 Popping in briefly to say hello and share with you a fresh and fast recipe that's also low in fat and ever-so delicious.
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Christine's cheese scones and afternoon tea
"Come for afternoon tea and I'll show you my new dining room furniture," read the invitation messaged by a dear friend. "I'll make some cheese scones and we can sit and chat over a gin and tonic."
 Pear and muesli muffins (image courtesy Sydney Markets) Long time readers of this little blog might have realised that I have a thing for pears.  Raw hazelnut brownies from Hippie Lane the cookbook (courtesy Murdoch Books) "Chocolate and hazelnut: who can resist?" writes Taline Gabrielian, founder of Hippie Lane and creator of whole-food, plant-based recipes. "These easy no-bake brownies are almost too good to be true. You don’t need a whole lot of time or ingredients to get these ones happening — but you may find it hard to resist the whole slab!" Oh, I'm hearing you, girlfriend! 
"That's THE BEST way to eat a hot cross bun," Peter declared, licking his lips and patting his belly contentedly. My Englishman loves a good pudding and he was clearly enamoured with my buttered hot cross bun version.
 There was a fascinating segment on Words and Music on BBC Radio 3 this week, in which the conversation focused around the use of hands in our everyday lives. The speakers touched on the topic of working with one's hands for both practical and creative purposes.  Daily rituals change, and the pace of life slows down by a good few notches, when dear old grandma comes for her annual week-long visit. 
I had one of those ear worms happening on baking day this week. It wasn't an annoying tune, it was an upbeat number from the 1960s, and I found myself happily bopping around the kitchen. Some of you might remember the song in question. It was originally recorded by The Drifters and the chorus was: "Sweets for my sweet, sugar for my honey, I'll never, ever let you go."
 Gill Mellor's lemon & gooseberry tart with elderflower fritters from Gather, Quadrille My first taste of a gooseberry was during the 1960s in the garden of my friend Sandra's house. The family was English and Sandra's mother, Norah, grew rhubarb as well as the gooseberries.  Growing up in a Hungarian household, there was never any mention of fruit mince and fruit mince tartlets or pies in my mother's kitchen. It would be years before I knew such things existed. If memory serves me correctly, a high school home economics teacher may have lectured about them in a class on suet. |
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Cooking and writing have been a lifelong passion. Join me as I share with you my favourite recipes; postcards and morsels from my travels; conversations with cookery writers and chefs; and news on food, cookbooks and cooking. - Liz Posmyk 
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NB: I use Australian standard measuring cups and spoons in my recipes.
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