Search Results

They were always much more decadent and sophisticated than their cousins, although there was always a time and a place for the simple malt-o-milk, teddy bear, or scotch finger. I enjoyed snapping the latter in half, crumbs showering onto my lap. The jaw-breaking ginger snap will forever hold memories of sitting in front of my grandma and grandpa's Wonderheat slow combustion heater with my brother as our little hands curled around colourful anodised cups of fizzy lemonade, the bubbles tickled our noses. Sugar-speckled jam fancies were dipped into multiple times whenever a visit to my aunty and uncles' was in order, a mug of milky sweet tea always accompanied. I did not much care for the Chocolate Ripple, Monte Carlo, or iced Vovo, they did nothing to excite my senses. My heart was always full of love for the King. With his coconut undertones and that indulgent center. My goodness, I felt like a royal. With a twist the top and bottom biscuits would come apart, holding one half in my right hand, I would proceed to lick every last skerrick of chocolate from the other half before slowly eating each biscuit one after the other, never dropping a crumb. Like most things, these iconic biscuits (biccies) have been in contact with the "Honey I Shrunk the Kids" laser, or could it be that they always seemed larger to younger eyes? I've baked batch after batch of these childhood delights, with tweaks here and there to create my version of this childhood delight which I feel is now ready for its coronation! May they be the crowning glory in your kitchen and amongst family and friends when shared. Kingston's Makes approx 15 filled biscuits 80g rolled oats 50g shredded shredded coconut 120g caster sugar 60g brown sugar pinch of salt 165g plain flour 125g unsalted butter 80g golden syrup 1 tsp bi-carb soda 150g dark chocolate 2 tbsp unsalted butter, at room temperature Preheat your oven to 160c fan -forced and line two baking trays with a sheet of baking paper. In a large bowl, combine oats, coconut, sugars, salt, and flour with a whisk. Melt the butter and golden syrup together over medium heat, remove from the stove, and stir in the bi-carb, it will foam up, and as soon as it does pour this over the dry mixture. Mix well. roll into balls roughly 22g in size so that they are all as even as possible. place them on the prepared baking trays, spacing them apart. Bake for 12-15 minutes or until golden. swapping trays around halfway to ensure even baking. Upon removing from the oven, a good trick to keep the biscuits as round as possible is to take a round biscuit cutter that is just a little larger than the biscuit and place this over the top while you swirl the biscuit around with it while still warm. This will ensure a uniform shape, although not completely necessary. Allow to cool on a couple of cooling racks while you make the chocolate buttercream. Place the chocolate in a heat-proof bowl set over a pot of barely simmering water, making sure that the base of the bowl doesn't touch the water. Stir the chocolate until smooth then add in the butter and stir until combined well. It should now be a lovely thickened spreadable consistency. Once your biscuits have completely cooled down, match them up as best as you can with a partner biscuit of a similar shape. Turn one-half upside down, spoon a heaped teaspoon of chocolate buttercream on top, and sandwich it with the other biscuit, you can always add more chocolate if you would like, I always test one to see how far it comes out to the side of the biscuit once the biscuit "lid" has been put on. Repeat until you have filled all of your biscuits. Store in an airtight container, at room temperature. They also make for a perfect edible gift!

The weeks are moving at an accelerated pace. How can it be that school holidays are only a stone's throw away? Winter is shedding her final layers, although she keeps creeping in, reminding us that she's not quite sung her last song yet. The hailstorm that swept through a few days ago made that quite clear. Was this her final curtain call? Something in me says, not yet. However, countless signs of spring emerge through the cracks - bursts of wattle; the buzz of bees, their pollen baskets bulging at the seams; sunlight lingering for longer; the chorus of birdsong a welcome soundtrack to new growth and life. As one who has learned over time to embrace each season for what she is, I have to say that winter has grown on me. Or maybe it's because this winter, in particular, has been mild. It is the first time in a long time that has seen my toes escape the pain of chilblains. With thanks to my new found love's, Merry People Boots and Nordic Socks, a sure-fire way to defend! My oven has been humming as a multitude of comforting bakes have been on high rotation. As I write this, there is a sourdough chocolate cake cooling on the kitchen bench, the recipe of which comes via Anneka Manning of Bakeclub, awaiting the impending inhalation upon everyone's arrival home. Which brings me to baking for people. I very rarely bake to satisfy my own sweet cravings. I'm a savoury girl at heart. But baking for others, well, that's a need I act upon regularly. Particularly when it's for an extra special purpose, like a birthday for instance. A couple of days ago I had the immense pleasure of gathering a few edible goodies together for two ladies who have added a generous handful of sparkle to my life. Complete with two sponges, because why have one when you can have two? Even though we may be on the slippery slope towards the end of the year, it's these little moments - the bursts of spring colour; and the pure heart-centered joy of slicing into a wedge of time to make something with my hands for the people whom I love. I'm reminded of the words by Dr Suess, "Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory." And I, for one, am all for the moments.

