Potato gnocchi with ham and sage. Mise en place, misplaced

I am the queen this afternoon. 

Aurelia brought me a tiny green plastic cup and placed it on top of my study table. With sugar, Her Excellency? she asked me politely. No thanks, just a tablespoon of honey, please. I replied with my right hand holding the cup, a little finger pointing up.

While I was pretending to be part of my daughter's imaginary story, I wanted to distract my mind to more urgent matters, my next exam. I tried carefully to turn my eyes from the royal scene of the room to the screen of my computer where it was displayed, for a long time, a page about "Hygienic in restaurants" one of the subjects of the introductory course of my new career of Patisserie.

I had all the materials set up or mise en place - gastronomic French term that refers to organize and arrange the ingredients. The computer, colourful pens, stick-on-it notes for my resumes, a rubber and a new black notebook - happily decorated with stickers of cars by my second son's busy three year old hands.

Aurelia left the room to bring me a magdaleine from the kitchen to have with my tea. Sorry, Her Excellency Queen, I forgot.  I smiled at her but was thinking, Great! Back to my study. It was my fifth go after four unsuccessful attempts during that day. 

I put my invisible ear plugs to pretend I wasn't listening to the noise coming from the children in one of the bedrooms and  began to look at the screen. My sixth try. I read the first paragraph of the text, underneath the title. Something related to the direction of the food preparation, that it has to go forward so it doesn't get contaminated when…mama!!!! whereee arrre youuu?? I want my plane but baby "guanan" took it. Es mio!! I could hear now Gab crying downstairs, followed by baby Juanan. Gab was shaking vigorously the metal bars of the safety child gate at the bottom of the stairs. He was desperately searching for me.

I intentionally arranged my study on the top floor when I was enrolled in the course a month ago.  Obviously, I was hiding myself from my own family. I needed to go through my notes and get a few ideas in my obsolete head to be able to pass the first exam. I don't know why but it seemed an impossible task. I wasn't putting the blame on the demands of my children, that was unfair. It was my lack of concentration on the screen. After finishing a law degree and my masters, I hadn't really touched a book again for many years. 

I have heard that once you have children, some neurons evaporate with the birth. 

- Does it mean I have lost the only one I probably had? I asked sarcastically my girlfriend. Lucky me, she was not only my running buddy but also a good psychologist.

- Perhaps your brain doesn't get the signals of "studying" or "working" soon after you have babies. Even when you actually sit down in front of the books or are in your office, it will take you a while to concentrate, but it is normal. It is only transitory. It is like when you stop running for a long period, you cannot pretend to run a marathon on your first day!

I kind of felt relieved. Although my mise en place was misplaced by motherhood, affecting my focus on the study, it was going to be a temporary face, as I repeated it to myself. It wasn't all lost, despite my initial disappointment of not getting the habit back straight away.

On my defense, the fact that perhaps children did not like much the idea that mum was studying and not jumping in the trampoline or making figures with play doh, made me feel guilty. Like many non-working mums, my kids spend most of the day with me, until a couple of weeks ago, when I decided to shake my professional life and give it another chance on taking a new journey to follow my passion. I accepted this course as a full time job.

Believe it or not, diplomat's wives do not have always the opportunity to continue their professional life the way they wished. We need to adapt our skills to the circumstances and pass a few barriers such a language, low local salaries, degrees not recognized,…Instead, we can do short courses, study by correspondence or being part of some volunteering work, for example. 

Back to my frustrated moment when the kids were fighting about an orange plastic plane called Dusty while I wanted to continue with the food preparation chapter, I did what you supposed not to do, I gave up. I turned off the computer and disconnected from being a mum - student to be a mum, a single word. I played with the plane with Gab and Juanan pretending to be a pilot.  When my three children were all fast asleep, I left their small world and quickly went up to my cave to study. 

Eventually, within a few days, I learnt to organize my time better. Amazing the things  you are able to do if you have a good schedule in your head that suits everybody. I squeezed those two hours at night intensively…and my concentration increased. Like it used to BEFORE I HAD KIDS. My friend was right.

On the other hand, my kids accepted better the idea of "mum-student" when I made the clever decision of studying in a book shop near by, instead of playing "hide and seek" on the top floor.

Potato gnocchi with ham and sage

The gnocchi recipe is from the cookbook Rafael, which also has a fantastic restaurant in Lima. It is my favorite so far. I made up this dish during that frustrated week I shared with you above. Cooking helped me a lot to put close attention of what I did when I couldn't do it in my studies. 

And my daughter was my best support, in every sense.

Gnocchi

• 3 kg potatoes (floury)
• 4 egg yolks
• 100g parmesan cheese, freshly grated
• 150 g flour 00
• Sea salt
• nutmeg
• 2 kg table salt

Sauce:

• a few fresh sage leaves
• unsalted butter 
• 6 slices of Spanish jamon serrano, thinly cut in small pieces
• Freshly grated parmesan 

1. Preheat oven 180 C
2. Cut the potatoes in half, lengthways. Put them together (in one piece) and place them on top of a oven tray covered by table salt (this will help to absorb all the moisture). Cook them for an hour until very soft. Peel them and pass them through a "potato ricer" twice.
3. Add the egg yolks, salt and mix well. Add the flour, cheese and nutmeg. Knead the dough gently. It should be soft, not dry.
4. Put a big saucepan of salted water over high heat.
5. Make a long thin roll. Cut it in 2cm pieces. Give it a shape with the back of a fork to help the sauce to stick to the gnocchi.
6. Meanwhile, add a knob of butter to a frypan with a few fresh sage leaves. Swirl them around once the butter is melted and continue until the butter gets brownish and the leaves crispy. Place the leaves on a piece of kitchen paper.
7. If the water is boiling, place the gnocchi carefully to cover the bottom of the saucepan. When the come up to the surface, take them out and put them on a warm serving dish. You might have to repeat this step again to finish cooking the rest of the gnocchi (I kept some, well covered, in the freezer).
8. Serve about 10- 15 gnocchis per person. Pour some of the butter on each plate, sprinkle a good amount of jamon serrano, decorate with three or four crispy sage leaves and grate fresh Parmesan cheese on top.

Spicy beef sandwich. Dinning on Moreyra stage

It was cooking day. My kids and I made quinoa and olive oil waffles for breakfast - the kitchen was a total mess but they had fun. On Sundays, because I have more time, I treat the family with something that breaks the school and work routine.  However, I couldn't eat any of them - although they were quite appealing. I was too full from the night before.

Nick and I dinned at the Casa Moreyra, the restaurant of the famous Peruvian celebrity chef Gaston Acurio and his wife Astrid Gutsche. We were having our belated annual Christmas dinner. Anyhow, any excuse is always good enough to celebrate if you have a glass of wine to cheer and delicious food to share. 

