A Flourless Chocolate Cake + Holiday Planning

Have you planned you sumer holiday yet? Over the last couple of weeks we have. Flights are booked and the countdown has begun in earnest (though it's not until mid August). This year we are off to Finland and we are all extremely excited at the prospect. 

Our friend is letting us stay at her family summerhouse. It's a place that really has the best of both worlds. It's only a mere half-an-hour or so from Helsinki, yet it's pretty isolated, surrounded by pine trees and vast lakes. It will be the break we'll need: days free of agenda to kick back and relax combined with days of exploring a capital city I have always been fascinated by.

Over the weekend, our generous Finnish friend came over for lunch, with her husband and children and gave us a fantastic list of places to see and things to do and to impart some 'general Finnish knowledge' on us.

We ate Tahini-dressed courgette and green bean salad, with cheeses, sourdough and focaccia. Afterwards we indulged in this seriously chocolatey cake. Made without flour, it's rich and indulgent with a texture not to dissimilar to a chocolate brownie. The recipe originates from a Sophie Dahl cookbook I own, but I have made a few adaptions, mainly as I don't own a food processor, so I've adapted the method a little to suit my old-fashioned kitchen.

Flourless Chocolate Cake

Butter for greasing
300g plain chocolate (or 150g of plain, 150g of milk chocolate)

225g caster sugar

180ml boiling water

225g salted butter, cut into cubes 

6 eggs, separated

1 tsp instant coffee powder

1 tbsp vanilla extract

To top the cake:
125g blueberries

125g strawberries

a handful of pomegrante seeds

200ml crème fraîche

Grease and line the base of a 23-cm/9-inch round springform cake tin. Preheat the oven to 180℃/160℃ fan/Gas 4.

Break up the chocolate and add to a bowl and suspend over a pan of gently simmering water and melt, stirring occasionally. Then pour the melted chocolate and butter into a large mixing bowl and add the sugar, boiling water, egg yolks, coffee powder and vanilla extract and mix until combined. In a glass bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff and then add them to the mixture in the large mixing bowl and blend for 10 seconds or so. Pour the mixture into the prepared cake tin and put in the hot oven for 45–55 minutes. The top will be cracked like a desert fault line.

After you take the cake out of the oven it will collapse in on itself quite a bit. This is ok; it’s not meant to be a proud cool cake, it’s meant to be slightly rough around the edges and home-made, and the crème fraîche and berries will hide any dips and cracks!

Let the cake cool, then put it in the fridge for a few hours. When you are ready to serve, remove from the tin and smother it in crème fraîche and liberally adorn with strawberries, blueberries and pomegrante seeds. You can indeed use any berries you like such as raspberries, blackberries or beautiful summer currants.

Market Day in Milan

Call it bad timing, but on the morning of the day we flew home from Milan this market popped up on the street opposite our apartment. It snaked through several streets selling fruit and vegetables of all kinds. You want courgette? Take your pick from a bounty of varieties; dark green, light green, yellow or striped. There were tomatoes of every size and shade of red through to orange, yellow and purple. There were mountains of oranges and citrus fruit sold as cheap as chips, just crying out to be made into marmalade. If only we could have stayed a little longer. I would have filled my boots. I did however fill my hand luggage with blood oranges, lemons and podded peas, which were the kids Milan snack of choice.

Father's Day + A Time When I Didn't Like Pizza

It's Father's Day on Sunday. Both my kids have been plotting, planning and preparing over the last week for their daddies special day. They idolise him and approach this day with considerable excitement. My role in their carefully thought out plan is to try and turn the list of ever-so-slightly random and adventurous ideas into reality. 

Then there is my own dad of course. He's actually spending the weekend with my brother and his family, which will be a real treat, given that the distance between them (Isle of Wight - Tynemouth) doesn't allow for too many occasions spent together. I've written about my Dad before on the blog (you can read it here), but today I want to share a little story that came back to me recently.

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In 1980, we had a family holiday to America. It was a big thing. It was the first time that my brother or I had been abroad. We have a big extended family in Michigan, so this trip was spent in the company of our American cousins, all of who showed us a great and memorable time. Although only eight at the time, I remember it being an amazing adventure.

Naturally, many of my memories evolve around the food we ate. It was so different to what we ate back home: all the sweets were different and called 'candy', jam was called 'jelly' and as for breakfast cereal - I'd never seen so many varieties! I remember the pizzas too - great big things the size of dustbin lids. 

However, at eight I didn't like pizza. Even now, I can't give a legitimate reason why, I just didn't like it. These pizzas often marked the end of days sightseeing with relatives, but like I say I didn't like pizza. So my dad would go on a wild goose chase for a McDonalds to by me a burger (no gerkins). He wasn't a soft touch and I'm surprised he put up with such fastidious behaviour. On one such occasion, I remember him returning with my paper-wrapped bun rather incensed muttering something about 'almost getting run over trying to cross the busy highway to get to McDonalds'. To top it all, I dare say his pizza was cold when he got back to us all.

