Turn the Colour up to Eleven (Cheese Crackers SCD)

This morning broke gently as Fin eased the door open a crack and whispered that it was seven o'clock and time for me to get up. Then he flicked on the fairy lights and smiled, retreating backwards like someone walking away from royalty, anxious not to show their back.

I turned over to the empty side of the bed, stretched and remembered that tonight it would be warmed by Nick again. A Christmas feeling stole over me and I found myself in perfect charity with the world as I drifted through the morning routine and kissed Fin goodbye outside his classroom.

Even the grey morning seemed softer today as I peddled hard up the hill, moist air clinging to my skin and droplets settling on my hair. Workmen skulking under luminous hoods grinned as I flashed past all black wool and felt rose, legs pushing me as fast as they could go towards the evening when Nick returned.

The housework flowed like rosewater sprinkled before a bride. Nesting, nesting, with the vacuum cleaner humming, while the dishwasher swish and clunk told me that all was well in the kitchen again.

Later, when all my lists were crossed through and fresh sheets lay expectantly on the bed, I went to my clean kitchen and put on a clean pinny. Goldfrapp turned up just a notch too high for neighbourliness, I stood at the kitchen window and sang to the fat blackbird in the bush, to the passer by in the street, sang for the joy of being alive and the delicious ache of anticipation.

While I sang, I baked. Something savoury and light, crisp and moreish. I baked a song into these crackers, a little piece of my swelling heart. An early valentine for my soul's reflection. Boy did they taste good.

Cheese Crackers (SCD) makes 15-18

4oz Ground Almonds
2 oz Grated Parmesan or Gran Padano
Large Pinch Sea Salt
1/2oz Butter or Coconut Oil
2 tbs Yogurt
Pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 150C fan assisted (or 160C without fan).

Put everything except the yogurt into a food processor and process until it looks like dry breadcrumbs.

Add yogurt a tablespoon at a time and pulse until the mixture forms a loose crumbly dough. Don't process too much or the oil will start to come out of the nuts.

Tip onto a large piece of baking paper (to fit your largest cookie sheet) or a silpat, form into a rough square with your hands and cover with another sheet of baking paper or some cling film.

Roll to a thickness of about 3mm or quarter of an inch between the two sheets and don't worry if the edges look a little rough - they will still taste great.

Mark into crackers with a sharp knife and bake for 8-10 minutes until just starting to turn golden. Turn the oven down to 110C fan assisted (or 120C without fan). leave crackers to cool on the tray in one piece.

When cool, cut into pieces where you marked them before and put back onto the tray spaced apart. Bake for 10-20 minutes until golden brown, but not nut brown or they may taste burnt - they should snap when you break a bit off, but they will crisp up on cooling.

Cool on a rack and store in an airtight container for up to three days. If they go a little soft, just put them back in a low oven for 10 minutes and cool again.

Snow Angel

Nick is away again - Italy this time.

I wrote something about the irresistible tang of that missing feeling, so that when he is brewing up coffee and grinning handsomely at something I said, I can remind myself just how lucky I am. Sometimes it's good to miss someone.

Snow Angel

Goose down comfort this catch in my sigh
Make me a snow angel of tears on the blotting pillow
A warm occiputal impression of longing
Next to me an unwritten linen sheet
No trace of sleeping head laid to rest
Scentless and barren
Empty bed

x x x

Stirred Not Shaken - Manzanilla Martini

Before the healthy living, before life in a sleepy country town, before Finley was even a twinkle in Nick's eye, I loved to drink cocktails.

Back when we were London dwellers with change in our pockets and time to go kicking our heels up in Soho, we loved to sit in an elegant bar, thronged with beautiful people, fingers curled around the chilly stem of something lusciously alcoholic. Or propping up the sleek mahogany bar of a New York establishment and ordering a perfect Manhattan with which to salute the city that never sleeps.