Located in the neighbourhood of San Isidro, this old mansion is so spectacular than when it opens its doors for the guests it makes them feel immediately witnesses of an incredible food experience. Your expectation is high because you are prepared to enjoy a special night, an unforgettable culinary evening where the ambience, the setting, the service, the quality of the ingredients and of course, the food play together a role to win an Oscar - your credit card should be ready too, by the way …ouch!

In Casa Moreyra you have the option to eat in the casual and spontaneous place called La Barra or in the very formal dinning place named El Cielo, where the restaurant has been tailor-made for you. In this occasion, we opted to have dinner under the sky, in one of the two private salons with its own team of chefs, service and kitchen. 

At our arrival, when the terrace was still quiet - 7.30 pm was perhaps too early for the Peruvians - we had the pleasure to meet Diego Munoz, the young Head Chef of Astrid and Gaston, who gave us five minutes of his precious time to welcome us.

After our aperitif , we were conducted to visit the private kitchen of one of the salons. The kitchen was  like a jewelry store, each person concentrated on the eleven dishes that would give live to the degustation menu, Memorias de mi tierra, the great star of the night. I noticed a certain amount of pride in some of the cooks, like if they were magicians. The spectacle was about to start.

We were going to spend three hours tasting the Memorias de mi tierra which was divided in five stages each one baptized with a name invoking old times: Golosinas a la salida de la escuela, Memorias del hogar, Travesuras del nino, Dulce memoria y Sabor perdido. I was open to the smallest detail to what my five senses were telling me…every plate would be a surprise.

I tried chewy beef tongue and crunchy trotters with mustard - hidden underneath of edible red and yellow blossoms. I discovered strange, but delightful, combinations of flavors: thin slices of avocado with white sesame seeds, maca and aji; quince with peanuts; meringue of olives and anchovies; white asparagus with chickpeas and caviar. But there were some other alternatives that I found too strong to my taste, like the fishy leche de tigre with apple and beetroot or the chupin of false clams called machas with green broad beans and creamy potatoes.

I enjoyed drinking apple juice from a huge ice cube, although there was not much liquid to drink.

Above all, my favorite dish was the classic tribute to mash potato with a fried egg on top and fresh spinach. Perhaps because it was the only plate from the menu I recognized. I loved every single bite of it.

The whole evening went fast, except for the last 20 minutes when Nick and I started to feel the tiredness of the day. We still had to wait for the sweets or Dulce memoria - although I seriously couldn't fit any more food in my stomach. 

During the dinner, I confessed my short list of resolutions for 2015 - usually longer than Nick's. When I thought I said them all, out of the blue,  I added find a challenge. I had to say it loudly so I could hear it myself. At that moment, I didn't understand why I had to include a new goal in my life, but I just felt a sense of excitement when the words come out of my mouth.

In the way back home, close to midnight, I summarized the experience in my head, analyzing every moment. I realized that this type of dinning is a bit selective, for "foodie" people. I also became aware of the fact that food is art when it is presented in this fine way. Each drop counts, same as the dust to garnish, or even the story behind the dish is important to understand the structure of the plate, the flavors, the textures and the colors. I admired the food presentation before I tasted.

On the other hand, there were moments when the restaurant was a theatre stage with a play called Moreyra. It was all set up, less romantic than I expected, no margin for mistakes. Too programmed. Besides, I wish we had less interruptions by the waiters who explained the dish, who placed the food on the table, who came right after to garnish it or who collected the plate. Ah! and the sommelier to pour the wine. A perfect synchronization, so well established that when I stood up to go to the bathroom one of the waiters panicked and said excuse me, madam, could you wait? I have the next dish ready!

Living new experiences and having an open mind to soak them into my family's life are a permanent goal in a short list of resolutions that every Christmas dinner I read and share with Nick, my companion in the way to achieve them.

A couple of days after dinning at Casa Moreyra I was enrolled in a two year career of Patisserie at Le Cordon Bleu Peru. It was in fact a memorable night, full of an unexpected surprises.

I made up this sandwich using the leftovers from a dinner party we hosted at the residence a few weeks ago. It is a superb spicy fillet of beef marinated for 36 hours over a layer of tomato chutney, crunchy red cabbage salad and creamy, and smelly, Camembert cheese. I wouldn't bother to make this recipe just for the sandwich but it is a perfect candidate for a dinner party, particularly when you comment the amount of hours the meat was marinaded! My guests loved that. 

Spicy beef sandwich with red cabbage salad and cherry tomate relish
Recipe of Sybil Kapoor (serves 4)

• 170 g light muscovado sugar
• 155 coarse sea salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoon ground star anise
• 1 1/2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh ginger
• 3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• zest of 2 lemons, finely grated
• 1-2 fresh red chillies. sliced
• 115 ml soy sauce
• 115 ml sesame oil, toasted
• 450g trimmed fillet of beef
• 2 tablespoons sunflower oil

For the salad

• 350g fine green beans, trimmed
• 3 heads of red chicory or 2 handfuls of shredded red cabbage
• 1 red onion, sliced into rings
• 1/2 teaspoon runny honey
• 1 clove garlic, chopped
• 1 tablespoon of lemon juice
• 3 tablespoons walnut oil (I used sunflower oil)
• Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper

1. Mix all the ingredients except the sunflower oil in large dish (I used a big plastic bag) to hold the beef. Place in the fridge for at least 36 hours, rubbing the liquid on the meat.
2. After three days, remove the fillet and quickly rinse under cold water. Pat dry with kitchen paper. Preheat the oven to 200C.
3. As soon as the oven is hot, heat the sunflower oil over a medium flame and wait until it is very hot. Add the beef. Color and sear on all the sides, then transfer to a small roasting tray or baking dish. Pour over the frying oil, and place the dish in the oven. Roast for 12 minutes. Remove, cool and chill until required.
4. Shortly before serving, drop the green beans into a pan of boiling water and cook until tender. Drain and set aside to cool. Wash the red cabbage leaves and tear them into large pieces. Place in a large bowl with the cooked beans and red onion rings.
5.  Make the dressing (if you add the dressing too in advance, you will get soggy leaves instead of the crunchiness you need): whisk together the honey, garlic, lemon juice and walnut oil. Season and toss everything together. 
6. Divided the salad in four plates and top with slices of the beef.

PS: Make extra for the sandwich tomorrow!

Milanesas with spring salad. I cry for you Argentina

It was October 2006 and our long journey finally ended. Almost 30 hours travelling, three flights, bad jet lag and...a small round belly that was timidly showing to the world. I was three and a half months pregnant with Aurelia, my eldest daughter, and in Buenos Aires, my second diplomatic posting after Solomon Islands, the third one for my husband Nick, whom I met in Spain.