I love pizza now and wouldn't step within 100yds of McDonalds. Dad: sorry that I was a fussy-eating eight year old.

A Little More Charilla

Whilst in Charilla we took frequent trips out in the car to explore neighbouring towns and further afield places. The local town, Alcala La Real, was barely a ten minute drive away. It is a beautiful town with a fascinating history. It was first inhabited during the stone age and played an important role during the Roman and Moorish occupations of Spain. We visited the impressive Fortaleza la Mota one day and spent time in the town on many evenings too. The kids played in the central park and visited the local toy shop for Spainish playmobil figures and I shopped for local ceramics and cake tins (yes cake tins; I found some beautiful shaped ones that were just a couple of euros each) and picked up any provisions for the next day. We had a couple of meals out, but more often having cooked and eaten supper at home we would amble into town for an ice cream pudding at one of the roadside cafes.

We stopped off in Madrid too on the way back for a couple of nights. Although the polar opposite of Charilla it was a fascinating and charming city we wouldn't hesitate going back to.

Oh, and the flying? Arthur took his first ever (rocket) voyage in his stride and Lily simply loved every second of it. We were lucky that on both our outbound and return journeys we had lovely clear skies so  could see the land way down below us. As we gained height, Lily asked where we were flying over, England? Brighton? The Sea? What Sea? France? Spain? Once up in the huge white fluffy clouds she asked 'Where are we now? Is this heaven?'

Charilla

Well, here we all are back safe and sound from our holiday. We had a lovely time. Truly lovely. Charilla, the little village we stayed at in Spain has certainly won our hearts. It was proper Spain, without a trace of commercialism. It was just the olive trees, the views, the mountains, the heat and the lazy days. It took the children a few days to adjust. It was hot; really hot. During the days it would reach 110F whilst still holding its own in the 90's at gone midnight. Lily and Arthur had to learn to take things slowly and have a midday siesta so that they could stay up late as the locals did sitting outside their home on a mis-mash of chairs with their little dogs chatting until the early hours.

Despite the change of scene, climate and all, they still saw daytime sleeping as some kind of punishment when they had done nothing wrong. They got into the groove eventually I'm pleased to say. Arthur managed to have a midday nap (as did David), whilst Lily and I indulged in the quite time to read (James and the Giant Peach) or do some cross-stitch in the shade.

We stayed in the most charming casa owned by our friends Michelle and Bill. A designer and a photographer by trade, I knew it would be a stylish abode that was sensitive to its surroundings and history. From its tiny blue window shutters and it basic cosy kitchen to the stunning view the top terrace offered, it was a real gem of a place that really helped us feel we were away from it all. Arthur called it his '20 house' as opposed to his '30 house' here back home; a sure sign of affection. Although none of us can speak a word of Spanish we managed to communicate through actions and gestures with the locals who all made us feel most welcome in the village.

I really felt at home in my little Spainish kitchen. We were surrounded by fantastic locally produced fruit and veg. As much as staying in a hotel and eating out a restaurants each night would be lovely, I really couldn't do it for very long. I love cooking and even more so when surrounded by all this wonderful produce. The kitchen had just 4 gas rings on which to cook; basic but fun. It meant quick, simple food, which is all you need in such heat when you have such great ingredients to cook with. My regular lunch was a bowl full of thickly sliced juicy tomatoes layered with capers, salt, pepper and olive oil eaten with some freshly baked bread. It tasted divine. We visited the local market which had amazing produce stalls, but even the supermarkets were full of seasonal fruit and vegetable and local seafood. Ready meals were extremely hard to come by. They put our supermarkets to shame. From such basic ingredients we ate like kings. Happy days.

Holiday Time Is Here

I'm going to be pressing the pause button on the blog; just for a couple of weeks. We're off on our summer holiday.

For the first time since having kids, we are travelling abroad. I don't know why, but since the kids we've got into the habit of holidaying here in the UK. But this year we fancied a change, so we are off to Charilla, Alcala la Real in Spain. 

Charilla is a small village where most of the locals work the olives and the rhythm of the day is laid back and quiet. I'm really looking forward the change of pace and scenery. We're flying to Madrid (so much cheaper and better flight times) so have a bit of a car journey ahead before we get to our retreat, but somehow I think it will be worth it. On the way back we will stop off for a few days in Madrid. After all, to just pass through it would be a missed opportunity.

The kids are SO excited, you wouldn't believe it. To them it is a huge adventure. Lily, spends a lot of time with her head in her atlas, so to travel to another country is a really big thing for her. She keeps on asking me to talk her through the journey; the airport, the flight, the four hour car journey. She is so thrilled by every detail. Arthur on the other hand has less of a grasp on what is to come. But he too is excited because he reckons he won't be taking a plane to Spain, but a rocket!

