The scales are a cruel and fickle mistress

But not today.  Today I lost another 2.5lbs.  I should add that I successfully managed to sleep through my official weigh in - a permanent Saturday alarm has now been set to ensure such muppetry doesn't happen again - so that this result comes from my rather funky-hot-pink-home scales.  But, since they were in line with the less-funky-more-functional-looking-WW scales last week, I think it is acceptable to take their word.

I had a secret goal in my head to be into the next stone bracket down before we head off for a few days break in Scotland, which I achieved.  Since we don't like to bandy numbers around on this blog, let's just say that I've moved from MAYDAY:0.5 to YIKES:12.  HAPPY:10 is still a long way off, but these kind of little milestones do help.

If I can maintain this week, I'll be more than happy.  I'm going to be taking my pedometer away with me and plenty of walks are planned, but, equally, some indulgent eating - not least a dinner in Glasgow's Ubiquitous Chip which I am thoroughly looking forward to and can't wait to share with you.  More importantly than the food though, I am hoping for some real quality time with D.  We are coming up to the time when we have to decide whether or not we want to be a proper couple again and, at the moment, things feel good - I hope this trip confirms that.  I mean, how could you fail to feel romantic staying here?

Photo credit: bramblebield.com

MPM: 10th June 2013

Well, I said in my last post that I needed to get back into meal planning, so here we go.  A tentative toe in the water. 

I'm pleased to say that, following the outpouring of optimism last week, I lost two and a half pounds at my weigh in on Saturday morning.  And I'm equally pleased to say that, at the time of writing (Sunday afternoon) I have still not succumbed to any wobbles or wibbles.  Another good week prior to our trip to Scotland would be a real boost.

It's a bit of an odd one though, this week, since I'm staying with D for the first couple of days.  I have an exam on Wednesday (which I may have mentioned once or thrice) and, following a bit of a meltdown in which I told him that I was going to eat WORMS and then FAIL the exam because I had NO-ONE to make me tea or mop my fevered brow, he *ahem* thought to invite me.  So he was in charge of meal planning for the first couple of days - but luckily he is a well trained estranged husband and picked two of my absolute favourite dinners. 

Wednesday - exam day - I am playing by ear.  I have a book group meeting in the evening so hopefully there won't be too much rocking in a corner.  Saturday I've left unplanned as well - but I'm thinking it will be a post weigh in pre holiday pizza (pointed, of course).  And Sunday, it's off to Glasgow and dinner at The Chip.

Rest of the meals look like this:

• Salmon fillet with pasta pesto
• Pan roasted chicken breast with lemon couscous and asparagus
• Chilli con carne burrito with salad and minted crème fraiche dressing (x2)

More meal planning fun over at Mrs M's.

Make (wa)hay while the sun shines

It’s amazing what a spell of good weather will do to the spirits. Or maybe it is that, finally, after nine months of wound licking and general feeling a bit Eeyore-ish I am perking up. Either way, I have been in an oddly good mood the last few days. I feel…hopeful.

Diet first of all – and I have had a run of excellently good days, including a delicious meal out at a local restaurant where all choices were sensible, tracked and washed down with mineral water. For the fifty billionth time, I ask myself why I apparently find it so difficult to stick to what is essentially a very sensible and balanced eating plan all the time. Especially when I consider how much well-er (not a word, I know) I feel when chock full of fruit and veg and fish and Good Things.

Marriage second of all – and we have had a lovely few dates in the last couple of weeks and a positive session with the Nodding Counsellor last night. I can’t deny that I hope we get back together. I think it would be a terrible shame if we don’t. But, equally, I have begun making tentative contingency plans for what I will do if we decide not to reunite, and, although the prospect doesn’t fill me with joy neither does it fill me with complete and utter dread. Just profound sadness.

I have some things on the horizon to look forward to – well, post exam anyway (on which note please spare a thought for me a week tomorrow). Most notably, a trip to Scotland which will involve a couple of nights in a proper gypsy caravan here and an overnight stay in Glasgow with a meal at a restaurant called The Ubiquitous Chip which has been on our to-do list for some time. Aside from anything else, don’t you just think it is the best name for a restaurant ever?

