Chocolate Fettuccine Pudding

This sounds weird – pasta for a pudding – but it works really well. Maybe it’s the Italian equivalent of chocolate bread and butter pudding

Chocolate Fettuccine Pudding

INGREDIENTS

  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 5 ounces ricotta
  • 3 large eggs, beaten
  • 1 ½ cups sugar
  • 2 ⅓ cups heavy cream
  • 2 ⅓ cups whole milk
  • 2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, cut into pieces
  • 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon cocoa powder
  • ½ cup crème de cacao liqueur
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
  • teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1 ½ pounds fresh chocolate fettuccine (see below)
  • cup shortbread or cinnamon cookie crumbs (optional)

Chocolate fettuccine

INGREDIENTS

  • 4 egg
  • 4tbsp cocoa
  • Strong plain flour to make upto 400g with the cocoa
  • Pinch of salt
Mix the flour and cocoa well and heap into the middle of the table. Make a well and add the eggs one by one. Think about breaking it into two piles,  to keep it manageable.
Stir in the surrounding flour and bring it together an elastic dough. Don’t worry too much about bringing in all of the flour.
Work the dough until it’s smooth and elastic, then rest for 20 minutes.
Kneed the dough then run through a pasta machine or start to roll very very thin.
Cut into fettuccine strips.

PREPARATION

  1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 13-by-9-by-2 1/2 -inch baking pan. In a large bowl, whisk together the ricotta, eggs, sugar, cream, milk, chocolate, cocoa powder, crème de cacao, vanilla and cinnamon until combined.
  2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook the fettuccine until al dente, 2 to 3 minutes. Drain well and toss to combine with the mixture in the bowl. Pour into the greased baking pan. Top with cookie crumbs, if desired. Bake for 60 to 75 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the center of the pudding comes out clean. Cut into squares and serve warm.

Iceland: North

We headed east from the Westfjords to Akureyri in the north on a mammoth 10 hour drive ending in a lovely airbnb, the only one of the trip.

Given our time again, I’d book more of these as it just gives you that little bit more space as a family.

The fjord that Akureyri sits upon is the largest in iceland and has a resident family of three humpback whales.Although expensive, you are almost guaranteed to see whales and on the flattest calmest water possible.

We headed out on the midnight boat, which is obviously daylight in mid-summer but it would have been more sensible to ask where the whales were being seen before booking.


Whether they’re moving in or out of the fjord impacts where you will meet them and how much extra time you might have to go find some other creatures.

Having enjoyed the whales we decided on a mini-road trip to the trollskagi peninsula.

And despite the mist, we had a great time pooling through tunnels and avoiding the sheep.

It was the first time during the holiday where lunch fell into place: most parts of the world have a standard lunch that people on the move will buy. In Iceland on the road, clearly that was hotdogs which are useless for vegetarians but the other option at lunch in Iceland is soup which came with a tureen on the side of the cafe/restaurant with a loaf of (good) bread to cut and come agin until you were totally full.

Our lunch in the north also came with a piece of cake and free coffee from the dispenser. Decent coffee because people in iceland don’t drink instant.

Garden Revisited

The gravel garden on top of my flat roofed garage was originally planted up 10 years ago, and after the hottest driest Summer I can remember.

If I were to do it again, I’d plant it differently. Instead of planting out a grid, I would plant something more free-lowing within one large bed. If I could force myself to be disciplined enough (working against my nature in a major fashion) then I would focus on fewer plants and just police them. In particular, I’d allow the gravel to show through more in between large colonies of the more successful plants.

In this “what might have been world” the entire bed would be underplanted with alpine bulbs, groups of crocus, iris, narcissus and alliums, planted in groups randomly under the gravel. Some of the bulbs planted over the year have now started to come up blind, without flowers, so maybe next spring I should take some time to weed those out of the bed.

Then I would plant out a few of the thugs:

  • Armeria maritime ‘Glory of Holland'(thrift) (Spring)
  • Aster ericoides prostrates (Autumn)
  • Erigeron Mexican Fleabane (Summer)
  • Geranium cinereum “Ballerina”
  • Satureja spicier (Autumn)

And I would try to make myself pause to see how those plants started to colonise the bed and think about when they flower and where there might be gaps

& I could just remove the remaining wicker hurdles marking out the grid and try to encourage the bed down a more free form structure with these plants anyway – it’s not as if they aren’t doing their very best to own the space, with no help whatsoever.

