Soft nougat ice cream. Bullfighting, culture or murder

Nick and I were invited to the conference of the bullfighter, or maestro as he was called, Enrique Ponce in the Club Nacional. He was in Lima for the Peruvian bullfighting fair called Señor de los Milagros which goes through October and ends on the 23rd of November.

The conference was programmed to start at 7.30pm followed by a formal dinner. Since we are more anglo than Spanish - in terms of punctuality - we arrived on time at the Club Nacional, a prestigious club created in 1855 by the 24 amigos group of the Partido Civil during the Republica Aristocratica. Nowadays, it gathers the most aristocratic families of Peru, but only men are allowed. Many think it is lo mas de lo mas - the best of the best.

You notice its respected reputation as soon as you step inside. There is an elegant atmosphere all around. It was in gloomy when I went last Friday night but I could still appreciate the golden furniture and the paintings from the 19th century, the magnificent marble stairs, the crystal chandelles and the implecable staff working there, men, of course. 

I must say I felt a bit uncomfortable, maybe because I didn't belong to the Peruvian elite or perhaps because I was a woman in a men's world. I couldn't guess why until I remembered that a few hours ago I visited a Peruvian guy in Chorrillos, a suburb of Lima. Diego created a social project called Alto Peru to teach street children from one of the most troubled area of Lima to surf, paint and practice muay-thai. Through those activities the kids were slowly integrated in the academic part of the project and then, happily in the society. 

I went in the morning to Alto Peru and in the evening, there I was, in "the club", surrounded by all that expensive glamour...a sad feeling was making my party mood change for moments. I had the image of an unbalanced world in my head. I had a sip of the pisco sour that a uniformed waiter placed in front of me without asking.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the flashes from the cameras of anxious journalists, trying to get the best picture of the handsome bullfighter Enrique Ponce. People were excited, agitated, heads were moving towards the entrance and the top of the stairs. Ponce had arrived, one hour late. Finally!, I thought, I am starving. A thin men was shaking hands, shy but smiling and greeting everybody. He is such a charming torero, the Spanish woman sat next to me whispered and I agreed, but being famous also helps not only a pretty face, I replied.

I wanted to hear Ponce's opinion about the controversial of the nature of bullfighting. Is it culture, murder or torture, as some say?

The conference began with a couple of introductions by recognised figures in the tauromaquia or bullfighting world about the successful trajectory of Enrique Ponce and his twenty five years of being a torero. He had many "ears and tails" cut in important bullfighting plazas, and six  (including the one of last Sunday) Escapularios de Oro del Señor de los Milagros in Lima - Golden Scapular given as an award to the best bullfighter of the year.

And then, a video about his life on the screen projector. In my opinion, it went too long, especially because it was 9.30pm and Ponce hadn't opened his mouth yet. When he finally did at 9.45, it was worth it. 

Ponce defended eloquently that the bullfighting was part of a country's culture. I am not worried about the people making noise outside the plaza or through social media; I am worried about the politicians who can "kill" that part of the culture. If the politicians ended the bullfighting, they were also extinguishing the Lidia bulls. Those bulls live like "kings" before being taken to the plaza.

El toreo is the art of playing with life and death and the only thing that it separates them from each other is a simple piece of cloth...and mutual respect. You never know what to expect in the spectacle. It is simple la leche! (literally, milk! which means is very good)

A woman like me, daughter of an Andalucian man, who was born loving bullfighting in his blood, and the wife of an Australian man who learnt to love bullfighting, I never liked it but I wasn't against either. I eat meat and I believe the animals that end being part of my bolognese haven't been patted nicely before being slaughtered. I should go one day to a matadero or slaughterhouse to see the cruel reality and stop being hypocrite with the meat - but then I would become a vegetarian, I think.

Wether you think it is culture, murder or torture, it is a personal question.

Somehow I respect bullfighting as part of my Spanish inheritance but I know that I have changed since I left Spain and live as an expat.

I just like bullfighting because I miss it. 

Photo de Ponce from last Sunday afternoon in Acho. I downloaded from Ojo digital newspaper

Yesterday we hosted a luncheon at the residence for the Woodside group, an Australian company. This is the menu I created:

 Homemade sourdough bread rolls. They were as hard as a stone! Too long in the oven...A disaster about which I laughed when the guests were leaving. Better to recognise the mistakes in public because everybody laughs too!

 My dad's gazpacho with reserve jamon. It was excellent!

The panfried tilapia fish with sauté spinach and zucchini from my garden, over romesco sauce. Delicious.

 My homemade soft nougat ice cream with fresh figs and mint from the garden. This ice cream is a perfect dessert for a Spanish Christmas time, when turron is eaten as sweet all over Spain. 

This recipe is from the cookbook "Barrafina"

• 500ml full-fat milk
• 500ml single cream
• 150g soft turron (nougat is made with almonds, honey and eggs and it comes from Alicante)
• 6 free range egg yolks
• 130g caster sugar

1. Put the milk, cream and turron in a bowl and covered for two hours or overnight in the fridge.
2. Put the egg yolks and sugar into a large bowl and whisk together until pale and creamy.
3. Gently heat the milk mixture in a medium pan until is hot, then whisk it into the eggs. Leave to cool completely, then churn in an ice cream maker until it looks like this:
   
4. Note: if you don't have the gadget, just put the mixture into a plastic container in the freezer and stir every 15 minutes, until the ice cream is full frozen. Perhaps it won't have the same creamy consistency, but it will be good to eat, especially if it is Christmas time!

Apricot and chocolate cake. Not precisely a Halloween party

Halloween is here again. 

It feels like yesterday when my kids and I were doing "trick and treat" in Manila, all dressed up, and sweating like chickens, in synthetic Halloween costumes. We lived the experience with lots of enthusiasm, although by the third week of October, after so many parties, we were over it. And then, Christmas sales started - although some shops already displayed Santa Klaus and Christmas trees in September.

To our large repertory of  Spanish and Australian traditions, the McCaffrey Tolmos family endorses new costumes from the countries where we live. Whether we believe in them or not, we learn to respect them by being actively part of them.

Lima celebrates Halloween, but it is nothing compared to Manila. It could pass without being noticed, really, except for some street decorations and a couple of invitations we have received to children's parties. This year, Aurelia wanted to be Dracula and Gabriel, Superman. Juanan was still happy with his biberon or baby drinking bottle, so I saved money with him. 

At home, we decided to do something new. Instead of having a party we cut, emptied and shaped three "American" pumpkins, as they are called here. And when I say "we", I mean Samuel and Hugo, wonderful handyman who work at the residence. The kids lasted two minutes and got bored. 

