Quinoa patties. "Squeeze him hard" he warned her

It was Saturday 20th of December, five days before Christmas and I was in the back of the car with the embassy driver, Harold, in direction towards the Westfalia orphanage in Cieneguillas, one of the few districts of Lima that is not completely urbanized. The sight from my window was devastating, a total different view from the fancy Barranco suburb where I live. The malecon and the art galleries were left behind.

I put the window down for a bit, but I couldn't feel the cool breeze from the ocean anymore, just a wave of heat that hit my face unpleasently. The driver turned on the air conditioner. As we kept driving in the highway from La Molina suburb and passing through rundown shops and houses, street dogs and kids playing with broken plastic bottles, I read big signs on top of small restaurants offering chancho cooked in the style of "caja china". I haven't tried it yet but it is on my list of "to do" in Peru. According to what I have seen and been told it is a long wooden box used to roast whole pigs to the perfection in just a few hours...so tender the meat is in the end that sometimes it is cut with a plate instead with a knife.

During my 90 minutes drive to Cieneguillas I remembered what I read recentely in a newspaper that Lima is actually the second biggest city built over a dessert, after El Cairo. I couldn't agree more.

We got lost trying to find the orphanage but I am glad we did because otherwise I wouldn't have seen the river Lurin. My driver told me that until the decade of  1980 this river had the best extraction of river prawns!

Finally, the  green door of the albergue was opened and we came inside, parking next to a big bus. There were colourful balloons everywhere, gorgeous little girls with face painted and a Santa Klaus or Papa Noel in his hot red costume waiting excited to deliver the donations, wrapped presents from generous annonimous people. Name by name, the children collected the gifts kissing the Santa before returning to their spot on the grass. There was so much anticipation. I couldn't help but smile and take photos of what surrounded me.     

Next to where I was sit, the first row in front of Santa, there was a girl of seven. She could be my daughter. While I was talking to her, she gave me a hug so tightly that her arms didn't let mine go. I saw some lieces in her hair but that didn't stop me from making her a plait when she asked me "could you make my hair to look like Frozen? 

We  were interchanging some short sentences although in this occassion the silence was comfortable.

Do you belive in Santa? she asked me.
Yes, of course I do, don't you? I replied intrigated.
My mum says he doesn't exit, my friend said with sadness.
If you want to believe then, Santa exists. I assured her.

Her name was next and she stood up to take her gift from Santa.

I was thrilled that Scott, the Australian guy who has been helping this orphanage for a long time, invited me to participate of the Chritmas party. I didn't do much, really, but I recieved a lot instead. The children gave me a Christmas card dedicated to my husband and me and when I was leaving, my little friend came running to hug me. It was hard to dettach myself from her. I felt very emotional.

It was 5pm when we were back in the car to go back to the "bubble". I was meeting Nick and Aurelia at 6.15 in the theatre to see the classic ballet The Nutcraker. In the car, I was quiet, with a sad-looking face,thinking of that time I just spent with the kids, in particular with Luciana, being grateful that people like Scott are taking care of them and keeping up with the good work. 

My driver noticed my state and started to talk. Our conversation turned from one subject, religion, to another, his past. He shared with me the story of how his family lived the terrorism, being his young father the Comisario and being in constant threating. It was terrible the masacre lived in Ayacucho, he said. His voice was breaking. My heart was agitated. My dad told me when the terrorism ended that the Sendero Luminoso took the children away to kill them, or in front of the parents so he had to warn women with babies to "squeeze" them very hard before the Sendero did it. 

It was 6.10  and I arrived on time at the theatre, feeling miserable. Too much to assimilate in only one afternoon. Nick and Aurelia just came out of the car, very smart and fresh. I walked towards them, I think I actually run because I wanted to hug them so tightly that they couldn't go away.

A hug to all of you, but a happy one.

Feliz Navidad!

Quinoa Westfalia patties

I made up this recipe last Saturday afternoon before I went to Westfalia orphanage. I gave them that name so I remember my friend and the kids I met everytime  I cook them. I hope you do too.

