It is this produce that inspires her cooking and her posts on social media.
To dip her toes into social media she began posting on Instagram every Sunday.
She talks about "simple everyday life", the producers and their produce, cooking, eating and her cooking classes.
"I make observations about the extraordinary world of nature that is so much part of my daily life."
These posts resonated and soon those who followed her suggested she do a book of her posts, hence A Year of Sundays - named for her "Sunday posts".
My tried-and-true hummus
I love bread, but I don’t make proper bread often. Soda breads and quick breads, yes, but we have so many wonderful bakers locally that I’m happy to leave the sourdoughs, ryes, wholegrains and Turkish breads in their far more skilful hands.
Speaking of Turkish bread, I have to confess that I have a particular weakness for it and feel quite alarmed when we don’t have any tucked away in the freezer. I use it constantly for sandwiches, or torn into rough pieces and sauteed in olive oil to make crunchy little croutons for soups and salads and, best of all, left to stale a bit and made into these scrumptious pide crisps that are perfect to eat with a drink. They came about when one of my students whipped them up with bread leftover from a class (I love how my classes are a two-way street — I’m often given wonderful tips and recipe ideas by our lovely attendees). I jotted down a few notes to trigger my memory for later, and have since come up with this recipe, which I actually think should carry a warning as they’re so addictive its hard to stop at one.
I love these first few weeks of March. I’m not in full-on work mode yet, but find my days are a blend of early morning swims, spring cleaning (I know its autumn, but I never did get to it in spring), doing all sorts of odd jobs in the garden that have been waiting patiently to be addressed, and my greatest pleasure of all creating new recipes for my classes and books.
Without other pressing things to attend to, I feel incredibly fired up creatively to finetune recipes, come up with ideas, and just generally try out new things. As I made this hummus yesterday, I realised yet again that its the simple dishes I love. I have no doubt there are zillions of recipes for hummus, but the real beauty of it lies in finding that wonderful balance of flavours, texture and temperature when everything is just right. We ate this while it was still warm and almost cloud-like in its lightness it was truly ambrosial. As I said, simple things, but when theyre really good, they can be extraordinary.
Happy Sunday. Belinda
P.S. This and the pide crisp recipe that follows are a made-in-heaven combination. Smoky, herby crisps meet earthy, fluffy hummus. What could be better?
You’ll find the flavours of the cumin and garlic will become a bit more pronounced over a few days, so keep this in mind when you make it.
Makes 3-4 cups
¾ cup (170g) dried chickpeas
½ tsp bicarbonate of soda
3 cloves garlic, 2 crushed and 1 finely chopped
1 dried red chilli
1 bay leaf
½ cup (125ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice, or more to taste
2 tsp sea salt flakes, or more to taste
1 cup (250ml) tahini
⅓ cup (80ml) extra-virgin olive oil
1 slightly heaped teaspoon freshly ground cumin seeds
a little olive oil, a pinch of smoked paprika, finely sliced chilli and tiny herb leaves, to garnish, optional
Method
Wash the chickpeas really well and check them for any little stones or discoloured peas. Put them to soak in a large bowl of cold water. Sprinkle the bicarbonate of soda into the water and stir to ensure it dissolves (the bicarbonate of soda helps the chickpeas to soften more quickly). You need about four times the amount of water as there are chickpeas. Leave them in a cool spot overnight. If the weather is warm, its a good idea to pop them in the fridge, otherwise they can ferment and start to bubble.
The next day, drain the chickpeas and rinse them again. Put them into a large saucepan and cover with cold water by at least an index finger-length. Add the crushed garlic cloves, chilli and bay leaf to the pan. Bring the water to the boil, then reduce the heat so it bubbles steadily. Cook the chickpeas until they're tender and creamy but not mushy if the water level starts to look low, top it up with very hot water. Spoon away any impurities that form on the surface as the chickpeas cook. The cooking time can vary widely depending on just how fresh the chickpeas are; recently dried chickpeas can cook in about 45 minutes, but older ones may take up to 1½ hours or more. The best way to check is to scoop out a couple and try them they should be tender. As soon as they're ready, thoroughly drain the chickpeas but hang on to about 2/3 cup (160ml) of the cooking water to thin the hummus a little, if necessary. Pluck out and discard the garlic cloves, chilli and bay leaf.