By the third morning, a black layer of disgusting mould covered the inside base of the pumpkins. Three disappointed people were having breakfast that morning, Aurelia, Gabriel and me -  my plans of making a delicious soup with them were ruined.

Two days ago, the same day my kids and I enjoyed our first Halloween party in Lima, around 150 Australian and Peruvian business men and women from the Australia Peru Chamber of Commerce were invited to my house, for a different type of party, and not precisely wearing costumes of witches and skeletors. 

It was a "Welcoming cocktail in honour of the new Australian Ambassador in Peru" and we were hosting it at the residence. It was our first official event of many to come during this posting.

When Aurelia came back from school that afternoon, she saw a big black tent covering most of the garden. She was very animated because she believed it was an outdoor entertainment carp for a Halloween party. The black colour confused her a bit.

When the evening started, around 6.45 pm, Nick quickly went downstairs to greet the first guests, who didn't know he just finished reading the book Room on the broom, by Julia Donaldson, to our three year old son Gabriel. As I came into Gab's room, holding Juanan in my arms, only his soft grey elephant was resting on his pillow. Oh, no! He went to the cocktail party! I said loudly and with concern. I rushed downstairs, jumping the stairs from two in two. Juanan had a great time bouncing in my arms and giggled all the way to the reception area.

For the first five minutes of the event, and not longer than that, Nick had to shake hands with guests while a little monkey, Gabriel, was grabbing one of his legs, and a fairy princess next to him, Aurelia, who decided to wear a sparkling blue dress all fancy for the special occasion to which she was not invited. Not far, I was in my jeans with baby Juanan, drinking his milk bottle.

It was a relaxed scene from the new Australian Ambassador and his young  family. As good as it gets, but we disappeared fast. I had to grab the children to their bedrooms before any possible meltdown - it wouldn't be fun for anybody, I assure you. They kept calling papa! papa! from the stairs. It was all confusing for them. So I decided it was better to show them a bit of the event from upstairs, instead of useless explanations.

We went to terrace of Aurelia's room, the four of us. With their faces between the metal bars, they spied, with two little eyes...women with colourful make up in high heels and beautiful dresses, men in dark suits and matching ties; people chatting and smiling; business cards being swapped; glasses of wine being filled up; finger food on the table. The kids also listened some of the music and their dad talking on the microphone. He was giving a speech.

Who is all this people, mum? why is papa talking? Aurelia and Gab interrogated me.
They are here because it is part of papa's work, I simplified.

They went to sleep later than usual as they continued coming to my room to play the game "I spy", expecting that those funny looking papas and mamas went home.

Aurelia and Gab didn't understand what their father was doing that night, for the same reason they don't see why we move countries and schools, but this is part of the diplomatic life.

And who knows, maybe one day in the future, Aurelia, Gabriel or Juanan will be the Nick they saw that night.

Dried apricot, almonds and chocolate moist cake

This cake was based on Annie Bell's "chocolate and apricot cake" but I made a few adjustments using almond meal and wholemeal and quinoa flour mixed together. Otherwise, you can substitute this mixture for 200g of almond flour. I baked it in a square cake tin and served it as brownies, but it is ten times healthier and lighter, unless you want to decorate it with chocolate ganache.

• 225g dried apricots
• 7cm cinnamon stick
• finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
• 6 medium eggs
• 100g wholemeal flour plus two tablespoons of quinoa flour
• 100g almond meal (we grounded whole almonds in the food processor)
• 25g cocoa powder, sifted (I used unsweetened organic cacao, absolutely delicious in Peru)
• 200g brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon baking powder

1. Place the apricots, cinnamon stick, lemon zest and juice and 200ml water in a small saucepan. Bring to boil and then simmer over a low heat for about 20 minutes or until they have absorbed all the liquid. remove the cinnamon stick and puree the apricots in a food processor. Transfer the puree to a bowl and leave to cool.
2. Preheat the oven to 190C.
3. Whisk the eggs in a large bowl, and then fold in the ground almonds, cocoa, sugar, baking powder and apricot puree.
4. Transfer the mixture to the prepared buttered tin and smooth the surface. Bake for 50 minutes

Quinoa cookies. Lima? It feels right

We were having ice cream for breakfast and toast for dinner. During our first week in the land of the Incas - we arrived on the 16th of September - the days went strangely fast and unrealistic. We were on an imaginary roller-coaster.  I could blame the painful jet lag and the fact that we felt like foreigners in a new country - although having a familiar language, Spanish, helped a lot.

I love the first few days of any posting - Peru would be the fifth in our list, by the way. When I wake up in our new house, the very first day,  I am floating in a big bubble suspended in the air. My head spins at an unusual speed, like a washing machine, trying to coordinate what I eat, do, feel or say. I feel...I don't know, a bit tipsy without alcohol, emotionally and mentally. 

It was 5.10 am, Tuesday16th of September. Nick woke up earlier than me and went for a walk in Barranco, our new neighbourhood. I was preparing my coffee, stronger than ever to fight the headache I had for the lack of sleep - the baby was partying from 11pm until 3am. It is quite fancy and very pretty, Nick said happily from the clean yellow sofa underneath the big windows that faced the sea. His eyes got lost staring at the surfers below. Then, he asked me excited so, what do you think? I smiled back and replied  Lima? It feels right.

The beginning of a posting gives you an initial pleasure of excitement for the new adventure but also an uncomfortable sensation of being unsettled, disorientated because you don't know anyone or anything. Everything is totally new, and you are not on holidays. This is it, it is your new life, the life you were talking about for two years when you were in another posting, in Philippines.

As the days pass by, the champagne little bubbles pop in your head and the reality becomes more real. Slowly, things start making sense. Soon you meet people with useful advice about where to buy good bread and meat, or to have a nice cup of coffee. Everybody helps you and offers their support for the sake of understanding that one day they had been in your shoes - or they will and would like someone to help them too.

Two weeks after that conversation I had with Nick I am grateful this beautiful country and its people opened the doors to us with a warm welcome heart.  Can't wait to discover all the things it offers, specially the gastronomy which is "emerging as a new global culinary epicentre with a mind- blowing produce" (Conde Nast Traveler article 23 September) - for example 3,000 varieties of potatoes!

From the plane, Lima was more a desert - it is a desert, actually - than a real city but now I see it with different eyes. It has a nice mix of the bohemia part of Buenos Aires and the  Madrid Antiguo. If I make some comparison to Manila, which was our most recent posting, Lima doesn't seem too crowded. It has less tall constructions, and definitely better traffic, despite the warnings we received before coming here. I  remember Nick and I banned Friday nights out in Manila because of the terrible traffic which created lot of frustration and spoilt our party mood. 