• 1 cup of cooked quinoa
• 4 carrots sticks, cooked
• 1 bunch of spinach, washed and roughly chopped
• 1 onion, peeled and diced
• 2 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
• 2 slices of jamon or prosciutto, thinly cut 
• 2 eggs
• 1 cup grated cheddar cheese
• 1/2 cup corn flour (or plain flour)

1. Cook the onion and garlic until softened, at low heat for 10 minutes, to give them a sweet flavour. Add the jamon and stir. Add the spinach and increase the heat to cook it for 2 minutes. 
2. In a food processor, place all the ingredients and blend until a smooth consistency.
3. Spread the batter in a dish and cover with plastic film tp let it cool down.
4. When ready to eat, make small balls with wet hands and flatten a bit. I made them the size of a walnut or so. Fry them in hot ooil and dry on kitchen paper to absorb the oil (I place the paper on top of a rack so there is air underneath to avoid to get the patties wet and soft).
5. Serve them inmediately with a green salad or an open tomate plate.

Note: my kids loved them, even my husband who is not very  keen in quinoa!

Sacha tomate jam. Meeting the President

Being the spouse of a diplomat and more precisely, of an Ambassador, sometimes gives you the opportunities to do things that perhaps otherwise you wouldn't have access to. These chances are unique, break my routine and  make my life more exciting. Besides, you never know, those opportunities might lead you to something else. It is a domino game, where a piece touches another before falling down.

Two weeks ago, Nick was told that the ceremony to give the letter of Credentials was happening soon, but we didn't know when exactly and what time. The President Ollanta Humala was a busy men so it wasn't easy to find a space in his busy agenda to meet the new wave of Ambassadors arriving in Peru from Australia, Francia, Guatemala and Panama. 

Eventually, on the 27th of november Nick was going  to be officially presented as the new Australian Ambassador in Peru. The office of Protocol kept telling us different hours to meet Mr Humala, at 4pm, 8.30am, 6.30am, 7.15am...and finally, "it will be at 7.30am. It is confirmed" said the person in charge. So I arranged my nanny to be at home at 6am to look after the children and get them ready to go to school.

I am holding a photograph of Nick shaking hands with the ex Spanish King Juan Carlos. Next to him,  the Counsellor and the new Australian Ambassdor in Madrid who was presenting his Credentials. The three of them made a lovely team, a friendship that marked Nick's first posting in a memorable way.

It was October of 2000 when an excited Nick told me that he went in a carriage to the Palacio Real or Royal Palace to meet the Spanish King - at that time. It was unbelievable, like something from another century!Thank you Spain and your old rich history! You have to understand this sentence in the context of an Australian point of view.

We were in a trendy bar in Chueca street having some tapas - croquetas de jamon and a copa de Rioja red wine. For the first part of the story I listened carefully, very attentive. My ears and eyes were wide open.  I was fascinated by what he was telling me and by the fact that he lived that especial ceremony. I will never be able to meet a king, Spanish or not I accepted with resignation but happy that he had the chance to do it.

I was 24 and still new in this relationship with my charming Australian boyfriend whom I met exactly a month before his royal meeting. At the same time the words of his imperfect Spanish were music to my ears, a thought crossed my mind. It was about that domino game and how my life was flying in the right direction after a recent break up... If I hadn't caught that Easy Jet plane to visit my sister in London, I wouldn't be in this bar with Nick. I would be in a bus travelling to the South of Spain to see my andalucian ex boyfriend whom I saw a few weeks ago because we were having a long distance relationship, an unhappy one that it lasted longer than I wished.

Back to happier moments, Nick and I arrived in different cars at the Palacio del Gobierno or Government Palace, also known as house of Pizarro, who built the emblematic building in 1535. I was taken to a silent room decorated with wooden antiques, golden statues and a big painting that took almost the wall that separated two uniformed soldiers next to the sofa where I was sit. I was nervous, moving hands from the lap of my black and white skirt to my well tied pony tail that I fixed quickly in the car leaving the residence. Thank goodness I always have a travel make up box in my bag to correct the motherhood purple circles under eyes. 

I was with the spouses of the other three Ambassadors "to be". We were all waiting with much anticipation our turn to accompany our respective partners. An awkward conversation was obviously forced.