Now, if I could just get back into the habit of meal planning (which I always find an invaluable tool for WWing success) and get a couple of good results on the scales I think I’d almost be back to being a proper Good Blogger.

Recipe corner: Hazelnut meringue cake with whipped cream and berries

I can't pretend that this post contains a recipe that is remotely WW or other diet friendly.  It is, however, cake and very good cake at that.  And it has fruit in it.  And no flour which makes it suitable for thems what can't eat flour.  So, as my brother said, practically a health food.

Last Monday, you see, was my mother's birthday and birthdays must always bring cake.  My brother D and family were visiting from London and very lovely it was to see them too.  My sister in law V is currently doing a sterling job growing a new little addition to the family and being mother to little D who at nearly two and a half is my favourite example of the toddler genre.  D and V took charge of the very important job of making Mum a birthday cake; I think I offered to help but I am far less efficient than the two of them, not to mention far more lazy, so ended up watching Shrek 3 with little D instead.  Which made me cry a bit when Shrek had a midlife crisis and decided he didn't want to be a husband and father anymore - I am predictably maudlin when it comes to marital unrest portrayed in the media.  Little D seemed to enjoy it though.

Anyway, cake.  I didn't get round to asking why they picked this particular one but I am glad that they did because it was very nice and perfect for the sunny weather we had last weekend - it felt almost more like a dessert than a cake.  We didn't put candles in it.  We did, however, drink champagne and sing happy birthday so I don't think Mum minded.

The only change that I have made here to the original Rachel Allen recipe is to reduce the amount of cream by 100mls.  I don't think that will make a great deal of difference (there was a lot of cream in lovely Rachel's version) and it does bring the point / calorie / fat count down a bit. 

Ingredients

10g butter
225 g hazelnuts, whole, skin on
6 medium eggs
200g caster sugar

To serve:
250ml double cream
10g icing sugar
Mixed berries
Fresh mint leaves

Serves 10, 11 pro points per slice

Firstly you need to toast the hazelnuts in a hot oven - there is an excellent how to here.

Now, using the butter, grease a loose bottomed (heh heh) 23cm tin and preheat the oven to 170 (fan 150).

Blitz the toasted hazelnuts in a processor (or, alternatively, you could work off some pent up aggression by pounding them with a rolling pin).  Whisk together the egg yolks and sugar until pale and fluffy and gently fold in the hazelnuts.

In a separate, clean bowl, whisk the egg whites until they form stiff peaks - or, until you can hold the bowl upside down over your head without getting an egg rinse.  Gently fold these into the other mixture until completely incorporated. Be sure to fold and not stir - stirring will destroy all those little air bubbles that you have just created into the whites and lead to a heavier cake.

Put the batter in the buttered tin and bake for around 45 mins until an inserted skewer comes out clean.  Rachel says don't worry if it sinks slightly in the middle - I take this to mean that it will inevitable sink in the middle.

Allow to cool in the tin for 10 mins before sliding out onto a pretty serving plate.  Allow to cool completely before the final stage.

Prior to serving, whip up the cream until stiff and then smear or pipe it on before decorating with fruit, a dusting of icing sugar and torn mint.

Sunshine? On a bank holiday weekend?

You must forgive me if I'm a little quiet over the next few weeks - I have an exam coming up which necessitates a lot of wandering around shaking my fist at myself for thinking having a job which involves passing exams is a sensible idea. 

We had a lovely time at the weekend though, so let's focus on that for now.  Saturday and Sunday were properly sunny days of a kind that seldom exhibit themselves on a British bank holiday.  The fact that they have subsequently been replaced by grey skies and drizzle doesn't really detract. 

D and I have been trying to have quality time together - actually doing things rather than behaving like any normal married couple and sitting around watching the telly.  So we strapped on our walking boots and, er, went for a walk.  After nine months of lying around on the sofa weeping into my wineglass, the five and a half miles proved something of a struggle.  I really must start swimming regularly to build up some fitness.