I remember we went straight from the airport to Recoleta, a very fancy area of Buenos Aires  famously  known by the cemetery where Evita Peron is resting - in case you didn't know, she was the second wife of the Argentine President Juan Peron and the First Lady of Argentina from 1946 until her death in 1952.

The embassy rented a temporary apartment for us - until we could find one to live for the next three years, which took us a couple of months of inspecting several ones, including one with dead cockroaches in the living room! - a few metres away from that cemetery, and close to the "girly" bars. In the evenings, the prostitutes were waiting for their turn and hopefully, to have a lucky night. These lovely ladies were also brought to the apartment above ours, any time of the day.  I could even hear the sexual activity at 11 o'clock in the morning while I was making a Spanish omelette. My invisible ear plugs tried to block the noise, but sometimes it was impossible!

I was saying that  on the day we arrived, October 12, the afternoon was still warm and appealing for a nice walk to refresh our tired minds. However, we didn't go too far from where we started because I harshly stopped Nick by the arm and begged him to have something to eat, like a good pregnant woman.

Of course, darling, he said.  With your first pregnancy, your husband spoils you  because it is new and exciting for the two of you. With the second pregnancy, you have to remind him...and with the third one, forget it, you look after yourself .

Anyway, there we were, in a trendy "empanadas" bar of Las Heras street,  trying to understand the menu on the black board. It was written in Spanish but with words totally strange for me. There were a few empty tables and some people watching the golden years of Maradona playing soccer on the television. The friendly and attractive waitress behind the bar noticed our perplexed faces and helped us with some useful questions such as queres una Quilmes (local beer)? unas empanadas de choclo o de carne? estan resabrosas!...un pica pica? I said yes to everything, thanks. It is the easiest answer when you are doubting and starving as I was.

During my first few days in Buenos Aires I felt like a truly foreigner, to my surprise. My first impression of the city was totally unexpected. It wasn't Europe but neither South  America, it was in between. Perhaps the reason is found in the fact that the city of the tango and the exquisite beef had a strong influence from the Spanish people (especially from the North of Spain and that's why the Argentineans used to call me "gallega" which is synonym of Spanish) and from the Italians who immigrated in the 19th and 20th century. It was in Argentina where I learnt to make fresh pasta at home thanks to that Italian background.

I needed a couple of weeks to tune my ear to that enchanting and musical accent and a another two months to meet my very first Argentinean friend. Her name was Claudia and I met her in a swimming pool of a country house, on Christmas day, wearing Nick's underpants. 

It was a very hot day and I felt the heat boiling in my veins thanks to the wonderful side effects of the pregnancy, which I was discovering month by month. I decided to go to the pool because  the air conditioner of my room, of the "luxury" country house - as the travel agency reassured us when we made the bookings - didn't work. I didn't pack my swimmers - swimming isn't usually in my holidays plan - consequently, I took my tight black singlet and borrowed Nick's long blue underpants. This will do the trick, I said to myself, I am sure no one will notice. Wrong.

Claudia did and laughed quietly at me thinking that this Spanish girl doesn't fit in the stereotype of a diplomat's wife, really. This funny moment made the "click" in our friendship, one in a million. Being ridiculous sometimes is a very good thing!

I gave birth four months after Claudia had her daughter Camila in January 2007. Claudia also introduced me to a beautiful, warm and soft heart Mexican friend called Mariana, who had her son Nicolas a couple of weeks before Claudia.

The three of us shared the delights and worries that accompany the first motherhood for two and a half years we were together in Buenos Aires. We created a strong bonding and a friendship that will last forever. They made my posting in Buenos Aires unforgettable. 

At the same time I am writing these lines about my close friends that I met seven years ago, I am thinking, a bit concerned, of an earlier conversation I had yesterday afternoon with my daughter Aurelia when I picked her up from school. 

- I don't like my life (she actually said "hate")

- Why is that, darling?

- Because I have to move all the time, start a new school and meet new friends. I miss Daniel and Axel, and my girlfriends. 

- I understand, it is hard, difficult and frustrating for you, and for your dad and mum too, I assure you, but you are doing very well and we are proud of you. You know, I have one or two friends in each country I have lived with your father

- Whatever. I don't care, I don't want to make new friends never ever again. That way, I won't say good bye. 

Since I met Nick and began my journey with him around the world, I have said "good bye" more often than I have pronounced my own name. It is part of life, the diplomatic life, the one I have chosen to share with Nick. 

However, my children didn't choose that style of life, it was given to them when they were born .  They didn't choose to leave a place and their friends and to start from zero in another country. At least for now, while they are still small. They are children of diplomats or as we have been told, "The third culture kids". 

Nick was also a son of a diplomat so the story repeats again with Aurelia, Gabriel and Juanan.

Aurelia and Gabriel have met good little friends already in Buenos Aires, Manila and even here in Canberra. Will these friendships stay forever? Who knows.

In any case, they will have to decide by themselves. Not us. We already did by leaving Manila and soon Canberra. 

Actually, in three weeks time we will head off to our next adventure! Peru, here we come!!!

PS: By the time I have finished writing this post during this weekend it has been officially announced that Nick will be His Excellency, the Ambassador, of the Australian Embassy in Peru. We will be there for three years so plenty of time to visit us, and the Machu Picchu.

Milanesas or chicken schnitzel 

They were very popular  in Argentina, and we had them for dinner very often in our house of Quintana street but also when we went out. With the practice, I have learnt how to make them as good as I remember eating them in our favourite restaurant Standard. Although it is never the same. Here are my tips:

1. Get very thin cuts of chicken breasts or even better, veal. If you can't buy them thin, use a tenderiser tool (it looks like a heavy hammer) and give the meat a couple of bangs! That will break the connective tissues.
2. First, season the meat.
3. Prepare three plates with flour (I mix it with a big tablespoon of mustard powder, but you don't have to), beaten egg and breadcrumbs - in that order so you don't get confused - Pass the meat first by the flour, shake well, then beaten egg, and wait until there is not more dripping, and finally by breadcrumbs, pressing gently with your hands.
4. Let the meat rest at room temperature for 20 minutes at least.
5. Heat enough olive oil to cover the meat, about 1 cm. If you are mean with the oil, the food will absorb more grease. I learnt this advice in a cookbook about healthy tips for cooking. You know the oil will be ready when you add a breadcrumb and it turns brown in 10 seconds. It should be 180 degrees.
6. As soon as the oil is ready, place one at time milanesa gently and swim it around so it creates pockets of air (according to Melissa Clark's cookbook). Cook for about 5 minutes or until golden brown and cooked through.
7. Drain the milanesa on a kitchen paper to get rid of the oil.

