Hosts Needed for 'Go Ahead Honey its Gluten Free'

I'm booking up the calendar for our second year of the gluten free online blogging event, Go Ahead Honey its Gluten Free and looking for bloggers who would like to host a month.

To see how it's done with panache and a delicious sprinkling of wit, have a look at this month's round up of Manly Food at Simply Gluten Free.

To host a month, just comment here or email me on naomidevlin @ f2s.com with your preferred month (starting September 09). Chose your theme (I will help as much or little as you like) let me know and I'll give you the details of the hosts before and after you.

All you need to do is post your theme at the beginning of your month and post the round up at the end - of course you might want to take part and contribute something too.....

Hosting can be a great way to get traffic to your blog, meet other gluten free bloggers and cook something you might otherwise not have done. Sometimes we even get non gluten free bloggers participating - now ain't that all inclusive?

There are no rules to this event, beyond the theme and the deadline. It's just a lovely way for us gluten and grain free bloggers to celebrate all that we have and show off a little.

So what are you waiting for?

x x x

Another Stolen Evening

The day started as grey and unpromising as february. Rubbish bags sat forlornly along the curb, waiting for the surly refuse collectors to scoop them with weathered hands from under the gulls greedy eyes. Birds shuffled noisily on the roof tiles as I brushed my teeth, their plaintive cries aching across the slick street.

Fortified with ginger tea, I got on with the business of the day until three o'clock rolled round and it was time to head out and collect Fin. 

Somewhere between brushing my teeth and easing digits on my bike lock, the day had blossomed into a shiny thing with a fresh, lightly mist laden breeze, agreeably playing across my cheeks as I sped towards school.

We agreed on a beach picnic, so while Nick and Fin went to a swimming lesson at the local pool, I picked up a few bits and pieces and threw together a watercress and chicken stock soup; feta, mint and romaine lettuce salad, coleslaw, crudités and some cold sliced meat. Of course, anything eaten on the beach with warm pebbles between your toes, tastes fabulous!

After our meal we squinted into the setting sun and ran about after a fluffy ball with velcro pads on our hands. We giggled heartily each time the ball stuck on the pads and glanced over at the group of old ladies drinking tea around a tartan clothed table (as though they had been transported unknowingly from a WI meeting to the beach) in case we were enjoying ourselves too enthusiastically. 

They merely saluted us with another buttery shortbread until it was time to pack up and head home to tuck a weary Finley into bed.

'How lucky we are!' said I to Nick, who just shrugged and nodded his head. Because what more can you say when such richness is laid before you?

x x x

Man Food - Go Ahead Honey It's Gluten Free!

Carole of Simply Gluten Free hosted this month's edition of Go Ahead Honey it's Gluten Free (GAHGF) and her theme was Man Food.

Hmmm, thought I - fan of roses and delicacy that I am - I guess I'll be firing up the barbeque and slapping on some steak then?

Each time we fired up the barbie, or seared a piece of meat just long enough to give a delicious savoury crust - but not long enough so that it was less than bloody, each time I made something hearty, I thought -  'ah, this is man food' and planned to post about it.

But something stopped me, the post feminist languishing at the back of my psyche kept poking me with her elbow, her eyebrow cocked in a question mark. Did I relish this meaty fare any less than Nick and Fin? Uh...nope. 

Did either of my gorgeous boys question their masculinity when I presented them with a tiny tart, seared scallop or bowl of leaves? Of course not - why they just picked up their forks and tucked in.

Yesterday all three of us cycled a wild and mostly off road round trip that tore at our thighs and stung our summer legs. Even through clouds of midges, vertiginous grassy climbs and the odd tumble, we filled our lungs with the freshest of air, felt the sun on our backs and gasped at each spectacular view.

As I turned back at the top of our final climb - too steep and rutted to cycle, I saw Nick and Fin trudging up behind me, Nick pushing both bikes and Fin looking gratefully up at him. At the summit a weary Fin threw his arms around Nick's neck and kissed him, saying, 'that's what Daddies are for'. 

Once we hit the road again and the wind sighed over our damp skin, I spied an elder tree heavy with creamy blossom. Moments later I was picking up speed, my pannier full of elderflowers and a plan a-brewing.

At home, I immersed the flowers with a few curls of lemon peel in a jar full of runny honey. Nick inhaled the muscat scent and suggested an elderflower martini - fresh from the hedgerow.

This morning I opened the jar and offered it around for a sniff. It was pronounced truly delicious - the essence of June. A couple of spoonfuls in a small glass of sparkling water transformed it into elderflower pressé.

