under your skin | (chocolate chunk) almond butter blondies

It was their time maybe 11pm; our time 4:30am. We'd been up all night revelling under blue lights, watching James Bond fall off trains on someone else's screen, drinking orange juice that was more concentrate than anything else. We were so tired we could barely stand, pale faced, red eyed, static hair. We sat on the back seat of that airport transfer bus and we couldn't stop laughing, neither my sister nor I can remember what it was, but it was that strange buzzy euphoria. A heady cocktail of jetlag, stale air, tingling excitement. Traveller's high.

Midnight in Mumbai. There is something about that subcontinent that is - addictive. The most powerful feeling is the one after you get off that long flight, you test those jelly legs again, onto the dingy carpeted shoot. It hits you in a wave of warm night air. Suddenly you're no longer half conscious but fully present, you've joined the one billion who call this place home. The runway is darkened and you can see over the high airport walls and into the shanty towns adjacent where life rolls on. It's black out but there's an assault of colour, activity. Girls in cheery saris fetching water from wells, garish plastic buckets in hand; boys wear spin-off Sahara cricket shirts and ride bikes; a cow under the yellow glow of a streetlight. The baggage handlers and ground staff sleep on the carts, piles of leather flip flops lining the concrete. It's the same as years ago, when we used to visit, we sit in the domestic terminal waiting for another flight. We sit with the priests in white robes, faces dotted in sandalwood; with the MacBook-toting businessmen back from the States, with the extended families complete with four generations all dressed for a wedding. Sleep, my mum tells us. How can we, when we're in the one city that never does?

How is it that my earliest memories of travels are flecked with the incessant ringing of Nokia mobiles? Of the sweet Air India air hostesses who'd pinch my cheeks and give my sister and I extra yogurt? Of straining my neck on cold airport benches, watching a shop assistant eat a chapati out of a polystyrene container? How is it that the country manages to get itself so deeply under your skin?

India often comes up in conversation. The good, the bad, the ugly. I talk about the good, talk about the bad, drift off by the ugly. Drift to the place where life never stops moving, where the country is a living breathing organ, each jammed road a pulsing vein. Thousands of cells in each fancy high rise, each concrete village house, each intricate temple. What's the greatest problem for India, people ask me, hearing I've lived there. The corruption? The poverty? Neither, I think. It's greatest problem is that you keep going back. Once you try it the first time, you need that high, the buzz that comes from walking off the plane into a hot night. Of taxis that drive into the central reservation, of painted cows and painted trucks. Where people throw color at you and bless their new cars, where they drown their gods and celebrate light . It's been 3 years, it's time for a hit. 5 weeks and I'll be back, back for my fix. Once India's in your blood, you just can't get it out.

Yes, 5 weeks till the Christmas break and our trip to India for 3 weeks of sun! Also, the irony, I know, writing about India and then making blondies. Probably should've been a post about Stockholm or something. Anyways, blondies are, um, blonde brownies. The almond butter in this recipe makes all the difference to using something like coconut oil: in the toffee color and the fudginess of the squares. (Fun fact: did you know that the fats found in nuts and similar foods - the 'healthy' fats - help balance blood sugar?) Light muscovado sugar also adds to the toffee-effect but if you can't find it, you can use an equal amount of brown sugar instead. They surprisingly hold up well for being gluten-free, so I may freeze the rest for our trip. If they last that long, 'cause these suddenly looked a lot more fun than kale and eggs for dinner Hope that an adventure is on the cards for you and blondies either way. Big hugs xo

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(CHOCOLATE CHUNK) ALMOND BUTTER BLONDIES

 makes 9 regular or 12 minis // gluten & dairy free

gluten & dairy free blondies: soft and fudgy from the almond butter, with a little vanilla and plenty of chocolate chunks. Muscovado is an unrefined sugar (it retains natural minerals) and adds a hint of caramel which goes so well with these squares of goodness

1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons brown rice flour (140grams)
1/2 cup oat flour, certified gluten free if necessary (90g)
2 tablespoons flax meal (14g)
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup almond butter* (160g)
3 tablespoons milk of choice (45ml)
2/3 cup light muscovado sugar (100g)**
2 free range eggs
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup coarsely chopped dark chocolate (75g, 2.65 ounces)

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preheat the oven to 180’C/350’F. Line an 8x8inch square pan with parchment paper, leaving some overhang

in a medium bowl, combine the two flours, flax meal and baking powder. Set aside

in a large bowl (or the bowl of a stand mixer) add the almond butter and milk. Using an electric hand mixer or a stand mixer with the whisk attachment, beat until milk and almond butter are combined

add the two eggs and continue to beat till silky and smooth; add the vanilla and sugar and continue to beat again till smooth. 

add the flour mix to the almond/egg mix and use a spatula to gently combine, scraping down the sides. Gently fold in the chocolate chunks so they’re evenly distributed.