Note: it is ideal to use olive oil, but sunflower or vegetable oil will do. I have tried in the past to cook the milanesas in the oven, without oil, and the result is a very dry meal. If you really want to eat a proper milanesa, you have to FRY it, and with breadcrumbs (I have also made them with almond meal and again, it wasn't as good as the real deal). My advice, stick to the proper method and if you are on a diet, choose a different dish!

Spring salad

I totally made up this colourful and delicious salad to accompany the schnitzel. I usually roast 4 big beetroots for an hour or so and keep them unpeeled in the fridge, ready to use them during the week: for the baby with mash potatoes, in chocolate muffins and... of course, in salads. 

I called this spinach and rocket salad "spring" in honour of the next season which is just round the corner. Add some cherry tomatoes, avocado, some crumble feta cheese (if you get the Persian one, you won't regret the price you paid for it) and some roasted nuts you might have in the pantry.

For the dressing, I whisked in a little bowl 4 tbsp red wine vinegar with 4 tbsp olive oil (or the oil where the Persian feta cheese was marinated), 4 tbsp maple syrup (or two tsp honey) and 1 garlic clove crushed (or grated).  Toss the dressing over the salad and check for seasoning.

Note: Toast the nuts before adding them to salads. 

Note: I always add the dressing around the inside part of the salad bowl , not on top of the salad, and then mix carefully 

Chicken meatballs by Maree. The divorce

I still believed in Santa Klaus or Papa Noel  past the age when you were supposed to know where the Christmas presents come from. However, one cold morning in January, when I was absorbed in my own world playing with a Strawberry Shortcake doll, my beautiful sister Pato came in and interrupted my imagination to give me this sad news, "Esther, I need to tell you something you should have known a while ago...Papa Noel son los padres" she said in a quiet voice.

The impact of this was huge, it felt like having a cold shower!! I was so upset that, with my arms crossed in front of my chest and a grumpy face, I was on a strike and stopped playing with any of my dolls - but my disappointment only lasted for a couple of hours.

It wouldn't be the last time my childish heart got broken by the adult world. In the same dreadful year I found out about Papa Noel, my parents started their separation process.

If you are a Spanish reader of my blog, you know the TVE series Cuentame como paso (Tell me how it happened) which started in 2001, when I was still living in Spain. If you are not, I tell you that it is a fantastic television series that reflects the life of a middle-class family, very similar to mine, during the late years of Francisco Franco and the beginning of the Spanish transition to democracy, from 1968- 1983.

That TV series has helped me to understand part of the Spanish history. I think Cuentame is both educative and an entertainment. Despite what my parents told me, I have learnt more in front of the television, watching chapter after chapter. Una imagen vale mas que mil palabras!

I was born in that period, the year after Franco died. Many people celebrated it - the death of Franco, not my birth, of course - but many others were in deep sorrow.  I was too little to be a faithful witness of that drastic event that altered radically the history of my country. 

My eldest sister lived the years of La Movida, when the strong conservative Spanish society dominant by the Catholic church and the rule of Franco the Generalisimo, was going through many wrecking changes.  For example, Spain had a terrible thing called permiso marital (husband's approval) which meant that a wife was prohibited from lots of economic activities, such as employment , and divorce, contraception and abortion- or even travel away from home! - but they were allowed to prostitution. 

Thank goodness it was abolished in 1975. And divorce was finally legalised in 1981.

In this context, my own family was about to suffer a dramatic change as well. I have flashes of memories when the situation between my parents got tense, but they are blurry. My older siblings recall with sadness more unpleasant moments at home than I do.

After my sister Maria was born, we became a familia numerosa of five children. My young mum had the sixth child, Laura, not long before my dad packed his suitcases and moved out. 

My dad was working for the national Spanish airlines, Iberia, when he still lived with us. He had to travel often, although I think that perhaps some of those flights were an escape, not only work.  I went  to one of those trips, to Buenos Aires, and loved the fact you could see the sun rise on the right window of the plane while the moon was still looking at us on the left side.

One afternoon I came home from school, a Catholic semi-private school run my nuns, and was in the kitchen having a bocata de chorizo de Pamplona that our nanny Sara prepared for our merienda. My mum was in her bedroom and just woke up from her siesta. She used to suffer from migraines or strong headaches - who could blame her - and called me to see her. I went in, the room was in the penumbra (gloom), and my mum resting with her back against the wall softly made of two pillows. We both smiled. She said with a broken voice - and a broken heart - and holding my cold fingers, something like this...
"Darling Esther, your dad is not in a long, long business trip as you have been believing for the last few weeks. He is not living with us, your brother and sisters, anymore. Don't worry, he will still see you, but in another house where he lives now". 

I started to have lots of migranas as well after this conversation.

My father met someone else and got married. Despite what happened between him and my mum, I leave it to the past to make justice and keep it in a pandora box. My dad, who died in 2005, was a very good father and I miss him everyday.

My mum worked hard for us and didn't have the time to meet anyone else, although sometimes I wish she did.

And the six of us had a happy childhood despite the difficulties, financial and emotionally, we faced after the divorce. We all finished 4-5 year careers - our studies were partly paid by scholarships - , got jobs and found love. My mum is a happy grandmother of 12 grandchildren and number 13 is about to arrive in October.

There is a lesson from everything and for me, the divorce of my parents reminds me most of my days that I should live content with what I have got, my lovely husband and three gorgeous children, or I do to fill up "the glass", and complaint less - although I still do -.

Life is too short, right?

Chicken meatballs with Risoni

My mother in law made these fantastic lemony chicken meatballs during our short visit in Melbourne this weekend. The recipe was given to her by Jane, Nick's sister, who got the recipe from a friend of hers and who knows how the chain continues. This is the magic of cooking, it connects people from many places!

• 4 slices torn sourdough
• 250ml milk
• 140ml oil
• 1 chopped onion
• 2 chopped garlic
• 1 rosemary sprig chopped
• 600g chicken mince
• 1 egg
• 130g parmesan, plus extra to serve
• 90g toasted pine nuts
• 2 handful parsley
• 5 tsp, plus 1 litre water
• 60g butter
• juice of 2 lemons, plus grated lemon rind
• 1 bay leaf
• 300g risoni

1. Soak bread in milk for 10 minutes. Squeeze to remove the milk.
2. Heat 60 ml oil. Add onion, garlic and rosemary. Cook until soft. Set aside to cool.
3. Mix the chicken mince and the bread. Add the onion mix, egg and parmesan. Mix throughly. Stir in pine nuts and parsley. Season and roll into balls.
4. Fry the balls in a frypan covered by a layer of oil until brown. Add juice, rind, water and bay leaf. Cook for 8-10 minutes.
5. Meanwhile, cook the risoni until al dente and stir through the meatballs. 
6. Serve with extra parmesan on top and garnish with parsley.