The air is fresh and cool, and the breeze from the cold Pacific Ocean cleans our lungs like a vaporiser. The sound of the waves at night helps the kids, and us, to sleep deeply so profoundly that I really have to make an effort to get out of bed in the mornings for my daily run around the cliff tops, or malecon as it is called here.

If you are lucky, the sun comes out! A local told me during my first grocery shopping in Wong supermarket in Miraflores, a fancy suburb of Lima. The garua o calabobos - a light rain - is usual but does not appear everyday, all day. Spring in Peru started last 23rd of September and the weather is getting better but cool enough to wear a warm jacket. I love it. I just spent three years in the hot sticky Philippines so I am enjoying every single drop of that light water.

My eldest daughter Aurelia is amazingly brave, made new friends in a new local school. I had not doubted Aurelia would do it well but I was surprised she did it in a remarkable short time: two weeks. She is setting an example for her two little brothers who look up to her sister as their model to follow. 

Gabriel and Juanan go together to a sweet nursery place or nido, similar to the one Gab used to go in Manila. I am pleased, and lucky, to have found the same "Filipino" style of teachers, warm, happy and caring, for my two boys. 

And me...I am less anxious. I am able to direct my life, and my family's, in the right direction. I am learning to let things fall naturally into their proper place.

 I know from experience that they will because Lima feels right.

My family has now quinoa - well known as a "super food" as it is the only grain with the 9 essential amino acids - for breakfast in the form of porridge, for lunch in a stew (cooked like rice) and for merienda,  in sweets like biscuits or cakes - it comes in flour, flakes or grains, and there are a few varieties.  

Quinoa biscuits

This is my adapted version of Galloway's lemon Anzac biscuits.

1. 1 cup quinoa flakes
2. 1/2 cup wholemeal flour
3. 1/3 cup quinoa flour
4. 1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa
5. 1 cup brown sugar
6. 3/4 cup oats
7. Finely grated zest of 1 orange
8. 125g butter
9. 1 tablespoon honey
10. 1 teaspoon baking soda

• Preheat oven to 170C. Grease two trays.
• Place the first seven ingredients in a bowl. Melt butter and honey together in a small pan. Mix the baking soda with two tablespoons boiling water and add to the dry ingredients along with the melted butter mixture. Mix well with a wooden spoon.
• Roll tablespoons of mixture into balls and slightly flatten. Place them on the trays and bake for 20 minutes or until dark golden brown colour. Cool on a rack.

Olive oil cupcakes. It began in 1910, Sevilla

The story tale tells that in 1910 a woman named Ines Rosales started to make tortas de aceite (olive oil pastries) by hand and selling them at the train station in Seville, South of Spain. She became so successful that had to employ the local women of the village to help her with her business which was based always on hand making and using the best quality of extra virgin olive oil and unbleached wheat flour. The crisp sweets crackers were soon an speciality of Andalucia and enjoyed through Spain.

The tradition continues today, after over a hundred years, conserving the hand made production, including the individual wrapping! As you can watch in the video above, the woman that is being interviewed can wrap 21 tortas in one  minute. She has been working for the company Ines Rosales for twenty years as a liadora, doing the same job, so you can really say  "the practice make you wise" and I add, definitely fast!

The shop of Ines Rosales is in Huevar del Aljarafe, in Sevilla, in case you have the fortune to stop by. My advice is that if you make the trip to visit this delightful place, stock up your pantry with  a few boxes of these tortas because once you try them, it is impossible not to like them, and you will need to go back to get some more. Although nowadays you can easily place an order online, but the experience won't be the same.

One of the memories I will always have about my beloved dad is precisely the strong connection to food. He was a passionate cook and a life lover. His optimism encouraged him to face each day as it was special, unique, even when the sorrow day didn't have much to offer him. He fought against an empty sensation because his life was evaporating by the dammed cancer. He was a distinctive  person for me, for my family and for all the hearts he touched with his sincere smile before he passed away.

But I should go back to my happy story. I was saying that when I was little, my family used to spend summer holidays, July and/or August, where my dad was born, in Punta Umbria, a fishing village in the South of Spain. Before and after the divorce. I remember getting utterly excited about those summer holidays, not only because I would see my dad everyday when I woke up, not feeling distressed by him going away again, but also because I knew he would spoil us with the Andalusian specialities such as cuadraditos de cidra, alfajores, pestinos de miel, bizcohuelos, galletas de canela...and of course, the tortas de aceite. Hummm, my mouth is watering. I can even smell them.

These sweets have to last all summer! He warned us. My dad said it with total authority, in a loud voice. However, I could see from my tiny seat that a half smile was reflected in the car mirror, as he knew, delighted, that we would gobble them up during our first week in Punta Umbria, if lucky.

Every beginning of summer, on our way to Punta Umbria from Madrid, my dad would fill up the back of that already squeezed car - with the six of us plus 5 suitcases- with boxes with the logo Ines Rosales stamped on them. Is any other better way to start your holidays?

You could imagine how anxious and desperate we were to open and unwrap those little pastries. And we did as soon as the car stopped its engine opposite to our chalet of Paseo del Mar 8. I have got the vivid scene of me given the first bite to one of the tortas de aceite, spilling sugar and sweet crumbs all over my skirt and on the cold marble of the kitchen floor.  I was eleven and the happiest girl in Punta Umbria, I am sure.

Food makes me happy, but especially if it is accompanied by a story, like these tortas that Ines Rosales started to make more than a hundred years ago. I should be grateful to her for giving me the chance to share my own family story about her tortas with you and with my children, who tasted them for the first time last week - we had a picnic at the park, in a sunny afternoon, after picking my daughter up from school.

Why are these tortas so special for you, mum? Aurelia asked me.
Because they are delicate, special, unique. Like your grandfather Juan Andres I replied, feeling like he was right there, enjoying the picnic with us, smiling because the tradition continued over the years, from generation to generation.



PS: If you are curious about how the factory still makes the tortas by hand, go to this video:
http://youtu.be/gOSVg2PomMk

Authentic taste experience for my children

Extra virgin olive oil and chocolate cupcakes (makes 12)

I got inspired by the main ingredient of the tortas, the extra virgin olive oil, that I decided to create my own "olive oil cupcakes" to bring as well to the picnic. This recipe is easy and healthy with the goodness of the golden liquid instead of butter. They are extremely moist!