Scrape the chopped garlic into a blender or food processor (a blender is ideal as it makes for a finer texture), then add the lemon juice and salt. Leave them to sit for 5 minutes this helps soften the powerful bite of the garlic. Add the tahini and ½ cup (125ml) iced water and puree until the mixture is smooth. With the motor running, pour in the olive oil in a fine stream. When the mixture is lovely and creamy, stop the machine and add all but 1 tablespoon of chickpeas and the ground cumin. Continue to blend everything together until the mixture is as smooth, light and creamy as possible. This may take 5- 6 minutes, depending on your blender or processor. If the hummus seems a bit too thick and dense, pour in some of the reserved cooking water to thin it a little (remember that it will thicken a bit more once it cools). Finally, taste the hummus and add a little more lemon juice, salt or cumin to balance out the flavours.
To serve, spoon the hummus into a bowl. Drizzle over a little olive oil and sprinkle with the reserved chickpeas, smoked paprika, sliced chilli and herb leaves, if using.
Smoked paprika and rosemary pide crisps
Just a little note of caution as this recipe is deceptively simple: to make the crisps the most delicious they can be, you actually need to take care in every part of it, such as slicing the bread the right thickness, oiling it to the edges, and cooking for just the right amount of time to ensure the crisps are crunchy but not hard.
Please don’t be tempted to reduce the amount of oil as they won’t taste nearly as delicious. If your bread is too fresh and difficult to slice to the desired thickness, simply pop it in the freezer to firm up before slicing.
Smoked paprika and rosemary pide crisps
Makes 20-24
200ml extra-virgin olive oil, or more as needed
1 tsp smoked paprika
3/4 tsp sea salt flakes
1 clove garlic, crushed (or finely chopped for a stronger flavour)
300g stale Turkish bread, cut into 8mm-thick slices
6 large rosemary sprigs (or oregano), finely chopped
Method
Preheat your oven to 175degC. Line one large or two small baking sheets with baking paper and set aside.
Thoroughly mix together the oil, smoked paprika, salt and garlic in a jug. Lay the bread slices on the prepared sheet or sheets.
Give the oil mixture a really good stir, then brush the slices liberally with half the mixture, making sure you brush right to the edges of each slice. Scatter half the chopped rosemary evenly over the top.
Put the baking sheet in the oven and cook the slices for about 8 minutes. After this time, remove the sheet from the oven and carefully turn the slices with tongs. Brush over the remaining oil mixture evenly — especially dab it on to any dryish-looking patches.
If you find you run low on the mixture, just add a splash more oil to whatever remains in the jug. Scatter the remaining rosemary over the top and return the sheet to the oven.
Bake for another 5-8 minutes or until the crisps are golden and bubbling. You may find some slices colour and cook more rapidly than others; if this is the case, remove them as they’re ready.
Put the baking sheet on a wire rack.
Smoked salmon, caper, dill and goat’s cheese tart
One savoury tart equals three local growers. Maths was never my strong point, but this is an equation I do understand!
Yesterday, as I was making a smoked salmon tart with leftover pastry from my classes, I found myself smiling as I counted the different local farmers whose ingredients had gone into making it. There was beautiful milk, creme fraiche and marinated feta from Debra Allard, of Cheeses Loves You.
Debra, an award-winning cheesemaker, and her husband, Jim, have a herd of much-loved Jersey cows, whose milk is used to make her wonderful cheeses, yoghurt, buttermilk and dairy products. I love visiting her stall at the farmers market as there is always laughter ringing out from it and many Very Important Discussions being had about which cheese to choose. There were fragrant, rusty-coloured kampot peppercorns and hand-picked capers from growers extraordinaire, John and Lyndall Picone from Picone Exotics, who live close by and grow all sorts of glorious fruits.