Sausage rolls for fussy kids. The "F" word

In the last few days I have been using quite often a word that starts with the letter "f". It is not a rude word, if that was what you thought. I give you a clue: it means the end of something or a separation from someone or from a place; sometimes it makes you sad.

Farewells.

I don't like them much. I never did in the past, but I am used to them now. I have moved countries six times since 2003 and this will be my seventh in mid-June. I know what to expect in the next few weeks and it is not always as easy as you might think. I am upset about closing another chapter of my life, an intensive one actually. But life continues and there is always something positive to look forward.

I mentioned in my post "Detachable me" that my skin has got more resistant to the pain every time I go through the process of packing and moving homes from one country to another. With each diplomatic posting the embassy provides us a house, with furniture that also belongs to the embassy, but we call it our "home" during the length of the posting (usually three years). We make sure it is our "home" and we decorate it with our personal effects (my cookbooks, Nick's favorite paintings, children's drawings…) as we were planning to live there for good. Otherwise, indifference and apathy would give us a "temporary" feeling and would not help us to get settled in that particular country - especially  our children, who move so often that they might get lost sometimes in what "home" really means for them.

And home is not going to be Manila anymore I said gently to them, well, to Aurelia really (Gab doesn't have the maturity to fully understand the situation yet ). It will be Canberra for a while, who knows for how long. We will arrive in the middle of winter! I am looking forward to packing in one of our five suitcases my warm feather grey coat that my mum gave me last Christmas in Spain. I know I will feel cozy underneath when I take the kids for a walk around the lake on a crisp but sunny morning in Canberra.

It is an awkward feeling to live your own farewell. The situation feels unreal, kafkaesque, like it is not happening to you. I have seen many of my good friends leave and I was left behind, trying to fill up the empty space with new friendships but not always succeed. Some friends are irreplaceable. I have been in their farewells, even asked them the typical questions such as how do you feel about living? will you miss Manila? what are you planning to do next? ah, what school is she going to? do you have already a house where to live?. And now that it is me who has to answer, it is my turn to be in the other side of the story, I find it challenging, and a bit upsetting. 

However, it is also exciting thinking about the next big, huge adventure ahead of us. A new door is about to be opened. I just hope Aurelia, Gabriel and Juanan cope well with the transition. The separation of their belongs and friends could give them anxiety and that's why we remind them everyday than Nick and I, papa and mama, will be with them always, no matter what happens.

I had my very first farewell lunch with some of my good friends yesterday. 

It was funny the way it began. We were meeting at 12 o'clock in a restaurant hidden in the 3rd floor of an office building close to my house. So I left home at 11.55 to be on time (I am always late and the baby is my excuse…for now). My hands smelt strongly of garlic from the marinating of the meatballs I prepared at 11.45 wearing high heel shoes and a new Zara blue and yellow dress that I bought for that special lunch. Not even the grandmother trick of rubbing parsley in my hands would take the smell off. Never mind, let's have fun. And I closed the door of motherhood behind me.

I got to the restaurant and found the table with the "reservation" name on top. But it was empty. Humm…it is strange. Time passed by and the only people next to my table were business men having lunch but none of my friends. I had that uncomfortable smile on my face as I was on my own in my farewell lunch. Where the bloody hell are they? I thought, maybe this lunch was a joke. Meanwhile, an scene from Sex and the City television series crossed my mind, when Carrie went to a restaurant to celebrate her 35th birthday dinner with her friends but they didn't turn up. In the end, she was left totally alone and went back home, crying.

Thank goodness my friends turned up…on time, actually. It was 12.30 the lunch not 12 noon.  I was so excited about my first farewell (and my first lunch out without kids!) when I left home that I didn't pay attention to the text of my friend confirming the lunch...and to change the booking for half and hour later than the previous arrangement.

We laughed about my mistake over a beautiful meal (most of us had a bento tray of poached salmon with fried rice) surrounded by the aroma from a big bunch of white and pink lilies that my friends gave me and I placed behind my chair to hide the garlic smell of my hands. They also bought me a fantastic cookbook La cocina Latina, which is like the "bible" for the Latin american kitchen. 

One of my friends asked me what are the things you will remember from the Philippines, besides of having had two babies here?  Well, it took me a while to respond.  Honestly, I could have done more or travelled more or enjoyed more with nights out or weekends away, but I didn't because of my personal circumstances. So I thought about the answer and I told her with teary eyes that I will take with me the memories I have shared with this great group of very good friends.

I don't have physically more time here with them, but I  know we will keep in touch and who knows, maybe our paths will cross again. I read recently that "A true friendship is not about being inseparable; it is about being separated but nothing changes"

Thank you. I enjoyed my farewell lunch as much as the three years we spent together.

PS: by the way, I also take with me a nice rock on my finger that Nick bought me in 2012 for our tenth wedding anniversary!

Healthy sausage rolls for fussy kids

This is one of the best recipes I came up with: I mix grated carrot and zucchini with the meat. Simple but delicious. The sausage rolls are also nice served with tomato chutney and a green salad.

Start the recipe the day before or at least 5 hours ahead for a more flavour mixture.

Makes  a big batch, 20 medium size rolls (2 per person)

Mixture:

• 500g ground beef (if you choose lean, the sausage will be a bit dry)
• 250g ground pork
• 1 carrot, finely grated
• 1 small zucchini, grated and squeezed the liquid
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 3 garlic cloves, grated or crushed
• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 tablespoon of chopped parsley
• 1/4 cup homemade breadcrumbs, soaked in milk and squeezed (or substitute for cooked rice)
• 1 teaspoon of soy sauce
• 1/4 teaspoon of each sweet paprika, white pepper and mustard powder. 
• salt and fresh ground black pepper

Rolls:

• puff pastry sheets
• To brush the rolls, egg wash: 1 egg yolk beaten with 1 tablespoon of milk

1. For the meat mixture, using a medium size bowl, mix all the ingredients using your wet hands until they are evenly mixed and cover tightly with a plastic wrap. Keep it in the fridge.
2. When ready to cook (calculate 1 hour or preparation time), preheat oven to 180C. Grease two baking trays.
3. Cut each sheet of pastry in half. Lay a piece of the pastry out on a clean table and use a 1/2 cup measure to scoop a portion of the sausage mixture and place it on top of the pastry. Use your hands to form it into a long sausage that goes along the centre of the pastry, keeping the same thickness (I follow this method when I make gnoquis or croquetas).
4. The tricky part is to roll the pastry over the sausage and then fold up the bottom of the pastry to meet it; it should overlap. Carefully turn the long sausage roll over so the join is underneath (and it doesn't open when it puffs in the oven). Repeat with the remaining pieces of pastry until the meat mixture is finished.
5. Cut each long roll into equal pieces.
6. Place the sausage rolls on baking trays, leaving a little space between them. Brush the top with the egg wash.
7. Put the trays in the oven and bake until the pastry is golden and flaky (about 25 minutes).
8. When they are cooked, let them cool a bit and serve them with tomato sauce and a green salad (you can also cooked them partially, cool them and keep them in the freezer)

Rigatoni with stewed lamb shanks and mushrooms. "Sorry, I don't understand you"

How many times did I hear it? how many times did I say it? A lot, too many to count them.