• 1 cup self raising flour
• 1/2 cup whole meal flour
• 1/2 cup almond meal
• 3 tablespoons cacao sweetened or 1 tablespoon unsweetened
• Pinch of salt
• 1/2 cup chocolate dark chocolate chips
• 3/4 cup brown sugar
• 2 eggs, room temperature
• 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 1/2 cup vanilla yogurt ( or plain yogurt plus 1 teaspoon vanilla essence), room temperature
• 1/2 cup milk, no cold

1. Preheat oven 180 ( or 160 fan forced).
2. In a big bowl, whisk all the dry ingredients to incorporate air (no need to sift)
3. In a medium size bowl, beat the sugar with the eggs. Slowly add the olive oil and when it is well mixed, add the yogurt and milk.
4. Quickly, add the wet mixture into the flour bowl, but do not stir too much otherwise the cupcakes will be dry. The batter will be a bit wet, don't worry.
5. Evenly spoon the batter into 12 prepared muffin papers and place in the oven for 20 -25 minutes or until the top is golden

Berry and rhubarb crumble, three ways. Like a fish out of the water

It seems ages ago since we packed up the house in Beaterio street and ended our three year posting in the Philippines. When the Qantas plane finally landed in Canberra at 3pm on the 18th of June I thought this is it. It is real, it is happening. A new chapter, a new opened door. The Manila one was already closed behind.

It was very odd. We felt  we were on a vacation for a short while and we would go back to Manila, our "home". Perhaps I blamed the jet lag of the long night flight and the lack of sleep but I had an awkward sensation of being misplaced.  I even wondered  did we actually live in Manila? what happened during those three years? It was such a bizarre feeling, I can tell you.

Home? What a strange concept and easily taken for granted.

In my pre-diplomatic life I didn't question my home. Why would I? I was living in Madrid, in the same old house for 24 years. My routine was more or less similar everyday and I was happy. However, my life turned 180 degrees the day I met Nick in 2000. I became a  globetrotter. Now, with our three little children, we are like nomads.

It is true that is our choice to move around the world. It would be less hustle to stay in the same place all the time, I think, but less exciting. Being a diplomat  is another way of living, perhaps a bit peculiar to some people. I love it though. It opens your mind to new horizons, different perspectives and interesting adventures.

However, it has a price: you have a fresh beginning every time you move; live in a new house or in a temporal accommodation until you find a house to live (like we are right now); your children go to a new school, which is hard enough, and they have to make new friends.

Packing your life every 2 or 3 years  is not an easy thing to do.  It takes time, effort, patience, frustration, and it might give you some anxiety and an unpleasant feeling of being unsettle. Sometimes you feel like a fish out of the water, lost. Like I was when I came back from the Philippines last month.

The whole concept of moving from one country to another and adapting to this process is difficult to explain for me. It is one of those situations in life that you have to live them to fully understand them. Even if you wanted to, it wouldn't be able to. I  tell you this from my own life experience before I met Nick. I couldn't really figure out the consequences of following him around the world until I actually did it.

However, we keep in the back of our minds that this adjusting period to Australia is temporal. Things will get back to normal I repeat to myself every morning. The staff in boxes will arrive soon and it will be exciting to decorate our future new house, when we get it; kids will like -or not- their new school and hopefully will have good friends whose parents will be our friends too; I will perhaps will get a part time job to contribute to the family expenses. And, what I believe it is the most important and final step in the settling period, we will all have a routine to help us put down roots.

The transition is achieved as well through the small pleasures in life that make us happy. In my case, although I literally collapse in bed around 9pm, I still need to run early in the mornings (although I question my common sense as it is minus 2 degrees outside) even if I am covered in layers like an onion. I also like to take my kids to walk everywhere, to the shops, the park or to the library. We didn't   walk much in Manila because it was too hot, polluted and we had a driver. They love it now and don't complaint about the cold (and they get tired, which is my goal!).

My main distraction is cooking, as you probably guessed. But before I started I needed to feel comfortable in this kitchen of this serviced apartment that we are renting for a few weeks until we find out what is going to happen with our future. It is the size of my old kitchen in Manila, but cute - well, it is not, but I pretend it is so I don't get depressed-.

I decorated my kitchen first with a vase of fresh parsley -cheaper than fresh flowers- and a couple of things that I brought with me from Manila: a French style blue and white tea towel that is now hanging from one of the draws; a long  red and blue bag handmade by my tailer that I use to buy fresh bread from the wonderful Silo bakery; of course, my three favourite cookbooks.

People in Canberra have asked me frequently if I miss the Philippines. I was honest when I said I wish I had a Mary Poppins with me now in this tiny apartment as I had in Manila to clean, shop and cook with her magic. At least I would be able to finish my meals without being interrupted or to sit down and write my blog. But I don't have the time to do what I really want to do and I resent myself for that. However, as the days pass by, I am learning to accept that my life has got busier and that ten minutes a day are golden and wisely used for my own pleasure.

I don not miss the heat and the humidity, the noise and the multitude of the streets of Manila. I am happy when I walk in my neighbourhood and I breath fresh air, and it is quiet, very quiet. Although sometimes it isn't a good thing when you are lost in the way of dropping your daughter off in a playdate in her friend's house, miles away, and it takes you 40 minutes to find someone to ask for directions!

Other part of me misses the people, my close friends, the yayas and the driver who worked for us, my lovely doctors…all of them dedicated their time to us, three years of friendship can't disappear. It won't anyway.

Last Sunday we went to the snow so my kids could know what the real snow feels like. They thought it only existed in the Frozen movie. You should have seen their faces. Was brilliant! In the way back we stopped in a cafe to have a warm drink. When we were outside, I suddenly found a black piece of cloth on the sand close to the car park. it was an apron!!! hooray! You can't imagine how delighted I was, despite of my family's disgust -even Gab cried mama, kaka!-

That apron was lost and I found it (I washed it, in case you wondered). After leaving the Philippines, I was lost but cooking helped me to put order into my life again and this insignificant apron reminded that when you follow your passion, it always drives you to the right direction in life…and life  gets back to normal.


Welcome home.

Photos I took during our visit in the wildlife zoo in Port Douglas.

When I was in the Philippines I was looking forward to the winter produce in Australia. Rhubarb is one of my favourite vegetables. Being a bitter veggie it gets transformed into a sweet fruit like when it is cooked with sugar.  

The recipe "Rhubarb, berry and orange crumbles" comes from one of those magazines that the supermarket Coles gives you for free (I cannot afford buying more cookbooks!) . I made this easy dessert (a total winner for a dinner party) in 20 minutes and served it with good quality vanilla ice cream.  I modified the recipe slightly using roasted almond flour instead of plain flour and adding water instead of the orange juice (because I didn't have it). I guess you could use two more apples to replace the rhubarb, if it is unavailable where you live.

