The Cottage Kangaroo Valley, Chocolate Mousse + A Saveur Nomination

To be surrounded by misty mountain ridges and opulent towering gums. Lyrebird calls, fields of green grass and dairy cows. Wombat burrows and beaches of white, white sand. That's what it's like to be home. 

It's been two years since leaving for the States, and two years since stepping foot on the beautiful south coast of New South Wales. And it is magic, this Australia. This home. Back in the ute, accents flowing fierce, those red and yellow beach flags and marsupials - everywhere. Fires that smell of eucalypt. Macadamia nuts and budding wattle seeds. Shortened lingo - spare the names of local towns full of double letters and native tongue. Cambewarra. Tapitallee. That's where we've nestled in. 

It's been a tricky time. Adjustment. Change. All a challenge, all predictable. A world of leaving behind and accepting the mundane. The mundane turned novel. It's been a search for a revived comfort space and stomping ground. An international move will do that to you, I suppose. And we miss it all. What we’ve seen. What we’ve had. What we left behind. But this country and all that we missed on the other end, has greeted us and treated us well. It feels good to be back on home turf. We are lucky to have this, this Australia. And so happy to be home. 

Not long had I landed when I took the short trip over the mountain to see artist, stylist and my dear, dear friend, Lisa Madigan, and her home - The Cottage, Kangaroo Valley. It had been too long. Some context here: Lisa’s cottage is like a dream - all white and otherworldly and delicious like. A dream I’d very much like to live in. The cottage has had a beautiful history. It was built in the 1880’s, housed the local newspaper press and for the past 8 years has been home to Lisa, Rob and her two Dalmatian pups. Lisa and Rob lovingly transformed the cottage into the most charming curated space. Stunningly styled and true a reflection of all things Lisa - Luxurious. Rustic. Uplifting. Inspired.

Now, as time shifts and people move on, the cottage is about to embark on an equally beautiful future. Lisa and Rob have decided to share their little piece of the valley with others, turning their cottage into boutique accommodation and a space for special, intimate events (more about the cottage and booking enquiries here). Today, this celebration, was the launch of their exciting news. 

It was the perfect day to pop over, as the cottage was dressed and flowing with celebration. There were new friends to meet and old friends to catch up with – a somewhat surreal but pleasant feeling to be in the company of Australians again. We dined on a nectarous lunch, lovingly prepared by Lisa. There were local oysters and cheese platters to start us off (Lisa nails this, every time) and for the main course at the long harvest table, we shared slow braised local lamb shoulder in marsala, roasted root veggies with red onion and goats fetta and a lemony green tossed salad. A feast embellished with Indian summer, shared cottage stories, change, and all the excitement that this brings. It was a simply lovely afternoon. We finished off in the garden, with a whipped sweet treat - chocolate mousse with toasted hazelnut praline + mint. And did I mention there was champagne? Lots of champagne.

Aaaand, the champagne has continued flowing here in our mountain ridge, wombat burrowed gum tree lined home! We were greeted with the most wonderful news over the weekend - that lean + meadow has been nominated for this year’s Saveur Blog Awards in the best designed blog category! I screamed when I first read it. Then proceeded to cry. Happy tears. Truly happy - couldn’t believe it but felt immense gratitude - tears. Words aren’t enough. I am humbled and grateful and so thankful for this. Being nominated is beyond all expectation. The biggest heartfelt thankyou to those of you nominated me and who put in a good word. Voting is now open until April 30th and if you like, you can vote for me here. And if not, then at least vote for one of the other brilliant people nominated. SO much talent here. So honoured to be in the same category as them all. 

Now that it’s Easter weekend, we have the perfect excuse to keep celebrating and to indulge in a little too many hot cross buns (I’m onto baking my third batch) and always, lots of chocolate… To help with the indulgence and celebration, here is Lisa’s chocolate mousse recipe from the Cottage launch. An Easter treat from us to you.

May you have a lovely long weekend. Happy Easter. 