This was back in 2003, when I moved to Australia as a new bride, as a new immigrant with a very poor English and a very strong Spanish accent.

I have never been a girl with a refined ear for music or languages. Nope, definitely not. Both subjects were my nightmares during my school years in Madrid. Funnily enough I ended being married to a foreigner, who luckily enough, spoke beautiful Spanish and came from a talented family in music.

I was saying that 11 years ago I left Spain and started my adventure with my new Aussie husband who softly reminded me the challenges of moving to another country, Down Under, and facing the English language barrier.

The English what??, I asked him. I had no idea what he was talking about. But soon enough I found out and in a not very easy way... Is there any other? I don't think so. When you hit the language wall there is not a gentle way to go through it. In my opinion, it is a drastic situation where you fight for being "one of them" - an English speaker, in my case- or not.

In April of 2003 I got a job as a waitress in a Spanish restaurant called Legends, in Canberra, in the first 15 minutes of introducing myself to the owner. This job, which was fun to meet lots of interesting people including my very good kiwi friend, Tina, whose friendship lasts until now, was stressful. I constantly made mistakes in taking food orders from the clients to the chef and the other way around, I misunderstood their meals and created considerable problems to the owners who forgave me as I was their daughter. But it didn't feel right to me so I resigned. Sorry, I said, it is my bad English. I promise to come back when I am "an expert" in English (and less clumsy!). 

I never did. I was too embarrassed.

So I decided to fix the problem. I joined the 6 months English course for new immigrants in the Canberra Institute of Technology. I got my two certificates with  a "superior" mark stamped. It wasn't enough though, I still didn't understand when people talked to me very fast. I still felt lonely and frustrated when Nick and I went to dinner parties and I couldn't say anything interesting during the meal -I am sure they thought Nick married to a very quiet boring Spanish girl- while everybody was having a good time. Nick squeezed my hand from time to time to let me know he was there with me, emotionally. It was a relief.

I taught Spanish to private students -some are also still my friends - using my certificate as a teacher of the International House of Barcelona and my experience in Spain during the last few months before I left for good. These private classes were the best escape from my resentment with this country called Australia. It was also a big help to the family income as we were not diplomats while we didn't have a posting. The economic situation was tight -and unexpected for me-.

So many times I was tempted to pack my suitcase to fly back to my country, to my culture. At least they would understand me. I would be myself again. I would be able to buy yogurt without being sent to the "jogging" section in the supermarket because the sales person didn't understand what I was looking for.

Nick kept telling me to have patience and one day you will wake up and understand the language. He was talking from his experience in Spain. I had to believe in him. And in myself, but I felt terribly lost. I had homesickness and zero self stem.

I don't like to admit when Nick is right, but he was. One day I started to read The Australian newspaper and understood more than 5 words in a row. The next day, I highlighted less and comprehended more. I was feeling happy and my confidence in my new adventure grew in a positive way.

The rest is history.

Many years have passed by and now I am writing a blog in English, for myself, with spelling mistakes. Sometimes I am aware of them, but I don't correct them.

They give my blog a personal touch!




Recently back from holidays in Australia I was feeling a bit homesick and craved a stew. It gives me comfort. I went to the shops and came across with some beautiful fresh Aussie lamb shanks (I don't recommend them if you are on a diet…they are so rich!). A luxury to welcome us to Manila.

 I totally made up this dish and I proudly admit that it was absolutely delicious. Here are some advices: 

• You need some crusty bread to soak up the sauce left on the plate after eating the rigatoni. 
• Like any stew, it tastes better the day after. Like any rich stew, it also tastes better with a glass of wine.
• If you live in the Tropics, set the aircon in 16 degrees, like we did and, with a bit of imagination, you will feel like it is Autumn outside!... although, this stew made us sweat anyway.

Rigatoni with lamb shanks and mushrooms

Start this recipe the day before. Serves 4-6

• Marinate: 
• extra-virgin olive oil
• fresh rosemary leaves 
• 2 lamb shanks
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 2 garlic cloves, crushed
• 180 g button mushrooms, finely sliced
• fresh thyme leaves
• 1/2 cup red wine
• 2 cups of roasted tomato sauce (look at my post of "cheesy-veggy travel soup)
• 2 cups chicken stock
• Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper
• 500g rigatoni
• Red chilli pepper
• parsley
• Parmesan cheese, grated

Meat sauce:

1. At least 2  hours ahead you start this stew, marinate the lamb shanks in a plastic bag with the extra virgin olive oil and the rosemary leaves and sea salt. 
2. If you haven't made the tomato sauce in advance (I always have some in 1 cup plastic bags in the freezer), this is the time. Otherwise, skip this step.
3. When you are ready to cook, remove the lamb shanks from the fridge at least 30 minutes prior. Leave them at room temperature, still in the bag.
4. Heat a heavy cast iron pot to medium high heat, add the butter and fry the crushed garlic cloves for 1 minute. Add the mushrooms and stir until brown and soft. Season with salt, pepper and sprinkle some thyme leaves. Set it aside on a plate.
5. Add a lug of olive oil and fry the onion until soft. Set it aside. 
6. With the same heat, add a lug of oil and when it is pipping hot, carefully place the lamb shanks and fry them until brown on all its sides. It will take 5-7 minutes. 
7. In the same pot, with the brownish liquid left from the meat (that will give the stew a fantastic flavour), add the red wine. Scrape the bottom of the pan with a spoon to loosen any cooked-on residue. When the wine has evaporated the alcohol for a moment or two, add the chicken stock, the mushrooms, the onion and the 2 cups of tomato sauce. Season with salt and pepper. When it starts bubbling, turn the heat down to the lowest setting and put the lid on the pan.
8. Cook the stew for a minimum of 2 hours total, but longer if necessary for the meat to come off easily out of the bone.
9. Let it cool and refrigerate it tightly covered in a container. Bring to room temperature before reheating it gently.