The leftovers were eaten as a topping for the warm porridge the next morning. Two days later, I still had approximately 3/4 cup left of the rhubarb compote (without the topping) so I mixed it gently with the wet ingredients to make chocolate muffins for my kids' merienda to celebrate Aurelia's first day at Forrest Primary school. 

• 2 Eve apples, peeled, cored, chopped
• 1/4 cup water (or orange juice)
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• bunch rhubarb, trimmed, thickly sliced
• 250g mixed berries
• 1/3 cup almond meal (or flour)
• 1 tsp orange rind
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 60g butter, chopped
• 1/3 cup rolled oats
• 1/4 cup chopped pecans

1. Preheat oven to 200C. Cook the apple, water and half the sugar in a medium saucepan over medium high heat for 3 minutes. Add the rhubarb and cook for further 2 minutes or until just tender. remove from the heat. Stir in berries. Divide among 6 ramekins or in a 1L ovenproof dish.
2. Place the almond meal, the orange rind, cinnamon and remaing sugar in a large bowl. Using your fingertips, rub in butter until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Stir in oats and pecans. Sprinkle over fruit. Bake for 25 minutes or until the top is golden.

My recipe of Halo Halo... Sana'y magkita tayo ulit

Quick! before they start crying! I hurried my husband Nick out of the house last Saturday night. It was a bit naughty of me, I know, but I wanted to get out of the house even though Aurelia was still reading in bed, Gabriel was placing his cars on his pillow and calling out mama! and Juanan was rolling over in his cot trying to fall sleep. Our wonderful yaya was taking over the situation before 14 Beaterio Street turned to treasured silence until 5am the next day. 

Nope, I did not feel guilty when I had my first sip of a cold minty mojito in a bar close to Nick's work. We were the only people having a drink in the bar. It was pretty quiet. The music in the background was our only companion. 

After the aperitif, we went to the restaurant where Nick and I had our last dinner in November 2011 before Gabriel was born, two weeks after. Where has the time gone? I thought when I looked around the restaurant to refresh memories. It felt like it was yesterday when I savoured that buttery sole fish being hugely pregnant. Instinctively, my fingers, cold by the air conditioner, touched the area close to my eyes searching for any new patas de gallo or wrinkles. What an irony to smile happily when I found them! I was three years older, but with three young children and more life experience, hence a little bit more mature.

It has become our tradition to farewell each posting with a leisurely dinner.  Nick and I started this tradition in Buenos Aires in 2009. Our favourite restaurant was called Standard, well known by its famous milanesas (thin slices of veal, beef or chicken which have been dipped into an  egg wash, coated with breadcrumbs and seasoned with salt and pepper). We liked the food and the ambience but above all, we were very fond of Sebastian the waiter, who spoke good English, had lots of tattoos and had his ear pearced with a big hole, so big that you could see the restaurant through it. I was sad to find out when we left Argentina that Standard had to close down, and with that, part of our memories too. 

Last Saturday we had a pause from the chaos we were living at home (paintings on the floor, boxes half full with books and piles of blankets, sheets and toys and clothes everywhere in each room…). It was a magnificent dinner, and not only because of the delicious pasta I had, but also because we took the precious time to meditate, to think and reflex about what we could have done better or what we did during our time in the Philippines and or what we will miss after we leave.

As my husband said last night during his speech in our official farewell reception at the Ambassador's residence, "Arriving in a new country and starting a new life is not easy. But having made a life, it is much harder to leave that country, to say goodbye. Manila has been our fourth overseas posting and it's been the most eventful, the most exciting, and perhaps, the most challenging". Indeed, I say proud of him.

I was told once by a wise friend that when you leave a country you should always leave something to do in the future so you have a reason to come back again. For me, it is the traditional dessert of the Philippines, the Halo Halo. 

This national treat literally means "mix - mix" and it is extremely sweet to my liking. It consist of a blend of fruits, sweet preserves, sweet beans, evaporated milk and shaved ice. It is topped with a scoop of ice cream, leche flan or ube. I have seen that it is usually served in tall, clear glasses that show its colorful mixtures. 

If you are curious about the recipe, go to this link:http://www.wikihow.com/Make-Halo-Halo.

However, I have made up my own recipe of Halo Halo:

Preparation time: three years. 

Utensils: a big old white house in 14 Beaterio Street, in a village called Urdaneta

Method: preheat the oven 200C and mix mix…

1. A girl called Aurelia, who adapted beautifully to this new country. 
2. One pregnancy and a boy called Gabriel.
3. Another pregnancy,  very difficult, but a healthy boy called Juanan.
4. Two wonderful, loving and warm yayas called Brenda and Jennifer, who also had a baby two months after Juanan was born and whose daughter Jamaica became Aurelia's best friend.
5. A reliable, friendly and caring driver called Frank, who brought us fresh fish from the market every week and occasionally, 10 kg of sweet bananas from his uncle's land in Bulacan.
6. A big bunch of close friends, expats and filipinos, who have been there for us, in good and bad times.
7. Three good doctors who made sure our family was healthy and in their good expert hands
8. Three holidays within the Philippines: Dumaguete, Boracay and Bohol.
9. A few big typhoons and a 7.4 earthquake (in Dumaguete where we were on holidays!)
10. Three trips to overseas, Australia, Spain and Australia again.
11. Unforgettable meals, although only two of them were filipino food.
12. An unfinished Michelin-starred cooking degree. My destiny was different and I accepted.
13. Volunteering work in a beautiful day care center in Paranaque. Loved the children and their big open arms that embraced me so tied that I couldn't help myself but escape a couple of tears.
14. A re-discovered passion for running that encouraged me to participate in my first 10 km race in Australia last Easter and helped me to have a morning routine of running at 5.30 am, after having had a cup of coffee, five times a week. I achieved my non-sense goal I set myself after that race  of running 200 km in 6 weeks. I struggled a lot with the heat. 
15. An a lovely tailer called Flor, who came to this house from time to time and made dresses and mended some clothes. Her company was always welcomed by the family, and she became part of it. I gave her my sewing machine as a thank you gift and this is what she said in a text sent tomy phone this early morning "you have given us fish to eat by working to you, but giving me tool to fish, I now eat fish even not working to you. Thank you very much"

Sana'y magkita tayo ulit…I hope we meet again Filipinos…at least for the Halo Halo.

