We really love winter root vegetables in our house. By that I mean swede, carrots, jerusalem artichokes, beetroot, celeriac and the lovely parsnip. These are vegetables that really come into their own in the winter months, and it's no surpise that most winter soups and stews use them in one form of another.



My absolute favourites are the parnips and swede. (Rutabaga to you North Americans.) We ate rutabaga a lot when I was growing up, except that we called them turnips then. Surprisingly they were only known as pig fodder over here for a long time . . . no wonder the pork was so tasty.



My mother didn't like parsnips though. I can remember her cooking them for us once and I fell in love with their delicious sweetness. She had peeled them, cut them into rounds and then pan fried them in butter. Oh, my but they were gorgeous! She discovered though that she still didn't like them so that was the end of our having them at home.



I cannot imagine anyone not loving them. Perhaps if she had tasted them done this way, she would have liked them more. I shall have to try to tempt her with them the next time we are together.

And . . . if she still doesn't like them . . . no matter . . . that just means there's more for me.



*Parsnip and Swede Mash*
Serves 4
Printable Recipe

Scrummy, yummy with the delicious flavours of swede, parsnips mashed together with horseradish, sour cream and thyme. A crunchy buttery breadcrumb topping is it's crowning glory.

4 medium parsnips, peeled and cut into chunks
1 medium swede, peeled and cut into similar sized chunks as the parsnips
2 dessertspoons of sour cream
1 TBS creamed horseradish
salt and black pepper to taste
1 large sprig of thyme, the leaves stripped and stem discarded
For the buttery topping:
2 TBS butter
1 small onion, peeled and minced
1 large handful of soft white breadcrumbs
1/2 tsp fresh thyme leaves



Place the swede and parsnips into a pan of sligthly salted boiling water. Lower the heat and cook, covered, for 20 to 25 minutes until quite tender. Drain well. Mash together with a potato masher and then stir in the sour cream, horseradish and thyme. You want a rough texture so don't mash too finely. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Pre-het the oven to 190*C/375*F. Butter a shallow baking dish. Set aside.

Melt the butter in a skillet. Add the onion and cook, stirring until golden brown. Add the bread crumbs and cook, stirring until the crumbs are crisp and golden. Add the thyme and season with a bit of salt if desired.

Spread the vegetable mash in the buttered baking dish. Sprinkle the crumbs over top. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes. Serve hot.

One of the films we just love to watch here at Oak Cottage during the winter months, and especially at Christmas, is Little Women. I just love the period costumes and the story. It bewitches me completely, and weaves a magic spell around my heart. When I was a little girl I loved the book, and, I read it over and over again. One of my favourite scenes in the film is the scene where Meg, Jo and Amy are walking and Amy trips, dropping her school slate into the snow.

Shelooks up at Meg and says, " I'm so degradetated, I owe at least a dozen limes." to which Meg replies, " Are limes the fashion now?"

Feeling a bit sorry for her after this, Meg gives Amy the money she has saved from selling rags so that she can purchase some limes to take to school, thereby enabling her to save face with the other girls. (As the story continues, the limes are taken away from Amy and she is struck by her teacher, causing her to be removed from the school by their mother. But . . . we won't think about that right now . . . )



Sometimes I like to sit and imagine what it would have been like to live in a society where the accumulation of limes would be a status thing amongst school girls . . . and I wonder . . . would I have been able to afford to buy limes? Or would I be permanently left on the side lines . . . wanting limes and envying those who had them.

And then my imaginations take me even further . . .



If I had limes, and lots of them . . . would I be content to just carry them around, and boast about how many I had to my friends, showing off to all and sundry . . .



or would the creative cook that resides deep inside me be tempted to sacrifice just a few of them to the creation of something delicious and ludicrously tasty . . .

and then . . . were I rich enough to have oodles of limes . . .

perhaps I would be rich enough to be able to purchase another exotic ingredient as well . . . preserved stem ginger . . .




and . . . lets face it . . . were I wealthy enough to buy the ginger . . . it's a dead shoe in that I would also be able to afford candied glace cherries and lucious dried sultanas . . .

Why then I expect . . . I'd be in full possession of all the ingredients needed to create a delicious cake!!!



Mmmm . . . just think about it . . . a tasty and moist loaf cake, absolutely stogged full of glace cherries and sultanas, the zest of limes and preserved ginger . . . and slathered in a luciously sweet, yet tart lime frosting. Oh, how lovely that would be . . .



I dare say the other girls would want to be my friends even more than if I just had some old limes. It sounds good to me anyways . . .