My coat, gloves, and scarf hang by the door. The Aga and the multiple cups of tea that followed kept my hands warm. Trees bare their skeleton limbs as the biting winds rattle the windows. Outside, the rugged landscape sings the songs of life. It hums the tunes from the stories and traditions folded into the generations of families gone by and those who live on. A large ceramic bowl is positioned on the kitchen bench. Flour, salt, bi-carb soda, and buttermilk - humble ingredients for the most famous of Irish bakes, Soda Bread. My nose picks up the aroma of comfort, of something slow-cooking. It lingers in the air and then something catches my eye. On the bench under the filtered light by the window lie crimson stalks of rhubarb embedded into pistachio and hazelnut frangipane. It is almost too much for me to handle. The excitement, the overwhelming beauty of the temptations that surround my being. The golden, buttery pastry topped beef and Guinness pie is lovingly brought to the table alongside a large dish of champ (mashed potatoes with spring onions) complete with a generous knob of butter which ever so slowly melts away into a glorious golden pool above the surface. Vibrant green peas roll onto the plates as I succumb to the kindness and generosity that is prevalent in the Irish way of living. I gaze around the table. To my right a bespectacled lady from County Meath sharing earlier memories of her and her mother taking a picnic of sandwiches and tea to the men in the fields. Directly opposite, sits an artisan seaweed farmer who works the shores of Quilty, County Clare, and who has an ambitious goal to become the world's largest producer of hand-harvested seaweed. To my left sits a fifth-generation flour miller. The current steward of Martry Mill where the waterwheel continues to turn after 700 years of rotations. The lady at the other end was a child during wartime. I hung off of her every word as she told us about her life growing up on a farm with 13 siblings in a four-bedroom house. There were so many more fascinating stories shared by inspiring farmers, producers, and people who live off the land. I could have sat in that very spot for hours on end. But then the last of the dessert was served and I had come to the very last recipe in the book, Barmbrack bread and butter pudding with apricot glaze. After 337 pages I had fallen for Ireland without ever having left our humble white weatherboard home. Such is the magic and sheer beauty of Cherie Denham and Andrew Montgomery's work of art, The Irish Bakery. They have bound the very essence of Irish baking together through words, photography, and recipes. The fascinating essays by Kitty Corrigan add yet another layer of uniqueness. It is a book that transported me to the rugged coastlines and cosy cottages of Northern Ireland. A cookbook becomes so much more when it can both accompany the reader into the bedroom where stories are read while propped up against pillows and then taken to the kitchen where the recipes that make up so many of the baking traditions of Ireland are created. Many of these are derived from Cherie's grannie's and great-aunts whom she learned so much from. I have had great pleasure in dog-earing many a page. The coffee and walnut cake became morning tea for the pre-school working bee. Slices of rhubarb, pistachio, and hazelnut frangipane tart were gifted to neighbours and school mum friends. The beef and Guinness pie with rough puff pastry warmed us from the inside out and left our home full of salivating-inducing aromas for two consecutive nights. Thick fingers of raisin and seed flapjacks made their way into lunchboxes, with a few being sent via post in a care package for a mum in the newborn bubble. The biscuit container was dipped into several times to fish out petite cranberry and apricot lace biscuits. Generous smears of softened butter layered the surface of thick-cut slices of soda bread and provided a vessel to mop up any last remains of soup from the bowl. With so many more recipes needing to be made in my kitchen, it is safe to say that The Irish Bakery will be a book that I will continually turn to time and time again and will lead me that little bit closer to landing on the doorstep of an Irish home to warm my hands by the Aga. Until then, I'll bake. If you would like to purchase a copy of Cherie and Andrew's book simply head here Cherie has kindly allowed me to share the recipe for her Beef & Guinness pie with rough puff pastry. A perfect meal to comfort and share. Beef and Guinness pie with rough puff pastry serves 8 This is a great recipe for feeding a crowd. If you can't get beef shin (chuck) steak can also be used. The pie filling can be made up to 2 days in advance, and can also be frozen. If anything, the flavour develops with time. Brown the meat off in small batches - if the pan is overloaded, the temperature drops and the meat stews instead of getting that lovely caramelised brown colour and rich flavour. Although there is a bit of work in the preparation of this pie, once the filling is made and the pie is assembled, you can relax and enjoy your evening. If making puff pastry isn't your thing, feel free to use shop-bought all-butter puff pastry. I like to serve this with a large bowl of creamy mash and buttered cabbage. 4 tablespoons of olive oil 1.3kg beef shin, cut into large chunks 570ml beef stock 30g butter 140g streaky bacon, sliced 140g chestnut mushrooms, quartered 3 onions, finely sliced 2 celery stalks, diced 2 carrots, peeled and diced 3 garlic cloves, crushed 4 tablespoons muscovado sugar 2 tbsp plain flour 570ml Guinness 2 tsp red wine vinegar 1 bay leaf 2 sprigs of thyme, leave picked sea salt and freshly ground black pepper For the rough puff pastry 285g plain flour 1/2 tsp fine sea salt 140g cold unsalted butter, cubed 5-10 tbsp iced water 1 egg yolk, beaten with a pinch of salt, to glaze Preheat the oven to 160c (350f/Gas 4). Heat a splash of the oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat. brown the beef in batches, then transfer it to a casserole dish. between batches, pour some of the stock into the pan and use a wooden spoon to scrape the browned bits from the bottom of the pan (this is where a lot of the flavour is), then pour the stock back in with the rest of the stock. Heat the remaining oil in the pan and add the butter, bacon, and mushrooms. Fry for 5-10 minutes over medium heat until browned, then lift out and add to the beef. Reduce the heat and gently soften the onions, celery, and carrots. It will probably take about 10 minutes or so. Once softened, add the garlic and sugar and stir. After a few minutes, stir in the flour and cook out for 2 minutes. Add the Guinness, stock, red wine vinegar and herbs. Slowly stir and bring to the boil. Season and simmer for 5 minutes., then pour into the casserole dish and stir. Place the casserole dish over medium heat and bring to a boil. Simmer for 5 minutes. Cover with a lid and cook in the oven for 2 1/2 hours until the meat is soft and tender. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely. Remove the herbs. Meanwhile, make the pastry. Sift the flour and salt into a bowl. Add the butter and use your hands to gently toss it through the flour. stir in 5 tablespoons of the iced water using a round-bladed knife and then gradually add more until you have a soft and scraggy but not sticky dough. Use your hands to bring it together, then wrap it in baking parchment and refrigerate for 10 minutes. On a lightly floured surface, gently roll out the dough into a 30 x 10 cm rectangle. Don't be heavy-handed as you don't want the butter to break through. Fold the bottom third of the pastry up to cover the centre third, then fold the top third down to cover the other two. Now turn the pastry anticlockwise so that the folded edge is on your left. Wrap and return to the refrigerator for 15 minutes. Repeat this rolling and folding technique three more times, resting the pastry in the refrigerator for 15 minutes between each roll. Once you have completed all the folds, chill the pastry for at least 20 minutes before using it. Preheat the oven to 180c (400f/Gas 6). On a lightly floured surface, roll out the pastry. Spoon the pie filling into a 20 x 30 cm baking dish. Top with the pastry, then brush it with the egg wash, cut a slit in the top, and bake for 25-30 minutes until golden.

