Strawberry cheesecake popsicles

 

 

Last night I skyped with my sister. We had a bad connection and we couldn't hear each other, so after trying to connect over and over we just resorted to making silly faces at each other, laughing with no sound and then hung up. That made me feel closer to her than a thousand words. There are not many people in the world you can do that with after the age of 7.  

 

When my new favorite workout song came on during my run early this morning, I felt elated and pushed a little harder, my legs burning, feet thumping to the quick beat of the tune.

 

My daughter woke up earlier than usual this morning and sat in the bathroom watching me put on make up. When I finished using the blush brush, she smelled it and said: "oooh, that smells soooooo good. It smells.... (pause to think), it smells just like you Mommy!"

 

After I hugged F good bye before I rushed off to work and he to the airport to catch a flight, I felt closer to him than I sometimes even feel when we are in the same room.

 

These are little things that make a day, a life, special. Especially today, especially when I think of families in Oklahoma. I am so fortunate. I send thoughts and prayers to them.

 

Make these creamy, slightly tangy popsicles and share with your family on a warm summer's day.

 

Adapted from here.

 

Ingredients (makes about 8, depending on mold size)

8 ounces/225gr cream cheese (I used a 200gr tub)
3/4 cup powdered sugar
1/3 cup milk
about 6-8 strawberries
4-6 standard sized graham crackers or Digestives
1 tbs melted butter
 

In a food processor add the cream cheese, powdered sugar  and milk, process until well combined and then add the strawberries. Pulse to combine.

 

Pour mixture into popsicle molds, leaving about 1 inch of the top empty for the crust and tap the molds to remove air bubbles.

 

Melt the butter. In a food processor add the graham crackers/Digestives and pulse until they are fine crumbs and add the melted butter while it is running. The mixture should be the texture of wet sand.

 

Divide the crumbs evenly between the popsicles and press down to compact. Insert the popsicle sticks and freeze.

 

The crumbs will loosen while eating, so I suggest eating over a plate and dipping the popsicle in the crumbs as you go along. Soooo good!

 

A few notes: this is more of a guideline than a recipe. You can use more or less strawberries and sub frozen ones for fresh ones. You can use any kind of milk or sugar, although you may have to play around with quantities. Also, if your strawberries are sweet and ripe, you will probably need less sugar. I used a little less. We don't get graham crackers over here, but Digestives work fine.

 

Blueberry apple pie

 

 

 

  

I will be honest with you, I made this pie about three weeks ago, so it has taken me more than a while to post about it and if I wait any longer, berry season will be over although it is just starting!

 

Blogging has taken a bit of a back seat in the past week or so. I have been spending long hours in the office and a lot has been going on. I feel like I am stuck in some TV show where people wear power suits and talk about mergers, acquisitions, migrations, black out periods and financial jargon that I don't even know how to use appropriately most of the time. So far so good, but I suspect there will be some ugly susprises ahead.

 

 

 

The few moments when I did have a chance to blog, my absolute priority was reviewing Tori's book because she had been so sweet to send it to me immediately and I was afraid that with everything that was going on it would, unjustly, sit on my desk for weeks before I got another chance.

So here I am now, posting about pie when pie is the last thing I can eat these days.

  

The time has come for me to cut down on calories and get in some extra exercise. It has been raining so much lately, I haven't been keeping up my normal running schedule and the winter months (I like to convince myself it was just them) have left their mark. My tummy is growing at an alarming pace and seems to have taken on a deceptive shape.

 

 

 

You know your no-pie time (perhaps this is a good instance to use the phrase black out period???) has come when two people (men for Pete's sake!) in three days enquire about your, ehm ...ripening state.

So, fine. You laugh it off when the octagenarian hanging out on a bench while you are helping your kid with his dangerously melting ice cream cone asks you whether your next one is a boy or a girl (trying to ignore the fact that this is usually a question people ask when you are visibly pregnant, definitely more than 4 months). After all, said octagenarian has little else to do all afternoon and he did witness the combined lethal effect of bending over AND forgetting to suck in your stomach whilst concentrating on dark dark chocolate dripping all over the place. It has happened before and it will happen again (although admittedly you had hoped not quite so soon). Big deal!

 

 

 

But when you are on your morning run and another runner crosses your path and gesticulates at your stomach with a surprised yet admiring look as if to say "expecting and running - you go girl!"...

That, Mr., is what I call crossing the line. Why the f*** do you think I am out running at 6am if not to get rid of that belly which, incidentally, is not THAT big???

Mental note to self: don't feel too good about yourself when all that running you have been doing starts giving you more shapely legs because apparently when the whole of you was out of shape, at least you looked fat and not pregnant!

So yes, I am not eating pie these days, but a girl can dream, can't she? Delicious flakey, buttery crust, warm cinnamony apples, juicy bursting berries, sweet crimson juices and cold vanilla ice cream... just make it because you can, will ya?

