I walked into the kitchen this morning to find Hoover helping herself to the Nutella jar. Why use a spoon when you can shove your whole hand in? Rather than reprimand her I decided to take a photo and so continue to celebrate her growing independance. Yes - the Nutella jar now sits three shelves higher!

I love it when it rains! I love it even more when it's cold, wet and blustery outside and I am safely ensconced inside. The first thing I want to do after I turn the heating on and slip into my comfy slippers is make a big pot of soup. It's a natural reaction - I see dark clouds, I hear the rain and I then reach for my big soup pot. And that's exactly what I did last Friday I reached for my Le Chasseur cast iron pot and made my first batch of soup for the season.

My favourite soup at the moment would have to be this 'lemon and red lentil' soup. It's a thick hearty soup and it is quite filling. I often serve it with some 'cheesy fingers' as the kids call them - grilled cheese on sourdough toast. Hoover loves this soup despite it being quite lemony. Fussy on the other hand scoffs his cheesy fingers and then protests that he is too full and has no room left for his soup.

I would be at a complete loss in the kitchen if it were not for lemons and garlic. I am forever reaching for fresh lemons to squeeze or zest. Thankfully my neighbour has an enormous lemon tree in her garden so I am constantly supplied with fresh unwaxed lemons. If I happen to run out of lemons I can always send Fussy around to go pull a few off Corries' tree.

When it comes to garlic I am not as fortunate. I often have to hunt far and wide to find unbleached, locally grown purple garlic. My local green grocer now stocks it - I think he got tired of me complaining about the bleached Chinese stuff that gets passed off as garlic.

Well yesterday at the supermarket of all places I had an unexpected moment of 'gratefulness'. Hence, to my utter surprise there alongside the onions, shallots and ginger was locally grown purple garlic. I kid you not there was not a bleached bulb in sight!

The other day my neighbour Corrie who also doubles as my fresh produce supplier gifted me with a couple of kilos of fresh chestnuts. The chestnuts and the abundance of fresh produce came from Harry's (her Greek father in-law) farm in Bright. When Fussy came home from school that afternoon and saw the chestnuts sitting on the bench he asked if I could make him 'that chocolate chestnut soup that Nanna makes?'

I had no idea what he was talking about so I called mum. She explained that Fussy was referring to Imbuljuta - a warm wintry soup that is served early on Christmas morning in Malta after midnight mass. Never one to shy away from a challenge, I thought I would give this simple chocolate chestnut soup a go. Well after wrestling with a kilo of chestnuts for the better part of the morning I now understand why some people choose the easy way out and reach for a jar of chestnut purée instead!

Yesterday I admitted to stealing a couple of cookbooks from Jacqueline's book shelf last week. Although I swiftly returned A Cooks Companion back to her on Sunday I decided to hold on to Ottolenghi as I have no intention of returning it to her any time soon. If truth be told I'm hoping that if I keep it long enough she will just forget about it.

As far as I am concerned both Yotam and Sami are the most unique and imaginary artisans I have come across in a long while and I want to try all 140 of their recipes. Consequently I had an Ottolenghi food feast over the weekend. I tried out a number of vegetable and pulse dishes which got the thumbs up by Mr Man and Hoover and have easily earmarked another twenty for the coming weeks. After studying the 'baking and patisserie' section in great depth I decided to make the 'semolina and raspberry tart' on Saturday afternoon. Needless to say it was beyond delicious and tasted even better the following morning.

I have wanted a copy of Ottolenghi the Cookbook since I first head about it late last year. My girlfriend Jacqueline was given a copy for her birthday in January and has been raving about it ever since. So the other day while I was at her house I quietly slipped it into my bag while her back was turned. No need to freak as we often help ourselves to each others bookshelves!



On the weekend I had my own little Ottolenghi feast. I now see why everyone has been raving about Yotam and Sami as their food is 'literally, a feast of bold colours and generous gestures. It is driven by an unapologetic desire to celebrate food and its virtues, to display abundance in the same way that a market stallholder does: show everything you've got and shout its praise whole heartedly'.