I'm sitting in the passenger seat of Mum's 1985 Ford laser hatchback, my back sticky with sweat under my blue and white summer school dress, all four windows wound down to catch the breeze. The Summer's back then were endless days of hazy heat. Blinds were drawn to keep the house cool. The roads were so hot it would be a triumph to cross barefoot, which we inevitably did, because why not? I remember a blister or three as our reward for our childish foolishness. But back to Mum's little hot box of a car which we affectionately called, "Herbie". She was a trooper who took us from A to B and everywhere in between for almost 15 years. The memories that this metallic blue hatchback was a part of were formative in many areas of my younger years. But it is perhaps the inevitable trip to the shops after numerous school days that flashed before my eyes as I pulled a tray of sticky sweet caramel fruit and nut scrolls from the oven. These post-school shopping trips often resulted in one of two after-school snacks - cold cocktail frankfurts from Lucky's Deli, in which the processed meat was sucked from the crimson casings (the thought of which now makes me want to gag!) or the sweet, icing-clad coils of an apple scroll slowly unravelled, the insides still a little doughy but no less delicious to child me. It was the latter that no doubt delivered nostalgia in buckets and spades as that very first snail shell coil from my very own homemade scroll was separated and enjoyed as I stood at the kitchen bench. The day I baked these was forecast to be 29c. My alarm woke me at 5:30 am and against the backdrop of darkness, before the heat swept in, I pulled the scrolls from the oven just after 10. What followed was a bike ride to the local milk bar, and a serve of gravy and chips for my youngest, Vivvy. The heat prickled our skin. The road hazy with heat, and an early evening gathering with friends for a BBQ. Their backyard was full of squeals and laughter. Carefree children racing through sprinklers, bouncing on trampolines and letting sticky, sweet flavours from icy-cold Zooper Doopers run down their arms. I thought to myself then, that these moments would form the collection of memories that would make up their youthful summers, coiling around deep inside their minds just like the sticky, sweet scrolls of those summer days in Mum's '85 Ford laser did for me. Sticky pecan, carrot & caramel scrolls Makes 12 For the dough 250ml full cream milk 2 tsp dried yeast 1 tsp vanilla extract 500g bread flour 55g caster sugar 1 tsp salt 2 tsp Hot Cross Bun spice (I used Gewurzhaus) But you can just use 3/4 tsp ground cinnamon, 1/4 tsp ground cloves, and 1 tsp ground ginger instead 2 eggs, at room temperature 100g unsalted butter, softened at room temperature 1 extra eggs + 1 tbsp milk For the filling 100g unsalted butter, softened at room temperature 100g brown sugar 3 tsp Hot Cross Bun spice (again, if not available to you, substitute with 1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon, 1 tsp ground ginger, 1/4 tsp ground cloves, 1/4 tsp ground coriander) 150g diced dried fruit mix (I use The Spectacular dried fruit mix from Singing Magpie Produce but you can substitute with a mix of dried fruit of your choosing) 50g pecans, chopped 120g grated carrot For the caramel sauce 150g unsalted butter 200g brown sugar pinch of salt 2 tbsp pure maple syrup 125ml thickened cream Gently warm the milk in a small saucepan until lukewarm. Remove from the heat and whisk in the yeast. Set aside for 5 minutes. Add the vanilla and whisk again. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, salt, and spice to combine. Add the eggs to the milk and whisk well to combine. Either use your hands for this next step or let the free-standing mixer with the dough hook attachment do the heavy lifting for you. Pour in the milk mixture and knead for 8 minutes at a medium speed. Add the cubes of butter one at a time, working them into the dough until it is soft and sticky. Place a lightly dampened tea towel over the top of the bowl and pop it in a warm spot for about 1 hour or until it has doubled in size. The time will vary depending on how hot or cold your kitchen is. If you need to help it along, the front seat of the car is a good one, or turn the oven on and let the dough rest on top of the stove. Meanwhile, you can make the filling and caramel sauce. For the filling, you will need a small bowl to mix the butter, sugar and spice until it is smooth and creamy. Stir through the fruits, nuts and grated carrot. set aside. For the caramel sauce, you will need to melt the butter and sugar together in a small saucepan over medium heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Add the Maple syrup, salt and cream and bring to a simmer. Remove from the heat and set aside while you get your baking tin ready. Line the base of a 30cm x 23cm (or thereabouts) high-sided tin with baking paper. Pour 3/4 of the caramel over the base. Once the dough has doubled in size, punch down in the centre and turn out onto a lightly floured work surface. Roll it out into a rectangle that is roughly 40cm x 30cm and 1cm thick. Spread the spiced butter filling over the top. I find using a spoon for the first part and then spreading out with my fingers is the easiest way to do this. Starting with one of the longer sides, roll the dough up tightly to form a log with the seam facing down. Using a sharp serrated knife, I use my trusty bread knife, cut the roll into 12 equal even-sized pieces and place each one into the tin on top of the caramel sauce. Cover with a dampened clean tea towel and set aside in a warm spot for another 45-60 minutes or until almost doubled in size. Preheat your oven to 160c fan forced. Whisk the extra egg and milk together then brush over the tops of the scrolls. Bake for about 25-30 minutes until golden and the centre feels cooked when pressed lightly. Drizzle over the remaining caramel sauce and serve whilst still warm. The scrolls are best enjoyed on the day of baking, but they can be kept for 3 days in an airtight container. If you want to reheat them, simply wrap them in baking paper, then foil and heat for 5 minutes in a 160c oven, or until warmed to your liking. They are perfectly fine cold too.

