t really rock my boat, I’m a sucker for cake mix. And – of course – baking involves ovens and oven involve…heat. Delicious heat.

Marbled chocolate brownies; raspberry muffins; festive nibbles; spicy cocktail biscuits… Sheesh, no wonder people put on weight – these things are made of slabs of butter and crateloads of sugar and not much else! Favourite so far? Peanut cookies. Oh yeah. Seriously, butter AND peanut butter – your arteries probably wince just at the name but boy, are they good.
So good, in fact, that you should try them. I suppose you could argue there’s protein in there, eh? Vegetarian protein at that.


Peanut cookies 

1 cup/225g butter
2tbsp/30ml crunchy peanut butter (if you prefer a smooth cookie, go for smooth peanut butter…doh!)
1 cup/115g icing sugar
½ cup/50g cornflour
2 cups/225g plain flour
Unsalted peanuts (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 180C, 350F or Gas mark 4. Lightly grease two baking sheets.

2. Beat the butter and peanut butter together and add the dry ingredients. Mix like hell…If you have a mixer this will probably be easy. If not (like me), you’re best off kinda giving up with the spoon and just kneading it with your hands… It’s a very dry mix so keep going. Squish every last bit in.

3. Grab a bit of mix and roll it into a ball. This recipe will make around 25 normal sized cookies – if you like giant ones, go bigger. Place the balls on the baking sheet leaving plenty of room for them to spread out and make themselves comfortable.

4. Press the tops of the balls flat using the back of a fork. If you like (I do, James doesn’t) press a few whole peanuts into each cookie.

5. Bake for around 15 minutes (depends on your oven) until lightly browned. Then the usual stuff about letting them cool a tad (or they will crumble apart) before putting on a wire rack. Then just see if you can stop yourself from scarfing the whole lot in one sitting.

Yeah, they don't look any great shakes but...

In other news...my new book Walker (available for Kindle only - it's an eco-adventure so couldn't really justify the trees!) got a plug in the Telegraph today. Feel free to make my Christmas merry by downloading a copy to your Kindle. Click here for the US and here for the UK.

My anti-guru has been off on a brave quest for the Light recently so he could probably do with a boost to the coffers too...download his books right here and now. 

And for those who roll their eyes at all this shamanic and spiritual stuff, you can still order Adrian's book Great British Pubs and still get it in time for that astral pub crawl at Christmas... 

New relationships can be difficult...

Our kitchen is pretty Spartan.  *Long pause………………………………….*  

Sorry, went off into a reverie about the real Sparta then…just pretty beautiful really.  Right. Back to the kitchen. We have a cooker and a fridge and a kettle (my mother’s old one, bogstandard white, mind of its own, boils itself up every so often just for the hell of it) and that’s it.  No really, it really is.
‘But, but, but….don’t you have appliances…’ stuttered someone on Twitter.  And the answer is, simply, no.

We did have a toaster but it blew up.  Okay, it didn’t blow up (I must stop exaggerating) – it just sort of went sulky and wouldn’t play.  Alright, let’s cut to the chase, it turned all coy virgin on us and wouldn’t open up its flaps to allow the bread in (and that may well be the first and last sexual metaphor for a toaster you’ll come across in your lifetime – and thank feck for that, you’re probably thinking).  We also had a popcorn maker which lasted all of a month before making a nasty smell and dying.  Umm, no, let’s not go there eh?

Maybe, I pondered, this is why I don’t really like cooking.  I simply don’t have the *stuff*.  But nah. I just don’t like cooking because, fundamentally, I can’t be arsed. At the risk of shocking a fair few of you foodie types, food is fuel, pretty much (apart from anything coffee-flavoured for which I make a lip-smacking exception). But generally I’d rather gaze into space than baste and stir and get my knickers in a twist over timing all for something that vanishes in under five minutes. And recipes are so bossy, so regimented.  Anyhow, I keep a perfectly good cook in the house and you don’t keep a cook and baste yourself, do you? ;)  

Would I be any different if I had a KitchenAid mixer or a Dualit toaster?  Highly unlikely - but, hey, if anyone cares to send me them I’m more than willing to give 'em a go. And Adrian is mad keen to get a posh coffee machine (hmm, coffee)....*sigh*

Therefore, when the nice PR asked if I’d like a crock-pot, my first reaction was to laugh.  And my second reaction was to snort.  ‘Nooo; they’re great,’ he said (I made up the nooo bit cos it improves the flow of the speech and, if I'm being very honest, he didn’t use a semi-colon either). ‘You just shove everything in and let it do its thing.’  Hmm.  Freeform. Laissez-faire. This sounded more like my idea of cooking.  ‘Oh, go on then,’ I said. Or rather, typed.  ‘Send it on over.’