I'm sure that while away, I will gather many photographs and experiences that I will be sharing on this blog on my return. 

But until then, I'm off to catch some sun, spend some quality time with my gorgeous family, discover new places and slow down a little ...

Image via Bohemian Blues blog

A Lesson In How Unplanned Days Are Often The Best

We're at the end of the first week of the school summer holidays. Not that I'm counting. The first week off is always my favourite. Lily's school broke up a week earlier than most schools meaning we can pretty much get the parks and a good stretch of beach all to ourselves. That all changes next week when all the other schools break up.

But with the weather being at best changeable, we've had to make things up as we've gone along this week; ducking the rain showers and finding stuff to do indoors.  But today the rain gave us a break, so we headed to the beach. There's a bit of beach, the nearest bit to us, that has a small wooden jetty running down the shingle to the sea. This is my bit of beach; my garden. It's peaceful and the jetty acts as a low windbreak, cum table, cum bench. It's a good place to be.

Today I decided to take some art supplies with us: paper, coloured pencils, paints and oil pastels. I've never taken such things before. It wasn't planned; just a whim. The kids had a great time, holding their paper down from the breeze with pebbles and washing out their paint brushes in a jar of sea water. It was two-and-a-half hours of non-squabbling sibling time, with each of them totally immersed in what they were doing, only stopping to eat the sausage sandwiches we bought with us from home for lunch.

I, in turn, did nothing but savour a flask of tea, relax with a bit of cross-stitch (I kid you not), and intermittently dashed into the sea to change the water in the paint brush jar. I'm not very good at doing nothing, so it was a good way for me to end the week. I don't have that frazzled end-of-the-week feeling that Friday often brings and maybe that was due to that time out on the beach.

I eventually called time when the wind whipped up and dark grey clouds started to hang above us. Once home they both the Lily and Arthur immediately got their drawing pads out again eager to finish off their pictures.

I've a feeling we will have days such as these again. 

Tynemouth Part Two

Go back seven years and my brother and I (along with my parents) all lived with in a couple of miles of each other. 

We were first to disband the family unit, moving to Hove. Then, around a year later, my parents moved to the Isle of Wight and finally my brother and his family moved to Tynemouth. That must have been around five years ago now, but I still can't quite get my head around the distance: how spread out we all are. I so wish we were all nearer, especially since children have entered our lives. But in the modern world it doesn't work quite like that does it. 

But there is a flip side: when we do get together it's for a decent chunk of quality time and we always have a really great time. It's also pretty fortunate that we all live in lovely places: places that are consistently a pleasure to visit.

Until my brother moved to Tynemouth, there wasn't really anywhere in the north of England that I felt a particular fondness for. Don't get me wrong, I've visited some lovely places, but circumstances made them one-off visits meaning the bond couldn't be built. My recent trip to Tynemouth seemed to affirm that I've found my northern town. Tynemouth is truly lovely: very pretty, full of history and its coastline is just breathtaking. If you get the chance to visit, jump at it. You'll be glad that you did.

A Good Day Out

We first visited the Eden Project while holidaying in Cornwall three years ago and we were very impressed. So last week we considered it just plain foolish not to revisit as it was so near to where we were based. Second time around, I expected a certain amount of 'been there, seen that'. But no, it was anything but. I was even more impressed as a returning visitor. Maybe the place has developed somewhat or maybe it's having two kids in tow this time, but it was just the best day out.

Usually I find that purpose built 'tourist attractions' fail to grab me. The Eden Project is so incredibly thought out. It works. For me the gardens (especially the allotment) are so inspiring; I certainly bought a few ideas home with me. I learnt a lot to which isn't a bad thing. The design of the place is well considered for children. There is so much fun laid on for them through which they learn. When navigating around the gardens, children can opt to leave the path and take the willow tunnels - so much more fun! The Biomes are spectacular structures that allow you to explore the Rainforest and the Mediterranean. A hit with Lily armed with her own guide book.

This summer we were there for the 'Festival of Play'. Lily and Arthur had a go at the Circus Skills workshop. Lily is an impressive sight with a hoola-hoop, but Arthur's plate spinning still needs some practice. Then there was the den building project where families were invited to use the poles, frames, fabrics and blankets provided to make a 'proper' den. There were some pretty impressive structures going up with competitive dad's taking the lead. Ours was built in the chaotic panic one enters when the kids are tired and you're trying to reignite their interest. Needless to say we have no photographic evidence as we were too ashamed to capture the result.

The food was another point worth noting. It was really good. We ate in the Eden Bakery. It's a canteen style set up where you help yourself to what takes your fancy. We had mid-morning coffee and pastries and went back for lunch. The choice was generous and healthy; pizza and salad, big bowls of salad, savoury tarts and thick vegetable soups all with tasty bread baked on the premises. We're glad we didn't pack a picnic that day.