East Witton in bloom - note blue sky

The very best kinds of walk involve at least one stop off in a pub, and the circular route from Jervaux Abbey via East Witton (see here) does just that.  And what a pub as well!  The Blue Lion in East Witton is an absolutely fabulous foodie destination.  We only stopped off for a light lunch but the full menu almost had me leaving an unseemly trail of drool from the bar out to our table.


Lunchtime platter at the Blue Lion

D went for the platter: pie, cheese, pate, a scotch egg and some very lurid piccalilli while I opted for a roast beef sandwich with some excellent chips.  Were it not for the fact that there were miles to go to get back to the car, caution might very well have been thrown to the wind though - I think I might need to go back for dinner.

Now, if you'll excuse me I need to stop having fun and go and learn more about tax.  But I promise to be back later in the week with a recipe for cake.  Hurrah!

The Blue Lion
East Witton  
Leyburn,
North Yorkshire
DL8 4SN
01969 624273

Alfred Bar, Leeds - one day everybody there will know my name...

I think I may be ready to bestow the accolade of My Favourite Bar in Leeds.  And, the thing is, it’s not even in Leeds but is tucked away in a sedate Northern suburb called Meanwood.  Which suits me because the older I get the more I find that city centres are tiring, bustling things.  I was in London at the weekend and, much as I will always love it, hauling myself on and off the packed Tube and navigating the churning crowds of the West End quickly palled. 

 

Anyway, back to Meanwood, and to Alfred, which is the kind of neighbourhood bar that every neighbourhood should have.  For a start, both the décor and the bar staff are quirky and cool but not off puttingly so.  There is an excellent range of real ales from predominantly local breweries but also some decent wines served by the glass not to mention a selection of hot drinks to go with the delectable homemade cakes that repose under retro Perspex cloches on the bar counter.  God, I love cake. 

The only possible downside is, perversely, one of its selling points – the size.  It is bijou, in estate agent speak, intimate, cosy – perfect for hunkering down on a Sunday afternoon with a pint and a paper.  Which is fabulous until they decide to do a free, unticketed Brewdog tasting event* that attracts half of the population of Meanwood, then it can start to feel a little claustrophobic.  Which is frankly nothing that another drink won't fix...

D wears his Brewdog badges with pride!

Anyway, should you find yourself in the area do pop in.  Alfred is actually part of a little chain which you can check out here - nice bars all, incidentally.

 

*And yes, you may well ask why someone on a diet should find themselves at a beer tasting event on the night before a weigh in to which I say – free samples!  Of yummy beer!  Life is far too short to miss out on such golden opportunities and when the scales give me a proverbial frown today, I shall tell them so.

Alfred
6 Stonegate Rd  
Leeds
West Yorkshire
LS6 4HY
0113 278 0779

Girls' weekend

No words required!

Lipstick on a pig

I want to start this by saying: this is not intended to be a sad post, a "poor me" post, a post to make my loved ones concerned. It is just something preying on my mind at the moment that I want to get down before I forget or get distracted by a new form of sandwich filling or something.

I've come to realise (or maybe, more accurately, acknowledge) that there is a part of my brain that steadfastly believes that I do not deserve good things because I am overweight.

I mean, it is a small part. Logically, I know it is the silliest form of silliness. But don't we all have those little voices deep down? Those voices that say that we're not worthy of x because of y?

I can't imagine why it is. I've never set an awful lot of store by being beautiful - I'd rather be described as clever or funny or, even, nice. I don't aspire to a career where looks are important. But still, always the nagging feeling that being big makes me...less.

D said, in our counselling session this week, that he wanted me to take more pride in myself, that he thought it was important - not because he sets any store by high maintenance females but because he feels that I've lost a bit of myself. I always respond to this by retorting that I scaled back the lipstick and the styling and the sparkle because he has often said he prefers a simpler aesthetic. But that's only part of the story.