Of the non-thuggy plants, which ones am I attached to enough to want to referee and to protect enough to weed out an island of gravel around them?

Maybe the following:

  • Dianthus ‘Gold Dust’ which has gold flecks on a deep red flower and forms a clump
  • Helianthemum ‘Beech Park Red’ a miniature rock rose.
  • Penstemon pinifolius which is a sort of orange-red flower which appears just when you want it and always seems to last forever.
  • Phlox subulata ‘McDaniels Cushion’ – a useful cushion of beautiful flowers that seems to hold it’s own without spreading everywhere
  • Pulsatilla vulgaris* the basque flower for Easter – lovely flower that just cheers the soul.

But that’s considerably fewer plants the i can see up there at the moment – maybe I just need the confidence to strip down the bed from the current over-abundance.

Obviously I’ve added plants to the original planting list, just because I’m the kind of gardener who can’t stop themselves relentlessly over-filling but in general I’m lazy enough to have tried to stick to the original plan. It’s probably time to take stock.

Some just died a death in the first couple of years, presumably because it was too dry rather than too cold through the Winter, which is usually milder in London. These are ones to avoid when looking to re-plant obviously

  • Sedum cauticola
  • Sedum sexangulare
  • Sempervivum ‘Greyfriars’
  • Sempervivum ‘Jungle Fires’
  • Draba rigida var imbricata compacta

Some have held out for years but have just died (or disappeared, the dodecatheon seems to pop up every other year) in the last year or two, so may be worth considering. A friend commented that all plants have a finite life and we shouldn’t stop ourselves from re-planting them unless we’re actively looking for a change.

  • Dianthus ‘Gold Dust’
  • Dianthus ‘Whatfield Cancan’
  • Osteospermum ‘Irish’
  • Dodecatheon pulchellum ‘Red Wings
  • Erysimum ‘Emms Variety’
  • Erysimum ‘Parkwoods Gold’

Some of the plants whilst surviving are just at risk of bullying by the thugs, usually less if they flower earlier*.

  • Arenaria purpurascens
  • Alliums, crocus & iris
  • Helianthemum ‘Beech Park Red’
  • Gentiana saxosa
  • Leucojum autumnale
  • Oxalis enneaphylla ‘Rosea’
  • Penstemon pinifolius
  • Phlox subulata ‘McDaniels Cushion’
  • Pulsatilla vulgaris*
  • Rhodanthemum hosmariense
  • Omphalodes cappadocica

But some of the plants took off and are still doing their very best to take over the entire roof and whilst it’s always satisfying to see things that I’ve planted survive (yes, I really do set the bar that low) they often turn out to be the plants we love least.

  • Armeria maritime ‘Glory of Holland'(thrift)
  • Aster ericoides prostratus
  • Erigeron Mexican Fleabane
  • Festuca Glauca (blue grass)
  • Geranium cinereum “Ballerina”
  • Phlox subulata ‘McDaniels Cushion’
  • Satureja spicigera

But then there are the ones that I decided I just couldn’t bear and ripped up almost as soon as they were planted:

  • Campanula x pulloides

Immigration

I live in a mongrel nation. The more a person born in the UK claims “pure” blood, the more certain their heritage seems to be a total mish-mash of this and that. We are a country that has seen wave after wave of immigration, each and everyone of them adding something to what it means to be British.

Yet as brexit shows, we are a country that doesn’t much like immigrants.

I live in a country that dislikes, despises and begrudges immigrants their place in this country, whilst living in a part of that country with a high proportion of immigrants that seems to cope just fine. In fact the greatest irony of all seems to be that areas with high immigration value their immigrants best where as areas of low immigration are fearful of all and any changes that newcomers might bring.

Perhaps it isn’t surprising: I was brought up in a village with barely three surnames to rub together. Everyone was related in a byzantine set of connections, cousins to the right and left of me, with long memories for grudges. At his funeral, my father who had lived in the village since the age of five was still described decades later as that Scots boy who came down and married our girl.