 

 

 

Have you packed your spatula? A book review and pea, mint and feta fritters

I thought I was going to start this post telling you how I had been eagerly awaiting a package for weeks, checking my mail day after day but when the Royal Mail is involved, things arrive at your doorstep rather sooner than anticipated. That is not to say I wasn't impatiently waiting, even if it was just for a handful of days.


My excitement upon carrying the red and white parcel upstairs was palpable for a variety of reasons, the first being that it is not all that often that I receive tangible evidence of the people I communicate with every day in the virtual world. It is nice to know they actually exist in the flesh and not just in some crazy corner of my mind (do you ever wonder if the blogging world is all just a figment of your imagination?). The rush of pleasure that I experience upon opening a new cookbook, or any book for that matter, is not a secondary factor. I know you know what I mean, that slight crackling of the binding when you first turn the pages, the anticipation of pages filled with words, colorful photographs and enticing recipes yet to be discovered.

 

 

Last, but certainly not least, my excitement was generated by the opportunity handed me by an extremely talented blogger to review her first baby, the one in print that is. Although it actually isn't her first book, as she already has an e-book out on no-carb eating.

 

Tori, in case you don't know her yet, is an Australian food blogger based in London, married to the Hungry One. After going through a white food phase in her earlier years, she turned into a travelling omnivore once she met her soulmate. They set off to discover the world with a "wish list scribbled on the back of a boarding pass".  After wandering to the farthest reaches of Asia from their home in Sydney, in the past years they have started visiting more of this side of the hemisphere (but not only) taking advantage of the endless low-cost weekends on offer. Their wish list turned into a baby bucket list and as the months went by, more and more items got crossed off. Not that having a Stowaway (yes, the baby already has his very own blogging alias) has really stopped them, as they travelled to the Americas in the throes of morning all-day sickness. As Tori's belly grows into various stages of fruit and vegetable, her trips have been getting shorter. Not a bad thing for those eager to learn more about the beauty England has to offer.

If you are a reader of her blog, you already know she is  as partial to pink wine as the Hungry One is to black forest cake (of which there is a mouthwatering cheese strudel version in the book) and she can get evangelical about pulses. She loves spread sheets and nuts in all shapes and sizes.

Her book is an extention of her blog, like the bonus dvds with great extra content you get when you buy a movie you love. Except better. It is so much more than just eye candy: it is a travel journal and a good read, peppered as it is with the author's trademark evocative phrases that conjure images of irresistible meals: yolks bleeding like a sunset over sand, pale plumes of ricotta, tomato fritters as dark red as a British backpacker's neck, sauce as soothing as a squeeze from your mum, fish flesh as pink as pinched cheeks.

She not only gives us pointers to the best hot dogs in the world, her pages are filled with recipes that are vibrant in color and texturally intriguing. She intersperses them with advice like joining a long food line "because locals are always waiting for a reason"; or "if something has been washed it doesn't mean it is clean" (especially if it was washed using local tap water, might I add!). She teaches us what any traveller needs to know: after suggesting we pack the now-obvious spatula, trusty black flats and a scarf that doubles as an airplane blanket or pillow  in her blog, in the book she advises taking along an open mind and an insatiable curiosity and appetite. But beware, it might lead you as far as tasting evil in the form of fish protein.





Do you need any more convincing? I didn't think so.

Expect to walk through the markets of Paris with a heavy backpack strapped to your sweaty back in search of some perfect picnic nibbles to then quickly change into a black dress and those flats you packed for a night out in a Michelin-starred temple. You will lie with her on the beaches of the Pacific and watch people ski by you whilst resting on the deck of a chalet in Switzerland.

 

Mind you, your journey will not end there.

Zucchini carpaccio with feta cheese, mint and toasted pinoli nuts

 

In the the past weeks F has been playing soccer on Monday nights and coincidentally, on the same night they have started showing a cycle of old Dustin Hoffman movies. Last week it was Kramer vs. Kramer, yesterday it was Tootsie's turn. 

 

Considering I hadn't watched either movie in about 30 years, I wasn't surprised I had missed out on a lot of the humor and drama. When I first saw Kramer vs. Kramer I was a child approximately Billy's age with recently divorced parents and I was moving to another continent with my mom. It was all pretty matter-of-factual to me. Now, as the mother of a daughter that age, I watched it with renewed interest and much more involvement than the last time. As for Tootsie, I had natually completely missed out on the sexual subtext, which is surprising considering the whole comedy revolves around it. I also realized with a little gasp that Dustin, Meryl and Jessica were probably all younger than I am today when they starred in those movies. Finally, I smiled when I realized Michael's roommate in Tootsie is Bill Murray, who only became a noteworthy presence in my life after Ghostbusters. Or that Tootise marked Geena Davis' first movie appearance.