Since then I have come to embrace moderation in all things, often consuming nothing more than spring water with a little sparkle on a night out, simply drinking in the excitement fizzing through the air and the shining eyes of my tipsy friends.

But there are times when only a cocktail will do, when something about the drama of piling ice into a shaker and measuring in alcohol, gives weight and importance to the simplest drink. And if that carefully prepared concoction is poured into an elegant martini glass with a flourish, only a curmudgeon could fail to feel that they are sipping something extra special.

A couple of friends gave Nick a bottle of Manzanilla Sherry for his birthday, the kind that is dry, but not bone dry, with a faint salty tang from breathing the sea air in its oak barrel on the coast of Spain. A small glass of this feels slightly naked unless accompanied by some salted almonds or a little sliver of jamon - so we don't let that happen if we can help it.

When you introduce this Manzanilla to my home made vanilla vodka a sort of cocktail alchemy occurs. Mingled swiftly with an extravagant quantity of ice and strained into a martini glass, it produces a smooth and delicious vodka martini of amazing subtlety.

Even as the beads of frosty perspiration are forming on the bowl of your glass, you inhale the sweet brioche scent of yeasty sherry and vanilla beans. The first taste rolled around your tongue has a faint briny tang, reminding you of those coastal bodegas exhaling sweet raisiny sherry into the ozone rich sea air. Behind a satisfying kick of vodka, you detect fresh mushrooms, faintly pink with a dusting of earth and the yeasty scent of a midnight baker crumbling off a fudgy lump of barm. As the alcohol fades away to a powdery vanilla bean note at the back of your tongue, you are left with sweet brioche roundness and a hint of salty butter.

Then you simply have to take another sip and do it all over again.

If you have made my vanilla vodka and are waiting for it to mature into the stuff of legend, amuse yourself by buying some Manzanilla Sherry - I recommend Gitana - as long as it's dry even those of you following SCD can indulge in the occasional Manzanilla Martini (Once your symptoms are under control). Just make sure it's very, very cold and stirred - not shaken.

Manzanilla Martini (makes 1)

Break out the jamon and salty nuts - it's party time!

1 shot (25ml) Dry Manzanilla Sherry
2 shots (50ml) Vanilla Vodka
Lots of ice

Put your martini glass into the freezer to chill for 10 minutes before you make the cocktail.

When the glass is chilled, fill your shaker at least half full with ice.

Pour sherry and vodka in and slap on the lid.

Swirl the alcohol around the shaker for no longer than 30 seconds - do not shake! That James Bond is all wrong, a martini should never, never be shaken. Shaking makes the martini cloudy, but swirling preserves the clarity of the drink.

Whip your frozen glass from the freezer and instantly strain in your chilled martini.

Kick back and get sipping.

Go Ahead Honey it's Gluten Free! Foods that Bring Good Fortune

After a slow, smooth, Christmas hibernation, we emerged jewely and bright, New Year butterflies - stopping only long enough to let our fresh wings dry before fluttering all about town drinking vodka charged nectar. Fin sensibly remained with his grandparents in Devon whilst we made believe in Bridport into the wee small hours.

As Christmas ambled by all cinnamon and cloves, I had a low tune playing softly in the background whilst I mulled over this month's Go Ahead Honey. Lucky food, delicious mouthfuls of good fortune, auspicious dishes to slice and carve - handing out a succulent helping of health, prosperity and contentment with each plate. What would I find to bring that extra piece of good luck into 2009?

I read that the Spanish eat twelve grapes at midnight, sometimes reciting the months of the year as they go. A sweet grape marks that month as a good one. People eat greens and beans, coin shaped cookies and round cakes, hopefully summoning up a little good luck to see them through the coming year. This year, when prospects look bleak for so many, it felt especially right to welcome in all the good luck and prosperity we could. I thought about auspicious recipes often as I wondered what to make for New Year. Each round clementine peeled and coin shaped banana chip was munched with awareness of the potential contained in those innocent foods.