Well. A few days later, I undid the parcel (having totally forgotten it was coming) and got it out.  I looked at it and it looked at me and we both had to hide our disappointment in one another. Isn’t the dream so often better than the reality? 

‘Shit, I’ve got the crap cook,’ I could hear it thinking.
‘Shit, you’re one ugly bastard,’ I thought to myself (not wanting to hurt its feelings by saying it out loud). 
But, honestly, it was; it is.  Really.  White. Plastic. Functional. Reminiscent of the 70s.  This, I thought, is why I don’t like gadgets.  They are just soooo fecking ugly and take up soooo much space.  So it sat on the kitchen table for several days, looking both mournful and accusatory.  Yeah, I've got a passive aggressive crock-pot.  We ate and tapped on our laptops around it, ignoring it, collectively hoping someone would take responsibility and do something with it. 

Outside the temperature was diving and it crossed my mind that, if nothing else, it might make a good chamber pot.  I tell ya, if ever an inanimate white plastic object could look hurt, that one did. ‘Okay, I’m sorry, alright. It was a crap (sorry again) idea.’

Then Adrian went off again (Brussels this time: yes, the man is single-handedly drinking his way around the world) and I figured that – this time – my child really shouldn’t live off pizza and the chippy.  Aha, I thought, winking suggestively at the crockpot. You. Me. Kitchen. Now. Hot date.  It looked wistfully hopeful. 

‘Vegetable chilli,’ Sessha had said firmly on Twitter when I asked what a vegetarian could cook in an implement designed for simmering meaty stews.  And I had vegetables aplenty thanks to Sarah Diggle’s organic veg box.  I checked the recipe.  Okay, so basically chop everything up and toss it in.  Yeah, even I could manage that and not lose too much staring time.
So I chopped and tossed.  Added chocolate (the only cooking tip you'll ever get from me).  And then I went off and forgot all about it until, around four hours later, instead of going ‘OH SHIT!’ as the smell of thrice-burned carbon gagged me, went 'Eh what the hell?' as something fragrantly and - um – distinctly edible – wafted up the stairs.  Who’da thought?  There it sat, smug and proud as anything, simmering its little white plastic heart out. 

‘What’s this?’ said James, looking suspiciously into his bowl and prodding.

‘Chilli,’ said I. 

‘Did you cook it?’ he said, furrowing his brow.

I paused. Pondered the right answer.  And then decided it was only fair.  Credit where credit’s due and all that.

‘Nope. The crockpot did.’
‘Oh, that’s alright then.’  And he stuck in his spoon and tucked in.

I raised an eyebrow at the crockpot as if to say ‘Pax?’ 

In return it made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a triumphant fart. 

Okay, seriously now.  I think CP and I may have some kind of future, I really do. Like all relationships, we just need to work at it and appearances can be deceptive, can't they?  But you foodie types will fall blindly in love, you really will.   Check out the website here.

And, get this, if you can come up with a seriously good slow cooker recipe you could win up to £3,500 of prizes. All you do is load up your recipe (plus pic) onto the Crock-Pot Facebook page here (before October 21) – and hope people *like* your recipe.  Relax, I won’t enter CP’s chilli – it wouldn’t be fair on the rest of you. 

What?  You want recipes?  Is there no end to your needs?  Sigh.  These are the ones CP really wants to cook.  We’re at a stand-off right now.