But there is something more at play than simple parochial fear of the  stranger. Facts show that immigration is economically good for the country accepting immigrants, good for the host society in many and varied ways, so why don’t we believe those facts?

The act of moving from a poor country to a rich one makes workers dramatically more productive. A world with more migration would be substantially richer. The snag is that the biggest benefits of moving accrue to the migrants themselves, while the power to admit them rests with voters in rich countries. Democratic accountability is vested largely in national governments. Yet most Western countries, struggling with ageing populations and shrinking workforces, need more migrants. So they have to find ways to make migration policy work for everyone.

The first step is to recognise the causes of the dislike of newcomers.

Several stand out: the belief that governments have lost control of their borders; the fear that migrants drain already-strained welfare systems; the perception that migrants are undercutting local workers; and the fear of being swamped by alien cultures.

Assuaging these concerns and fears requires both toughness and imagination. Start by regaining control. Overhaul the outdated international systems for aiding refugees; at the same time, open routes for well-regulated economic migration to the West. This will require countries to secure borders and enforce laws: by preventing the hiring of illegal immigrants and deporting those denied asylum, for example.

Where they do not exist, the introduction of ID cards can help. Maybe it’s time of the UK to bite the bullet on this topic.

Second, encourage all migrants, including refugees, to work, while limiting the welfare benefits that they can receive. In America, where the safety net is skimpy, labour rules are flexible and entry-level jobs plentiful, even migrants who dropped out of high school are net contributors to the public finances. Sweden, by contrast has a policy that seems designed to stir resentment, showering refugees with benefits while making it hard for them to work. Turkey does a better job at integrating refugees, even if it does not recognise them as such.

A sensible approach would be to allow migrants to get public education and health care immediately, but limit their access to welfare benefits for several years. This may seem discriminatory, but migrants will still be better off than if they had stayed at home. An extreme illustration can be seen in the oil-rich Gulf, where migrants are ruthlessly excluded from the opulent welfare that citizens enjoy. The Gulf is not a model. Migrant workers receive too little protection against coercion and abuse. But because they so obviously pay their way, the native-born are happy to admit them in vast numbers. Elements of that logic are worth considering in the West.

Third, ensure that the gains from migration are more explicitly shared between migrants and the native-born in the host country. One way is to tie public spending, particularly on visible services such as schools or hospitals, more directly to the number of migrants in a region. Another, more radical idea might be to tax migrants themselves, either by charging for entry or, more plausibly, by applying a surtax on their income for a period after arrival. The proceeds could be spent on public infrastructure, or simply divided among citizens.

The more immigrants, the bigger the dividend.

Westfjords: Dynjandi

One of the most obvious features about Iceland, is the sheer wetness of the place. It pushes way beyond Welsh damp and drizzle, even when it isn’t raining, and almost everywhere you look, you find a waterfall.

The Icelandic waterfalls are the tallest, the most beautiful, the most powerful, the most “add your own superlative to fit” and almost the first one we came across was the best.

Dynjandi of Fjallfoss is a truly beautiful set of waterfalls rising from the valley to a truly awe inspiring wall of water. It’s scale also makes it almost impossible to photograph.

To get to it you drive over the mountains from Latrabjarg and across into another fjord. Since just crossing to the other side of our fjord took more than 45 minutes, this made for a day trip on mostly metalled roads with the occasional bone breaking gravel track.

You climb higher and higher, rising into the soft damp clouds where vision disappears except for an occasional glimpse of a deathly fall to the side of the road, usually around a sharp bend as a car comes hurtling down towards you on your side of the road.

Given how few people can be found on a single day driving in iceland, it’s truly amazing how often you come across someone on a hairpin bend.

But then you reach the top, which can be smothered in clouds or bright sunshine, a state entirely unpredictable from the valley floor.

It’s a landscape unlike any other, this wet almost lifeless stretch of terrain, and your car rolls along the watershed, before starting the precipitous climb downwards.



And having parked the car at the bottom, one child retires back to the car daunted by the midges whilst the rest of us climb upwards.

Each of the falls is named, and the walk is not too high before you find yourself dwarfed by the main waterfall

It is truly beautiful, wherever you look. The fall of water is mesmerising (and wet on the face).

The view of the fjord is equally astonishing.