The ceremony gave me goose bumps and it was as beautiful as I always imagined thanks to Nick's previous description from his experience in Madrid in 2000. But now, it was him who was presenting his Credentials to the Peruvian President - a not very tall but charismatic men. It was a solemn occasion, respectful and breathtaking. It was...magnificent. 

Another piece of the domino fell down. I was grateful and overwhelmed for being part of that especial day. Who would it thought fourteen years ago that I would be a witness of that ceremony, and in the "darkest" Peru? I didn't during that tapas night with Nick in Madrid.

A strong cup of coffee and some flaky pastries were part of our delicious breakfast in the Club Nacional to celebrate it. 

Because life is about celebration and food is always part of it. At least for me.

Sacha tomate or tamarillo: tree tomate, a fruit from the Andes

- I am proud of this photo because I don't usually take great ones. I think I will frame it for my kitchen -

Tomate tree jam

by Maricel E. Presilla

• 16 fresh sacha tomates
• 5 whole cloves
• 5 allspice berries
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup of sugar

1. Cut a shallow cross on the tip of each sacha tomate. Place the sacha tomates in a medium sauce pan with water to cover, bring to a boil over medium heat and cook until soft, about 20 minutes.
2. Drain the sacha tomates and peel. Force the pulp through a strainer (I didn't do this step) into a bowl.
3. place the puree in a saucepan with the cloves, allspice, salt and sugar. Stir to mix well, simmer over medium low heat until it is as thick as jam.
4. Serve with savouries dishes, curries or cheese.

Roasted mashwa dish and wheat stew . Black tears and white shoes

Distance means nothing when I hear the word flamenco. I could be miles away from Spain but if I am in a flamenco show, I am at home. 

Last Monday we were invited by a couple of Peruvian friends to a charity event to raise funds for the Mission of Padre Martinho to help children with disabilities. The event consisted in a flamenco dance performed by the group "Por flamenco". I was looking forward to it.

The audience was waiting for something to happen. In front of a hundred spectators there were three men, one with a guitar, the other with the cajon or box and the third one...with a deep voice that took our breath away, or at least mine. At the same time,  three gorgeous women, wearing beautiful spotty dresses, black and red, started to move arms, hips, legs and feet rhythmically. The echoing sound of their black heels knocking on the wooden floor gave me goose bumps.

And I thought of my dad.

Mi nina Esther, you really have to be in love with Flamenco to be able feel it, my dad whispered in my ear. But that girl of eight years old didn't understand it yet. Not until she grew up, left Spain and lived around the world those words became her anchor. However, despite what many think, not all Flamenco dancing is worth seeing it. It is sometimes poorly made for foreigners to fit into the Spanish stereotype - I made sure that my husband appreciates the difference! If you watch a good one, where the music and the dance play in unison with your heart, well, you will be able to feel Flamenco, as my dad said.

The spectacle had begun... "black tears were running on her pretty face .." sung the Andalusian man. His solea song - solea is one of the most basic forms of Flamenco music - was accompanied by a soft hand- clapping (palmas in Spanish). Instinctively, I started to copy him.

Watching the beautiful show, I continued to think of my beloved father. A man from the South of Spain who would have loved to be there with me, smiling. If only this happy image was real, I would  give anything to have it, even if it was just for one second.

I was born in Madrid, back when my father was still living with us. In those days, my parents used to spend summer, together, with us. Our holiday destination was a fishing village called Punta Umbria, one of the most beautiful beaches of Huelva, where my dad was born. Truth be told, I am not being objective and I love Punta Umbria because I have special childhood memories. and great stories that I can tell my children now...did you know that I used to walk in bare feet on a street called La Calle Ancha to buy my favourite soft nougat ice cream in the shop La Ibense? 

I went back to Punta Umbria twice since I left Spain in 2003. Once for my dad's funeral in November of 2006 and the second time with Nick and my daughter Aurelia when she was nine months old, in 2008. The day that all my siblings - plus the in laws and my step mother Inmaculada - and I threw the ashes of my father to the sea of Punta Umbria, as he wished, my world was turned upside down. I didn't know what emotional pain meant until that day.

Tomorrow is 20th of December and eight years since the lung cancer took my father away to a better, and less suffering, place.  

I had black tears last Monday night - mainly because the rimmed for the eye lashes was NOT water proof - during the Flamenco show, but I didn't care what my neighbour could think of this perhaps too sensitive woman. He didn't understand that I was missing my father. 