Lisa’s Chocolate Mousse with Toasted Hazelnut + Mint Praline

For the Mousse
400g dark chocolate, chopped
40g butter
6 free range eggs, separated
2tbs caster sugar
Pouring cream (use only a small amount of pouring cream if you like the chocolate to remain rich, more if you prefer overall creaminess)


For the Praline
150 g hazelnuts
2 cups caster sugar
Fresh mint, chopped
slices of fresh, seasonal fruit e.g fresh figs for garnishing

Melt the butter & chocolate in a saucepan over a low heat until smooth.
Separate the eggs. Stir egg yolks through chocolate & butter mixture & set aside.
Whisk egg whites until soft peaks form.
Slowly add the sugar (less if sweet isn't your thing) & beat on high until silky stiff peaks form.
Gently fold through chocolate mixture & silky egg whites, then add the pouring cream to taste.
Find some gorgeous vessels to serve your mousse in, pour & refrigerate to set.

Pre-heat the oven to 180°C/ 350°F and line a baking tray with baking paper.
Toast your hazelnuts or chosen nuts in a pan or in the oven for 6-8 minutes. They should become lovely and fragrant.
Once toasted, pound them up in a mortar & pestle to desired size (I like to keep them quite rough & varied in shape & size).
Place caster sugar in a saucepan over medium heat. Give the pan a quick swirl to allow sugar to dissolve, but do not stir (this will make the sugar crystalise).
Allow the sugar mixture to cook until it becomes a rich and delicious caramel colour. Be careful to not let it burn.
Remove from the heat and take care as it becomes incredibly hot.
Pour out thinly over the baking paper & sprinkle quickly with the nuts & chopped mint. 

Once the mousse and praline has set, break the praline up into shards and add them to each mousse vessel. I always find it nice to break up the chocolatey richness with a little fruit, so this time I've used slices of fresh figs as they're in season. 

Enjoy. 
 

                                                                                                              vote here!

Switzerland, Sunday Bread and Sarah

In January, Sunday mornings are particularly sweet times in Sarah and Alban’s apartment. There is no rush to get out of bed. Blinds are gently lifted to let the Swiss winter light in and time in the kitchen preparing breakfast is an unhurried, beautifully shared ritual. There will be stove top espresso coffee with frothed milk and a thoughtfully arranged table spread with soft boiled eggs, jams and butter. And from the oven will come a prettily plaited, warm baked loaf of zopf.

I’ve been meaning to introduce you to Sarah. After all, she is one of my dearest, most loved friends. Although always living on opposite sides of the world (Sarah is Swiss), we have remained close. Always finding time to meet, to travel together and to share many meals.

Sarah is the friend that I catch trams with. Walk the streets of Paris, London, Istanbul and Berlin with. We laugh and chat and behave like sixteen year olds and never ever does there seem to be enough time together. She lends me shoes, takes me to gallery openings and educates me on movies, music and art. She reminds me of all things graceful and clumsy, serious and silly. She is creative beyond means, has the most wonderful memory and bears the kindest and most considerate soul there is. When I’m sick, she brings me tulips, lemon tea and a thermometer.  She is the friend that hosts mid-week dinners, uses every last item in her fridge, loves Pavlova and golden syrup and all things Australian. She dislikes Edith Piaf on Saturdays and being wasteful. She introduced me to Danish furniture, parquet floors, and living without a TV. She speaks perfect English, writes the most beautiful letters and her handwriting is like no one else’s I’ve seen.

Some of the fondest memories I have of Sarah are with her husband Alban in their apartment in Basel. Most of them are situated around all of us making food in the kitchen, gathering around their dining room table for dinner with friends, or on a slow Sunday morning, just us. I fondly remember being introduced to Zopf (which I forever referred to as Sunday bread) and the novelty of this simply beautiful, traditionally Swiss food.

Sometimes a little earlier on a Sunday, Sarah would ride her bike into town to pick up a loaf of zopf and place it in the oven to warm ready to have with breakfast. I also remember her baking a loaf once, to take down to her neighbor as a peace making gesture. For some reason it stuck with me. An unusual but fond memory of Switzerland perhaps.  