I'm thinking that similar treatment with a generous handful of ice and a good slug of vodka would yield a cocktail that only the gruffest curmudgeon could pass up - certainly not a man like Nick who would think nothing of fixing the shelves before breakfast, wearing little more than a fuchsia tee shirt and a manly smile. This one's for you darling. x x x

Elderflower Cordial (SCD)

1 lb (450g) runny honey - something light flavoured

zest of 1 lemon - use a vegetable peeler

6 or 7 medium heads of elderflower

Take the flowers off their stems with a fork, or just pinch off the ends of the spray.

Place into a largish jar with the lemon zest and pour over the honey. Any bugs that don't get away will end their days in the sweetest way possible and get strained out at the end.

Leave for 12 hours and then stir it all up. Leave for another 8-12 hours and then strain through a sieve into a clean jar, pressing all the honey through with your fingers or a spoon.

Taste and if you want more elderflower or lemon just steep again with fresh ingredients.

Seal and keep in the fridge.

Goat's Milk Yogurt SCD

One conclusion I have reached through my recent dabblings in this 'O' type / SCD crossover diet is that cows milk is not my friend.

I love cows dearly, grew up hand milking some particularly gorgeous auburn flanked, long lashed jerseys and really appreciate the gift of steak, but milk, nah-ah.

Now you can buy delicious goat and sheep yogurt if you don't want to make it yourself. I recommend St Helen's Farm goat yogurt - (a silky, thick, mild and creamy yogurt) and Woodlands Park Dairy sheep yogurt - (a thick set, mild yogurt with a creamy crust on top, the non organic version tastes less sheepy). However, we SCD folks (and anyone with lactose intolerance) need to eliminate the lactose in our yogurt, and that means allowing the lovely yogurt culture 24 hours to gobble it all up.

I have heard many SCD folks say that they struggle to make goat yogurt that isn't sour and thin. The late Elaine Gottschall even claimed that it was impossible to make SCD yogurt with pasteurised goat's milk. Well I'm here to tell you that (in my humble opinion) it is possible!

Making satisfactory goat's yogurt at home took quite a bit of tweaking, but the most important discovery I made is that you need to evaporate the milk in order to thicken the yogurt and avoid that unpleasant sour taste. This is a process of trial and error, finding the right pan, having a stove with a gentle enough flame not to scorch the milk.

As goat's milk is more delicate than cow's milk you mustn't allow it to boil at any point in the process, or you will harm the structure and taste.

I advise you to start with a small batch - just 1 litre - and go from there.

SCD Goat's Milk Yogurt

1 litre Whole Goat's Milk

140ml Live Goat's or Sheep's Yogurt (see recommended above) or yogurt starter as per instructions

wet the inside of a clean stainless steel or enamel pan, pour out excess water and pour in the milk.

Put on the lowest possible heat and don't be tempted to raise it in order to get the milk up to temperature, just be patient.

Go and do something else for 20-30 mins. Then shake the pan to loosen the skin that has formed on the top of the milk. Repeat this until the milk has reduced by about a third - about 1 1/2 - 2 hours.

Allow to cool to blood temperature (hold your finger in the milk for a count of ten - if it is comfortable when you get to ten then it's ok). It's better to err on the side of caution temperature-wise to avoid killing your culture.

Remove the skin from the top of the milk and give it to your cat - or similar - who will love you for it.

Whisk in your yogurt or starter culture and pour into your yogurt maker.

Leave for 24 hours and then chill for at least four before eating. Keeps for 10 days at least.

If you don't have a yogurt maker then pour into pots, or a large pot and wrap up warmly, keep in the airing cupboard for 24 hours. This will only work if you have a really warm airing cupboard of around 20c. If you live somewhere hot then just wrap it up.

My Severin yogurt maker gets too hot for delicate goat yogurt so I put a circle of cardboard box in the base and leave the lid very slightly ajar for the proving time.

You can also add 150ml goat's cream to the yogurt when you add the yogurt starter. This produces a slightly thicker and creamier yogurt - but is higher in calories, so bear this in mind.

x x x

A Little Jaunt with Miele

Last Saturday I went to the BBC Summer Good Food Show at Birmingham NEC, as a guest of Miele Forever Better, (the BMW of household appliances). Joining me were seven other uk food bloggers; Jules, Nic, Celine, Jan, Sylvie, Anne and Suntia.

We were soon chatting like old friends, enjoying the rare pleasure of meeting other bloggers. Not a soul blinked an eye when eight hands reached for their cameras as we sat down to enjoy a meal, after cooking it - flying by the seat of our pants - in front of an expectant audience in the Miele demonstration kitchen.

There was a last minute change in the chef leading our session and we learnt on the day that the glamorous Sophie Michell would be cooking Thai inspired food; crab stuffed lemon sole and steamed scallops with a green mango salad. I had provided myself with emergency food in case I couldn't eat what we prepared and yet it remained untouched, as I was able to eat everything. I left out the peanuts (blood type), soy sauce (celiac), nam pla (SCD) and chili jam (SCD) and it tasted delicious none-the-less, although a little less polished looking as a result. I was impressed that the food was low carb, fresh and completely fat free, due to the steam cooking method.

