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While on the Isle of Harris: We visited the honour system shop daily to see what was for sale. They called it a “shebang” and while we were there, it sold fresh eggs, bread, lemon or chocolate muffins, dressed crab, crab quiche, kippers and seafood rolls. We attempted to hike around the point, crossing sheep meadows, Highland Coo pastures and extremely slippery streams. I fell in. Luckily we brought splash pants and were yodeling at the time. We visited the Callanish Standing Stones and a town of preserved Blackhouses. We collected shells and blue bird’s eggs and my husband laughed because my pockets are always full after a trip to the beach. We raced down the sand dunes. (See here.) I wore flowers plucked from the machair in my hair. We ate lobsters and langoustines fresh from the creel. We marveled at the strange moonscape of North Harris, the excellent system of passing places on the single lane roads and the consistent presence of castles on the drive north. We finished days with sips of tea and imagined the blustery winds were waves and we were lobsters in our beds, safe and sound under the sea. While on the Isle of Harris: We visited the honour system shop daily to see what was for sale. They called it a “shebang” and while we were there, it sold fresh eggs, bread, lemon or chocolate muffins, dressed crab, crab quiche, kippers and seafood rolls. We attempted to hike around the point, crossing sheep meadows, Highland Coo pastures and extremely slippery streams. I fell in. Luckily we brought splash pants and were yodeling at the time. We visited the Callanish Standing Stones and a town of preserved Blackhouses. We collected shells and blue bird’s eggs and my husband laughed because my pockets are always full after a trip to the beach. We raced down the sand dunes. (See here.) I wore flowers plucked from the machair in my hair. We ate lobsters and langoustines fresh from the creel. We marveled at the strange moonscape of North Harris, the excellent system of passing places on the single lane roads and the consistent presence of castles on the drive north. We finished days with sips of tea and imagined the blustery winds were waves and we were lobsters in our beds, safe and sound under the sea. While on the Isle of Harris: We visited the honour system shop daily to see what was for sale. They called it a “shebang” and while we were there, it sold fresh eggs, bread, lemon or chocolate muffins, dressed crab, crab quiche, kippers and seafood rolls. We attempted to hike around the point, crossing sheep meadows, Highland Coo pastures and extremely slippery streams. I fell in. Luckily we brought splash pants and were yodeling at the time. We visited the Callanish Standing Stones and a town of preserved Blackhouses. We collected shells and blue bird’s eggs and my husband laughed because my pockets are always full after a trip to the beach. We raced down the sand dunes. (See here.) I wore flowers plucked from the machair in my hair. We ate lobsters and langoustines fresh from the creel. We marveled at the strange moonscape of North Harris, the excellent system of passing places on the single lane roads and the consistent presence of castles on the drive north. We finished days with sips of tea and imagined the blustery winds were waves and we were lobsters in our beds, safe and sound under the sea. While on the Isle of Harris: We visited the honour system shop daily to see what was for sale. They called it a “shebang” and while we were there, it sold fresh eggs, bread, lemon or chocolate muffins, dressed crab, crab quiche, kippers and seafood rolls. We attempted to hike around the point, crossing sheep meadows, Highland Coo pastures and extremely slippery streams. I fell in. Luckily we brought splash pants and were yodeling at the time. We visited the Callanish Standing Stones and a town of preserved Blackhouses. We collected shells and blue bird’s eggs and my husband laughed because my pockets are always full after a trip to the beach. We raced down the sand dunes. (See here.) I wore flowers plucked from the machair in my hair. We ate lobsters and langoustines fresh from the creel. We marveled at the strange moonscape of North Harris, the excellent system of passing places on the single lane roads and the consistent presence of castles on the drive north. We finished days with sips of tea and imagined the blustery winds were waves and we were lobsters in our beds, safe and sound under the sea. While on the Isle of Harris: We visited the honour system shop daily to see what was for sale. They called it a “shebang” and while we were there, it sold fresh eggs, bread, lemon or chocolate muffins, dressed crab, crab quiche, kippers and seafood rolls. We attempted to hike around the point, crossing sheep meadows, Highland Coo pastures and extremely slippery streams. I fell in. Luckily we brought splash pants and were yodeling at the time. We visited the Callanish Standing Stones and a town of preserved Blackhouses. We collected shells and blue bird’s eggs and my husband laughed because my pockets are always full after a trip to the beach. We raced down the sand dunes. (See here.) I wore flowers plucked from the machair in my hair. We ate lobsters and langoustines fresh from the creel. We marveled at the strange moonscape of North Harris, the excellent system of passing places on the single lane roads and the consistent presence of castles on the drive north. We finished days with sips of tea and imagined the blustery winds were waves and we were lobsters in our beds, safe and sound under the sea. While on the Isle of Harris: We visited the honour system shop daily to see what was for sale. They called it a “shebang” and while we were there, it sold fresh eggs, bread, lemon or chocolate muffins, dressed crab, crab quiche, kippers and seafood rolls. We attempted to hike around the point, crossing sheep meadows, Highland Coo pastures and extremely slippery streams. I fell in. Luckily we brought splash pants and were yodeling at the time. We visited the Callanish Standing Stones and a town of preserved Blackhouses. We collected shells and blue bird’s eggs and my husband laughed because my pockets are always full after a trip to the beach. We raced down the sand dunes. (See here.) I wore flowers plucked from the machair in my hair. We ate lobsters and langoustines fresh from the creel. We marveled at the strange moonscape of North Harris, the excellent system of passing places on the single lane roads and the consistent presence of castles on the drive north. We finished days with sips of tea and imagined the blustery winds were waves and we were lobsters in our beds, safe and sound under the sea. While on the Isle of Harris: We visited the honour system shop daily to see what was for sale. They called it a “shebang” and while we were there, it sold fresh eggs, bread, lemon or chocolate muffins, dressed crab, crab quiche, kippers and seafood rolls. We attempted to hike around the point, crossing sheep meadows, Highland Coo pastures and extremely slippery streams. I fell in. Luckily we brought splash pants and were yodeling at the time. We visited the Callanish Standing Stones and a town of preserved Blackhouses. We collected shells and blue bird’s eggs and my husband laughed because my pockets are always full after a trip to the beach. We raced down the sand dunes. (See here.) I wore flowers plucked from the machair in my hair. We ate lobsters and langoustines fresh from the creel. We marveled at the strange moonscape of North Harris, the excellent system of passing places on the single lane roads and the consistent presence of castles on the drive north. We finished days with sips of tea and imagined the blustery winds were waves and we were lobsters in our beds, safe and sound under the sea.
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While on the Isle of Harris:

We visited the honour system shop daily to see what was for sale. They called it a “shebang” and while we were there, it sold fresh eggs, bread, lemon or chocolate muffins, dressed crab, crab quiche, kippers and seafood rolls.

We attempted to hike around the point, crossing sheep meadows, Highland Coo pastures and extremely slippery streams. I fell in. Luckily we brought splash pants and were yodeling at the time.

We visited the Callanish Standing Stones and a town of preserved Blackhouses.

We collected shells and blue bird’s eggs and my husband laughed because my pockets are always full after a trip to the beach.

We raced down the sand dunes. (See here.)

I wore flowers plucked from the machair in my hair.

We ate lobsters and langoustines fresh from the creel.

We marveled at the strange moonscape of North Harris, the excellent system of passing places on the single lane roads and the consistent presence of castles on the drive north.

We finished days with sips of tea and imagined the blustery winds were waves and we were lobsters in our beds, safe and sound under the sea.

Running down a sand dune onto our favourite beach on the Isle of Harris in the Outer Hebrides.

It was a glorious holiday.

Mother’s Day Brunch

We have a tradition in my family of serving breakfast in bed for special occasions. Mother’s Day is coming up this weekend, and if I were going to be home with my family, I might try to uphold the tradition. However, it’s difficult to get a mom to stay in bed long enough to eat her breakfast there. Therefore, brunch!

Now, what to serve?

You’ll want something that’s a memory maker. But you’ll also probably want simplicity, so you can relax with your mom and focus on the things that really matter. Perhaps you’d like to take the time to write a nice card, make a list of some special memories you have together, or arrange a bouquet. And you would probably like to sit at the table with your mom and laugh about some inherited idiosyncrasies rather than fiddling over something in the kitchen. 

Well, I’ve got just the recipe for you: Oeufs en cocotte. 

These eggs not only have the appeal of a charming French name, they also look pretty with their fresh spring colours of deep yellow yolks and bright green spinach and are elevated to a weekend richness by the addition of a couple decadent ingredients. You don’t have to stick to the recipe either, you could add in almost anything you have on hand: cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, goat’s cheese, fresh herbs…

I made these eggs from Skye Gyngell’s How I Cook, for an Easter brunch and served themwith smoked ham and apple sauce, Paska and rhubarb-orange compote mixed with Greek yogurt. Skye has placed this recipe in her “Late Night Supper” chapter, and indeed it would be lovely with some crusty bread as a light evening meal too.

Oeufs en cocotte with spinach

Slightly adapted from How I Cook

200 g baby spinach

salt and pepper

butter

8 slices Parma ham, torn (I left this out)

4 organic, free-range large eggs

4 tsp double cream

nutmeg, to taste

50 g parmesan cheese

Wash the spinach and drain well. Place it in a large, dry pan over low heat. There’s no need to add additional water as the droplets clinging to the leaves post wash will be enough to wilt them. Drain and set aside to cool.