Distance means a lot when you miss the people you love and you cannot make them appear when you want.

At least I will always have Flamenco...

My white flamenco shoes with my grandma's manton

... and cooking.

I used to think that I would be a better cook if I had lots of cookbooks. I was wrong although I am a self taught cook thanks to them, reading and practicing the recipes, and making mistakes, lots of them. I still make them, but not the same ones.

You are a better cook when you take the challenge to cook with new ingredients. They don't have to be exotic, a simple artichoke is already a test for me. However, now that I am lucky to live in a country like Peru, where the produce is so diverse, from three different areas, desert coast, mountains and Amazon, the range of possibilities is big. No excuses.

This week I wanted to cook with mashwa and wheat. The mashwa is a papa amarga from the Andes Central. It reminds me of the parsnip, but without the nutty flavour.

I used the recipe of Ottolenghi for roasted parsnips with sweet potatoes with caper vinaigrette. It was really good. I served it as a side dish with a delicious roast chicken. This roast vegetable is one of my favourites from now on, with parsnips or mashwas.

• 4 mashwas
• 4 medium red onions
• 2/3 cup olive oil
• 4 thyme sprigs
• 2 rosemary sprigs
• a head of garlic, halved horizontally
• salt and black pepper
• 2 medium sweet potatoes
• 30 cherres tomatoes, halved
• 2 tbsp lemon juice
• 4 tbsp capers
• 1/2 maple syrup (I used honey)
• 1/2 tbsp Dijon mustard
• 1 tbsp sesame seeds

1. Preheat the oven to 375 F. Peel the mashwas and cut in three segments, and then into two or four. Peel the onions and cut each into six wedges.
2. Place the mashwas and onions in a large mixing bowl and add 1/2 cup olive oil, the thyme, rosemary, garlic, salt and some pepper. Mix well and spread out in a large roasting pan. Roast for 20 minutes.
3. Repeat the peopling and cutting process with the sweet potatoes. Add them to the pan. Return the pan to the oven for a further 40 to 50 minutes.
4. When all the vegetables are golden colour, stir in the halved tomatoes. Roast for 10 minutes more. Meanwhile, whisk together the lemon juice, capers, honey, mustard and the remanning two tablespoons of olive oil and some salt.
5. Pour the dressing over the roasted vegetables as soon as you take them out of the oven. Scatter the sesame seeds over the vegetables and serve.

The trigo perlado or whole wheat is cooked like chickpeas, soaked in water for at least 10 hours (or using the press cooker for 10 minutes, as I do). We made this little dish for the children and they loved it. It is soft and I think perfect as a baby food.

1. Fry half of a chopped onion and one crushed garlic in a sauce pan with a tablespoon of olive oil. Add one piece of peeled ginger, chopped.
2. Add one zucchini , chopped and unpeeled. Stir well until cooked.
3. Add the already 1 cup of cooked wheat, cilantro if you have, and chicken stock to cover. Season with salt and pepper. Cook it for 10 minutes or until the water has been absorbed.
4. Mix some chopped fresh feta cheese in cubes.

Chickpea and carrot soup. Ekjakjo and a man of plans

My husband Nick is a man of plans. He organises the weekend according to many family activities including exercise, cafes, visits to the market, museums and, of course, siestas - although he usually forgets to add in the list children's birthday parties, I wonder why.

The good thing is that the kids and I never get bored. There is always something to do during the weekends - and holidays -, even if it is just "reading time" scheduled in the day. By 6pm on Sunday night we are all exhausted in bed, including Nick.

Last Saturday morning, I didn't have a plan. Neither he had. We had a pile of 7 guide books of Peru on one of the bedside tables in our room but we didn't know where to go or what to do, perhaps because Lima is still new to us and we are discovering it little by little each day. We were dressed, inside the car, ready at 7.50 to go...somewhere...waiting for Nick to decide.

And this is what we did...

8am: Visit to the market

Following the directions given by the little Spanish voice of the Waze app, which is a fantastic GPS in the iphone, Nick drove us to the food market because it was open since 6am.