This is a cake for cosying up with next to the fire . . . a woolen blanket thrown over your knees, and a warming mug of spiced apple tea on the side. MMMM . . . Moreishly scrummy . . .

But don't just take my word for it! Bake it for yourself, then sit back and enjoy . . .



*Cherry and Sultana Loaf with Fresh Lime and Ginger*
Makes 2 (1 lb) loaves
Printable Recipe

A refreshingly light cake with a tasty lime icing. Chock full of glace cherries, sultanas, preserved stem ginger and lime. Delicious! Make one to eat now and one to stick in the freezer to enjoy at a later date. (Don't ice if you are putting it into the freezer. Save that for the day you want to serve it.)

6 ounce self raising flour
4 ounces butter, softened
4 ounces caster sugar
3 large eggs, beaten
2 ounces raisins
2 ounces glace cherries, quartered, washed and dried
5 ounces sultanas
4 bulbs preserved stem ginger, finely chopped
the finely grated zest of two limes

For the icing:
4 ounces icing sugar, sifted
2 TBs lime juice
1 bulb of preserves stem ginger, chopped
the finely grated zest of one lime

Pre-heat the oven to 160*C/325*F. Butter and line two (1lb) loaf tins with parchment paper. Set aside.

Place all the cake ingredients in a large bowl. Mix well together on low speed of a mixer to start with, and then medium speed until well mixted together and smooth. Divide evenly between the two loaf tins and smooth the tops.

Bake in the pre-heated oven for 45 to 50 minutes, until well risen and golden brown. A toothpick inserted in the centre should come out clean and the top should spring back when lightly touched.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool in the tins. Once completely cold, remove and ice.

To make the icing mix together the icing sugar, lime zest and lime juice until smooth. Spread over top of the cakes. Sprinkle with the chopped stem ginger. Cut in slices to serve.



PS - For those of you who asked yesterday, a Swede is a rutabaga. They call it a Swede over here. (It's like a large turnip which is orangy coloured)

Nothing says home more than a nice big platter of perfectly scrambled eggs in the morning. So comforting . . . and, well . . . cosy. There is nothing tastier than an egg that's been well scrambled.

A well scrambled egg . . . with soft and moist folded curds . . . along with some hot buttered toast, is bliss . . . pure bliss.



It's not that hard to cook them properly, although some people do seem to be a bit mystified as just how to proceed, and still others seem to overcook them so much that they end up as dry little rubbery curds. What you are looking for is something that luxuriously, meltingly creamy.

Scrambled eggs are not something that you want to cook in a hurry . . . slow and steady definitely wins the race here.



First of all you need to start with a good egg. I know I don't need to lecture you on the difference between a cage grown egg and a free range egg . . . we've all heard that spiel . . . Let's just say that I prefer to pay more and use free range. For me it's more than just taste . . . it's a matter of conscience.



You want to use a skillet that's not overly heated, in other word, warm, but not hot. Then you want a nice lump of butter, softly foaming in the pan . . . and finally you want the perfect mix of beaten eggs, cream and milk . . .



You add this mixture to the warm pan, and then you just let it sit without disturbing it . . . not for long . . . just long enough that it begins to set on the bottom. Only then do you want to start moving the eggs. I like to use a wooden spatula or spoon. I commence to folding my eggs, slowly . . . from the outside edges into the centre of the pan. Not stirring . . . but folding . . . a constant, and slow movement . . . which I keep doing . . . just until the eggs are almost set, but still moist. At this point you will want to take them right off the heat. The eggs will continue to cook for a bit longer from the residual heat in the pan, but what you end up with is a lovely moist product, not dry at all.



In short . . . perfection.



I have been known to sit down to a plate of scrambled eggs late at night when I get home from work . . . tired and starving. They fill that gap beautifully. Tis a special thing to come home to.



*Cheese and Chive Scrambled Eggs*
Serves 6
Printable Recipe

Fresh chives and a good strong cheddar together with perfectly scrambled eggs, create a hearty breakfast dish just packed with flavour.

12 large free range eggs
2 ounces whole milk
2 ounces cream
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/2 tsp hot pepper sauce
2 TBS butter
4 TBS finely chopped fresh chives
4 ounces of a good farmhouse strong cheddar cheese, grated
(I use Davidstow)



Whisk the eggs, milk, cream salt, black pepper and hot pepper sauce together in a large bowl. Heat the 2 TBS of butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Once the butter begins to foam add the eggs. Allow to sit for several minutes, without stirring, so that the eggs can begin to set on the bottom. Begin to draw a wooden spatula or spoon across the bottom of the skillet to form large curds. Cook, continuing to fold the eggs with the spoon slowly, working from the outside edges into the middle until the eggs are thickened but still moist. Do not stir constantly or you will end up with small curds, you want thick moist ribbons. Remove from the heat to a warm platter. Sprinkle the hot eggs with cheese and the chives. Serve hot with warm toast, if desired.