I am finding it difficult to wrap my head around the fact that we are in Autumn 2024. Time is moving at a rapid pace and all I want to do is will it so slow down. I am bottling up all those moments with Beau and Vivvy, as I know it will pass by within a flash of the camera. I had my school reunion last month. 20 years! It feels like it was only yesterday that we were gathering at someone's house, getting older friends to buy us our alcoholic beverages of choice, and leading a carefree lifestyle. A recurring topic among conversations was that we all wanted to spend as much time with our kids as possible. I recently listened to the fabulous podcast, How Other Dad's Dad, hosted by Hamish Blake where Scott Cam of the TV show, The Block was interviewed. It was such an honest, heartfelt conversation between the two that revealed many golden nuggets. The one that struck me however and left my skin prickling with dozens of goosebumps was this, "I want to be there when my kids look up." Scott Cam was referring to being there for his kids during sporting events. I, myself want to be there when my children do a forward roll at gymnastics; learn a new riff on the guitar; Land a jump they have been practicing on their bike; or simply hop on one leg, among many other things. So, as the seasons transition, The light becomes softer, and the evenings cooler. Sweet peas, poppies, and brassicas all cry out, "sow me now!" Let us all slow down over the coming Easter break, and perhaps in doing so, stand a while at your kitchen bench to create these lovely biscuits. Savouring the small moments of bliss in what will be a twist and a pull as one half detaches itself from the other in a moment shared with yourself, or your children, whatever their age, because we should never let a good opportunity to enjoy the sweet things in life disappear into the horizon, for they may not present themselves in that exact fleeting moment the following day. Fruit & Spice Easter biscuits Makes 20 Recipe adapted from Martha Stewart's Lime sandwich cookies from her book, Cookie Perfection. 3 cups plain flour 1/4 tsp baking powder pinch of salt 225g unsalted butter, at room temperature 1 3/4 cups icing sugar, sifted 1 tsp Hot Cross Bun spice (from Gewurzhaus) 1 egg, at room temperature 1 tsp vanilla extract 395g tin of condensed milk 125ml espresso 85g unsalted butter, at room temperature 85g cream cheese, at room temperature 1/2 tsp Hot Cross Bun spice 1/4 cup diced dried fruit (I used The Spectacular dried fruit mix from Singing Magpie Produce but you could just use a mixture of your favourites) 1/4 - 1/2 cup icing sugar 1 tsp cinnamon In a large bowl whisk together the flour, baking powder, and a pinch of salt. In the bowl of a stand mixer (or a large bowl with electric beaters) beat butter and sugar until pale and fluffy, about 4 minutes. With the mixer on low, add the egg, vanilla, and 1 tbsp of water and mix to combine. Add the flour mixture and beat until just combined. Divide the dough in half and shape into discs. Wrap in baking paper and rest in the fridge for at least an hour. Preheat your oven to 160c fan-forced. Take one disc from the fridge and let it stand at room temperature for 15 minutes. You want it to feel pliable so that it will be easy to roll out. On a lightly floured surface roll out to 3mm thick. Using a 6cm round cutter, cut out rounds and transfer to two baking trays lined with baking paper, spacing about 2.5cm apart. You may need to use these trays again for the next batch, just make sure you cool them down before placing the next lot of rounds onto them. Continue to cut out rounds with the remaining dough and repeat with the other disc. Using a sharp knife, cut out crosses, or you can always use a smaller cutter to cut out shapes from the center of half of the rounds. Bake for about 12-14 minutes, or until the edges are golden. You may need to rotate halfway through the baking time like I did, as my oven tends to bake unevenly. Allow the biscuits to rest for a couple of minutes before removing them from the trays onto cooling racks to cool completely. In a small saucepan over medium heat, heat condensed milk, stirring frequently, until bubbling. Continue to cook, stirring all the while until it becomes thick and golden. Don't worry too much if it catches on the bottom of the pan. This should take about 5 minutes. Strain through a fine mesh sieve into a bowl and stir through the coffee. Cover the surface with a sheet of baking paper and pop into the fridge for 30 minutes. In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat 85g of butter with the cream cheese until smooth, add the condensed milk mixture in a steady stream and beat until fluffy. stir through the spice and dried fruit. Spread filling onto the base of a whole biscuit (about 2 tsp worth) before placing one of the cut-out biscuits on top to form a sandwich of sweetness. If you would like to dust the cut-out biscuits with icing sugar. Sift icing sugar and cinnamon into a small bowl and then dust over the tops of the biscuits with the same sieve before placing them on top of the filling. Store in an airtight container in the fridge with baking paper separating the layers. They will happily keep for 4 days.