Beef Bourguignon (serves 6-8)

3 tablespoons flour
Sea salt and pepper
3 pounds beef chuck (bleugh, sorry, that sounds disgusting) – cut into 1-inch cubes
3 large carrots (peeled and sliced)
1 medium onion (sliced)
6 strips of cooked bacon (cut into pieces)
284ml beef stock
475ml red wine
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 crushed garlic cloves
3 springs fresh thyme
1 bay leaf
450g mushrooms, sliced
2 large potatoes (cut into chunks)

Coat beef in flour seasoned with salt and pepper.  If you like, you can sear the beef on a skillet2.      Place meat in Crock-Pot® slow cooker and add remaining ingredients.
Cover and cook on Low for 8-10 hours or High for 5-7 hours, or until meat is tender.

Lemon Herb Roasted Chicken (serves 4-6)

1.8-2.7kg roasting chicken
1 onion
1-2 tablespoons butter
Juice of one lemon
½ teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons fresh parsley
½ teaspoon dried thyme (hmm why dried, when fresh is nicer?)
1 teaspoon paprika

Place the onion in the cavity of the chicken and rub the skin with butter. Place chicken in Crock-Pot® slow cooker.
Squeeze lemon juice over chicken and sprinkle with remaining seasonings. Cover and cook on Low 8-10 hours or High 4-5 hours.

Pineapple, cranberry and honeydew ice poles

The post has been very dreary lately.  After a wild flurry of excitement (including my stash of amulets from Tel Aviv) it has gone back to the usual fare of bills, circulars, notifications from school, dire warnings from accountants. 

So the thick parcel addressed to Adrian caught my eye.  Serge Dansereau’s French Kitchen – classic recipes for home cooks.  I will freely confess I hadn’t a clue who he was - though the name conjured a 70s crooner in tight white trousers and a deep tan.  Seems he’s a multi-award winning chef, a French-Canadian who trained in Quebec (oh happy memories of getting totally and utterly slewed on Cointreau after the best meal of my entire life – I wonder if he cooked it?) and then moved to Sydney.  His credo is local seasonal produce and I like that credo, always have.  Why cook food that's come halfway round the world when you can eat what's on your doorstep?

Anyhow, it’s a nice book.  Unusually he includes a lot of recipes for breakfast/brunch (blackberry bran muffins; pear and pomegranate with sheep’s milk yoghurt; butter brioche with cognac and almond marmalade).  The dinner/supper section is – as might be suspected with French cooking – not too helpful for vegetarians but there are some nice suggestions in the lunch section. 

Mostly the choices are quite predictable though some of the recipes in the Deserts and Baking section made me lick my lips – er, slurp to Coffee Custards (I love anything coffee-flavoured) and yum to Sugar and Walnut Pie (a traditional French Canadian treat).  ‘Man on the dole’ pudding (pudding chomeur) was a new one on me – basically a brown sugar desert of sugar, flour and margarine (though Serge adds maple syrup and cream) and Basque custard cake looks delicious.  Weird, I never had a sweet tooth until I became vegetarian – riddle me why?

I was particularly interested to see what he’d put in his Cooking for Kids section and confess was a bit disappointed that he just tends to stick to the usual fare – minified.  In other words, mini chicken sandwiches; mini chicken and leek pies; mini beef burgers and so on.  Hmm. 

But I’m rather taken with the idea of pineapple, cranberry and honeydew icy poles (barres glacees aux jus de fruits).  And, given there is a glimpse of sun today, I am going to perform some sympathetic magic.  By giving you the recipe (sure Serge won’t mind) I am hence summoning beautiful sunny days and the possibility of picnics by the frisky sea or by cool deep rivers or atop bright sunny hills (wherever your fancy takes you).  And yeah, I'm very aware that pineapple isn't remotely local to Exmoor but what the hell? 

Pineapple, cranberry and honeydew icy poles (makes about 30)

You can use lollipop moulds or do what Serge does and use little shot glasses (er, he has 30 shot glasses??)

250g (1¼ cups) caster sugar

½ honeydew melon

300ml pineapple juice

300ml cranberry juice 

Make the sugar syrup by putting the sugar and 250ml (1 cup) water into a saucepan and bringing to the boil. Once the sugar has dissolved, remove and set aside to cool.