I love markets. My dad used to take me when I was small, teaching me how to buy fresh fish . Sometimes we didn't buy much, or even nothing at all, but we spent two hours walking around, talking to the people behind the stalls who knew my dad well.

I like to maintain that tradition with my kids, wherever we live. I want to teach them that the market is the best cooking school where you delight your five senses. It is like having a playdate with the butcher, the fishmonger or the lovely lady selling seasonal fruits and vegetables, I was trying my best to explain to my second child Gabriel, who seemed curious about our special trip to the market. The more you ask them about the meat, the fish or the tomatoes, the more you learn about food and how to cook it - and if you become their friend, they will always look after you with the best produce...I added excited, talking to myself, really. Obviously, Gabriel wasn't paying attention to my words and kept playing with his cars.

This traditional market is called Zurquillo, Mercado 1, and it was a bit grotty but very authentic. We saw unbelievable vegetables, quite exotic and sometimes hard to find in other countries, like the rocoto, a spicy red pimiento. We also saw more familiar ones, artichokes, chirimoyas, granadinas...Amongst the fish and the meat, there was a glass cage of a Saint, Jesus and the Virgin Mary, a Catholic reminiscence from the Spanish conquers.

Nick and Aurelia had breakfast in a tiny little bar, a piece of the traditional Peruvian keke de higo seco or dried fig cake - which I will make at home soon and post the recipe - from a lovely shop whose owner looked like Nick's grandma. I wish I had tasted the sweet fig cake but my eyes were lost looking at the clay pots with faces in one hidden dark spot of the market. I was fascinated.

I couldn't leave the market without trying a tamal from an old woman outside the market though.

10am: Peruvian Frozen birthday party

After the market, Gab was invited to his first birthday party in Lima by a little girl from his classroom in kinder or el nido . I questioned my stupidity when I offered to go while Nick stayed at home, resting pleasantly. 

The invitation said 10am but Aurelia, Gab and I arrived - sweating like chickens from walking for 45 minutes with the pusher - late, at 10.45. I was embarrassed and wanted to apologise to the mum of the little girl but I couldn't find her. 

I couldn't because the party hadn't even started: the birthday girl just came out to the garden with her pretty Frozen dress when we arrived, while her mum and the helpers were  in the kitchen, preparing the party food and taking it to the tables. I must say, the party food was very healthy.

When we understood that we were actually early, the only ones plus another mum and her son, we were quite surprised, and our faces "frozen" I would say.

Two weekends ago we were invited to a lunch - one hour away by car - with other parents from Aurelia's new school. The meeting time was 12pm, but we didn't sit down to eat until 3pm. Everybody seemed pretty comfortable with the three hours of delay. I was dying of starvation!

There are many lessons to learn  about Peru, a country rich of customs and traditions, some are similar to us but others are unique and different. The discovery of a new culture is the beauty of living in overseas and what keeps us going with the diplomatic life. 

Gab had a blast with the dance, the piñata and the bouncing castle

3pm : Harvest time

After the party, Gab and Aurelia had a rush of sugar with the alfajores and a few lollies, so they went chasing each other in the backyard of our house. 

We have a small vegetable patch looked after by our wonderful gardener Samuel. It has got planted some onions, garlic, beetroots, spinach,  zucchini, herbs, strawberries and carrots.

When I worked for Majura Primary school as a kitchen teacher - I was part of the Stephanie Alexander Kitchen Garden program - I embarked my life on an unthinkable cooking adventure. The children gave me the excitement I needed to go ahead with my cooking experiments in our kitchen and garden. It was such a rewarding job. Of all the most memorable moments we had together I kept a precious one: their smiling face when they pulled out a carrot from the veggie patch. It was beautiful, a gift from the Nature 9and from Stephanie Alexander, who created that amazing program.

My daughter Aurelia was so exalted holding her two fresh carrots that kept looking for more vegetables to harvest - although some were not quite ready! 

5pm: Merienda at the cafe 

If we were in Australia, I would have written dinner, but Lima follows the eating patterns of  Sudamerica and my country, Spain. Big lunch and late dinner, but light.

I took the kids to a close cafe, five cuadras walking distance. It has a kids friendly atmosphere, with wooden toys to keep them amused while the mum and dad actually "enjoy" their coffee. In one of the top shelves, above the green leather sofa, there was a funny little clay man, laughing with bizarre objects attached to it. The nice waitress explained me that it was the ekeko...