The eggs, which made a custard so golden it looked as though it had been infused with saffron, were from the gorgeous heirloom chooks raised just up the road by Obi and Ash, of Good Goog Eggs. There were also bunches of chives and dill from our garden. I’m not hugely green-fingered, but just growing these few additions makes me feel incredibly productive.
I can’t tell you the pleasure this simple calculation gave me. I feel so very fortunate to be able to cook beautiful fresh produce like this, grown locally by people I know and admire. Their efforts and work inform and inspire everything I do in my writing and my classes, and Im so very grateful to them.
This is wonderful served with a salad that includes fennel, as the two go beautifully together.
Serves 6-8
1 blind-baked 25-26cm shortcrust pastry tart shell, in its tin
5 × 60g eggs
300ml milk
150ml cream (sour cream or creme fraiche)
1 teaspoon sea salt flakes
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
good grinding of black peppercorns
2 Tbsp finely chopped dill
2 Tbsp finely chopped chives
200g smoked salmon, torn into bite-size pieces
1½ Tbsp capers (salted, if possible)
100g (or so) soft feta or marinated goats cheese, drained and lightly crushed
herb sprigs and leaves, to garnish
Method
Preheat your oven to 175degC. Sit the tart tin with the cooked pastry shell on a baking sheet and set it aside.
In a large bowl, lightly whisk the eggs with a balloon whisk to break them up. Add the milk, cream, salt, nutmeg and pepper and whisk everything thoroughly together. Stir in the dill and chives. Pour the mixture into a jug, cover it and put it in the fridge until you're ready to use it. You can do this a couple of hours ahead of time, if you like.
When you're ready to bake the tart, strew the smoked salmon, capers, and feta or goat’s cheese evenly over the base of the tart. Give the egg mixture another quick whisk as it will have settled somewhat, then pour it into the tart shell. I usually do this right by the oven or put the baking sheet with the tart shell on the partly pulled-out oven shelf before pouring in the liquid, as its easy to spill if you carry the tray any distance, which I've learnt the hard way!
Slide the baking sheet with the tart carefully into the oven. Cook for about 35 minutes or until the filling is set but still a little wobbly. The best way to check this is to very lightly rest the palm of your hand on the filling and give it a gentle jiggle. Remove the tart from the oven and leave it to settle in the tin for 5 minutes or so. It’s also lovely served just-warm.
To serve, remove the outer ring of the tart tin, then use a long palette knife to help slide the tart off the base and on to a serving platter. Strew fresh herb sprigs and leaves over the top.
Lemon curd and shortbread tart
We receive many comments about the beautiful rainbow eggs that we use in our cooking classes. I think virtually the first photo our students take when they arrive is of these eggs. Often, we’ll find seven or eight different colours nestled within the one carton and it can take me a while to convince people that I haven’t hand-painted them.
We’re trying to twist Obi and Ash’s arms (of Good Goog Eggs) to do us a map, like the ones in chocolate boxes, so we know which eggs come from which one of their heritage chooks. We feel very fortunate to live just around the corner from their farm and even more so last week when Obi arrived at my front door, a big smile on his face and his arms laden with trays of the most gorgeous little eggs. He explained they call these practice eggs, which are the first lays from their girls and, as they’re too small to sell, he thought I might be able to use them. I think that’s called an understatement!
Even though I’ve been using rainbow eggs for a long while now, I’m still blown away not only by their beauty, but also by the incredibly rich flavour and colour of the yolks — everything made with them looks as though it has been infused with saffron. As you can imagine, I’ve cooked up a storm of eggy things: lemon curd, lemon tart, chiffon cakes, ice-cream, let alone poached, boiled, scrambled and coddled eggs.
This lovely lemon curd and shortbread tart is a particular favourite of mine. The shortbread pastry is grated, so there’s no rolling involved. And the lemon curd recipe isn’t too sweet, which allows the tang of lemon to really come through. I hope you enjoy it!