During my recent stay with Sarah and Alban, we made sure to spend one breakfast together baking and eating zopf. Again, I couldn't get enough of spending time at their table, simply eating, enjoying the morning, waking up to a gentle Sunday start.

One thing to learn from these two dear friends is how to live minimally and sentimentally, to enjoy food prepared thoughtfully and together and how to appreciate all that is humble and true about taking time.

More memories made, more time together. And more eating and sharing zopf.

Here is Sarah’s recipe:

Zopf (Sunday Bread)

cook time: 3 hours 15 minutes (including 2 hours rising time)
yields: 4 servings

300ml milk
60g butter
7g dry yeast
500g plain flour
1 tsp sugar
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 egg, separated

Warm the milk and butter in a saucepan over medium heat until it just reaches body temperature. Stir in the yeast and allow to stand for a few minutes until the yeast begins to bubble. 
Combine all of the ingredients except the egg yolk in a large bowl. Turn out onto a flat, lightly floured surface. Knead the dough until it becomes smooth and elastic - about 10 -15 minutes. Place the dough back in the bowl and leave to rise in a warm place for about two hours or until doubled in size. 

Once the dough has risen, evenly separate the dough into two halves. Roll each half into a sausage shape until they are approximately 60cm long, allowing the dough to become a little thinner at one end. 
Begin plaiting the dough by making a cross, placing one piece over the other in the center. Continue to pick up and cross over the underneath pieces, two at a time, until you reach the end of the dough (see photos above). The plait will grow upwards, towards you. Once all the dough has been plaited, tuck the four ends into the plait to finish it off. 

Place the zopf on a baking tray and evenly brush the egg yolk over the top of the plait. Turn the oven to 220°C/425°F  and place the zofp in straight away, un-preheated. This will allow the zopf to rise a little more as the oven preheats. Once the oven is at  full temperature, bake for 35-45 minutes or until a knock on the bottom of the bread sounds hollow. 
Enjoy warm.

"E Guete!" 

Wandering Home - Notting Hill

Revisiting a place where you called home some years before stirs up an unstoppable sensory overload. The type of overload that is most welcome. In this neighborhood there are images that you've already spent time with, but it is the rest - the other parts - that send you observant, reminiscent, mindful. Two months ago I made it back to Notting Hill for the first time since. And my overloaded senses and I enjoyed the wander.  

The white, white streets. The grey, grey skies. The squish of shoe souls running over the wet cobble stone roundabout. The chatter from private school kids and the cheer of their long red beanies. Winter birds talking beyond private garden fences, the ones you were too scared to jump into. Sweating summer nights from the bedroom balcony, breathing music in and the buzz from rolling words of the drunken bar below. The Kippah on the two boys heads from the house across the street.  Their grandiose bar mitzvah's. That yellow door that once was red. The wafts of fish suppers on a Friday night, always too expensive, always irresistible. Those Irish housemates. Their influence, also irresistible. Your own room. Your own white room. The same walk to the tube. Dodging curb splashes from cab's. Hidden mews and their silence. Breakfast at Bill's on a Saturday. Flooding tourists on a Saturday. Ottolenghi. Markets. Dog rose Daylesford Organic candles. Barclay's bikes in the park. A palace. The Orangery. Her swans. The sound of the cheering and racing of the Olympiads on the lake. It was 2012. 

The prettiest place. The luckiest year. A world away from worlds. Suburbs even. A temporary home full of life long sensory moments. I wonder how it will be in another three years time? I wonder if it will ever be home again.

Once a home, always a home. Always a place to come back to. 

London Markets, Mussels and Kate

At the very start of February, I found myself in London. And it was magnificent.

I love this city for all that it is. Even my first ever visit here felt like home. The beauty of London is unquestionably affecting. Rich with history and heritage, a never ending warren of discovery. Modest as it is majestic. Royal, though not contrived. It’s busy, but even among the bustle there is always an escape route not too far away to slow down and enjoy the cities quieter moments.

