The best bad birthday meal

I love cooking for someone’s birthday; preparing their favourite meal with their favourite wine or drink, and a delicious something sweet to end... The thought and care that goes into it is my display of love and happiness to celebrate that person’s special day. But, and this is a big but, I am a perfectionist- and everything must go according to my plan.

Easy home-made chicken pie

A hearty meal for cold rainy days, this home-made pie is packed with veggies and has far less calories than the shop-bought kind. It's really versatile in that you can use whatever veggies you have lying around, and most of the other items are pantry staples. 

Farewell Part 1

Food has always been a big part of my life (and for those who have seen the photos, the use of ‘big’ is pretty literal) In the beginning there was the Food War I, where I hated anything remotely nutritious. Then I suddenly realised that fruits and veggies were yummy, and food became a more interesting and less angst-ridden aspect to the day. So the food part of my life became bigger, and so did I- cue the Food War II. Since then I have found (well attempting to find) that balance of big appetite and reasonable waistline, and like any normal person, most big events in my life are paired with something edible. My months spent in London were probably my most exciting gastronomically; I learnt so much in the few shifts I had in a pub kitchen, and in summer the new tastes and flavours and combinations and ideas were constantly inspiring me. So it seemed only fitting that my farewell dinner for the London housemates was a significant one.

French cooking has always been this sort of ridiculously daunting task; it made me feel the way you do when you’re going somewhere far posh-er than you’re accustomed to, and you’re not sure how to behave or what to wear. Every time I opened a French cookbook I could hear some French chef screaming at me, “Don’t baztardize zee muzzer of zee culinary artz!” I could feel the gorgeous Provençal pots and pans hitting my head because I ruined the beurre blanc, I could smell my pompous toque chef’s hat being set on fire.

Pizza è grande!

I have had a love-hate relationship with dough for some time now; I love how it smells, I love how it looks rising like a magnificent mountain and most of all, I love how it tastes in all its forms, experiments, and adventures. Sweet, savoury, confused- give it to me hot and straight out the oven! But I hate making it; it never rises, it never comes out light and soft, or crispy and delicious. Until now I had attempted bread and pizza dough several times, none of which even came close to something successful. And then I met the Italian, who looked at me ever so confused when I confessed that I could not make pizza dough. "But why??" (cue lovely Italian-accented English), "Is easy!". Yes, that's what all the recipes said: "Easy!", "Simple!", "Ready in a flash!". I defied them all with making it remarkably difficult, complicated and slow. 


The simple solution to my problem? Don't over think it. Yes there are some technicalities with dough, but it's pretty much like all other cooking, you judge it on whether it tastes right and looks right. I got too caught up on following dough recipe measurements and instructions, treating it as though I was dismantling a bomb. The Italian logic is, "You do until it feels good."


So, with this is mind, please try out this recipe, whether you have never made pizza dough before, or have done it countless times- it's a real cracker and it's yet to disappoint!