pour the batter in to your lined pan, it will be very thick and sticky and will stick to utensils, so scrape and go with it. Refrain from eating all the batter before it’s baked (note to self)

bake for 18-20 minutes, the top will be light golden. You’re going for a fudgy effect so err on the side of underbaked: allow to cool in the pan ten minutes, then allow to continue cooling on a rack and they will firm up. blondies teach you patience, who knew

for a clean cut, allow them to chill in the fridge for a bit and clean the knife as you slice, they will be firm enough to cut. Cut into 9 normal squares or 12 minis would be cute. 

the blondies will keep in airtight container in the fridge for 3 days but will freeze well. Brownie people, decide: do blondes have more fun?

notes

*almond butter is becoming easier to find in most supermarkets, or online. I think in a pinch you could use natural peanut butter, but the taste would change completely. You can make your own by grinding almonds in a food processor. If nut allergies are an issue, I’ve heard sunflower seed butter has a similarly neutral taste.
**as I already said, I like muscavado sugars for their complex flavor and also since they are less processed (the molasses is never removed – in normal brown sugar, the molasses is removed, then ‘painted’ back for the color). I think you’ll find them in most supermarkets, or online (gotta love amazon). For sure, feel free to substitute brown sugar in the same quantity whenever you see muscavado listed, and vice versa.
PS. They’re sticky customers at first, don’t panic, they need some time in the fridge.

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more chocolate

dark chocolate + cardamom scones

pear-cocoa muffins

chocolate + cherry rye oatmeal cookies

your weight in gold | roasted banana & almond ice cream

it's poppy season, and poppies always remind me of you. the start of another wet Belgian autumn, summer long gone. a reminder of the sun and warmth in the tractors ploughing the fields. they leave behind the champagne-hued stubble of the wheat and a little verge of green by the path, along which the poppies grow. red and tender petals moist with drops of dew. you wouldn't notice that the wheat stalks poked your paws, you'd run with ferocious joy through the furrows, with the wall of wheat gone you could roam for miles. you'd run far from the path, come back to us, following your nose. you'd be caked up to your elbows in dark mud with little water droplets on your muzzle. the wind hammered us on that dusty track and your ears would flap like wings as you gambolled around. you are a bird, your wings took you places and kept you airborne when you fell.

places. we opened the door of the car and you stood next to me on the back seat, you sniffed the air. it was a hot French summer day, the sky was a water color blue; a Monet painting come alive. trees were green and heavy with leaves, cherries had tumbled onto the lawn and dotted it with rich red baubles, the vines on the side of the house grew cheerful and rife next to blue shutters. you knew where you were when you jumped out, you remembered straight away, the wag in your tail became sweeping brushstrokes and there was a light in your eyes. This is the place! you thought, as you set off at a trot through the garden. The place where last time I found a hedgehog by the table tennis set! The place where they eat picnics and sit on the grass, so I can take sandwiches right from their hands! The place where walks are on small lanes that weave through fields in black ribbons of tarmac! The place where if they don't finish all that goat's cheese, they give it to me! you would run with your legs almost a pendulum, as if they moved subconsciously, so you could keep your nose close to the ground and take everything in. you ran with pure joy.

you fell; you fell hard and fast, quicker than the dollar, you're worth more than your weight in gold. just over four weeks ago, we almost lost you and you fought your toughest battle yet. like the soldiers in the trenches, you fought hard, you dug yourself out, through a battlefield with the all the guns firing your way. little prune girl, you are the bravest fighter. your fought so your wings could catch you, so you could pull through that long, low night. you fought to give us these four weeks, to give us more than four weeks, to give your wings a chance to take you places again. take me with you.

poppies and battles. the red petals will make me think of you, prune. your places, your wings, a brave soldier in a battle you never chose to fight. we will never, ever forget. you can teach anyone about courage. so much love for you, prune girl.

I wrote a little about Prune's operation on my about page, and it's just over 4 weeks since she came home to us - I never thought we'd have four weeks with her and I am so so glad we did. pruney is a banana lover and suezie loves creamy things so to celebrate my furries, I made a dairy-free ice cream and oh my god it's so good. like a classy banana milkshake or smoothie. usually dairy-free ice creams are made with coconut milk but I was saving my one can for something else - I was worried this would be too icy, but the banana makes it super creamy and smooth, all dreeeamlike it's so good ok I'll stop now. remember life is fragile. make time for those you love and here's to you winning your battles. xo

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ROASTED BANANA & ALMOND ICE CREAM WITH VANILLA BEAN

makes about 700g (about 3 cups or so) //    gluten free + dairy free

3 ripe bananas, medium sized
3-4 tablespoons honey*, depending on the ripeness of your bananas
2 cups / 5ooml unsweetened almond milk
seeds of half a vanilla bean or 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
pinch salt
chopped almonds or walnuts to garnish, optional