Fingertips stained a purple-bluish hue, mouths too. There is no mistaking the tell-tale signs of two cheeky cherry-eating children and that trail of pips that follow suit. Beau may as well have found gold when he spied the festive globular gems in the fridge. All 5kg of them. A few weeks ago, when Sophie arrived for our Spring Lunch she handed me a box as she stepped into our home, "I'm sorry I could only get seconds." As I lifted the lid I let out a gasp of delight for what looked up at me was a tumble of glistening gems, "these are seconds? They're perfect!" I recently treated my ears and allowed the visuals to dance around inside my mind as I listened to the mesmerizing voice of Meryl Streep narrate Tom Lake by Ann Patchett. The main character, Lara, lives on a cherry farm in Northern Michigan and I couldn't help but imagine her and her three grown daughters picking the dangling jewels from the trees as their mother told them the story of the moments that made up her life thus far as my fingertips became increasingly more stained as I pitted each taught shiny drupe. Every year I promise myself I'll invest the small amount of money into purchasing a cherry pitter, and each year I find myself standing at my kitchen bench pressing the pips out with my fingers, dodging juice missiles that evidently leave their mark on all manner of surfaces, including me! Why on earth did I wear a white singlet? But what to make with these cherries? The culinary possibilities are endless - cherry compote. Cherry tart. Cherry pie. Cherry jam. Cherry strudel. It was Sophie's mention of cherry bread as we sat around the table that piqued my interest. I had sourdough to shape, a bowl full of pitted cherries...I put two and two together and a delightfully festive creation was born. Studded with chopped almonds and a touch of cinnamon for that Christmassy warmth. Thick slices (fresh or toasted) generously buttered then smeared with my spiced cherry jam makes for quite an enjoyable breakfast (or anytime snack) during the month of December. Insert your favourite hot beverage to accompany you and perhaps listen to the marvelous Jeannette Winterson's Christmas Days, 12 stories, and 12 feasts for 12 days. The Snow Mama story is our favourite. And just like that you may find a brand new culinary Christmas tradition is conceived. Cherry & Almond Sourdough This quantity of sourdough will give you two loaves of bread. I use one of these for the cherry version and I leave the other plain. I am by no means a master at sourdough baking, but this method always delivers delicious results. 150g ripe sourdough starter 750ml warm water 10g salt 800g bread flour 200g spelt 1 cup pitted cherries 1/4 - 1/2 cup almonds, roughly chopped 1-2 tsp ground cinnamon In a large bowl, mix the starter, water, and salt with your hand. Add the flour and mix until well combined. Cover with a clean tea towel and let rest for 30 minutes. Remove the teatowel and using your hand, stretch and fold the dough 8 times as you turn the bowl in a circle. Cover and rest again for 30 minutes. Repeat this stretching and folding process 3 more times. Cover with the tea towel and leave the bowl to rest on the bench overnight. The following morning should see the dough having risen to the top. If it hasn't, simply leave it until it has. Sometimes this happens at 6:30 am for me and other times, when the house is a bit cooler, I will have to wait until about 9:30 am. Dust your bench with semolina. Scrape the dough out onto the bench and using your hand bring up the outside of the dough into the middle as if you are tucking a baby up in a swaddle until you have a nice round. Cut in half, shape again into a round, and leave on the bench, covered with a teatowel for about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, you can prepare your banneton baskets. I use round ones, and only one of them is a "proper" one. The other is the green basket from a 1kg tub of ricotta which works just as well. Lay a teatowel in each one, dust liberally with semolina, and set aside. Shape one of your loaves as per normal and place it into the banneton. With the other, which will be the cherry bread, you want to pat out the dough so it is flat and resembles a thick pizza. Scatter over the cherries, almonds, and cinnamon, and then fold the edges up and over to tuck everything in. Now here you want to sort of knead it all in as you shape it into a round. You may find you need more semolina here. Poke any larger cherries back in using your fingertip if they try and escape and then pop into the banneton. Tuck the teatowel over the top of each one and place it in the fridge. Sometimes I leave mine for an hour and other times I leave them for 7-9 hours. Whatever works for you. Place a large casserole pot with a lid (or whatever you use to bake your bread in) into the oven and preheat to the highest setting. Mine goes to 250c fan force. When you are ready to bake, rip off a square of baking paper, scrunch it up, and then flatten it out onto the bench. Take your cherry bread from the fridge, invert it onto the baking paper, smooth out the semolina over the top, make a few slashes/scores with a lame, sharp razor or serrated knife, and lower into the casserole/cast iron pot. Pop the lid back on and bake for 22 minutes. Remove the lid, reduce the oven temperature to 200c, and bake for another 20 minutes. Invert your golden loaf out onto a cooling rack and allow it to rest until cooled. Enjoy any way you desire, but I like to slice mine thickly, lightly toast it, and then spread it with butter and spiced cherry jam (you can find the recipe for the jam here). Eat, enjoy, and be merry!