Remove the skin from the melon, discard the seeds and chop into chunks. Process to a smooth puree. 
Combine with 50ml of cooled sugar syrup. 100ml water and mix well. Pour into ten shot glasses (or similar) and freeze for 30 minutes or until they start to set. Now add “icy pole sticks” (I think we’d call them lolly sticks in the UK) to the glasses.  Freeze for a further two hours or until totally frozen. 

Repeat the procedure with the pineapple and cranberry (using the same quantities). 

When ready to serve, remove the icy poles from the freezer and wait for a few minutes so they come out easily from their moulds.  Serve immediately on crushed ice.

Serge says you can also use juice from strawberries, passionfruit, mangoes, lychees or rhubarb syrup. See if children can guess the flavours.

Falafel, figs and fatoush - I go foodie for a bite

If you read this blog regularly you'll know food doesn't really rule my world.  I am married to the biggest foodie of all time yet I tend to exist on muesli and grapefruit. Some days I barely even bother with those. However, has to be said, my week in Israel got me eating.  How could it not? 
We got taken to the most fabulous restaurants...to this place...Machneyuda (apparently the most popular restaurant in Israel) at the souk in Jerusalem...

and this...Noa Bistro in Jaffa (one of my favourites - sandwiched between two old buildings in the ancient port of Jaffa) - it's part restaurant, part informal art gallery...

And many many more.  I could go on and on (and maybe I will at a later date).. ;)   But how I miss fresh falafel.  How I miss pitta bread strewn with sesame seeds, served piping hot straight from the oven, served with a gazillion little pots of mezze (humus, aubergine dip, spicy beetroot etc). 

One of the many presents we were given (truly, we were spoiled rotten) was a lovely cookbook called Fresh Flavors from Israel, featuring recipes by leading Israeli chefs.  I barely had time to glance at it while I was away but now, back home with an empty fridge and a palette that has become accustomed to delicious fare, I am browsing through and feeling hungry. 

Check it out - it's a great book.  In the meantime, I'll give you a few recipes from the cookbook to give you a taste of how I ate in Israel... These are all vegetarian, cos that's how I eat, but the cookbook includes some great meat and fish dishes alongside to-die-for puddings. :)

Falafel (makes 10-12 generous servings) - yeah, that's a lot but, hey, it's picnic/party season right?

1kg (2lb 4oz) dry chickpeas soaked in water overnight
I large onion
2/3 garlic cloves, peeled
1/2 cup fresh coriander, coarsely chopped
1 teaspoon toasted coriander seeds
5-6 small hot green pickled peppers (Shipka) or 1 teaspoon dried hot red pepper
1 1/4 tablespoon ground cumin
pinch of ground cardamom
Salt to taste
1 level teaspoon baking power
2 tablespoons flour
1 level tablespoon baking soda
4-5 tablespoons water
Oil for frying. 

1. Drain the chickpeas and rinse thoroughly.  Grind them with the onion, garlic, parsley, coriander and peppers in a food processor but don't puree - keep a slightly coarse texture.  Season with the spices, salt and black pepper.  Add the baking powder and flour, mix well and bung in the fridge for an hour.
2. Dissolve the baking soda in the water, add to the mix and mix well. 
3. Moisten an ice-cream scoop and form patties - or simply roll out walnut-size balls with moist hands.
4. Heat the oil to medium heat - fry the ball in small batches on both sides until they turn golden-brown.  Remove and drain.
5. Serve promptly with pitta, spread with humus.  Add some salad and drip tahini on top.

Orange and Olive Salad (serves 4-6)

Salad is huge in Israel - you get several varieties served with every meal. Israelis delight in flavour clashes and this one is a fresh, sweet, hot and piquant mix.  It improves with keeping so you can make it the night before.

50g (2oz) black olives, halved and pitted
1 orange, peeled and diced
1 tablespoon harissa (see below)
1 tablespoon fresh coriander leaves, chopped
1/2  teaspoon cumin
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
3 tablespoons olive oil
5 cloves garlic, chopped

Combine the ingredients and let stand for at least two hours, preferably overnight, in the fridge. Serve at room temperature.

Harissa
Yes, you can make your own.  This is piquant rather than fiery hot.  Use it to give a bit of blast to sandwiches or some oomph to salads.