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preheat oven to 180’C/350’F, line a baking sheet with parchment paper

peel (was that obvious? sorry if it was) and slice your bananas into pieces of around 2cm (3/4ish inch), lay them out on the baking sheet. Drizzle around 2 tablespoons honey over the pieces, toss them around to coat

roast for around 35 minutes till the bananas are a deep caramel color, stirring once if necessary (they will also smell insanely good)

allow the bananas to cool a few minutes – while you wait, add the almond milk, salt and vanilla to a blender with honey to 1-2 tablespoons honey

scrape the fruit and any honey from the baking sheet into the blender, blend till well combined

you’ll need to chill the mix before you churn it: mine waited overnight, but 3-4 hours should do it (maybe quicker in the freezer)

churn the ice cream according to your ice cream maker’s individual instructions. pour the mix into a freezer safe container – if you prefer a soft-serve consistency, freeze for about one hour. If you’d prefer it a bit more firm, freeze overnight, then let it sit at room temperature for about 10 minutes before scooping

garnish with toasted chopped nuts, chocolate shavings or whatever you’d like!

notes

if dairy isn’t an issue, you can of course use regular milk. and if you don’t have an ice cream maker you can just add a bit more milk & ice and have yourself the best banana milkshake of your life. simple.
*to keep this vegan, feel free to use maple syrup in the same quantity as the honey. If your bananas are very ripe (bright yellow and spotty) you may need 3 tablespoons, if they’re less ripe, feel free to up it to 4 or whatever you’d like. ice cream is pretty forgiving.
also, I think that some chopped chocolate would be a nice addition if you’re looking for something that’s a bit more of a dessert than a frozen smoothie (and if you’re not sharing with pups)

prune, soon after her op. suzi in the background.

just quickly, I want to ask that if you're in England and a dog owner, would you consider volunteering your dog to be a blood donor? I'm not affiliated to the charity in any way but with the severe haemorrhaging in Pruney's case, without the blood transfusion she would not be here today - it's thanks to another brave dog she pulled through. There are some criteria to fulfil, but perhaps you can think about it, the blood could really save a life and I can not thank whichever dog and owner who helped out enough. sometimes you can also donate via your vet. Also, this page has some information about ruptured spleens/tumours in dogs - with symptoms, because you can never be too careful.

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more pup-friendly food

doggie oatmeal ginger cookies

a pair of old-school levis | spiced apple & buckwheat pancakes

I had some awareness of being there; but I wasn't totally present, hovering vaguely on the periphery of sleep. A mechanical throbbing in the background, the machine's heart beating; a rhythmic hum of the engines. A familiar scrambled sound. I felt the wheels retract somewhere beneath my seat and the aircraft started to, in my mind, tilt sideways. I drifted in and out of that darkened cabin feeling the static from the hand-out blanket, saw my mum rooting under seats to find our shoes. There were spots of rain on the windows, the sky was dove gray and people around me started to gatherbags and phones. Looking ahead to train rides, taxis, connecting flights. In my half slumber I moved as if in a dream, dimly following my sister and remembering how to place one foot after the other. Leaning on the cordons at immigration and seeing the officer look at me not with contempt, but at my chubby, sleepy seven-year-old face as if I was a creature under a microscope. I felt sorry for him.

Baggage carousel. Baggage trolley. Long waits. Bathroom visit. Take note of lost baggage counter, since you never know. Watch mum haul the bags off the belt. Help sister push trolley. Customs. Anything to declare? I wanted to say I was hungry because I'd slept through the flight's breakfast and I was tired because it was now something after midnight in Malaysia but I knew that most officials at Heathrow didn't have a great sense of humour. I was coming out of my sleepy haze, I hugged that same pink Ralph Lauren sweater to myself, shocked by the cold. Arrivals hall, couples embracing, taxi drivers standing with signs, people finding buses. Look for dad, where is he?But it wouldn't be like dad to stand at the front with four red balloons, instead I waited for the "boo" behind me, or the little "tssst" from a corner from the terminal. By now I was quicker and beat him to it as he came up to our jetlagged group of three, I was still small enough to really throw myself at him, for the dad hug. He'd be there in his good leather coat, brown shoes, old school Levis. Striped scarf knotted in that Continental way around his neck, a copy of The Times in one hand. He'd take the trolley and we'd wait, buffeted by wind in that dingy multi-story parking lot. The car would be ice cold. He'd put on the heating, there'd be snacks and our favorite kiddie magazines.