We saw many more waterfalls, but none more beautiful.

 

And on the way back to the hotel a decision was taken to “nip” to the red beach at Rauthasandur or Red Sands beach a beautiful red beach with a very pretty black church to photograph .

Most beaches in Iceland are black, but the beaches in the Westfjords are golden or pink so it was a one-off iceland opportunity.

Mostly the gravel roads were fine (though bone shattering) in a 4WD car but the hairpins on the way down to the beach were a bit hairy.

Both the beach and surrounding scenery was beautiful, but the weather was neither warm nor sunny which did take the gloss off the experience somewhat.




Next Steps

We spend all of our time worrying and stressing about getting into university, the required subjects and grades, yet spend relatively little thinking about what university life looks like, requires of our children and can offer them.

It can be as simple as talking about what kind of degree they’re about to start, what academic targets they can set themselves for the first year, second, third and/or fourth. But it should also include some non-academic targets.

The Strada-Gallup Alumni Survey questioned about 100,000 American college graduates of all ages about their college experiences, looking for connections between how they spent their time in college and how fulfilled they say they are now.

The study has not found that attending a private college or a highly selective one foretells greater satisfaction. Instead, the game changers include establishing a deep connection with a mentor, taking on a sustained academic project and playing a significant part in a campus organization.

What all of these reflect are engagement and commitment, which we can think of as overlapping muscles that college can and must be used to build. They’re part of an assertive rather than a passive disposition, and they’re key to professional success.

Part of establishing a relationship with a mentor, is allowing ourselves to be open to the idea, to identify people who can help us along the way. Throughout life, there are people who want to help. Where there are tutorials established, or lecturers who make it clear they’re available for questions afterwards, it’s important to make use of those  professors’ office hours, invaluable conversations and advice.

It’s important to be open with people, sharing your own ideas and aspirations whilst listening to the advice that they can give. Students should not hang back but step forward and accept all and any help available to them.

Obviously it’s not easy, and there are obvious pitfalls and traps along the way. Anxiety and depression are legion on campuses today, holes that too many students fall into and never crawl out of. More than ever, students should be on the lookout for them and take the necessary steps to mitigate them.

It’s important to be careful, especially at the beginning of college, about spending too much time alone. Isolation can become its own bad habit, and prying eyes can be the best insurance policy against destructive behavior. My oldest daughter’s key piece of kit was a doorstop, to wedge open the fire door into her room and make sure everyone knew she was up and about, and open for socialising.

People should also regulate time on social media, where discourse can be barbed and peers curate honeyed alter egos that stoke insecurity in those looking at them. Invest in established  but now long-distance friendships with people who have only your interests at heart.

Don’t drink too much and don’t shortchange sleep, as prosaic as that sounds. And work out in some way. “We know that exercise is very, very important,” said Jan Collins-Eaglin, the associate dean for wellness at Pomona College in Southern California. “It will calm you down.” There is a huge correction between exercise, especially team or group exercise with mental well-bring.

Regardless of the subject studied, there are skills to insist on acquiring because they transcend any particular career. Communication — clear writing, cogent speaking — is one of them, and many different courses can and should practice and develop communication.

Mitchell scholars were asked if there was a department or discipline that they wished they had paid more heed. Science majors mentioned humanities. Humanities majors mentioned computer science and statistics. In retrospect, if not in real time, intellectually curious people appreciate and want the benefits of balance. So it’s important to try and incorporate balance, to some degree, in your college years.

It is a mistake is to confuse career success, financial success and reputation with happiness. An important component of real contentment is figuring out what lights your personal emotional and intellectual fires, not necessarily for the purpose of a job but for the purpose of reflections and pastimes that fill in all those hours away from work.

Is it poetry? Music? Sport? Those and more are abundant on college campuses – let college help you work out what makes you happy.

Westfjords – Latrabjarg

Latrabjarg Cliffs are one of Europes biggest, tallest cliffs, home to thousands of birds.

Latrabjarg Cliffs

It’s the westernmost point of Iceland, and Europe as a whole, really a line of several sea cliffs, 14 kilometres long and up to 441 m high.

Latrabjarg Cliffs

It offers stunning photographic opportunities from close range: bird photography for dummies.