Carrot and bran muffins. No flowers on Mother's Day

Perhaps you are not so much into celebrating Mother's Day, either your mum's or your own. You might think that Mother's day is everyday so there is no point in doing something special on that day for your mother or for you. It is just a nonsense marketing day focused on presents and expensive meals, like it was San Valentine's. Someone made those days up to make money.

But you misunderstand. Mother's day means a lot. To me, it is about being spoilt by my husband and kids, feeling like I am more important than usual to them; it breaks my daily routine and house chores -no cooking or washing the dishes - I can even sleep in without being worried about preparing early morning breakfast for three hungry children.

Above all of that, it means getting handcrafted cards made by Aurelia and Gabriel with printed little fingers. I keep them in a safe box, year after year, since I became a mum when my eldest daughter was born. She is turning seven in two weeks time.

If I was in Spain, I would have celebrated Mother's day last weekend, first Sunday of May. However, we live in the Philippines and yesterday it was Mother's Day, same in Australia, where Nick is from.

I woke up at 5.30am with Juanan, softly talking from his cot. His voice was like an alarm clock in my head, hard to switch off unless I got him up but Nick did it to let me sleep. What a treat, I thought, until Gabriel started to say loudly "awake!!! awake!!!" with his head in between the bars of his cot and then, Aurelia and her friend, who was spending the night with us, opened the bedroom door. So I went downstairs to the kitchen to see what was happening.

I  saw the girls drawing in the playroom, Gab in his car going up and down the dining room on top of his noisy plastic yellow horse that belonged to Aurelia when she was his age, and Juanan in his feeding chair eating Kellogs cereal - well, trying to catch one corn flake with his small fingers. I was happy and excited already about my day. I would say, more than if it was my birthday.

Nick handled me a strong cup of coffee and my running clothes. How nice, I said to myself. It was the beginning of my "free time".  I closed the door behind me, slowly, uncertain if it was the right thing to do: me running while poor Nick had to handle all the kids at the same time. I wasn't questioning his parenting. It was more whether it was fair or not to disappear from the house at this time. I put the music on my phone and run, disconnecting from the family.

The highlight of my day was the birthday party that my Filipina neighbour held later that morning for her one year old son in the hall of our village. I felt I had landed in France but without the jet-lag and a terrible international flight that I usually have. It was unbelievable the beautiful work she went through organising the party. My neighbour is an artist by profession and that explains everything.

The party had every detail to make you feel you were in Paris: colourful crunchy macaroons, different types of cheese, authentic baguettes, a chef making omelettes, two little carousels, an Eiffel Tower made of red, white and blue balloons, even a musician playing the accordion!  During the party, I closed my eyes for a couple of minutes and dreamed about being in a cafe in Paris, having a bowl of hot coffee and dipping a fresh croissant into it…hummm. When I finally opened my eyes I noticed that everybody, not only the children, was enjoying themselves.

After that fantastic party the rest of the day didn't go as well as I expected. It was not so special in the end.

Too full to have lunch, we didn't eat.  The two little boys went to bed. I was about to do the same but Aurelia asked me to watch Star Wars so I sat down on the sofa, next to her. Nick sneaked off and went to sleep. The boys woke up 1 minute after I heard Nick closing the bedroom's door. That was the end of my peaceful time.

I spent two hours changing nappies while Nick was resting, away from the chaos. I was sure it was not Father's Day in the calendar. I went to the kitchen to double check in the calendar of our fridge just in case I made a mistake with the dates.

It was 6pm. We were starving and I didn't prepare any dinner (because it was supposed to be cooked by someone else but me!). My passion for cooking was evaporated and the thousand cookbooks I had meant nothing that night.

Nick went with Aure to get gourmet pizzas from our favourite Italian restaurant, Caruso. Sunday pizza night has become a tradition in our family. At the same time Nick waits for the pizzas to be made, he always has a rusty nail cocktail. As you see, he gets excited about this tradition that I think he probably started as an excuse to have a break. It will continue until the day we leave Manila.

And yesterday, on Mother's Day, when I was stuck at home bathing, feeding Gabriel and Juanan and changing more nappies (I beat my previous record of changing nappies in one day…16 in total), it was not an exception: Nick also drank his usual rusty nail cocktail.

I was feeling like this by 7.30pm…arrrgggggg!

I was a bit upset, frustrated and very tired after a boring Mother's Day. It was not different from any other day. I didn't make a big fuss of my obvious disappointment - partly because by then I had filled up a tall glass with a Malbec red wine - when the cheerful Nick came home with the pizzas. Maybe the cocktail had that effect on him or maybe the fact that he had had a nice time with his daughter. But I was not in the mood. At least not until the wine started to weave its magic.

You were right, Mothers Day is everyday!

However, the story doesn't end here. Today my husband sent me a text apologising for not having prepared a special day for me yesterday. We know each other too well. He felt he had let me down. I told him it was not about me. These days (birthdays, Mother's day…) are important celebrations and I wanted my children to appreciate them, like my family did when I was a child. 

That is what Mother's day is all about:  a family celebration…which brings more sparkle to our lives!!!!

PS: Nick bought me these beautiful and thoughtful gifts to mend the messy day I had yesterday. 

This recipe is from Thomas Keller. I love it because it is simple and tasty, beside its nutritious value. My son Gabriel is a bit picky so I need to hide vegetables sometimes in the meals so he eats them without him being aware. These muffins did the trick!

Carrot and bran muffins

Start the recipe the night before. Makes 12 

• 1 1/4 cups and 2 teaspoons Plain flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg and 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• a pinch of salt
• 200g caster sugar
• 140g canola oil
• 1 teaspoon vanilla essence
• 2 eggs
• 210g grated carrots (smallest hole and squeeze the liquid)
• Oat topping:
• 1 cup plain flour
• 1 1/2 cup old-fashioned oats
• 100g wheat germ
• 3/4 cup light brown sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon and 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1/4 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
• 113g cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4 inch pieces

1. To make the topping: Mix all the ingredients in a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and mix on low speed to combine. Toss in the butter and mix for about 1 minute. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours.
2. Place the flour, baking soda, baking powder and cinnamon in a bowl. add the salt and whisk together.
3. Combine the sugar and oil in a food processor and mix for 1 minute. Add the vanilla. Scrape the sides and bottom of the bowl to make sure it is well mixed. 
4. Add the eggs, one by one, until incorporated.
5. Add the dry ingredients in 2 additions pressing the pulse button. Do not over mix. it is ok if there are parts still with flour.
6. Stir in the carrots. Transfer the batter to a covered container and refrigerate overnight. 
7. Preheat the oven to 425F. Line the muffin pan with the muffin papers and spray the papers with nonstick spray.
8. Spoon the batter evenly into the papers, just 3/4 of each. Sprinkle 1 or 2 tablespoons of the topping and press gently into the batter.
9. Place the pan in the oven and reduce the heat to 325F. Bake for 40 minutes until golden. They are better eaten the day are baked but you can refrigerate them if you wrap them individually in plastic wrap.