Our car would move out into the drizzle, the time of year in England when it started to get dark at 3pm. Traffic would be slow, out of Heathrow and onto the forever-jammed M25 eastbound, BBC Radio 2 was the soundtrack of those drives. I never knew (and still don't know) any of the songs, dad knew a few, mostly he and mum would talk softly, Layla slept beside me. I'd look at the people in other cars, hoping they were also going home, to meet family, to see their dad again maybe. I'd wonder about all the cars on the road. Who they were, where they were going, whether they were happy, maybe they had a wedding this weekend, maybe they were putting up their Christmas tree. I liked to watch the headlights and half close my eyes to see them blur in the speed, I'd watch dad indicate to switch lanes and overtake, he's one of those people who can just drive well. I learnt something about accelerating into a bend from him, he also taught me about lochs, tie-ropes, grain silos, how to unstick a jeep from the mud, a learnt love of pancakes. Sometimes if he'd been at the office in London and only been at our house a few days before we arrived we'd stop at a 24 hour grocery store to get our favorite food, he'd tell me to wear the coat he brought even though it was probably the one that was too small; I think in his mind I am always a bit smaller than I really am.

What is funny is that now it's me who is more in Europe, waiting for dad to come home from some warm and dusty place. I'll be keeping the house warm, trying to tidy away my piles of mess on the dining table since no one really sits there when he's not around. And then I'll wait for the car, he'll bring in his suitcase wearing a pair of old-school Levis and a good jacket, and I may stay really quiet when he comes in. Step out from the living room and say 'boo', because I've learnt a lot from him.

Pancakes are the dad thing, aren't they? And since he's going to be home for a while, I made a big batch of these to freeze so he can have a more interesting-than-toast breakfast while he's here. I know, I know, more apple, but these pancakes are actually good all year round! They're packed with goodness, from the apple, spices and buckwheat flour which makes them totally gluten free. Some people say that buckwheat flour has a very pronounced flavor but I think the spices tone it down in these pancakes, but you could always substitute 1/2 the flour with another gluten free flour (I'd recommend oat flour). Either way, I hope you try them. Surprise your dad.

Wishing you a lovely weekend, hopefully with pancakes.

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Spiced apple & buckwheat pancakes

makes 6 pancakes  // gluten + dairy free

1/2 cup (70g) buckwheat flour (or use 1/4 cup buckwheat and 1/4 cup flour of choice)
pinch salt
1/2 tablespoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 large, sweet apple
1/3 cup (80ml) natural apple juice
1 teaspoon melted coconut oil or olive oil
1 free range egg coconut oil, for cooking
Pure maple syrup, honey, or similar for serving

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in a large bowl, combine the flour, baking powder + soda, spices and salt, set aside -in a liquid measuring cup or bowl, add the apple juice.

Coarsely grate the apple (peel is fine too) into this cup/bowl, big apple pieces are good. It will look like there's too much apple for the juice.

add the oil and egg, stir to thoroughly combine  -use a spoon to form a little well in the dry ingredients, then add the apple + egg mix to dry and gently fold to just combine. You don't want to stir too much so that the leavening agents can do their thing.

let the batter rest for 5 minutes - you can heat up the pan while you wait. Turn the stove to medium and dip a paper towel in some coconut oil, then use it to brush a light layer of oil on the pan (or prepare the pan however works best for you, varies from pan to pan and cast iron skillets etc) -after the batter has rested, pour about 1/4 cup (4 tablespoons)onto the heated pan. I can usually only do one at a time (tiny pan problems), but fit however many little rounds you can without crowding. If necessary, draw the batter out into a little circle on the pan for a nicer shape (the grated apple can make them awkward) -the batter doesn't bubble too much on the pan, so after about 2 to 3 minutes, flip the pancake and cook another minute or so. it will be a deep brown on the first side, lighter on the other, but should be firm - serve warm with pure maple syrup (so good), honey or other sweetness of choice. enjoy.

Notes

this recipe doesn't make a huge stack of pancakes, but I'm pretty confident it will make the standard 12 if you double it exactly. also, the batter may initially look odd because it may look like there's way too much apple, but that's ok - use a big apple because that's what makes them poofy and almost custard-y inside. Just give them a little time before you flip them, even if it looks like the pancakes are getting a bit overdone - the fruit needs a bit of time to firm up or they'll get folded when flipped (they'll still taste amazing). If you do use melted coconut oil, try to use room temperature eggs and juice or it'll seize up.

*to keep the pancakes warm while cooking all the batter, turn your oven on very low (around 120'C or 250'F) and keep the pancakes on a lined baking sheet inside. Alternatively, let them fully cool, then freeze them with with a layer of parchment paper between each pancake. To defrost them, you can pop them in a toaster for crispness or I've even heated them in a microwave and they taste great - oven or toaster oven would work too.** one other note: I wouldn't recommend subbing in wheat flour of any kind since it's a lot more 'thirsty' than gluten free flours and the batter is not overly wet here. A gluten-free AP blend would work too. 

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mixed berry baked oatmeal

buckwheat, blackberry & rosemary rolls

apple & hazelnut oaties