Squeeze the spinach with your hands to get rid of excess water, season with salt and pepper and refrigerate until needed. You can prepare the spinach the night before, if you like.

Then, when you are ready to eat, preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celcius/395 degrees Fahrenheit/Gas 6 and place the blanched spinach in a pan with some butter to warm. Divide between 4 ramekins and if you are using the Parma ham, add it on top of the spinach. If you are going to be adding in another ingredient such as tomatoes or goat’s cheese or mushrooms, add it now. Essentially, you just want to crack the egg over top of your fillings.

Crack an egg into each ramekin and add one teaspoon of cream. Sprinkle on the parmesan cheese and nutmeg and pepper to your preference.

Put the ramekins into a roasting tin and pour in enough hot water to come two-thirds of the way up the side of the dishes. Cook for about 8 minutes in the oven, until the whites are set and the yolks are still soft. If you prefer a firmer yolk, you can leave it in for longer, just keep an eye on the oven.

Now all you need is some delicious bread and fresh fruit and voila, brunch is served!

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.”

― John Muir

How I Cook

My mother always told me to keep my elbows off the table. Sit up straight. Feet flat on the floor. Use your knife. I was reminded of that one often, no matter how surreptitiously I tried to nudge a rolling pea onto my fork with my fingers.

She wanted us to know how to behave properly at the table and I’m thankful. I now know. But there’s a time to use those manners and correct posture and then there are times for sliding into a familiar chair beside your sister. A time for leaning back with one leg tucked under your body while you cradle your after-dinner coffee.

The things you eat in the company of the people you feel most comfortable with are the ones you want to eat again and again. The recipes often are scribbled down on notecards and passed from hand to hand: “Auntie Robin’s Double Chocolate Chip Cookies”, “Shrimp with Feta and Tomatoes (The Stobbe’s Celebration Meal)”, “Auntie Jessie’s Lentil Soup”. These are the foods that stick in our memory and the kind of recipes you’ll find in one of my favourite books called, How I Cook. 

Arranged according to occasion, it’s the food Skye Gyngell has shared with others around her home table, everything from late night suppers to dinner on Christmas Eve. Skye is a food writer as well as the head chef at the Michelin starred Petersham Nurseries Cafe in Richmond, England. This is her third book (preceded by A Year in My Kitchen and My Favourite Ingredients) so it comes at no surprise that the it’s full of words that make you want to leap up and cook everything at once (punchy, languid, generous, buttery, brandied fruits…). 

This book encourages elbows on the table- the better to enjoy the juicy langoustines in the dappled sunlight. Tuck your legs up under a blanket while you dip your vegetables in the Bagna Cauda. Eat the tiny quails with your fingers. You’d only do these kinds of things at home with the ones you love best.

I’ve made quite a few things from this book, and am planning on making many more, but the recipe I’ve already come back to a few times is the one for Orange and Currant Scones. We ate these for brunch on Christmas morning with frozen cranberries substituted for the dried currants and I’m willing to bet you could substitute lemon for orange or blueberries for the currants too. As with all of Skye’s recipes, you can adapt to suit your ingredients on hand and the occasion. These scones could go either way: a celebratory brunch food that you could eat in your pajamas, or an elegant afternoon tea treat, complete with the finest linens and best etiquette.


Orange and Currant Scones

Adapted slightly from How I Cook by Skye Gyngell

500 g plain white flour

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

35 g caster sugar

55 g cold butter, cut into pieces

finely grated zest of 3 oranges

150 g frozen cranberries or 250 g currants 

1 large egg, lightly beaten

225-275 ml milk

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees celsius/395 degrees fahrenheit/gas mark 6. Sift flour, baking soda and salt together into a bowl and stir in the sugar. Cut in the butter using a pastry blender or rub it into the flour using your fingers. Then stir in the orange zest and cranberries/currants.

Make a well in the centre and add the egg and 225 ml of milk. Mix gently to form a soft dough. If necessary, add the remaining milk.

Dust a surface with flour and shape the dough into a round, marking the round into 6-8 sections with a sharp knife. Do not cut the dough deeper than 3 mm. 

Place onto a baking tray and bake in the centre of your oven for 15 minutes, lowering the temperature of the oven to 180 degrees celcius/250 degrees fahrenheit/gas mark 4 for the remaining 25-35 minutes. (Skye says 15-20 but it took my oven longer, so keep an eye on yours as the temperature of your oven may vary.) The scones are done when they are golden brown on top and sound hollow when the bottom is tapped. Cool on a wire rack and serve warm, with plenty of butter.

With special thanks to Quadrille Publishing for the review copy.