Their food is straight forward, yet highly inventive. It is 'made and served by a group of people who love preparing food as well as indulging in it, gorging on it, chatting about it endlessly. It is a way of life, somewhere between a healthy obsession and a bad habit we can't kick'. With a focus on the Mediterranean - they strive to 'surprise and stir'. They do so by 'using bold flavours and daring colours, no apologies'.

Last Thursday morning Hoover, Fussy and I caught up with my dear friend Jacqueline and her two girls. Being the second week of school holidays we were all starting to go a little spare. We decided to meet at a park so all four kids could run, jump, climb and yell while Jacqueline and I sat and chatted and pretended that they didn't belong to us.

After an hour or so the kids started to show signs of fatigue and started to complain about being hungry (well it was almost 1pm). Jacqueline suggested we head back to her house in Brunswick as she had a huge pot of minestrone sitting on the stove waiting for us. So she bravely volunteered to take all four kids back to her house while I swung by the local fish and chip shop and ordered enough hot chips to feed a small island.

It was a glorious sunny autumn day so Jacqueline and I decided to sit in her back garden while the kids systematically turned her house upside down. Oblivious to all the calamity indoors, we sat and chatted for hours solving the words problems twice over. Before we knew it the kids were complaining about being hungry - again. How could it already be 5.00pm?

Rather than overstay our welcome we decided to say our goodbyes and head home for dinner, but not before we picked a bag full of fresh figs from Jacqueline's amazing fig tree.

I tend to err on the melancholy end of the spectrum and am one of those individuals who see the glass as half empty as opposed to being half full. About ten years ago, when the glass was well and truly empty and my melancholy was at an all time high, a friend suggested that I meet up with Peg for a chat. Well chat we did - for three years to be exact!

Peg was not a counsellor per se but one of those discerning, non-threatening souls who exuded grace and wisdom. We would catch up for an hour or so once a month. Peg would  quietly listen while I rambled on about life and stuff. Every now and then she would question,  clarify and then encourage me to look for evidence of grace in my life. At times Peg was a hard task master and she would not let me leave our time together until I had found 'grace' and acknowledged it's existence in my life. What I learnt from my time with Peg was to live in the moment and be grateful - for every day.

The last month or so has been crazy. About three weeks ago my dear friend was making breakfast for her three kids, when she suddenly fell to the ground and suffered a stroke. Anne has since had surgery to repair a hole that was found in her heart and she is now recovering at home. At the end of the month she will meet with her Neuro surgeon and Cardiologist to determine what the rest of her life will look like.

A couple of days after that I found out that another friend Zoë, who was pregnant with her first child, had suddenly developed toxaemia. Zoë was rushed to hospital and her wee little baby was delivered by emergency Caesar at just 26 weeks - she weighed only 400g. Zoë has since been discharged but her baby will remain in hospital until she is full term. For someone who has experienced such an unexpected trauma, Zoë's outlook is incredibly positive - although she has yet to hold her baby in her arms nor has she given her a name.

The other night I was chatting to one of my best girlfriend who also happens to be my neighbour. She was telling me that she had just had a good old cry after getting off the phone with one of her good friends back in Scotland who had just found out that the cancer has come back and that it's now in her womb. She cried because her friend will never have children and will never experience motherhood. Her friend refuses to make any long term plans as she is now on three monthly check ups.

After hearing about Corrie's dear friend in Scotland I realised that my glass is not just full - but it is overflowing.

The last couple of weeks I have been hearing Peg's voice inside my head. It's time to look for evidence of grace and to be grateful - for every day.

Over the years I have easily tried over half a dozen different mashers and have never found a mashing device that I was completely happy with - until I got myself a Smood. Designed by those wonderful people at Dreamfarm, the Smood is one of those clever, ingenuous gadgets that should have been invented decades ago as it gives you perfectly smooth mash in seconds.

Most mashers either have large holes that don't make your mash smooth so you have to repeatedly pound away in the hope that you will eventually get smooth mash. Or alternatively you have mashers with small holes that don't allow the potato to freely pass through so you end up with squashed potato instead of smooth, fluffy, mashed potatoes.