1. Bring 3l of salted water to boil.
2. Add the pasta and stir. Keep the water boiling and stir occasionally until very al dente, 10 minutes. The meat sauce will finish off cooking the pasta.Besides, in my opinion, the dish tastes better and the pasta will be more digestible than if it is cooked too soft.
3. Reserve 1 cup of cooking liquid and drain the pasta. This water will bind the sauce with the pasta because the layer of starch and it will also help the taste.
4. Add the cooked pasta to the pot of the meat sauce and cook for 1 minute, at low heat, for a fuller, more intense flavour.
5. Serve with good grated parmesan and sprinkle the red pepper chilli and the parsley. The chilli helps to reduce the richness of the stew, it is not only for the flavour. 

Buen provecho!

Gazpacho, pollo al ajillo with roast potatoes. St. Lukes is not the Philippines

I am writing from the waiting room of St. Lukes hospital while my 8 months baby, Juanan, is going under surgery. It is not a main operation but still nervous breaking. I don't like the idea of a general anesthesy and without me next to him.

I spent last night at the hospital. Obviously, I didn't have much sleep although I tried. My subconscious kept me totally awake. I checked on Juanan every 10 minutes, "is he breathing well? is he cold? is he hungry?". All those questions are typical of a first time mother with her newborn baby. This is my third child but the first time he goes under surgery.

During my long night I had plenty of time to think. I wanted to calm my mind with something else than the upcoming operation. I thought of this hospital, of the doctors and nurses I have met, the medical service I have received for the past 2 and a half years, and the fact that I will leave the Philippines in three months feeling that St. Lukes has been my second house since we moved here. Why?

Well, I came here 7 months pregnant of my second child, Gabriel. I gave birth in this hospital and 11 months later I was pregnant again of Juanan. I spent the whole pregnancy visiting the ob-gy and following the check ups because I had a high risk of miscarriage. I was hospitalised a couple of times but thank God Juanan was born relatively healthy and came home -although after being in intensive care for two weeks-. He was born with a medical condition on his foot that required a weekly visit to the hospital since he was 3 weeks old- he is now 8 months old- and a final surgery which is taking place at the moment.

On top of my pregnancies and deliveries, and Juanan's regular changing of cast, my children got sick often-  the pollution and other negative side effects of living in Manila contributed as well-.

A hospital is not the best place to spend your almost 3 years posting in Manila, except the short holidays we had in Boracay, Dumaguete and Bohol.  However, we have been very lucky having a new hospital, St. Lukes. It is so good that you might think it is a small city instead: it has a Starbucks cafe - which I am not very fond of but never mind-, supermarket, restaurants…and a hotel. The rooms are incredible, by the way, and the food is acceptable. They even give you the option to choose a daily menu.

It is true we, diplomats, enjoy a privilege position within the medical service so it is easy to talk. However, I know the Filipinos are good natured people; easy and amicable. Some countries treat the patient like another number more than a person. This does NOT happen in the Philippines. The nurses, the doctors I have met -ob-gy, the paediatrician, and the orthopaedist- are always very friendly with a warm wide open face- maybe because I am a foreigner? perhaps, but their kindness is much appreciated  

I am approaching my end in these Happy Islands and I should be fair when people ask me whether I have enjoyed the Philippines. I always say : "I could have had a great time  but St. Lukes hospital means "Philippines" for me.  I am sure there are beautiful places here that I will never know unless I come back in the future again"

No, St. Lukes is not the Philippines but I will miss it, believe it or not. I will miss my small routine of every week: crossing the main entrance and greet the guards who kindly help me with the door or pusher; going to starbucks before I go up to the clinic of the 3rd floor and the girls say :" hello ma'am Esther, hello baby!... a decaff latter non fat milk with honey!"-.  I will miss my paediatrician's secretary, Nela, who always hugs and kisses my children and laughs at my bad jokes…

You cannot blame a place for the difficulties you might have gone through your time in there. I don't blame anyone, life is like that, not always rose colour. I will always remember the Philippines as a country where I had two beautiful children; a country that looked after my whole family with such a generosity that I owe them my affection no matter my circumstances. 

Thanks, Filipinos, for being just as you are. The world is a better place, even in a hospital.

PS: By the time I finished writing this post, Nick and Aurelia came to the hospital. One hour later, the  doctor told us the surgery went very well and Juanan was a brave boy. What a relieve to go home again with an uncomplicated day after all.

Gazpacho andaluz, my dad's way

My dad used to say that the gazpacho should look like  la mar en calma- the sea in calm. Fishermen call the sea in feminine because it is the only "female" thing they see during the long hard weeks they spend faenando- fishing-.

This cold tomato soup is a basic meal in summer in Spain either lunch or dinner accompanied by jam on serrano or hard boiled egg, It marriages perfect with a tortilla de patatas.

Start a few hours ahead to let it sit in the fridge

• 1 kg of ripe pear tomatoes, pealed and seeded (unless you have a "passapures")
• 1 cucumber, seeded.
• 1 garlic clove, crushed
• 1 green capsicum- optional
• 1 hard egg yolk- optional
• A piece of old bread soaked in water. 
• 1/2 cup of cold water
• 1/4 cup good quality red wine vinegar
• sea salt
• 1 cup of olive oil

Blend all the ingredients, including the hard egg yolk if you want to make the gazpacho creamy and smooth-. Add the salt and vinegarWith the motor running, like you would do with a mayonnaise, pour slowly the olive oil until the soup has a mirror effect.

The practice will make you wise, so find the right balance of texture and dressing.

Serve cold- these terracotta pots are ideal because you can keep them in the fridge before serving the cold soup.

Pollo al ajillo, my grandma's way 

It is so simple but so delicious that it makes a perfect dinner party candidate meal. Serves 3-4 people.

• 4 garlic heads, two cut in half and the other two in individual cloves, unpeeled (you could end having 20!)
• 1 leek, white part only, thinly sliced
• 1 big whole free-range chicken
• 1 cup of chicken stock- youi might need another extra cup if it is too dry for your taste
• 1 cup of dry white wine
• parsley to garnish
• sea salt and pepper

1. First, clean the chicken inside and outside. Pat dry and chop it in large pieces, skin on. Season with salt and keep it in the fridge for one hour. Take it outside at room temperature when you are ready to cook.
2. In a hot heavy pot, with a medium high temperature, add a slug of olive oil. When it starts the smoking point, fry the chicken, two or three pieces at the time until brown. Set it aside on a plate.
3. Add a bit of oil and fry the garlic heads the leek slices. Cook for 1 or 2 minutes.
4. Add the chicken pieces, the garlic heads and leeks, and all the cloves. Season with salt and pepper. Add the wine and wait for 1 minute until the alcohol evaporates. Add the stock. Cover with a lid and cook for 45 minutes, checking from time to time there is liquid in the pot. 
5. Garnish with parsley. Serve immediately with roast potatoes, green beans and some chopped carrots.