According to wikipedia, "The Ekeko is the Tiwanakan (pre Columbian civilization) god of abundance and prosperity in the mythologyand folklore of the people from the Andean Altiplano^[1] Its chief importance in popular culture is as the main figure of the annual Alasitas fair, a cultural event that happens every January 24th in La Paz, Bolivia.^[2] The Ekeko is a traditional god of luck and prosperity, popular in Bolivia, Peru, and neighboring regions, like northern Argentina and northern Chile"

EKEKO: god of luck and prosperity

In Quechua, the language of the Inca empire,  Ekjakjo

8.30pm: Date night

The traditional Peruvian Pisco Sour drink totally "killed" me...Next time I will make sure I order a tapa with it. I think I was talking in Quechua by the end of the night!

10.45pm: dead in bed

I went back today to that kids friendly cafe and had a cup of hot chocolate, in my search of finding the best hot chocolate in Peru during these three years. So far I have tried it with a hint of cinnamon, and other spices, and even with orange rind. Marvellous. 

I was by myself and enjoying my quiet time. I looked up at the Ekeko, and nodded - me, not the Ekeko! - in a sign of respect to that god, although I am Catholic, and of gratitude because my kids have already planted their tiny feet in this land - or should I say its land? - with a positive attitude, making new friends, which makes me very happy. 

And finally settled.

Chickpea and carrot soup

This delicious soup was made with the carrots that Aurelia harvested from our garden. The recipe comes from Fiona Inglish, a primary school teacher from Victoria who worked for the same Stephanie Alexander Kitchen Garden program I did - she was also a former Masterchef Australia contestant.

Diego, the residence's cook, made this soup for our first "informal" dinner party at the residence for Nick's colleagues of the embassy. It was a total success! - the soup and the whole evening.

• 25 g butter
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 2 garlic cloves, crushed
• 1 large sweet potato, peeled and cut in 4 cm chunks
• 2-3 large carrots, peeled and cut in chunks
• 1 teaspoon of ground cumin, ground turmeric, ground coriander
• 1 litre chicken stock
• 400 g chickpeas (tin or cooked at home)
• 60 ml thickened cream
• 2 tbsp chopped coriander leaves

1. Heat the butter and oil in a large deep saucepan over medium heat. Cook the onion until softened, and add the garlic. Cook for 1 minute. Add the sweet potato and carrots and stir to coat in the onion mixture. Add the spices and cook for 1 minute.
2. Add the stock and bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to low and the chickpeas. Cover the pan and simmer until the vegetables are tender.
3. Remove the soup from the heat and set aside to cool before blending it until smooth with a hand blender (or in the blender) 
4. Return the soup to the heat and season with salt and pepper. Stir in the cream (I used greek yogurt to make it healthier) and sprinkle with the coriander.

Vegeterian rice salad. Happy birthday to me...twice

I have been thinking lately about a proper post to enclose my last days in Canberra. I couldn't come up with one and decided to leave it until we arrive in Peru next week and start again writing there. But I felt like an incomplete puzzle. There was a missing piece. I had to end this period with one more story.

Maree, my mother in-law, switched on the light in my head - I usually need someone to do it. Unintentionally, she gave me the idea for my post when she kindly handled me a birthday present and a card last Monday in Melbourne, just when we were leaving her house of Canterbury road at 6.30am to catch the plane back to Canberra for our final week. I gratefully kept them in my handbag, excited like a child. 

The card and the gift were meant to be opened this coming Monday, 15th of September, when I am a year older - but "wiser", my dad used to say. However, my surprise was when I was on the plane and heard  a little voice saying To our dear Esther...Aurelia got bored during the flight and curiously opened my gift and the card!

Suddenly, while I was listening to Aurelia reading my birthday card, with a thoughtful message written inside, I realised that the lost piece of the puzzle called "transitory period in Canberra" was precisely my very last day in Canberra, the day of my birthday, same day we take off to Peru. And I should honour that day with this story.