The lemon curd in this tart is wonderful for all sorts of things, such as sandwiching cake or meringue layers, topping little pavlovas, folding into cream and plopping on to scones, or simply spreading thickly on toast. If you want to make a separate batch, it keeps well in the fridge for up to 10 days.
Serves 8-12
To serve: Icing sugar, for dusting,
softly whipped cream or double cream, optional
Shortbread pastry
2 cups (300g) plain flour, plus extra, for dusting
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
250g unsalted butter, at cool room temperature, roughly chopped
1 cup (220g) caster sugar
2 egg yolks (from 60g eggs)
2 tsp vanilla extract
Lemon curd
3 × 60g eggs
90g caster sugar
½ cup (125ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice, strained
90g unsalted butter, melted
finely grated zest of 1 large lemon
Method
Pastry
For the shortbread pastry, put the flour, baking powder and salt into the bowl of a food processor fitted with the steel blade and whizz them together so they’re thoroughly mixed. Tip them into a bowl and set it aside.
Put the butter in the food processor along with the caster sugar and whizz for about 40 seconds or until the mixture is pale and creamy (you may need to stop the machine and scrape down the sides once or twice). Add the egg yolks and vanilla, then process again for 15 seconds or until well combined. Now add the flour mixture to the butter mixture and pulse the machine in short bursts until a ball of pastry forms around the blade (try not to overdo this mixing or the pastry may be a bit tough).
Turn the pastry out on to a board very lightly dusted with flour and shape it into 2 equal-size logs (if the pastry seems too soft, chill it for a little while so it firms up enough to handle comfortably). Wrap each log in baking paper, then pop them in the fridge and chill for at least 3 hours (or overnight) until they’re really firm.
While the pastry is chilling, make the lemon curd.
Lemon curd
You can make the curd a week or so ahead, if you like. Put the eggs and caster sugar into a medium-size, heavy-based saucepan and whisk them together with a balloon whisk until they’re thoroughly combined but not too frothy. Whisking gently, mix in the lemon juice and the melted butter.
Sit the pan over medium-low heat. Cook the mixture, stirring constantly with a flat-based wooden spoon or sauce whisk, until it thickens to a lovely, custard-like consistency. As you stir, try to use a figure-eight motion to cover the entire base of the pan so the curd doesn’t catch and burn. The most important thing of all is not to let it boil, otherwise it may curdle. As soon as its ready, remove the curd from the heat and strain it through a fine sieve into a heatproof jug. Stir in the lemon zest, then cover the jug loosely with a sheet of baking paper and leave the curd to cool. Once cool, cover securely and pop it into the fridge. It will keep well for up to 10 days.
Cooking
Preheat your oven to 180degC. Very lightly butter a 25cm loose-based tart tin. Remove 1 pastry log from the fridge. Use the side of a box grater with the largest holes to grate the pastry on to a plate. I tend to do this in batches as the grater fills quickly and the pastry strands will squash if they become too compacted. As you finish each batch, carefully transfer the grated dough to the prepared tin. When you have finished grating, gently pat the dough strands out evenly over the base of the tin, trying not to squash them down too much.
Now dollop the lemon curd evenly over the grated pastry. Smooth it out thinly with a palette knife as best you can, leaving a 1cm border around the edges. Grate the remaining pastry log the same way as before and sprinkle it over the lemon curd. Give it the lightest pat down to even it out.
Carefully transfer the tin to the oven (watch out you don’t pop the base up; unfortunately, it’s quite easily done) and bake the tart for about 35 minutes or until it is golden brown. Remove it from the oven and cool completely in the tin on a rack.
To serve, carefully remove the tart from the tin and place on a serving plate. Sometimes the tart may feel as though it’s sticking to the tin and doesn’t want to release from the base. If you find this happens, check underneath the tin to see if a bit of mixture has run out and stuck the base and sides of the tin together. If it has, use a fine palette knife to scrape away any crusted-on bits of pastry and the tart should release.
Dust the tart with icing sugar and serve with softly whipped cream. It’s equally lovely served simply with a cup of tea or coffee or as dessert with double cream.