When we take a step out of the zone where we feel our most comfortable, wonderful opportunities present themselves, often in abundance. Opportunities in which to learn which then lead to growth. They can set us on a path (or paths) that we may not have thought about following or even considered to be a possibility. The truth is we constantly surprise ourselves. I remember, many years ago a passing comment that I made to Ben. We had not long moved into our humble weatherboard home when I said, "I want to have the kind of home where people want to come to ours for long lunches and dinners." Back then our kitchen was not much bigger than a postage stamp. There were random doorways with no doors. Natural breezeways snaked their way through the floor, making our ankles frigid. A garden that was alive in my imagination but in reality was a mess of dirt, debris, and weeds. Fast forward some 11 years later and that garden, with the seeds of imagination, has bloomed and grown. So too has that 20-something-year-old who dreamt of having a home where food would be at the centre, shared with family and friends. In fact, it has gone quite beyond that, for that young woman would not have dreamt of opening up her home to people she didn't know or had never met IRL (in real life). If someone had told her that one day she would have 6 people from Instagram over to her house for a three-course lunch and collaborate with a gorgeous young florist whom she met at an afternoon tea event for her own book in Sydney at someone's house who she also had never met "IRL" I would have given them a very perplexed look indeed. But there it is a prime example of life's many surprises, of the twists and turns and the power of manifestation. As I sat at our large timber table for the Spring Lunch event on Sunday with Petrina, Sophie, Susan, Hannah, Di, and Chris sharing food and conversation I could not have been happier. I am so thankful to each and every one of them for stepping out of their comfort zones to take a seat at my table with people who arrived as strangers but who were farewelled like old friends. That's where the magic lies.

It was all a bit chaotic beforehand. "Do you need to take some sheets?" "Have you got their sandals?" "Sammy, no, not Vivvy's bunny!" By the time they had bundled themselves into the car, the clock read 8:20 a.m. They departed and there I stood, my little black furry companion by my side, "Well, Sammy boy, it's just you and me mate." I tidied the house. Hung the washing. Folded towels. I marveled at the stillness. It was as if the walls of the house had let out a huge sigh of relief. It was quiet. I grabbed my bag and my keys, and as Sammy picked up the rear I had a long walk along the beach in my sights. The days that followed had a natural rhythm. There was no rushing to get multiple bodies out the door on time. I didn't have a million and one things racing through my mind, nor did I feel that I had to keep track of the ticking arms of the clock. I ate my lunch when I wanted. There were no disruptions. I could plan the whole day to suit my needs. I worked without having to think about the needs of anyone else. I pulled my gardening gloves on at 6 pm and came inside an hour and a half later and every single thing was exactly how I had left it. Upon their departure, I tucked a supply of freshly baked goodies in with their cargo and made sure to save a couple of pieces of the chocolate walnut slice for me. A recipe that comes from the delightful The Australian Women's Weekly 100 delicious biscuits and slices book which was gifted to me by a dear friend who is a whizz when it comes to finding hidden gems at the Op Shop. It even belonged to Amy in a previous life, as that is the name that is inscribed in a cursive scrawl at the top of the front page. The slice is a cross between an ANZAC, a brownie, and a chocolate cake. It is a revelation and was enjoyed by all. A simple recipe, as is always the case, provides the utmost joy. And so too does a walk along the beach. A solo weekend at home. Space to breathe. I could easily have had another couple of nights, just me, myself and Sammy. However, I am looking forward to seeing those three beautiful faces when they return, wrapping my arms around their bodies, and listening to their stories. I know that the chaos won't be too far behind either. Voices yelling, "Mumma, Mumma! Sammy's got my shoe!" "Mumma, Mumma, I'm hungry!" "Mumma, Mumma, What's for dinner?.....Ohhhhh but I don't like that!" The house will take a deep breath and we will soldier on. The washing pile instantly grew and then I heard...... "Let's build a cushion house!" And normal life resumed. Chocolate walnut slice This recipe comes from The Australian Women's Weekly 100 delicious biscuits and slices Base 1/2 cup self-raising flour pinch of salt 1 cup rolled oats 1/2 cup brown sugar, lightly packed 125g unsalted butter Filling 60g butter 60g dark chocolate 1/3 cup caster sugar 1 egg 1/3 cup self-raising flour 1/3 cup plain flour 1/4 cup milk 60g chopped walnuts 1/2 tsp vanilla extract Chocolate icing 15g butter 30g dark chocolate 3/4 cup icing sugar 1 tsp vanilla extract 1 tbsp hot water Preheat your oven to 160c fan forced. For the Base, sift the flour, and add the salt and remaining dry ingredients to a medium bowl. Add melted butter and mix well. Press the mixture into a lightly greased 18cm x 28cm (or thereabouts) slice tin until even. Bake for about 10 minutes or until lightly golden. Meanwhile, prepare the filling. Melt the butter and chopped chocolate in a heatproof bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water (don't allow the bottom of the bowl to touch the water) Add the sugar and beaten egg and mix well Add the sifted flours alternately with the milk and then stir in the vanilla and walnuts. When the base is baked, pour the filling over the hot base and bake for a further 25 minutes, or until the center feels slightly firm to the touch. Remove from the oven and set aside for 10 minutes while you make the icing. Melt the butter and chocolate over the simmering water once again, add the sifted icing sugar, vanilla, and water, and stir until smooth. Smooth out all over the surface of the filling and then set aside to cool and set. Cut into bars, squares, or finger slices and enjoy with a cup of tea either in the company of oneself, or the company of others.