I am not intending to write about the celebrations I should have on that special occasion, but I wish I did because I do love the paraphernalia of celebrating a birthday, I mean, having my favourite cake - a moist flourless chocolate cake -, a party with some colourful balloons suspending on the air, or perhaps a special dinner with my family and fabulous food cooked by someone else but me. A present? Yes, please, a drawing card by my kids and a few words from my husband would be lovely.

Nope, I won't talk about that kind of happiness. I will write about the fact that next Monday I will get up at 5am to head off to the Canberra airpot with three sleepy children in the car, and an apprehensive mum. When I have to fly, my anxiety level arises every 15 minutes and my stomach is closed in a tied knot, not letting the mouth to swallow any food until the journey is over and my nerves disappear. 

The journey itself won't be that long....The flight to Sydney is only an hour, Nick said, but then we will wait for three hours at the airport to connect to the flight to Santiago de Chile, which is thirteen and a half hours. We will spend the night in a hotel near the airpot in Chile and the next day, on Tuesday, we will have another flight of 2 hours to Lima. 

Happy birthday to me, what a nightmare, I thought. Let me tell you that Australians consider "short" a flight of 5 hours. So you can understand why my husband really believes that our journey is not that long.

I am a half full glass person and instead of thinking that I am going to spend my thirty eighth birthday on two planes with tired, grumpy and bored children, and equally their parents, suffering the side effects of the jet lag, I am trying to remind myself that we will arrive in Chile on Monday morning. It will be Monday again, and my birthday again, isn't that great? Twice!

I will forget the tedious travel we just did and I will delete that "black" Monday from the calendar to place a new empty space...the day of my birthday will be a memorable day, as my mother in-law says in the card, a new beginning in Peru for the McCaffrey Tolmos family. 

I will take you into a fascinating adventure through the pages of this blog.

Vegeterian rice salad

My husband is a bit reluctant when I serve vegetarian dishes as a main course and not as a side dish. This time, he had second servings.

This recipe is from the kiwi Emma Galloway, adapted to my taste:

• 5 carrots, peeled, cut into 1 cm thick diagonal slices
• Some chopped coriander stalks
• Olive oil
• A pinch of cumin, coriander, paprika and chilli powder

• 1 cup of arborio rice or any short grain rice, washed
• 1/2 teaspoon of turmeric, to give it the yellow colour

• 1/2 cup dried sultanas
• 1/2 cup lightly toasted pine nuts
• Large handful of coriander leaves, chopped and Italian parsley chopped
• Crumbled feta, a soft one, to serve on top

Dressing:

• 60ml lemon juice
• 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
• 2 teaspoons honey
• 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1. Preheat oven to 200C. Place carrots, coriander stalks, olive oil and the spices in a bowl and season well with salt and pepper. Mix well and spread out in a single layer on a baking tray. Roast for 30 minutes until golden, turning often. Set aside to cool
2. Meanwhile, cook the rice until tender, but not soft. Let it cool to room temperature.
3. To make the dressing, whisk together all the ingredients. Pour over cooled rice, stir in the roasted carrots and any spices from the tray, sultanas, pine nuts, coriander and parsley. Adjust to taste. 
4. Serve with some soft feta on top (I used Persian feta and some of the marinated oil)

Light vegetable and couscous salad. A grumpy family dinner

Yesterday was a day of 25 hours. One of those productive days that you do a thousand things but it seems that the day never ends. 

With a bit of patience, which I am lack of in many things, the jet lag has finished. I am now capable to function early in the mornings. My running is also back to my daily routine and it makes me happy because it is part of who I am (don't ask me to swim, though, I am not fond of the water!) although I don't run too fast or too far.

Even having the two boys sick at home with some gastro problems, I enjoyed the morning with them as well as the time I spent cooking in the kitchen when they had a snooze.

I made ricotta cheese. I had another go last Saturday but the milk boiled so I couldn't use it for the cheese (I made chai tea instead). The only tricky part of making cheese is that you cannot get distracted and disappear from the kitchen until the recipe is finished. Which I did.