Everything went into the Miele steam oven on a special tray with draining holes - bruised lemongrass and lime leaves tucked around for flavour. When it emerged a few minutes later in a cloud of fragrant steam, we plated our mango salad - piquant with chili, coriander and lime juice - and nestled the fish beside it. Photos taken, we tucked in and listed the Miele appliances we would snap up if only we had the money. The meal was all the sweeter for me because I hadn't expected to find food I could eat and yet here I was, fork in the air, just like everyone else.

Sunita and Sylvie enjoying the fruits of their labours.

Bellies full, we wandered wide eyed through the stalls. Yet around each corner I found more disappointment than inspiration. Where I had hoped to find delicatessens selling artisanal treasures, there were corporate stands selling factory produced products in seductive packaging.

Kelloggs had pride of place with a huge stand selling breakfast cereal of the kind that claims to be healthy, yet contains more sugar and salt than an iced bun. Sounds of the farmyard emanated from behind the bored representatives as they handed out another plastic cupful. Past Carte D'Or, where the queue stretched so far that it mingled with the crowd at Tyrrell's Crisps, set up like a bar at which hands grabbed for chips and dips as though their last meal were imminent.

So it was with pleasure that we stumbled into the Producers Village. Like a breath of fresh air, the real food shone with authenticity. Notable stands were Slow Food UK (a movement that I endorse with all my heart), The Real Veal Company (providing ethically reared veal), The Well Hung Meat Company (providing the meat version of the organic veg box), Box Fresh Organics (a veg box scheme for the midlands), Lauden Chocolate (using real fruit centres) and Munchy Seeds (selling seeds to the masses!).

Beside those notable exceptions, I was left with a sinking feeling that this show was actually a damning indictment of British Food. If this was the 'Good Food', I shuddered to imagine the bad food.

Good food happens when well reared British meat, cheese and dairy products and organically grown seasonal vegetables, herbs and fruit are allowed to shine. When people take the time to sit down to a meal cooked from scratch, chew their food and talk about the day. When everything in the meal can be identified as produce, not an E number. When people remember that a glass of Pom Wonderful shipped from the USA, concentrated, diluted, pasteurised and then bottled - although delicious - will never beat a bowl of purple sprouting, a fresh carrot or a handful of blackberries picked from a hedge in late summer.

The day drew to a close and the lovely Miele representatives handed us a glossy red goodie bag. There was no steam oven, induction wok burner or even a small vacuum cleaner in it, but a lovely recipe book for which I hope one day to have an oven to accompany. Thank you guys, you did a fantastic job.

x x x

Blood Type 'O' Diet, SCD and Me.

Well it's been interesting, this blood type exploration.

You may remember a few posts back that I and Fin were finding that we weren't as shiny as before, skin drier, our digestion less settled, my PMS had made an unwelcome return and we both felt that things weren't working out as well as they had been.

After some head scratching I felt that it had something to do with our 'O' blood type and the foods that we had lately introduced and eaten more of. So we decided (ok I decided) to take out all foods that did not comply with the blood type diet, or SCD - and in Fin's case high salicylate foods too.

We stopped eating; coconut, cashews, brazils, peanuts, avocado, aubergine, cabbage, saurkraut, mushrooms, cauliflower, olives and capers. I stopped drinking black tea. We left the black pepper off the table and didn't put any vanilla in our muffins. Cows yogurt and cheese stayed on Nick's side of the fridge and we returned to goat yogurt and sheep cheese. I endeavoured to eat less eggs - although Fin didn't manage this.

The result? My pink wind chapped cheeks became softer within weeks and Fin's scaly legs more like human ones, my digestion returned to normal and although there has only been one cycle, barely a day of unexplained grumpiness (all the others were totally explainable ha!).

Notable exceptions to this unbroken trajectory of improvement were when I ate too much dairy - even the goat/sheep variety and particularly when I threw caution to the wind and ate some cows milk yogurt and cheese.

The most recent and surprising hiccup was after a delicious bowl of rhubarb and honey with ground almonds and thick yogurt, completely delicious! However, by the evening I was feeling distinctly gurgly and had been no stranger to the bathroom. Oh dear.

I had decided to do a circuit class that evening. As my body remembered what it felt like to be me, I found that 'O' type hunter wanted some intense exercise beyond cycling. I wanted to be with others, competing, spurring myself on through the pain. But my tummy hurt.

I knew I hadn't eaten any SCD contraband so I went to the blood type book and had a look. There on the foods to avoid was Rhubarb.