Roast potatoes, my own way

It has taken me many failures of roasting potatoes in my kitchen. Don't know why, I just couldn't make them crispy and nicely salty. Finally, I have mastered them this week. The trick is to use a big tray and keep the potatoes with lots of space in between so the heat can circulate and make them crispy, bot soggy.

• 10 small potatoes, peeled and keep them in cold salty water until ready to use.
• extra virgin olive oil
• Sea salt and fresh ground pepper.
• Chopped rosemary or thyme

1. Preheat oven 200C.
2. Drain the water of the bowl with the potatoes. Pat dry them well so they can absorb the oil. 
3. With your hands, rub the potatoes with some extra virgin olive oil enough to cover them but not too much or they will boil in the tray.
4. Add a generous amount of sea salt and rosemary.
5. Place them in a big tray and in the hot oven, turn them very 15 minutes. Cook for 40 minutes or until soft inside- if you need to save time, parboil the potatoes before putting them in the oven.
6. Serve them hot.

I always serve a main dish with some cooked and raw vegetables in two different bowls. You will notice people, and I mean mainly children, will eat more vegetables from the bowls than if they are served individual plates. I learnt this idea from my work for Stephanie Alexander's program. It works!

Beef tagine. "Detachable me."

I have already started to clean up the clutter of our house. It is unbelievable the amount of unnecessary clothes, books, toys, papers and other things you accumulate in almost three years- of course, I don't include in that litter my cookbooks and my useful kitchen gadgets, they are most needed-.

My mind is also beginning to fly out of Manila and the people I have met. In the middle of June we will go back to Canberra and I am looking forward to it.

While I was wrapping with plastic paper  the cookbooks -small habit that my mum, a librarian for 40 years, taught me to protect and preserve books- I meditated and thought of the upcoming move. My feelings started to get agitated and lots of memories emerged at unison.

I realized that this will be my 7th uplift since I left Spain eleven years ago. 

Back in time, I remember it was very hard to detach myself from my family, friends and a country that saw me to grow for 25 years. The truth is that I cried a lot that the day I was leaving, 2nd of March of 2003; so much that my eyes were swollen and I had to use two slices of cold cucumber to heal them during our flight from Madrid to Colombo- we were going to visit a couple of friends posted in Sri Lanka before our final destination, Canberra-.

The more I move around the world the easier it gets for me to say good bye and to loose the ties with the place, the culture and the people I have met. It doesn't mean that I am not warm enough or don't feel sad when I leave. I am sorry that everything has an end but the good memories will go with me wherever I go.

I also thought this morning that I have learnt to suffer less with each new posting, I am more detachable.  My skin is a bit thicker- in a positive sense- than when I was 25 which has helped me to heal the wound caused by the separation from family and friends. 

However,  I still have a soft heart underneath that appearance of being a strong woman. Tears always run through my face when I hug and kiss good bye -I will miss lots of people from Manila-. I can't control this weakness of crying even if I wanted!. But I don't want to stop it and I allow to wet my face because it is the way I am.

I am now slowly moving to the next adventure. Packing up the house, looking for schools, organising our life in another place…all adds stress and a hussle but no one said it is easy, even worse if you have children, three in our case. I wonder if they will be happy and how long it will take them to adapt themselves to the new place; or if they will make friends quickly..I don't know, this is the hardest part for me as a mum and it gives me a bit of anxiety like it would to you if you were in my shoes.

Saying bye means I close one door and I open another. It is sad but at the same time it is utterly exciting for people like Nick and I who have "ants in our pants" and love to experience new cultures and discover what the world can offer: an AMAZING adventure if you are willing to sacrifice some things, like I did, and prepare yourself for a peculiar but extraordinary life.

My family is like a suitcase: we all fit in there because we are together and will always be- as I gently said to my children a couple of days ago when we told them we are about to leave Manila- and it moves around the world. We open it and close it until we say it is time to stop.

And so far it is time to board.

This is a star dish for a fancy dinner party with a Moroccan atmosphere. It is from Neil Perry (yes, I am using his book a lot!) and you can make the beef in a heavy pot instead of a traditional tagine dish. 

Mine was broken -as you can see on the top of the tagine-  in my last uplift, coming from Canberra to Manila. I was sad when I took it out of the box and unwrapped it because I can't use it again…but I detached myself from it and kept it in my kitchen. 

Like the memories of each posting.

Beef tagine

• 800g beef filet, cut into 2 cm dice
• extra virgin olive oil
• 1 red onion, cut into 6 pieces
• 2 carrots, cut into long pieces
• 1 sweet potato, peeled and cut into 4cm pieces
• 12 green beans
• 60 g whole blanched almonds
• sea salt
• 2 tbsp honey
• juice of one lemon
• 8 fresh dates, pitted
• 70 g black olives, pitted
• 1/4 preserve lemon, pith removed and zest finely chopped
• 2 tbsp cilantro leaves
• 2 tbsp Italian parsley
• steamed couscous, to serve
• CHERMULA: place all these ingredients in a food processor except the oil and lemon juice. Process for 20 seconds, then pour in the oil to form a thick paste. Stri through the lemon juice. Set aside 1 cup for the tagine:
• 1 red onion and 4 garlic cloves chopped
• 1 bunch of cilantro and one bunch of parsley, chopped
• 1 tsp sea salt, 
• 1 tbsp ground cumin, ground coriander, ground turmeric
• 1 1/2 ground chilli powder
• 2 tsp sweet paprika
• 1 1/2 ras el hanout
• 185 ml extra virgin olive oil
• juice of 1 lemon

1. Combine 2 tablespoons of the chermoula with the beef and set aside for 1 hour.
2. In a pot or tagine heat the oil and the rest of the chermoul over medium heat. Add the onion, carrot, sweet potato, beans, almonds and a bit of salt and sauté for 2 minutes. Add enough water to half cover the vegetables, the add the honey and lemon juice and cover. Reduce the heat to a very gentle simmer and cook for about 30 minutes.
3. Remove the lid and turn the ingredients carefully. Add the dates and olives. Cover the pan again and cook for 30 minutes.
4. Heat a frying pan over a high heat until hot and add a little oil. When smoking, add the beef to sauté to colour.
5. Spoon the beef into the tagine and mix well. Sprinkle some preserved lemon zest and herbs. Serve with couscous.

Preserved lemons

1. Boil whole lemons in a very salty water for 20 minutes.  Remove and when cool, quarter the lemons, discard the pulp and pith and chop the zest.
2. Store the zest in a jar, covered with a layer of oil

Mint tea

It is my favourite way to finish and digest a nice meal. Just put some fresh mint leaves and a bag of green tea or peppermint tea in a pot and add enough boiling water to cover. Rest for 5-10 minutes and add 1 tablespoon of sugar.