Challah bread pudding with Orange blossom honey. A Lego house for Jamaica in Bacolod

Last wednesday was my yaya's birthday. Her name is Jennifer and she is still young, under 30, but already has two kids, a beautiful girl called Jamaica, of nearly 7 years, and a gorgeous 6 months old baby called Jhaira. 

Don't be surprised, it is perfectly normal in the Philippines to have at least 2 or 3 children at that age, or even more. As you know, the population in the Philippines has hit more the 100 million, putting a strain in the country's resources. 

Jamaica lives with her grandma in Bacolod while Jen works in Manila. Bacolod is known by the filipinos as the "city of the smile" and it is in Negros Occidental. Indeed, Jen has a beautiful smile, even when my son performs a tantrum on the floor - though he doesn't so much anymore, thank goodness. More precisely, she comes from Hinigaran, a poor area close to the sea, and that's why Jen is a good swimmer and jumps happily in the pool with my children - not many yayas know how to swim, lucky me (I am not fond of water so much).

Jennifer lives with her baby Jhaira not too far from my house, and has a cousin-yaya to look after her during the day, until Jen comes back home from my house.

Every two weeks, Jen's salary disappears fast. From each pay date, she has to pay the cousin-yaya and send money to her province for Jamaica's maintenance and Jen's brother's scholarship. As you see, there is not much money left to open a savings account. 

Sadly, there are millions of filipino families which are separated - some 10 million of them live and work overseas, not counting those who - like Jen - are separated though they remain in the country.  It is a difficult choice but, in the end, they have to go where they can make a living.

This is a post dedicated to her beautiful daughter Jamaica and the first time she left her province life of Bacolod with her grandma, who also came with her, to spend more than a month in Manila with her mum Jen, during  the school holidays. 

The first day Jamaica came to our house to meet Aurelia, Gabriel and Juanan, was fun and interesting at the same time. She quickly released her mother's hand and held Aurelia's…and soon was dressed up as a princess or jumped on the trampoline or in the pool. It was the first time Jamaica swam in a pool.

I proudly observed how my kids welcomed Jamaica quickly as if she was already part of the family. This friendly attitude from Aure and Gab helped Jamaica to feel comfortable and happy playing with them. Well, it was not to hard to be warm to her because she was as sweet as her mum, always smiling and very polite.

They communicated with Jamaica in English but she replied in hili gaiynon or elongo, the musical dialect of her province. It was funny to listen that conversation English-elongo between them. Children have a magic way of playing and understand each other. Despite my own life experience, the language barrier doesn't exist sometimes!.

In the afternoon, Jamaica had a bath with them. She was totally absorbed in her world playing with the shampoo and the bubbles, while Aure and gab splashed water all over. She didn't like having hot water, only cold, like being in the sea. She didn't want to leave the bath even when it was obvious her skin was all wrinkled. Jen told me it was Jamaica's first bath, ever (in her province, her family uses the sea or the water from a pozo or a well).

It was also the first time Jamaica tried broccoli and yogurt. When I offered her a plain yogurt for dessert, she dipped her finger in it and tested it. Her expression was telling me she didn't like it much so I gave her a chopped papaya, a familiar fruit for her.  

Jamaica has been coming to play almost every afternoon since then. The days she didn't come, my children were upset and they really missed Jaica, as Gab calls her. Aurelia discovered that things that she usually takes for granted, are fascinating for her new best friend but she also tried to understand why Jamaica wasn't living with her mum in Manila, although I explained her the situation. 

When Jamaica left with Jen about 7.30pm, I found Aure playing with Lego.

- What are you building, Aure?

- A house for Jamaica in Bacolod. You see? Here, it's the bath, a big one. And here is the pool, the TV, and a playroom…Do you think she will like it?

- I am sure. You can show it to her tomorrow when she comes again to play with you and Gab. Maybe, you could build a house together and see what it looks like!

I realised that she was, is, and will be the only filipina friend Aurelia has had during our posting in the Philippines (Gab has a couple). Well, it is never too late, I suppose. (Aurelia has some filipino (boy) friends at her school, but no girls.

In my opinion, living a diplomatic life (moving around the world if you want to call it) expands your mind and enriches your life. I just hope one day Aurelia will put into practice, in the best way possible, these cross cultural experiences from meeting new people with completely different backgrounds.

Thank you, Jennifer for allowing me to write a short story about you and your lovely family. All of you will be terribly missed when we leave.

I made up this pudding-cake for Jen's birthday.  It was the first time she had shared it with her daughter Jamaica, but it is a favourite treat for dessert in my family.

The bread I used for this sweet pudding is called Challah which is a Jewish and is eaten during the Sabbat, but it is equally delicious made with Panettone and even brioche.  I like Challah bread because it is dense and absorbs the custard very well. If you want to bother to make the bread, I give you the recipe I used and it is from Charlie Brown (yes, the clothing label) whose book Cooking from the heart helped me to understand and discover the Jewish food (also Ottolenghi's "Jerusalem" cookbook is fantastic).

It is better to start the day ahead (or two if you make the bread at home). I cut thick slices of the Challah bread (or any one white sandwich bread) and place them on top of a rack overnight so they are crunchy and dried in the morning.

Challah bread (it looks like the braid of Elsa in Frozen!!!- Aurelia said excited)

• 55g caster sugar (I substitue for 3 tablespoons of honey)
• 7g dried yeast
• 60ml vegetable oil
• 2 eggs
• 500g bread flour
• Sesame seeds to garnish

1. Combine sugar, yeast and 250ml warm water in a bowl. Set aside in a warm place for 10 minutes or until the mixture bubbles (if it doesn't the yeast won't work)
2. Stir in oil, 1 egg, flour, and 1 tbs salt to form a dough. Knead until smooth (I used the Kitchen Aid with the hook attachment for 8 minutes). Place in a oiled bowl and set aside in a warm place until doubles in size.
3. Knead the dough briefly, then form a loaf. Rise again. Preheat oven 180C.
4. Cut in three pieces, and straight them as you were making a baguette. Do a braid (or just place it in a bread tin) and brush it with a beaten egg. Sprinkle sesame seeds.
5. Bake for 45 minutes. Allow to cool on a wire rack.