When New Year's eve came and we returned from Devon all flushed with freedom, I sort of forgot about the eating. I put on bright red tights, a pink net petticoat and fastened my rustling black taffeta prom skirt. In front of a glitter spangled bouffant adorned with silk roses, nestled a small black top hat, shimmering with dark cockerel feathers. I slicked on a final coat of fire engine red whilst pouting in the hall mirror and tumbled into the icy evening with Nick at my side. Who needs to eat when you feel fabulous?

The next day I nursed a restorative cup of ginger tea and noticed that Nick seemed to have glitter in his eye brows - giving him a rather auspicious look. Hmmm. My thoughts turned back to the dawning of a new year and my part in bringing some food based currency to our luck quota. It occurred to me then that all my musings on round foods had somehow imbued the entire holiday with fortunate significance. Whilst there had been no table groaning with round cakes, coin shaped cookies and lucky greens, I had sipped and peeled my way through any number of round things, thinking each time I did, 'Ah! my glass has a perfect circle' or, 'these beet slices are just like coins!'.

Easing curls of zest from a clementine, I noticed both its roundness and twelve perfect segments forming a whole. Fin peeled the red wax from a babybel with the utmost care, bit into the round cheese within and closed up the shell again to make it new. Birth and death, whole and half, sweet and salt, twelve months yielding to the frost of January, stripping back the land to its bones.

Mornings standing at the four ring stove, warming a round cast iron pan, I looked down at those cadmium yolk globes and felt lucky. A bush outside the window groaned with the weight of ruby beads that kept our blackbird family plump - what abundance, thought I with a skip in my heart.

Freshly sharp from the steel, my knife sliced through chorizo, courgette, carrots, bananas. As the coins fell away to the chopping board I thought about the sort that come wrapped in foil in a little string bag. Yet here was prosperity, woven through every meal. We simply had to notice how it was woven, to know that life is full of possibility and opportunity - rich with potential.

A couple of days after New Year a friend had his birthday. We know all about early January birthdays because Nick's was only a few days ago.  It can feel as though everyone is partied out and the special day drifts away unmarked by fuss and frivolity. Just that tax bill looming at the end of a whole month of thermals. So even though it was very cold we went to the beach and walked. Fin moaned and got covered in clay. My rosy cheeks stung. Our feet ceased to register touch. After a while I felt a great need for cake come over me. So as soon as we had braved enough weather and peeled off our layers, I got out my mixing bowls and baked.

Our little kitchen was filled with friends and conversation. The children ate eggs for supper and before too long I was slicing into a round cake, placing it on my favourite round plates and passing them about with birthday wishes to the rosy round faces assembled there.

How auspicious.

To take part in this month's edition of 'Go Ahead Honey! its Gluten Free', head over to Life Gluten Free and check out the theme for yourself. Heather will post the round up near the end of the month.

Lucky Birthday Cake (8 slices)

3 large eggs separated
pinch of sea salt
2 tbs yogurt
zest of 2 lemons
juice of half a lemon
6 heaped tsp honey
1 oz melted butter
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
8oz ground almonds (almond flour)

Preheat the oven to 160C fan assisted (170C if not) and line the bases of two 8inch round sandwich tins with baking parchment.

In a clean mixing bowl beat the egg whites with salt until stiff peaks form - set aside.

In another mixing bowl combine egg yolks, yogurt, lemon zest and juice, honey and bicarb, beating until amalgamated. Drizzle in the melted butter and beat again until slightly thickened and moussey.

Fold in the ground almonds.

Fold in beaten egg whites gently until just amalgamated and spoon evenly into the waiting tins. Bake for 15-20 minutes or until risen and springy to the touch and a golden brown colour.

Wait for 5 minutes after taking cakes out of oven and then unmold and cool on a rack.

* This cake could also be baked in a bundt tin for that auspicious ring shape and spread with icing rather than sandwiched with it.

Lemon drizzle
heat the juice of half a lemon with a teaspoon of honey. pierce the top of one of the cakes with a skewer and drizzle it over.