1/2 kg (1lb) dried sweet red peppers
2-3 dried hot red peppers
10 cloves garlic
1/2 cup olive oil
Salt to taste
1 tablespoon ground cumin
juice of 2 lemons

1. Grind the peppers and the garlic with a mortar and pestle (rather than a food processor).
2. Stir in the olive oil, salt, cumin, lemon juice. Taste and adjust seasoning.

Cantaloupe and Carrot Salad (serves 3-4)

An unusual pairing that works brilliantly.

Half a cantaloupe melon
2 carrots
3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 tablespoon honey
1/2 cup mint leaves
4 tablespoons pine nuts

1. Slice the melon very thinly. Slice the carrots using a peeler.
2. Mix the honey and lemon juice and pour over the salad.  Toss with mint leaves.
3. Lightly toast the pine nuts and sprinkle on top. Serve at once.

Feeding Size Zero Mother (with no help whatsoever from Nigella Lawson)

I have been a bit down lately. Nothing warranting hugs or pictures (honestly, truly, please don't), just a low-level not-as-good-as-I-should-be. Partly it’s because I’ve had a recurrence of the reactive arthritis I developed after catching a virus in Italy three years ago. But mainly it’s because Size Zero mother is doing her level best to drive me demented. Her weird eating habits have been getting so extreme of late that Something Had To Be Done. I tried to get her meals on wheels but, faced with her incredibly long (and in many parts totally inexplicable) list of culinary pass-nots, they shrugged their shoulders and ran for the door. Supermarket read-meals are a no-go area for much the same reason. So now I am cooking for her, running up batches of food, freezing them and racing them over every so often.
This is, shall we say, challenging as the list of ingredients she is ‘allergic’ to or ‘intolerant’ of runs to, at the last count: red meat; wheat and all wheat products; dairy produce (cow); potatoes; onions; tomatoes; celery; nuts; seeds; corn; mushrooms; kidney beans; cauliflower; peas; fruit; dried fruit (apart from bananas and occasionally plums). And that’s just this week. Also, everything has to be cooked until it more or less falls apart in the pan so her teeth can cope. When I try to tell her that this severely limits what I can cook, she more or less tells me I lack imagination.
‘Have you watched Nigella?’ she asks imperiously.
Er, no Mum, I’m too busy catching up on work or cooking to watch TV. Obviously I don’t say that – I just shake my head mutely.
‘Well, she uses leeks instead of onions. She says they’re much easier.’
‘Don’t really see that, Mum. After all, what could be easier than onions? Leeks need all that cleaning to get out the gritty bits.’
‘Oh no. Absolutely not. Nigella says you can get them ready cleaned.’
‘From where? Waitrose?’
‘Oh no. Everywhere does them. Nigella says so.’
Does she really?
‘Anyway. There are positively tons of things I can eat. I love vegetables.’
‘Yes but Mum, it’s pretty hard when you don’t eat tomatoes, onions, potatoes or mushrooms – most recipes seem to use those.’
‘Well, I gave you a book with recipes I could eat.’
Er, yes. Like ratatouille for example, with spidery writing dictating: ‘No onions, use peppers not tomatoes’. Hmm, so not really ratatouille then.
‘Well, you should watch the programme, Jane. Nigella knocks up these wonderful meals in next to no time. It’s really easy. She does it with all her friends round too.’
I’m not sure who I want to murder most – mother or Nigella. Truly, it’s a nightmare.

Yesterday I had to take her to the doctor’s as she has come off all her medication and is ‘feeling weird.’ Small wonder really as most normal people a) talk to their doctor before merrily stopping taking Betablockers, Digoxin, Co-amilofruse and Prozac and b) when they do come off them, they do it slowly. Not my mother.
So did it matter that she wasn’t on the meds?
The doctor shrugged. ‘When she had her last cardiology assessment she scored 150 beats per minute for 30 seconds. Most 83-year-olds would be dead after that. So I reckon her heart is pretty strong.’
‘So you’re happy that she’s not taking anything now?’
He shrugged again and gave me a look that said, clear as day, that my mother was a total nutcase in his eyes and that he heartily wished she were not on his list, and what was he supposed to do, go round and shove the tablets down her throat personally?
‘If she can’t take the betablockers, shouldn’t she be on something else? Like calcium channel blockers, for example?’
‘Would you take them?’ He looked at Mum and she had the grace to look sheepish.