 

Generally speaking I am not usually one to watch old movies, it just isn't my thing. I am not that person with a huge collection of dvds that I see over and over again. But something about these two movies just sucked me in, something more than just purely enjoying good acting by a younger, softer version of the stars they are today. The truth is they bring me back to a different time of my life. A time that I can now see with much more awareness than I did as a kid. They portray the NY of my younger years, a time when I had still lived most of my life in the city instead of Europe. The years of the Russian Tea Room, the Twin Towers and of a seedy but truer version of Times Square.

 

Source: Wikipedia

 

I felt a twinge when I saw a NY bus drive by in a scene that was advertising the hit musical Evita. I remember every minute of those summer nights in the early Eighties when I played that record over and over again. I sang of a new Argentina, the chains of the masses untied, and had not a clue what it meant. I sat in a Broadway theater mesmerized while Magaldi admonished Eva of the perils of Buenos Aires. Those tunes were the soundtrack of several years of my early life and every note brings back a memory. My family still roll their eyes at the mere mention of the Argentine rose.

 

And what about mocassins? Did you have a pair? I had completely forgotten about my white ones until I watched Lange's slow-motion twirl last night.

Poppy seed explosion muffins

Yesterday, while we were having lunch with a bunch of friends (it was a national holiday - although lucky me, I got to go to the office from 7 till just before noon anyway!), my daughter managed to swallow a tooth while eating her sandwich.

 

At least we think she swallowed it because it was there (and not even that loose for all I knew) before the sandwich and gone after it. She looked all around her plate, in her lap and under the table, for reasons you will understand shortly, and there was no sign of it.

 

How do you eat a tooth and not realize it?

 

While I was obsessing about that gross detail, how it would be coming out on the other end soon and how my baby is already eight lost-teeth into adulthood and will be leaving me soon to go and live her own life, she was obsessing about il topino dei denti, the mouse.

 

 

 

 

Yes, the mouse.

 

In Italy - and other countries in Europe I believe - it is the tooth mouse that shows up at your child's pillow to take his/her tooth and leave some money in its place. I am partial to the tooth fairy myself, being a girl and all, but I guess the mouse is more gender neutral and who am I to complain anyway?*

 

So, all my kid could think of was whether the mouse would leave her any money if she didn't have a tooth as evidence. Would the mouse know , the way Santa and Co. know that kind of stuff? I assured here it probably does but we would have to wait and see.

 

A heated debate ensued at the table with various suggestions. My daughter decided she would just sleep with her mouth open, like she normally does, she stated.

 

 

 

 

I, the advocate's devil, whipped out my phone to prove her wrong. Just the night before I had snapped a picture of her sleeping (yes, I am the crazy mama who constantly takes pictures of her sleeping children) and the evidence showed the contrary.

 

So perhaps she could draw a picture of her mouth with a gap where her tooth once was or write a note to the mouse?

 

Well, by the time she went to bed last night after a 5km walk in the park, she had forgotten all about the tooth she was so exhausted.

 

And although I was back in the office this morning, I know for a fact that the mouse dropped by. Or actually, the tooth fairy.

 

*Turns out I actually do have a right to complain since I am the bank and the messenger...

 

 

 

 

 

Who collects teeth in your country?

This is a a simple, homey, comforting snack from the lovely Monet. Something to share with a loved one at the kitchen table or curled up on the couch. A recipe for those everyday moments of your life, the ones you know you will cherish the most in the future.

These are for my little girl, who delights in the burst of every single poppy seed between the few teeth she has left right now.

Vegetarian ragù

 

 

Big changes at work these days again, not good ones for a lot of people involved.

Among the many bad areas to work in, the finance sector is still one of the worst these days. In a time of change and worry, it is reassuring that the level of conversation by the coffee machine is still incredibly low. We need these certainties in our jobs at a time like this.

 

Here are a few snippets of everyday convesations (thank me for editing soccer talk and dirty comments):

 

"You know those days when you just feel uncomfortable about how you are dressed, like your clothes are not matching, or your pants feel too short or you have a spot on your shirt that you didn't notice was there? That is how I feel this morning."

"Yeah, I have those days. And have you noticed how they usually coincide with bad hair days?".

 

***

 

"You do really good imitations, but your dance moves suck".

 

***

 

"Did you see xyz (boss) in the formal photo?"

"Yeah, the whole team looks good except for her".

"Well, what do you expect? I mean, she's turning 50".

 

***

 

"I won't be handing in that report on the 10th of May, because they will be letting me go before then..."

"Oh come on! Enough already! Dude, that is all you ever talk about!"

"I know, I realize I'm going out of my mind".

"No, you have always been out of your mind. Now you are going insane".