Puffins

& best of all, the puffins are especially tame and are the ones to be found at the the grassy, higher part of the cliffs. it is worth looking up the times of year puffins roost – apparently they all disappear in August.

The edges of the cliff are fragile and loose and the fall is a long way. Mostly iceland seems a bit low key on health and safety barriers, but they do tend to give fair warning. People with young children should keep them close.

Látrabjarg is the most visited tourist attraction in the Westfjords, especially in the evening when the birds come home to roost. The cliffs are easily accessible by car along an okay gravel road or track.

It’s enjoyable even if you’re not very knowledgeable about birds but if you have a quick guide to birds, plus some binoculars or a long lens and can do some spotting, it definitely adds value.

Seal Nursery, Latrabjarg

Plus keep an eye out for seals basking on the rocks below – they set up a nursery when we were there, but as always you have to look quite hard to find them.

 

sticky shiitake mushrooms

Cooking the shiitake in cornflour gives a rich, meaty texture to a quick dish that packs a sweet and spicy finish

Henry Firth and Ian Theasby’s sticky shiitake mushrooms.

This recipe is so simple and quick, but looks as though it has taken ages to make. The mushrooms are cooked in cornflour, giving a rich, meaty and chewy texture. The sweetness from the caramelised fresh ginger and garlic, paired with the acidity of the rice wine vinegar and soy sauce, complements them perfectly. Add a kick of spice with sriracha hot sauce for a dish that is packed with flavour and incredibly satisfying.

Serves: 2
Prep time: 5 minutes
Cooking time: 15 minutes

240g shiitake mushrooms, thickly sliced
3 tbsp cornflour
2 tbsp groundnut oil
½ tsp water
1 tbsp sesame oil
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
3cm piece fresh ginger, finely chopped
2 tbsp light brown sugar
4 tbsp dark soy sauce
2 tbsp rice wine vinegar
1 tsp sriracha, or to taste
1 spring onion, finely sliced
250g cooked basmati rice
1 tsp sesame seeds, to serve

Put the mushrooms in a bowl, sprinkle two tablespoons of the cornflour over the top and toss everything together with your hands, making sure the mushrooms are well covered. Pour the groundnut oil into a wok or pan and, once nice and hot, tip in the mushrooms and fry for four to six minutes, until cooked through and slightly crisp on the outside. Set aside.

Spoon the remaining tablespoon of cornflour into a small dish and mix with the water. Wipe the wok with kitchen paper and put it back on a low heat. Pour in the sesame oil, add the chopped garlic and ginger, and cook for about a minute to release the aromas. Sprinkle over the sugar and stir until caramelised – about two minutes more. Increase the heat slightly and pour in the cornflour mix, soy sauce and rice wine vinegar, then stir for another minute until the sauce has thickened slightly. Stir the sriracha into the sauce. Tip the cooked mushrooms back into the pan, stir for 1-2 minutes to warm through and cover in the sauce.

Serve the chewy mushrooms over hot basmati rice, garnished with the sliced spring onion and sprinkled with sesame seeds.

Westfjords, Iceland

From the Snaefellsness Peninsular and Stykkusholmur, we took a ferry across the water to the Westfjords.

Ferry to the Westfjords

Not the brightest of days, and more than a little bit rough around the islands, the hours were livened up by listening to the conversations of an American group next to us. It seemed to be a party of well-to-do young families ravelling escorted by both an American organiser, and a couple of Icelandic guides. There was also a French woman that initially appeared to be part of the group but with hindsight was probably a member of staff.

One of the fathers piqued our interest when talking to one of the kids, his son (apparently) who he called “bear”. He talked of respecting his 6 (?) year old son  whilst talking over him and then disappeared off for a break leaving his even younger daughter to hold the ferry seats. The boy kicked off. The girl kicked back. There were tears all around until the mother a rather beautiful Chinese American lady arrived.

Unfortunately she had decided to share her anger at the length of the journey – she felt misled by the tour guides who whilst they had given her a written itinerary, hadn’t actually verbally read it out to her and stressed the time involved.

There was lots of chat around emotions and validations and respect, all whilst being hugely dis-respectful.

After about 10 minutes of ranting at one of the Icelandic staff, she ground to a halt. & then her husband started up. Putting up his hand to shush her and telling her to listen to him since he’d sat there listening to her complaining.