The whey collected from the ricotta cheese is unbelievable versatile. I used in three different ways:

• Buttermilk pancakes for the children (and Nick) for breakfast. I make them once every two weeks and packed them in cling film in five so it is easy to defrost when the hunger is calling out or the school bus is 10 minutes away to collect Aurelia. I try alternate the breakfast for my family so the children do not get bored and loose the appetite, specially Aurelia. Sometimes we eat porridge (perfect for this lovely cool weather  that we are enjoying in Manila at the moment), nutty granola, toast or pancakes. We leave the churros or eggs for the weekend, and in very rare occasions to be honest, when I feel melancholic and miss the crispy fried dough or Nick wakes up with the idea of brunch at home.

• Banana bread with wholemeal flour, muscovado sugar and greek yogurt. The buttermilk gives a soft texture. This bread uses very ripe bananas (bananas are very popular in Philippines) so wait until they become sugary with black spots. It is a weekly snack in the lunch box of Aurelia and Gabriel.

• Sandwich bread (recipe in the next post) which is similar to the sourdough but adding buttermilk and egg. I made the dough and placed in the fridge for 24 hours because the cold slow raise will create the fermentation of the starter culture. I am actually tasting a slice right now and it has a good balance of salt which is the most challenging part of making bread at home. Once you have achieved the correct amount of salt in your bread, the rest is easy.

By the time Nick got back from work and the meal was ready on the table for our family dinner,  Aurelia was in a silly mood and Gabriel was more than ready to go to sleep like all of us, to be honest, so we ate a bit too fast. 

I didn't enjoy the 13 minutes we sat down together in our round table in the kitchen, although I usually do and it is something I look forward during my day…

Since when the daily dinner became my everyday goal?..no idea, but it makes me happy. I am a woman of small pleasures in life and that's maybe why Nick fell in love with me (it is what he told me!). My parents raised me without too much high maintenance because first, they didn't have time with six children to feed and second, it is the way their own parents taught them. From generation to generation we transmit values, believes and rules to our family.

So the dinner was too stressful with  grumpy kids and tired parents. Sometimes the family dinners, despite our enthusiasm to make them enjoyable, do NOT work. However, the number of these occasions is small. In general, we like them.

Last night I used the recipe of a couscous salad with vegetables from the cookbook Simple to Sensational of Jun Tanaka that Nick's aunty Helen sent me for Christmas (Helen, thank you so much!). It is a beautiful book with very useful tips and easy to make recipes. 

This salad is a side dish, as the book and Nick suggested, but I felt like having something light for dinner so I made it into our main course and used a bowl of steamed green soy beans with a bit of salt on top (they are funny to peal but tasty and highly nutritious in minerals and protein) the accompaniment.

In the end, I was the only one in my family with an empty plate. Gab didn't touch the couscous or the vegetables (he was sick so I excused him), Aure only ate the carrots of the couscous and Nick had a small serving. I knew he didn't like the dinner very much and I was right. When everybody was in bed, he made a peanut butter sandwich. 

Hummm, I decided then….burgers for tomorrow's night dinner!

Couscous salad with roasted vegetables

Serves 6

• 300g couscous
• 100ml extra virgin olive oil
• 1 garlic clove
• a sprig of fresh thyme
• 1/2 chicken stock cube
• salt
• 2 carrots, peeled and cut into 2 cm 
• 8 asparagus spears, peeled and cut in half
• 1 sweet potato (optional) or 1 zucchini, cut into 2 cm cubes
• 75 ml red wine vinegar
• 1/2 bunch of spring onions, finely chopped
• a handful or rocket leaves and some fresh basil, shredded

1. Place the couscous in a bowl. Measure out 300ml of water, place in a saucepan and add 50 ml of olive oil, the garlic, thyme and stock cube. Season with salt. As soon as the water boils, remove from the heat and pour it over the couscous. Mix well and cover in cling film. Leave to steam for 20 minutes.
2. Place the vegetables in a large bowl. Season, add 50ml of olive oil and cook for 8 -10 minutes on a hot griddle, moving them round occasionally. Do not pile the the vegetables on top of each other. Once all the vegetables are cooked, place back in the bowl. Add the red wine vinegar and true spring onions (I didn't because I didn't have them).
3. Take the cling film off the bowl of couscous, remove the garlic and thyme and fluff the couscous up with a fork. Once all the grains are separated, add the vegetables, rocket and basil. Season and serve.
4. Optional: I added a bit of feta cheese and toasted pine nuts

Buen provecho!