Preheat the oven 180C

• Grease a 1l capacity rectangular oven dish with butter. Warm 1l of full cream milk with a vanilla pod (scrape the seeds and add them to the milk; or use 1 teaspoon of vanilla paste or essence) over low heat. In a blender, add the warm (no hot) milk, 4 eggs and 2 egg yolks, 1 teaspoon of cinnamon and a pinch of nutmeg, 30g melted butter, 1/2 cup caster sugar. Blend for 1 minute.

• Place the challah slices in the oven dish, one behind the other (like a domino game!). Pour slowly the custard mixture and press the bread to make sure all the slices are well soaked.

• Transfer the dish into the oven and bake until it puffs and a bit brown on top.

• Drizzle with Orange Blossom honey or any honey you have (or Maple syrup). Serve it warm with blueberries and extra icing sugar.

We ate it with spoon in hand, straight from the dish. No better way.

PS: If it is for a birthday, don't forget the candles!

Aurelia's chocolate pound cake. The story of "leon" and the Cacao tree

There was a time, when my eldest daughter Aurelia was two, that Nick and I dreamed of the day when she would be 10, able to sit at the table and place food in her mouth by herself and enjoy an adult conversation- or at least an uninterrupted meal without splitting drinks on the table, for example-.

Now that she is nearly 7 we realize that our family goals are constantly moving, shifting places according to our new circumstances, such as having two more children. Hence, our family dinner is still chaotic, most of the days, but we have the expectation of that day, when the five of us enjoy a pleasant and smooth meal. This is what keeps us motivated to sit down together at the table every night. I know one day it will happen, we just need to "keep calm and carry on".

As parents, we are facing three different stages with our kids: an eight month baby boy trying to crawl; a two and a half child passing through the occasional tamtruns- now I am can finally say with relief that word "occasional" instead of "frequent"- and a bit of jealousy; and a seven year old girl…who going through a transitional phase, no longer a kindergartener but not yet a worldly middler-schooler, if it makes sense.

As I mentioned earlier in my blog, my daughter has a cute soft lion who used to be her security blanket when she was little. I bought it in a post office near our apartment in Kingston- Canberra- when we got back from our posting in Argentina. 

Aurelia was sick one day with stomachache…"this lion will make you feel better because it has a very warm bag inside of him that you can gently rest on top of your tummy while you hug him".

I don't know if it made the trick but it seemed to work as her pain was replaced by a new friend. Who would it thought that "leon" was going to be her security blanket for the next few years?…

But the years passed by and "leon" was spending less time with Aurelia and more in the toy box.

I even found him in one of her drawings which I framed as part of Aurelia's treasure box.

I am sure she will be delighted in the future to open that box of memories and find "leon" again.












And then she painted him on her t-shirt during her craft class at school…It seemed that Aurelia didn't want to let him go totally.

I feel that Aurelia unconsciously wants to hide that "leon" inside of her . She wants to keep him in a safe place for as long as she wants -or needs him- which reminds me sometimes she is still a little girl.

There have been some nights though when she handled me "leon" and said :" mum, I feel weird having him in bed with me; could you take him with you to your room?". I smiled thinking that I had a seven year old in front of me, "Of course, no problem, I will make sure he is fine". And then she added :"would you mind if I give him the last cuddle?".

However, as a seven year old, Aurelia's independence is more notable but her mood's swings as well, as you can see in the way she communicates with us…through notes she hangs on her bedroom door:

One day,  I was a bit upset with Aurelia because she was in one of "those moods" and being…humm, let's call it "difficult" for no reason, apparently. She went upstairs to her bedroom, closed her door -slammed it, really- and hung another note:

Well, it is hard not to laugh but it is harder not to loose your patience.The only way I can canalise my frustration with my daughter in situations like this is in the kitchen, cooking with her. 

After her apology and a big hug, I suggested we could bake a cake, a CHOCOLATE cake, her favourite and she will be allowed to lick the bowl, and "we could have a merienda together afterwards".

She came down to the kitchen with me but didn't feel like baking a cake. She preferred to watch Frozen for the 20th time. 

She came in the kitchen finally, but in a bad mood, again.

While we were measuring the cups of flour and cocoa, with the spoon- and -level method using her small index finger, we talked, and started to laugh. I shared some of the healthy cocoa nibs I had bought at the market with her and told her the magic process of making chocolate. She realised that it doesn't come from a packet. It comes from the pod that grows out of the trunk of a tree called cacao tree. 

She also appreciated that cooking was more fun than being in front of the TV.

Cocoa nibs

-They are the foundation of chocolate and very healthy. They have a crumbly consistency of roasted coffee beans and make a great dessert garnish. I sprinkle some in my granola-.

With a warm chocolate cake cooling on the rack of the kitchen, invading the whole house with its sweet aroma, my daughter drinking a warm chocolate and me a hot glass of milk, the frustration was left behind. Hers and mine. 

We both enjoyed each other's company, I was in front of my seven year old girl again, and I thought that I forget sometimes I had once that age too…a long time ago!.

There is nothing that cooking together cannot fix.  A beautiful homemade chocolate pound cake always will. 

My husband Nick says it is the best chocolate cake I have ever eaten.

Aurelia's chocolate pound Cake

• 1/4 cup unsalted butter
• 1 1/2 cups plain flour
• 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 tsp salt
• 3/4 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2 virgin coconut oil, room temperature- make sure it is the healthy virgin oil and not heated.
• 1 1/2 cups sugar plus 1 tbsp extra
• 3 large eggs
•  1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2/3 cup buttermilk
• 1/4 unsweetened coconut flakes or almond flakes

1. Preheat oven to 180C. Butter a tin loaf, medium size. Sprinkle some flour.
2. Whisk flour, cocoa powder, salt and baking powder in a medium bowl and set aside.
3. Using an electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat oil, 1/4 cup butter, and 1 1/2 cups sugar until pale and fluffy, 5-7 minutes. 
4. Add eggs one at a time, beating to blend between additions; beat until mixture is very light and doubled in volume, 5-8 minutes. Add vanilla.
5. Reduce mixer speed to low and add dry ingredients in 3 additions, alternating with buttermilk in 2 additions, beginning and ending with dry ingredients (remember, do not over mix or it will cause cake to buckle and split). Scrape batter into prepared pan and run a spatula through the centre, creating a canal- it helps to bake evenly. Sprinkle with flakes and sugar.
6. Bake cake until the tester inserted into the centre comes out clean, about 60-70 minutes. Cool in the pan for 20 minutes and turn it out.
7.