He talked about the importance of the kids living in the “real” and experiencing the holiday through physical activities, going fishing, visiting real factories etc. rather than just looking at things and places.

And it left us all feeling that no matter how crap our family dynamics might appear at times, they could be a lot worse: I could have named my child “bear” and insisted they visit a fish factory on holiday. We could have lived their childhood in the “real” as opposed to just living. I could have spent my energies filling all of their hours with organised activities, with other people whilst telling them that I respected them (but not enough to actually engage with them myself).



& obviously they had more money than sense, and were easily enough distracted when the Icelandic tour guide suggested stopping off at a hot spot (thermal pool) on the way to their next hotel. No doubt their family will be fine and their parenting techniques aren’t bad just different and considerably more stressing for everyone involved.


Still, listening in managed to pass about an hour with sighs and eye rolls across the table before we rolled off the ferry in our hired car and started to drive towards Patreksfjord. It’s difficult to either explain or capture just how big the landscape was and how high and cold the pass up and over the mountain turned out to be.

Driving twisty roads in the fog, with a drop that could kill you on one size did not add to the enjoyment.

We thought we’d passed the worst and then hit the gravel roads. With a £3000 excess on the car. the idea of gravel kicking up and damaging the car was not restful.

Still, it was extraordinarily beautiful even on a dull and dreary day

& eventually we arrived.

Aubergine larb with sticky rice and shallot and hazelnut salad

Meera Sodha’s aubergine larb with sticky rice and shallot and peanut salad.

Larb is a salad from Laos in which the dressing is king. It’s rare for a dish to tick all the flavour boxes, but larb is sweet, sour, salty, bitter and has bagfuls of umami. Here, aubergine, which is baked until the flesh is soft and creamy, sits alongside sticky rice, and both act as perfect vehicles on which to transport the much punchier flavours of tamarind, soy, chilli and lime.

Aubergine larb with sticky rice and shallot and hazelnut salad

You can speed up this recipe by juggling what you cook and when – for example, while the aubergines are baking and the rice is cooking, start on the salad and dressing.

Prep 15 min
Soak 30 min
Cook 1 hr
Serves 4

350g glutinous rice,

For the larb
4 small to medium aubergines (around 250g each)
Rapeseed oil
Salt
2 tbsp palm sugar
2 tbsp lime juice
2½ tbsp soy sauce
2 tsp tamarind paste
1½ bird’s eye chilli, very finely chopped
For the salad
3 tbsp rapeseed oil
200g shallots, peeled, halved lengthways and finely sliced
Scant ½ tsp salt
40g ground hazelnuts  (just pop them in a food processor or spice grinder, use peanuts if you’re not allergic)
1 large handful coriander, finely chopped
40 Thai basil leaves, finely chopped
½ red bird’s eye chilli, minced
1 tbsp lime juice

Heat the oven to 200C/390F/gas 6. Cover the rice with cold water and leave to soak for 30 minutes.

In the meantime, cut the aubergines in half lengthways and score a criss-cross pattern on the cut sides. Brush all over with oil and put cut side up on two baking sheets. Bake for 20 minutes, brush the cut side with more oil and bake for another 20-25 minutes, until creamy inside.

Meanwhile, make the rice and the salad. Drain the rice, put it in a pot, cover with 520ml water and add half a teaspoon of salt. Bring to a boil, then turn down the heat to its lowest setting and simmer for 15 minutes, until all the water has evaporated and the rice is cooked. Cover with a lid, and leave to stand for at least 10 minutes.

To make the salad, heat the oil in small frying pan on a medium flame and, when hot, fry the shallots until brown and crisp, around 20 minutes. Take off the heat, stir in the salt, ground nuts, herbs, chilli and lime juice, then taste and adjust the lime, chilli or salt as you wish.

To make the larb dressing, put the palm sugar, lime juice, soy sauce, tamarind paste and chilli in a small saucepan with eight tablespoons of water. Heat, stirring, until the sugar melts, then take off the heat, taste and add up to half a teaspoon of salt, if need be.

To serve, put a flat mound of rice on each plate, layer over two aubergine halves, pour on the dressing and sprinkle the salad on top.