Ahhh . . . the perfect baked potato. Crisp and slightly salted on the outside, and creamy white and fluffy on the inside.

The first meal I ever had in England was a Jacket potato, served at one of those fast food kiosks at Euston Station. We were waiting for the train to take Todd and myself up to Chester, and it was a long wait. We were both starving. I had never seen anything like it in my life. The potato was enormous and came wrapped in silver foil, sitting in a styrafoam type of bowl/box. Split open, right through the foil, and mounded with oodles and ooodles of cheese.



I know . . . I was playing it safe. I had never heard of the toppings they suggested on the menu before . . . things like Tuna and Sweetcorn, Coleslaw, baked beans etc. Cheese seemed to be the least wierd to me.

Oh, we had baked potatoes at home, but we called them baked potatoes. Somehow the term Jacket Potato sounds exotic and even more delicious. Back home we would more than likely top them with some butter, sour cream, chopped spring onions and bacon bits . . . and they would be for the most part an accompaniment to a main course . . . usually a steak . . .

Sometimes my mom would even dig out the insides and mix the potato flesh with cheese, butter, onion and milk . . . and then she would stuff it back into the skins. Those were one of our favourite treats when I was growing up. We'd each get one half of a potato, and it was never enough . . . we were always left wanting more.



I had never heard of them being used as the whole entree.

It was good. Hot, filling and very cheesy. The potato could have been cooked better through. Wrapped in foil, it was for the most part steamed . . . you couldn't really call it baked . . . but when you're starving, you're just not that picky.

Once you have tried a tasty baked potato, that has been washed, lightly salted and then baked in a hot oven directly on the oven rack . . . once you have bitten into that crisp brown and salty skin, covering a beautifully fluffy rich centre . . . you'll never settle for a second rate tinfoil steamed potato again.

Seriously.



You want a nice fluffy type of potato to begin with . . . something like a Maris Piper, or a King Edward, my personal favourite. Waxy potatoes just won't do. They don't fluff up, but remain solid. You also want a biggun. That's if you are going for a whole meal experience. You can do smaller ones of course, and in truth the small ones are quite tasty when baked in the convection oven.

The toppings are where you get to let your imaginations run wild, and where you can turn this delicious beast into a full meal instead of a pale accompaniment . . . Tinned baked beans, hot and steaming and slathered with grated cheese, which melts into all that beany goodness, which in turn is soaking into that potato fluff. Tuna salad, with lots of chopped red onion, mayo and celery, spooned onto the top and into that creamy white fluffy crevice. If you are feeling really brave, add some sweet corn, (it's not as strange and inedible as it sounds) . . . A nice fat tub of coleslaw (I like the cheese coleslaw) ladled on top, all crunchy and saucy, just perfect with that soulful mealiness beneath . . . simple cheese, bacon and onion, along with a splash of sour cream . . . perfection, simple butter, sea salt and pepper, bliss . . . bliss . . . bliss . . .



I love that name . . . Jacket Potato . . . it sounds like something all dressed up and fit for a king.

In truth . . . this is fit for a king. Simple??? Certainly. Common??? Definitely not. Nigel Slater recommends Karate chopping it open, but me, I'm not that brave. I just hack it open with a knife . . .




*Jacket Potato with Chili and Cheese*
Serves 2
Printable Recipe

Comfort food at it's best.

2 large baking potatoes
sea salt
410g tin of chili con carne
(I used Stagg)
2 ounces strong cheddar cheese, grated

Pre-heat the oven to 200*C/400*F. Scrub the potatoes well and then while they are still damp, dust them lightly with the sea salt and allow to air dry for several minutes. Prick in a few places with a fork so that they don't burst in the oven and then place them into the heated oven, directly on the oven rack.

Bake until crisp on the outside and tender on the inside. (They will yield lightly when pressed with a gloved hand) This will take between 45 minutes to an hour, depending on the variety and size of your potatoes.

About 10 minutes before the potatoes are done, empty the chili into a saucepan and heat over low heat, stirring occasionally until heated through and bubbling. Grate the cheese on the large holes of a box grater.

Take your baked potatoes from the oven. Cut an x into the top of each and squeeze them slightly to fluff up the insides. If you want, now is the time to fork in a bit of butter. Place the potatoes onto two heated plates. Spoon the hot chili over top of each, and sprinkle on the grated cheese, dividing it between both potatoes. Serve immediately.

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