I went to the class anyway and came back on top of the world, red cheeked and wild eyed with endorphins. The next day my body started to recover from the rhubarb purge and I realised that I had enjoyed my last bowlful.

So I'm quite converted I guess. To the 'O' type diet at least. I still have major reservations about 'A' type and would love to hear from more of you out there who have tried to eat this way on SCD. I'll be posting some cross referenced food charts for any 'O' types who would like to try it too.

x x x

Rose Petal Honey (SCD)

I know you're all waiting for squash bread but I wanted to share this with you first as the roses may all be blown over before I get another chance to post.

The previous owner of our house was a rather old and very green fingered gentleman who loved roses. In amongst the  spindle tree and fuchsia he planted many rose bushes which bloom one after the other - almost as though he planned it that way...

The first are peachy and delicate with the scent of apricots, opening into enormous decadent blooms. Then come yellow roses, tinged with pink that deepens as they open fully, these have a delicious fruity bouquet that I am drawn to each time I nip out for herbs.

A little dog rose creeps up a trellis at the back of the garden, its tiny white flowers opening and fading in a couple of days, taking with them that rich spicy wild rose scent.

Finally there is a wayward bush which leans as improbably as a windblown tree. Yet it produces beautiful white roses, clustered in bridal bunches that the bees meander about lazily, drunk on opportunity. The scent of these roses seems white itself, clean and uncomplicated. When the white roses have gone over, they are followed by deep red blooms, from the same bush. Each year when the bush is fully clothed in white, I wonder if the red roses will really come . The late flowers have the best scent, like Persian rose water - we're still waiting for that miracle to happen.

A while ago my friend Natalie mentioned that she had a recipe for rose petal honey but in my impatience to taste it and anxiety that I should miss the best of the roses, I improvised my own recipe. It tasted like heaven. 

In fact it tasted just like the roses smelt, fresh and fruity, uniquely rosey, exotic and yet perfectly redolent of an English summer garden. 

I kept it in the fridge because I wasn't sure how it would keep and every day since then I open the jar and have a good sniff, especially on rainy days. It's perfect over some thick cool yogurt or stirred into a chamomile tea.

In fact I can't think of much it wouldn't improve. I urge you to try making some of your own.

Rose Petal Honey

1 lb runny light tasting honey (preferably local)

6 roses

Brush any bugs from the roses and separate the petals from the stem.

Put the petals of one rose into a largeish glass jar and pour over about 1/6th of the honey. Repeat until everything is finished and poke the petals down so that they are covered by the honey. They will float up, but don't worry, just let them.

Seal the jar and leave it about 12 hours, then gently stir the rose petals and seal up again for another 12 hours.

Strain the petals out of the honey through a sieve and leave then to drain for an hour or so before squeezing gently to get the last of the honey out. Pour into a clean jar and keep in the fridge (because the honey has been a little diluted it may not keep as well as unadulterated honey).

If the honey is not strong enough, simply repeat the process again.

Beach Life

We spent much of half term basking like pale lizards on the beach, barbequing and picnicking well into the evening on freshly made beef burgers, salads and thick slices of carrot cake. As half term drew to a close I found I couldn't let the beach go just yet, so yesterday after school we scarfed down a hasty salad supper and jumped in the car full of mirth and holiday.

It was already late and yet warm air came to meet us wagging its tail and the dense evening light bronzed our pale skin to loveliness. Fin, already dressed for the sea, crashed past me in a flurry of arms and legs and straight into the cold water, gasping and flashing his teeth with exhilaration.

I simply sat down to enjoy the afternoon's gentle retreat into evening and push my feet into the rough cornet coloured sand. 

The sea was a milky silver mill pond reaching out towards a hazy pale sky, where they met was almost impossible to discern and my eyes rested gratefully in the insubstantial distance, glad of the lack of focus.

A rich dip, dip of oars broke the lull in the waves as a sea kayak stole across the horizon. Right behind it a fishing boat sped towards the shore, scattering girls, each one smaller than the last, who crept up to each wave as it came to meet them and ran screaming with each predictable crash. Now they stood hands on hips and watched the fishermen pull their boat out of the surf and start the tying of ropes and heaving to rest for the night.

Eventually the pull of the distant hills became irresistible to the sun. Evening strolls were silhouetted against the strong light and rose grey sky. The girls danced in and out of the waves with gold glittering at their feet.

Fin had found a little boy called Sam to play with and was desperate to show me what they had been building. Their purposeful voices drifted over while they negotiated and then dared each other to go a little bit further into the freezing sea.

A little breeze stole up and turned the pages of my unread book as the children were replaced with a line of shore fishermen casting for mackerel.

Fin shivered uncontrollably as I rubbed him dry with a big white towel and his eyes shone with pleasure. Time for bed.

'Did you see me?' he said through his chattering teeth.

'Yes, Fin, I saw everything'