The change of seasons always excites me, especially at this time of the year, when the garden surprises and delights with her Spring blooms and self-sown seeds - an abundance of lush greenery and vibrancy! I would love to invite you into my humble white-weatherboard home on the beautiful Mornington Peninsula, Victoria, and into my garden, to celebrate all that Spring delivers. As the sun warms our shoulders, we will feast upon a three-course lunch prepared by myself, which will include a few recipes from my book, Recipes in the Mail as well as a few favourites from my recipe journal collection. For an added dose of joy, we will also be guided by the lovely Sophie Bowe of With Love, Sophie (micro flower farmer and floral designer from the rolling hills of North East Victoria) who will share her passion for creating enchanting florals featuring lovingly and locally grown blooms and sustainable techniques. During this 1-hour workshop session, Sophie will teach us how to create our very own hand-tied posy using seasonal florals and foliage - from choosing stems to creating a gorgeous finishing wrap - which you will then take home, along with a little sweet treat for the road, from me. You may come with a friend or in the company of yourself, but at the end of our time together my hope is that new friendships will be formed and that when we wave goodbye, you do so with a spring in your step and a tummy full of homely, nourishing food. If you would like to purchase a seat at my table you can do so by clicking here. Address to be supplied upon purchase. **You are more than welcome to bring along your own alcoholic beverage of choice if you so desire. There will be still and sparkling water on offer and tea or coffee will be served with dessert.

I've just stepped back inside, washed the dirt from my hands, heated a splash of almond milk, matcha, and a dash of maple in my little black pot and I have managed to somehow nab the very last slice of apple cake which in this household is quite unheard of. What with being surrounded by sweet-toothed family members these sweet offerings often go amiss within the blink of an eye. However, on this occasion, they are not home and so I am claiming it to be mine. There is something about being out in the garden, pulling weeds, sowing seeds, and turning soil that has my appetite craving tea and cake. Looking out over an empty compost-laden garden bed awaiting the arrival of tomato seeds. playing out the early stages of seed germination in my imagination - beginning under the soil where soon enough tall spires of larkspur covered in shades of deep indigo, dusky lavender, and light purple flowers together with the antique raspberry-hued petals of Queen Red Lime zinnias will sprout (hopefully). The way the spring sunshine slants downwards upon new shoots of greenery, droplets of water glistening as they cling to leaves after a final soak from the hose. It all leaves me feeling satisfied and looking forward to a shower. I am making a mental note to reserve the remaining Granny Smith apples perched on the bench for another apple cake. Beau and Vivvy helped me with the first one as we were guided by Belinda Jeffery's recipe for Kim's delicious apple, cinnamon, and pecan cake in Belinda's trusty baking bible, Mix & Bake. We ended up swapping a few things here and there - almond meal in place of roasted pecans (for the sheer convenience as I had two small children who were very quickly resembling snow people whilst "playing" with the flour) a good glug of thickened cream (because it had passed its best before date) and a large handful of white chocolate (my cake-batter taste testers insisted it really needed chocolate) and a shower of flaked and slivered almonds. The result is a gorgeous tender crumb with just the right amount of sweetness, which makes it the perfect little something to end a day in the garden with. Apple, cinnamon & almond cake makes a 23cm round cake Inspired and adapted from Belinda Jeffery's "Kim's delicious apple, cinnamon and pecan cake" Page 114 Mix & Bake. approx 350g granny smith or golden delicious apples, peeled, cored, and cut into 2cm chunks 200g caster sugar 1 tsp bi-carb soda 2 tsp ground cinnamon 1/2 tsp freshly grated nutmeg 225g plain flour 140g almond meal 75g white chocolate, roughly chopped 1 egg, at room temperature 1 tsp vanilla extract 130g unsalted butter, melted and cooled a little 1/2 cup thickened cream 1/4 cup flaked almonds icing sugar, for dusting Preheat your oven to 160c (fan). Butter a 23cm round cake tin and line the base with buttered baking paper, then dust the tin with flour, shaking off any excess. combine the apples and sugar in a bowl until well coated. Place the bi-carb, spices, flour, and almond meal into a bowl and whisk together well. Tip the apples and sugar into the flour mix and stir to combine, followed by the chocolate, and stir again. Whisk the egg, vanilla, and butter together and pour over the apple mixture, stir until just combined, and then add the cream and stir again until everything is well combined. Spoon into your prepared cake tin, smooth out the top, and scatter over the almonds. Place into the preheated oven for about 45 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the middle comes out clean. Allow to cool in the tin for about 10 minutes. Run a butter knife around the sides of the cake to loosen before turning out onto a cooling rack. Turn the top side up again and allow to cool to room temperature. When ready to serve, place onto a pretty platter, or cake stand, dust with a shower of icing sugar, and enjoy as is or with a generous dollop of creme fraiche or cream. I imagine a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream would get the seal of approval too. This cake will sit happily in an airtight container, at room temperature for at least 3 days.