Although both my brother and sister in-law are vegetarians and have been so for decades I always seem to remember this vital fact at the eleventh hour. And so the other day when I was baking away like a crazed women preparing for Hoover's birthday party I suddenly had one of those 'crap the timpana has meat in it' moments. Meat in timpana is a good thing, but meat in my timpana meant that Lisa and Ian would be going hungry unless I was to provide them with a meat-free alternative.

Normally you would bake your Figolli and then decorate them the following day. Both Gillian and I decided beforehand that we were going to make a day of it and so we baked and decorated all day on Good Friday.

This year I got together with my dear friend Gillian and her four girls to make Figolli. Popular in Malta, these almond filled pastry shapes often represent symbolic figures and are enjoyed at Easter time. Traditional Easter figures would include the lamb, fish, butterfly, heart and fertility symbols.

Wishing you a very happy Easter!


Photo - Enzo Maisano (2008).

My parents live on a 40 acre farm in Kyneton, which is an hour drive from Melbourne. Kyneton is one of those gorgeous historic gold rush towns located on the Campaspe River. Despite living in the inner city of Melbourne my children are farmers at heart. I have my parents to thank for that because come Easter holidays, long weekends or term break the children love nothing more than to jump into their overalls, slap on a pair of gumboots and go farming with Nanna and Nunno.

From an early age Hoover and Fussy have been fortunate enough to be exposed to farm life. They understand that the meat they eat comes from a cow, pig or rabbit. They have helped my dad make kilos of homemade sausages over the years, and have also helped my mum make bread, pasta and cheese. They both boast to their friends that their veggie patch is in fact the largest and that they are friends with a herd of cows and have recently acquired (thanks to my dad) a pet alpaca called 'Big Boy'.

I have wanted to make Timpana for years but for some reason or another I have never got around to making it. Although Timpana is Sicilian in origin, it's also popular Maltese dish that is often made on special occasions. Having all my family around for dinner after Hoover's birthday party last Saturday constituted a 'special occasion' so I decided to give it a go.

If success can be measured by a lack of leftovers, then my timpana was an absolute success. Most people would shrink back from such a rich, heavy dish but my family jumped at the idea of carb's wrapped in carb's and devoured an entire dish of timpana in little under 15 minutes.

Luckily I thought to whip the camera out before they pounced on the timpana other wise I would have had no proof whatsoever to having ever made it. I can't even describe what it taste like because I did not get to have a piece. Not even a crumb was left as someone thoughtfully wiped the baking tray clean with a piece of bread. I was assured by the token Sicilian in the room that my first attempt at timpana was a pretty convincing. Mum also gushed over it with glowing terms as she was fortunate enough to get a piece. So I guess your just going to have to trust me, my mother and the Sicilian and try this recipe for yourself.
 

Timpana

Recipe source - Adapted from The Food & Cookery of Malta (2001)

This recipe calls for calf brain and chicken livers. I absolutely abhor offal to the point of not being able to look at it let alone handle it and cook it. If you have a more robust disposition then go ahead and add the offal to your sauce. I cut corners with this dish and used hand made all butter Carême puff pastry.
 

Ingredients

500g organic minced beef

500g rindless bacon, finely minced

1 large onion, diced

3 cloves of garlic, minced

2 fresh bay leaves

3 tbsp of tomato paste

400g tin of diced Italian tomatoes

125ml beef or chicken stock

Grated fresh nutmeg

Sea salt & freshly ground pepper

Olive oil

500g macaroni

4 organic eggs (1 egg to glaze pastry)

6 tbsp of grated grano padano

2 x 375g packets of Carême all butter puff pastry

 
Method

1. Preheat the oven to 220C/425F/Gas 7

2. Fry the onion, garlic and bay leaf in some olive oil until soft. Add the minced bacon and beef and cook for 15 minutes. Add the diced tin tomatoes, beef stock and tomato paste and cook for a further few minutes. Grate in some nutmeg, season to taste and gently simmer for a further 30 minutes

3. Meanwhile cook macaroni in a large pot of salted boiling water according to the instructions on the packet. When the pasta is al dente drain and mix the meat sauce into the macaroni. Add three eggs and the grated grano padano. Mix well and then allow to cool.