Did he agree that we needed to do something about her anxiety?
‘Absolutely.’
‘I’m taking chamomile tea,’ says mother brightly. The doctor gives me ‘the look’ again.
Could she have CBT or CAT? No, but she could see ‘Geoff’, the counsellor. OK, now this is cruel and I don’t know Geoff from Adam but immediately I had a vision of round-toed sandals and socks, baggy cords and a stripy tank-top. Still, it’s a start. If he can stop her worrying about what to do if the phone rings while she’s answering the door, or can make her realise that it’s not the end of the world if someone sees her without full make-up, then it will be a Good Thing. If he can maybe persuade her that avoiding wheat while eating cake (er, yes, the normal wheat flour type of cake thing) then I will probably marry him and have water-birth babies with him.

Anyhow, enough of all that. All part of life’s rich tapestry. But it did make me think about the long-lost homework on ‘what I do when I’m feeling down…’ otherwise known as the Mood-boosters. So here, for what they’re worth, are the things that make me feel better, no matter what.

1. Crying. Sometimes there’s nothing for it, a good bit of full-on totally feeling sorry for myself catharsis is just fabulous. It doesn’t take much to make me sob: certain pieces of music; certain memories; reading about women having a tough time in childbirth…..I’m off, wailing and heaving the shoulders and lunging at Asbo who usually wriggles away (unless it is a Really Important Cry in which case he will earn his Chappie by snuggling up and being sympathetic).
2. Alcohol. I know that it’s a depressant and not really ideal. But. But. But. When life is really crap, the sound of a glass being filled can be nectar to the soul. Gin & tonic; brandy mac; Fleurie; Crozes; Pinot grigio; something fizzy (couldn’t really give a toss if it’s posh poo or cheap cava) – all raise the spirits (and even more so if glasses are clinked with good friends – real friends).
3. A tough hard workout. It’s usually the last thing I feel like doing but I know that, if I can make myself go to the gym or do an aerobics class, after a while the combination of pounding music and sweat pushes the doldrums aside. Something to do with all those endorphins I suppose.
4. Get a massage. I love nearly every kind of bodywork going – the tougher the better. By tuning into my body, I find that my mind often lets go and stops being quite so pathetic. I have trained both Adrian and James in the fine art of the neck rub, the foot rub and a truncated form of Indian Head Massage so, if I can’t get or afford a pukka massage therapist, I’ll nag them until they have a go.
5. Read. But only if it’s a really good page-turner. The one thing I couldn’t live without would be books and if life gets really shitty, I just run away to a distant corner, curl up in a blanket and read.
6. Watch a really good film. When I lived in cities and got really low, I would take myself off to a matinee. Sitting in the dark, with a big bag of popcorn and a coffee, being transported to another world was sheer heaven. Now I have to resort to old favourites on DVD – Into the West is my all-time feelgood movie – even with Ellen Barkin’s cod Irish accent.
7. Do a bit of divination. I got my first pack of tarot cards when I was about twelve and have been doing the tarot, the runes and the I Ching ever since. I don’t do them as a fortune reading exercise really; more a way of asking advice. Is it a supernatural power or simply our higher consciousness? Don’t know and don’t really care. It works.
8. Bake. I don’t do much cooking (apart from Zero Mum’s) but there is something magical and alchemical about baking. I love the way that you plonk a sloshy pile of goo in the oven and it comes out as a cake or brownies or whatever. You get to lick the bowl (back to childhood in a second!) and eat the results. Definitely heart-warming, if not remotely healthy.
9. Make my gratitude list. This sounds a bit worthy but it really works like nothing else for me. I think of ten things that have happened that very day for which I’m grateful. Could be teeny tiny – like James slipping his hand into mine or the sharp grapefruit tang of my aromatherapy candle. I try to keep it specific as otherwise it can become a bit rote…. But somehow it puts it all in perspective. Life ain’t that bad.