And when I thought about it more, that old phrase kept flashing into my mind - what's the point of putting lipstick on a pig. It shocked me a little bit. Because that is some very sad, negative thinking right there that I wasn't even conscious of.


Do you know what? Pigs are great. They are highly intelligent, friendly, loyal, playful animals. And if a pig wants to wear lipstick - MAC or Chanel for preference - then she damn well should and tell that little voice inside to pipe the eff down.

Because, aside from anything else, losing weight is an act of self love in the same way that piling it on is often a way of expressing some form of self pity. And this little piggy will never get to where she wants to be until she gets her head around that.

Recipe corner: I take enormous pride in my asparagus and goats' cheese tart

I had such a proud moment last weekend.  Well, two if you count the rather pathetic pride I took in going for a walk.  Let’s not shall we – just between us friends let’s pretend that I’m not so needy that I require praise for enacting the basic human function of putting one foot in front of another for a prescribed length of time.

Anyway, the other proud moment was – I made a tart!  With pastry and filling and everything!  From scratch!  And it was scrummy and didn’t have a soggy bottom and didn’t leak and it made a fantastic spring supper.

Now, this is notable for two reasons.  The first is that, as long time readers who have held on through the various ups and downs of the scales and my emotional stability respectively will know, my cooking mojo upped and went a little while ago and has proved a slippery little bugger ever since.  Hence my recent ode to sandwiches and the lack of many recipes on the blog this year.  So me getting back in the kitchen is always worthy of a mention these days.  But the second is that pastry is one of those things that I’ve never really tackled.  Like bread, pastry makes me furrow my brow in…not fear exactly, but certainly a little trepidation.  I think it’s because whenever you see someone on television make either bread or pastry they say something along the lines of “It’s nowhere near as hard as you think it is!” or “There’s no need to be scared!” which…I don’t know, it just sows the seed of doubt doesn’t it?  Plus the fact that my Mum makes the best quiche ever in the history of the world gives me some pretty high standards to which to aspire.  But, nevertheless, I had some asparagus in the fridge and a yen for an asparagus tart.

Look Ma!  I made pastry!

I knew that I wanted the pastry to be savoury and crumbly – perhaps flavoured with Parmesan for extra saltiness.  And I knew I wanted the asparagus to be softly suspended in a custard with just a hint of nutmeggy, peppery warmth so that the iron flavour of those beautiful green shoots would be predominant.  And I quite fancied a scattering of goats’ cheese on top – a young, fresh goats’ cheese that had a touch of lemon to it for some much needed acidity.  And so that is what I made.  Warm (not hot) from the oven, it was perfect with some crispy garlicky roast potatoes and a lightly dressed salad.  Cold, it made a most excellent lunch.

 

Ingredients

140g plain flour

85g butter, cubed
3-4 tbsp cold water
75g Parmesan, finely grated
Salt, pepper, whole nutmeg
Bunch of asparagus
4 eggs
140ml skimmed milk
125g soft goats’ cheese

Serves 6, 9 pro points per portion

OK, first pastry.  Deep breath.  The one thing I have gleaned from years of intensive foodie telly watching is that when you make pastry, everything needs to be cold.  So, I chilled in the fridge at every stage.  First – measure out the flour, the butter and two thirds of the Parmesan into a large bowl.  Put in the fridge, alongside a glass of water for half an hour.

Now you want to combine the fat and the flour.  I used the Kitchen Aid paddle for this but you could equally just rub it in with your fingers.  If you do, try to make sure you use just the finger tips.  When the mixture resembles dry sand, add the chilled water a tablespoon at a time.  Again, I did this in the mixer but you could equally use a spoon or a palate knife.  When it looks like it is thinking about coming together, use your hands to form it into a ball – if it is damp enough it should do this without effort but, equally, without feeling sticky.  I found it took exactly four tablespoons of water.  Wrap in cling film and return to the fridge. 