4. Lightly oil a 40x26cm baking dish and then roll out half the puff pastry to fit the baking dish. Spoon the macaroni and meat sauce into the baking dish. Cover with the remaining puff pastry and fold the edges. Glaze the top and edges with beaten egg.

5. Bake at to 220C/425F/Gas 7 for 15 minutes and then reduce the oven to 180C/350F/Gas4 and bake for a further 30 minutes. Once cooked allow the timpana to stand for 10 minutes before serving as this allows for the timpana to slice neatly.

The one criticism about a much anticipated event, function or do is that it's all over in a blink of an eye. The lead up is often intense and if you happen to be a three year old girl hanging out to be four the intense longing is all the more pronounced. In lieu of the inevitable let down I asked my siblings and cousins to linger-longer on Saturday and stay on for dinner. What transpired was an evening full of utter madness and sheer hilarity.

Photo - Enzo Maisano (2009).

Although I love cooking and baking with the children I really do enjoy time alone in the kitchen. Last Friday I had one of those magical baking days where I quietly baked 'alone' for hours in preparation for Hoover's birthday party the following day. The oven gently warmed the house whilst outside the heavens opened up and my parched garden finally got a long overdue soak. There is nothing I love more than to lose myself in the kitchen to the mesmeric sound of the rain falling on our tin roof.

But before I could roll up my sleeves and start baking, I first had to attend the annual Easter school play that morning and then make a mad dash to Dan Murphy to stock up on wine for the party. Then there was one last visit to the greengrocer to pick up the last couple of bits and pieces before coming home to sort lolly bags, hide a weeks worth of ironing, give the floors the once over and then settle in and bake.

I have learnt from previous experience that if there is a short cut then I would be a fool not to take it. In this instance my short cut was to use ready made shortcrust pastry.  Needless to say there is ready made mass produced shortcrust pastry and then there is hand made Carême pastry. So when it came to the lemon tart I went with the dark chocolate shortcrust pastry made by William and Claire Wood in Barossa Valley in South Australia.

Becoming a mother has been the most demanding task I have put my hand to - period. Yet, it has also proven to be the most rewarding and life giving thing I have done to date.

Having children has been confronting as they tend to draw out the very best and worst of you all at once. There are some days when I wish we can get to 'the end' and be done with it. And then there are other days that I never want to let go of.

A couple of weeks ago we met up with some friends and their two young girls for dinner in St Kilda. I must admit I was a little hesitant about taking four young children to Karen Martini's restaurant Mr. Wolf. Both Jane and Lee assured us that they go there often with their young girls and that the food and service is great. I asked if the restaurant was 'child friendly' and they said that if we were in and out before 7pm we would indeed get a glimpse of the 'sympathetic' side to Mr. Wolf.

We arrived on time as planned at 5.45pm with only the slightest hiccup - I forgot Fussy's Nintendo DS on the kitchen table at home. Although the friendly staff offered the children crayons and paper to keep them occupied while their pizzas were cooking, Fussy soon began to get antsy. Thankfully the kids meals arrived soon there after and we were able to have a semi decent adult conversation whilst sipping our rather lovely aperitivo's.

Unfortunately there was some kind of hold up so by the time our pizzas arrived the four kids had already finished their meals and had well and truly moved on to their gorgeous sundaes. The divine chocolate sauce was beginning to play havoc with the fearsome four and lets just say that the collective sugar high really *pushed* the limits of our graceful waiters 'kid friendly' demeanor.

Consequently we ate in such a frenzied rush that I can barely remember what we ate. I do recall eating an amazing roasted mushroom and thyme pizza and also sampling a prawn pea, chilli and fior de latte pizza which was divine. What did stand out though was the side salad we ordered which was a cabbage, pea and mint concoction. So the other day I decided to try and replicate the cabbage and radish salad because after that particular dining fiasco I think it will be a while before we grace Mr. Wolf with our presence any time soon.