I could happily stand by the stove, picking golden roasted vegetables from the tray until they all but disappear..Better yet, I could slide them all into a bowl, fork in hand, and nestle into the couch whilst watching Stanley Tucci eat his way around Italy. That to me would be the ultimate form of self-care. But alas, I have a family who also needs to eat, and so I settle for pinching "just one more" burnished Brussels from the tray as I balance the BBQ lamb chops, perfumed with garlic and rosemary, over to the table. I became curious before writing this post, as to what my older recipe books may suggest would be the best way to cook these often frowned upon green orbs. I looked to The Margaret Fulton cookbook. The Woman's Own Cookbook. The more from your microwave cookbook (I don't own a microwave but a friend gave it to me as a joke). And finally, after flipping through the pages of the aforementioned, without a single sighting of a Brussels sprout recipe, I remembered my The Australian Cookbook tome. And there it was, on page 384, Brussels salad. Combine Brussels sprouts, mushrooms, and spring onions in a salad bowl. Pour the dressing (yoghurt, tomato juice, mustard, basil, and parsley) over the salad and chill well. Cook the bacon until very crisp, add the pecans, and sprinkle over the salad. Serve immediately. I am not so sure about you, but it doesn't sound like the most appetizing way to enjoy these nutty delights. I can't say I'll be giving it a go any time soon...or ever. I think I'll stick to tumbling them onto a baking tray along with florets of broccoli, slices of zucchini, and wedges of onion, roasting the lot in a hot oven until burnished and crispy and marvelling at the magical sheen that melted butter, garlic, anchovies, and capers create as the whole lot is gently tousled together. The aroma alone is enough to make me salivate with the anticipation of flavour that awaits upon that first mouthful too much to bear, and I find myself stealing spoonfuls as I stand over the kitchen bench. We may be seeing the last of these beauties as the seasons change, but I simply had to share this recipe here. I call it a recipe, but really it's just a bit of this and a bit of that. Brussels sprouts, bottoms trimmed, larger ones quartered, smaller ones halved a medium-sized head of broccoli, broken into florets 2 zucchinis, sliced red onion, cut into wedges brown onion, cut into wedges olive oil salt and pepper 50g softened butter 1 garlic clove, finely diced 5 anchovy fillets, finely diced 1 tbs capers, rinsed and roughly chopped Extra glug of extra virgin olive oil a good handful of parsley, chopped Preheat your oven to 200c (fan) tumble the Brussels, broccoli, zucchini, and onions onto a large baking tray. Drizzle over a generous amount of olive oil, scatter with sea salt flakes, and a good grinding of black pepper. Pop into the oven for about 25-30 minutes, or until golden and crisp, stirring once or twice so that they cook evenly. Remove from the oven, add the butter, garlic, anchovies, and capers, and stir until the butter has melted and the anchovies have dissolved. Stir through the parsley, drizzle over extra oil and season to taste.

Baking is often a solitary activity. When I don't have two certain little kitchen helpers by my side, I stand at my kitchen bench - measuring, stirring, and folding with only the thoughts in my head to keep me company. I guess that is what makes the online baking space rather special. It connects us to bakers the world over. We share our recipes, our triumphs, and our failures. We gather a wealth of inspiration and ideas and then implement them in our own kitchens. We connect over a mutual love and understanding of what it means to be surrounded by the aromas of comfort and contentment and that with every cake, cookie, muffin, and slice shared, we spread joy - a conduit for connection. This is how I met Kath @kulinaryadventuresofkath . Little did I know all those years ago upon hitting our first likes and posting comments on Instagram that an opportunity would present itself in the form of planning an afternoon tea for a group of wonderful women (and two marvelous men) at Kath's stunning family home in the Northern suburbs of Sydney. It just goes to show that life only continues to surprise and delight in so many ways. There are so many people in Sydney and her surroundings that I have connected with through the magical squares of Instagram. These bonds created with people whom I had never met face to face. It's funny isn't it, this world we live in, but my goodness does it open up so many doors that may have not been possible without these social media platforms. And so I took this opportunity and I put it out there to Kath and Dimi (founder and creator of @celebratebydimi and @inspiredtable) this idea of bringing an online community together in "real life". Thankfully they both jumped on board without a moment of hesitation. And that is how I came to be in the kitchen with Kath, The Pav Queen herself! (and my goodness was The Pav perfection). So too was the light-as-a-feather sponge - we marveled at the height when it was pulled from the oven - a collective gasp. Dimi arrived with a container full of exquisitely executed sausage rolls. Drawers were opened, with questions of "Where do I find the mixing bowls?" "teaspoons?" "Knives?" as Mum and I navigated our way around Kath's kitchen. We stopped momentarily to refuel with bowls of tomato and bacon soup and crusty bread with lashings of butter, prepared by Kath's mum, Sandra, whilst sitting at the large timber table which would carry an array of edible delights the very next day. When that day arrived it was met with excitement (it happened to be my birthday too) curdled with a dose of nerves. The final flourishes were added - swooping crowns of cream adorned the cakes. dollops of jam glistened, like jewels, atop mini scones. A dusting of cinnamon. Pretty China tea cups set, all the while a blanket of blue covered the sky and as the Sydney sunshine sparkled over the guests who meandered down the garden path, we welcomed them with open arms and greeted them with smiles from ear to ear. Very quickly those nerves dissipated and the following two hours were a gift. That weekend will be forever remembered. A weekend that saw the power of social media bringing a group of people together who may otherwise have never met in a non-digital world. There is something to be said about the good that can come out of it all, and that is that when you combine the two - the real world and the digital online world - anything can happen if you let it. I certainly felt the magic over this particular weekend. No longer a solitary baker standing in my kitchen in my humble white weatherboard seaside home. Instead, a baker united - measuring, stirring, folding, (and sifting) in a kitchen full of women creating food to share; food to nourish; and most importantly, food to connect.