Coconut Filling
1oz coconut oil/butter
2oz softened butter
2oz creamed coconut
1 tbs water
1 tbs honey
1-2 tsp vanilla extract

Melt creamed coconut with water in a small pan and leave to cool completely.

When cool, place everything in a food processor and beat until fluffy and smooth. This can be done by hand but it will take much longer.

Spread icing on the cake without the drizzle and place the other on top. Leave for an hour or so in a cool place to firm up again before slicing and handing round on your prettiest plates.

Remind yourself that good fortune is everywhere - you just have to look for it.

Just Like a Long Lazy Sunday....

Back in December, Christmas rolled out before us smooth and crisp as a fresh banknote. As the days drew in and each night came a few minutes earlier than the last, a delicious fluttering of anticipation accompanied everything I did. Two blackbirds feasted on berries in front of the window, jet eyes blinking in readiness for next door's cat while I dreamily washed the dishes. I hesitantly sipped each breath of sharp toothed air, but my cosy home sighed warmly and twinkled with fairy lights.

This year we were hibernating, just the three of us and the wind blown Christmas branch. Christmas eve found us relaxed and happy, surrounded by clouds of jewel coloured tissue as we wrapped the contents of Fin's stocking under the watchful eye of several decorative robins. Each paperish rustle and sellotape snap made my heart leap with pure festive joy as the air condensed around my holiday Manhattan and the world outside receded further and further.

In the morning Fin managed to read for a whole hour with his stocking hung inches away from his bed, until the magic chime of 7am bought him brimming with hushed excitement to the bedside to disgorge the contents of his stocking over the covers and ease himself in between us for the fun to commence.

The real magic for me is in the lack of obligation. We had licence to eat when we wanted, wear what we liked and do exactly as we pleased. Other than a little walk with some dear friends, the day unfolded with blissful unawareness of time passing. For this reason I decided that our modest leg of lamb would be roasted rare and carved thinly - done in less than an hour and tender as you like. Giving us just enough time to rustle up some salads, fragrant with herbs and creamy with homemade mayonnaise. We had planned to roast vegetables and make more of a performance of the meal, but when it came to it, salads were the very thing we fancied.

For dessert I made hazelnut semifreddo, light with Italian meringue and satisfyingly textured by a vein of hazelnut praline folded through just before freezing. It was a delicious end to a light and savoury meal - who needs to eat enough for a week in one sitting?

The rest of Christmas? Well it just drifted by in woodland walks, board games and snuggling on the sofa with my boys. I can't think of a better way to spend a few days! When the time came to pack some things and jump in the car to visit Nicks' parents I was as languid as a sun warmed cat - I may even have purred a little.

New Year drew ever closer, so I began to think about the things that bring good luck and what of 2008 I wanted to wrap up and post to 2009 for safekeeping. But that my lovely readers, is a whole other post. x x x

January's Edition of 'Go Ahead Honey, its Gluten Free'

I may have been a little remiss in my promotion of this month's, 'Go Ahead Honey...' what with all that Christmas relaxation and New Year jubilation.....hey ho.

We would love your contributions, whether they be observations, recipes or just beautiful pictures to drool over. The theme this month is, Foods that Bring Good Luck - a most pertinent topic considering the current financial climate. A little sprinkling of good luck is never a bad thing to start the New Year with and if it can be eaten, well all the better.

Our lovely host this month is Heather at Life Gluten Free. Check out this link for full details of the challenge and then get your thinking cap on - if it will fit over whatever else you might be keeping your head warm with.....

Ah Christmas.

As tomorrow will be time to pack Christmas away into tissue paper and stow it carefully in the attic, I thought I'd post a few pictures of my wind blown Christmas branch to mark the end of this most lovely holiday. I will be posting about foods that bring good luck in the next few days as my submission to, 'Go Ahead Honey' takes shape. Until then, Joyeux Noel! Happy New Year! and Bon Epiphany! x x x