One of my most favourite parts of the city is its abundance of year round, fresh outdoor markets.  London does this well. It makes the finely tuned rhythm of cooking with and appreciating the season’s simple to follow. The produce, the purveyors - a trust to all that can be found just beyond the cities walls. If you've ever been, you’ll know what I mean. Flowers? Columbia Road will melt you. An intoxicating array of delicious food? Borough market will hold you hostage for hours. And then there are the quieter, less crowded and somewhat more local markets, like Broadway Market, found just a short walk away from Kate’s house. 

Kate has been a dear friend of mine for years now. We went to uni together. She was then, and still remains now, one of the most inspirational and driven women I know. Although the most brilliant producer of youth theatre to roam around London town, her true talent (I willingly believe) can be found in the kitchen. This lady can cook. Kate has the sweet food blog, The Little Library Café. It is here that Kate bakes and creates, bringing fictional food to life in the most delicious, clever and heartwarming way there is. I adore it. I think you will too.

I was lucky enough to cozy up in Kate’s Hackney flat during my four day visit to the city. Seeing that we had a Saturday to spend together it seemed the most fitting idea to spend our morning surrounded by food. Of course. We made a simple plan to wander Kate’s neighbourhood and the Broadway Markets, collecting ingredients to then take back to her home to cook something traditionally and seasonally British. It was important for us both to cook a traditional dish that showed off the best part of any well-made English meal. Simple, but so comforting, flavourful and hearty. Particularly seeing as it was winter. It didn’t take Kate long to come up with a plan. Mussels. Paired with leeks, cider and London’s best crusty sourdough bread. 

We began our morning with a walk across London Fields to E5 bake house - nestled into old railway arches and very well known for its authentic, traditional sourdough. A short wait in line, a crusty loaf and a lost pair of mittens later, we were on our way back across the fields to Broadway Market. The markets were bustling. The air was genuine with local folk who frequent weekly to stock up on their produce. We stopped briefly at Fin and Flounder for our mussels. Easily the most inviting and friendly fish monger I have stepped into. Then it was onto a bunch of leeks, a geezer at the flowers and a most important market treat by East London’s smoked salmon kings, Hansen and Lydersen. We took our market finds back to Kate’s home for nothing short of a warming and classic afternoon lunch. 

The best part of travel, I find, is to relish in the back streets and get lost in the quieter, more locally driven moments. To experience the way the city residents spend their weekends. This time I didn’t see Big Ben. Westminster. I didn’t shop along Oxford St or ride in a red double-decker bus. Not that these experiences can't be genuine and quiet. But I made a choice to get lost at the market instead. I spent magic time in the company of my dearest London friend doing things that she would typically do and enjoys most on her weekend. I watched as Kate cleverly spun our market takings into the most delicious Saturday lunch. I watched the grey winter day disappear behind a window on the fourth floor behind the biggest steaming bowl of leek and cider mussels. That’s what I sought this time round. A more authentic experience. The beauty in the banality. If even you'd ever call it that. To me, it is extraordinarily simple. What is real. 

To me, it’s the food and people that make a city. And London is quite a place. 

Kate's Mussels For 2

cook time: 10 minutes total
yields: 2 servings

1kg mussels
25g butter
2 large leeks
300ml cider (we used some from the West Country)
40ml double cream
1 scant (1/4/) teaspoon hot English mustard
1 generous teaspoon grain mustard
Parsley, to serve

Clean and de-beard your mussels, getting rid of any large barnacles. Discard any that stay resolutely open when you give them a tap with a spoon.

In a large saucepan, melt the butter over a medium heat and tip in the leeks. Cook until translucent, stirring regularly, as you don't want them to brown.

Tip the mussels into the pan, followed by the cider, then clamp the lid down on top. Allow the mussels to steam for a couple of minutes, until most of them have opened up. Do give the pan a little shake now and then to move the mussels around. Resist the temptation to take a peek too often (a glass lidded saucepan can help with this) as you don't want to lose all the steam. 

Once the mussels have opened up, remove the lid and turn off the heat. Pour the cream over the mussels, and stir the mustards through too. Spoon the mussels into a serving bowl (discarding any that have refused to open) and pour the liquid over the top. Add a generous handful of chopped parsley and serve with lots of crusty bread.