During the second chill, prepare your asparagus – snap off the woody ends and slice in half lengthwise.  If it is particularly thick you may consider blanching it for a minute or so just to take the edge off (blanche – plunge into boiling water, then remove and transfer immediately to a bowl of cold water, or run the cold tap over until cool to the touch).

Now – rolling the pastry out.  I used a Rachel Allen tip which is: instead of rolling out on a floured work surface, roll between two sheets of cling film.  This worked beautifully and means you don’t risk adding to much flour to the mix and upsetting the ratios in the pastry.  Transfer to a 20cm diameter tart dish.  Trim any overhanging ends and use the trimmings to ensure that there are no holes and that the crust is even all the way around.  Return to the fridge for a final half hour blast.  Preheat the oven to 180.

Using baking parchment and beans or rice to line, bake the case blind for 15 minutes then remove from the oven and bake for a further 10-15 minutes until pale gold.  Pause for a moment to congratulate yourself on your skill.

Beat the eggs briefly and then add the milk and whisk again until a little frothy.  Season with salt, pepper and nutmeg. 

Sprinkle the remaining Parmesan on the base of the case, artfully arrange the asparagus and then pour over the egg mix – carefully to avoid overflow.  Finally, crumble the goats. cheese on top before returning to the oven for around 35 minutes until puffed and golden.  Allow to cool to just-slightly-warmer-than-room-temperature before serving.

I take my pedometer for a walk

Oh, how I wished that I was one of those lucky souls who enjoyed exercising. 

I think I've had phases of tolerating it to the extent that I got into the routine of going along to things that were not entirely loathsome and then quite enjoyed the positive effect that it had on my physical and mental wellbeing.  But it is far, far easier to fall out of a routine than it is to get into one. 

It's safe to say that I am not in any sort of routine at the moment.  There is a gym a mere hop, skip and a jump away with a lovely pool and a whole array of exciting classes and I am struggling to motivate myself to get there.  D keeps telling me that I should walk the half hour straight line between my house and my office rather than jumping on a bus.  He is right of course.  But walking along a main road is terribly dull.  And, also, have I ever mentioned before the terrible problems I have with general balance and rightfootedness?  Part of the issue is my weight distribution; I am essentially a Weeble - an almost perfectly spherical thing perched precariously on two little legs.  I have to actually concentrate to resist the pull of gravity which would have me toppling forward at any given moment in time.

And part of the issue is very simply this - I am terribly, terribly lazy.  I would, in all seriousness, list napping as one of my favourite pastimes - especially while being lulled by the dulcet tones of an audiobook or something soothing from Radio 4.  D tells me that sleep doesn't really count as a hobby.  I beg to disagree.  I thought that when I hit my thirties I would finally grow out of my rather teenagerish sleep patterns, the ability to sleep until noon if left undisturbed.  It has not happened yet and, the thing is, now that I live alone, I sometimes have very little motivation to rise from my rather comfortable bed.

The good folk at Weight Watchers obviously have encountered people of my ilk before as a part of the WW programme is a thing called Activity Points - essentially, if you exert yourself you earn bonus points which can, in turn, be scoffed.  I've noticed a lot of people on the message boards laugh in the face of such gluttony - why, they say, would I go to the trouble of earning these points to then eat them?  Why, say I, would you not?  And Weight Watchers have gone one step further by inventing a pedometer that not only counts your steps but beeps every time you have shuffled far enough to earn one of these precious, precious points.  I've been toying with the idea of buying one for ages but finally cracked on Friday and have been walking round with it clipped to me ever since - consulting it every so often to see how far I've walked.  As motivaters go, it's surprisingly effective.

On Saturday, D and I took the pedometer out for a walk.  There was a Gu chocolate ganache pot with my name on it in the fridge and, as I trotted, slightly sweaty and grim faced a few paces behind him, my ear was constantly cocked for the sound of the beep that would get me one step closer to guilt free pudding.

Oh, and there were some pretty spring flowers as well...

Although I must admit that sometimes I stop to take a photograph not so much because I am overcome by the beauty of nature but that I need to catch a breath or two...shhhhhhhh.