 

***

New father: "Little boys are much more energetic and physical than girls, right? My kid never stops moving."

"Yeah, they are pretty physical. How old is he? Three?"

"No, four months".

???

 

 

But on to food now, another one of those certainties in life we are so lucky to have.

 

We have been acquainted long enough for you to know I have no qualms about eating meat (or pretty much any ingredient) in most forms. I try to not to eat meat daily and try to limit my intake of red meat for health reasons. I also try to consume meat responsibly and ethically, as in I am a nose-to-tail kinda gal.

Although I (often unintentionally) make a lot of vegetarian recipes for our week-night meals, I have recently come to realize that when I am planning a menu for a dinner party, it usually involves meat/fish in one form or another.

As a result, I am trying to come up with more recipes catered towards my vegetarian friends, meat/fish free recipes with a little more effort put into them than the 10-minute vegetarian dishes I make on any given day of the week for my family.

 

I first saw this recipe years ago, way before Pinterest, on a vegetarian blog and filed it away in the deep recesses of my brain, where it got lost of course. After a google search I came up with a variety of similar recipes and borrowed a little from each to make my own version. I have made it twice in the past month for two different vegetarian girlfriends (hooray for large batches and freezers!) and both gave me a thumbs up.

The lentils and mushrooms give it the hearty richness and texture of a meat based sauce and although I still personally prefer a meat ragù, this sauce was a worthy meat sauce substitute and a tasty sauce in its own right.

 

 

As you may already know, Nuts about Food has moved to a new Facebook page (same name - see side bar), so if you befriended or liked me in the past, come on over to my new place and hit the "Like" button.

I have also set up a spam filter in my comments section because the problem was getting way too out of control to take care of manually. It'll just take a handful of extra seconds to comment, so keep 'em coming. I read and enjoy each and every comment you leave. Unless you are trying to sell me a used car or real estate in broken English.

Lemony sardine pâté

 

 

 Sardines are an extremely underrated fish. Unless you are Portuguese of course. Or Mediterranean.

 

The truth however, is that sardines are cheap, tasty, healthy, nutritious and a perfect pantry item.

 

I will not lecture you about the importance of eating certain kinds of fish for nutritional and environmental reasons. Suffice it to say write that this recipe is a new winner in my book.  

 

 

 

 

Before you get down to making this, a few fun sardine facts from the web.

The word “sardines” is actually a common name used to describe the immature fish of a variety of species all around the world. So when you are eating a sardine you are actually eating one of many kinds of fish, such as herring, smelts, brislings and pilchards, that get caught in nets during fishing.

 

Sardines are named after the Italian island of Sardinia, where they were seemingly abundant in past times.

 

Omega 3 fatty acids, highly present in sardines, reduce the likelihood of Alzheimer's disease, dementia and heart disease and lower blood sugar levels.

 

 

 

Canned sardines are however high in cholesterol, also because of the oil they are preserved in.

If you eat the whole sardine, including the tiny bones, the canned variety also ensures a good calcium intake.

Napoleon greatly helped in spreading the popularity of sardines: tinning the fish was an idea of two Frenchmen, Appert and Colin, but he started the canning industry at the beginning of the 19th century to feed the growing population and military. Sardines perished easily, so canning them was a way to ensure that the inhabitants of the farthest reaches of his Empire had a cheap and plentiful protein source.

Canned sardines have been known to hold up to 30 years.

  

 

 

 

Have you ever heard of the South African sardine run? Between May and July billions of sardines spawn and then move along the eastern coast of South Africa in shoals, which are often more than 7lms long, 1.5km wide and 30 meters deep and are clearly visible from the surface.

 

In the early 1900s Maine counted large numbers of canneries, producing up to more than 4 cans per American at that time, but now there is only one sardine plant left.

 

During the Cold War, sardines were extremely popular in the US. The US government apparently bought great quantities in the bomb-scare years and they became the number one convenience food for Americans. Now the average American does not taste a sardine before the age of 40.

 

Many expressions have arisen from the sardine canning industry: “packed in like sardines” originated in the 1800s from the practice of close packing this fish, describing any situation where people/things are crowded together. Then there is Alan Benett's "...Life, you know, is rather like opening a tin of sardines. We are all of us looking for the key..."

 

 

 

 

This is one of those examples of Pinterest actually being useful and not just a huge waste of my free - and not so free - time. I saw this idea ages ago on Food52 and loved it, pinned it and forgot about it. Until now that is.

  

It is so fast it won't take more than five minutes to make (and for half of that time, it is actually your food processor that is doing all the work). It is quite delicious and much cheaper than pate.

 

It is creamy yet tangy, and not very fishy at all (if that worries you) and the contrast of this cool, buttery spread on a slice of warm toasted bread will make you swoon. Guaranteed.

 

Adapted from HalfPint