Pickled Pink.

Location: Brooklyn.
Precipitation: 0%
Humidity: 196%
Wind: 7mph
Number of pants I've hacked into shorts: 5
Number of times I've had icecream as a meal this week: also 5...

It is, without a shadow of a doubt, the season they once entitled summer and unless I'm in a well-ventilated,  air-conditioned ice box, I will not be attempting to scoff a hot meal anytime soon. Its so gosh darn hot up in here. That, combined with the fact that I'm an absolute sucker for all things picnic related was the inspiration for this post.  I also really enjoy life-lessons so we're gonna delve into some right here, right now. Ready?

Life lesson 1:

Ugly Apples Taste Better.
Here's the instagram post which got double likes thus proving said therom.

Life lesson 2:

If you go straight from your bar at 5am to queue for tickets to Shakespeare in the Park and don't sleep all day, you WILL fall into a deep slumber in Act II, much to the disgust of all theatre buffs attending. Whatevz. Great experience nonetheless.  Magical. Outdoors. Fireflies. Drifting in and out of dreams
.

Life lesson 3:
Donuts have magical qualities that can cure the darkest of days, soothe the most broken of souls and ease the most painful of sorrows.  I'm totally fine, you guys. I just ate a life altering donut and thought I should share how delightful it was. Guess I could've done it in a less depressing way? Peter Pan- go there if you can. Myself and my pals, Holly and Ben go there to eat donuts and talk about life.
Another shameless Instagram plug

Life lesson 4:
You're officially a grown up when you've honed your egg skills, right? Well, I can now reveal, on record,   that I can boil an egg to complete perfection. Without fail. Every. Single. Time. No big deal. It's a fool proof technique. Also top secret. Come over, I'll show you. 

Life lesson 5:
Learning southern slang is hella fun and finer than a frog hair split four ways especially when the devils beatin' his wife. Bless your heart and order more grits.

Life lesson 6:
Yes.
Say yes to everything (in a safe environment).
Talk to complete strangers (in a safe environment).
'Keep asking questions, stay curious, stay hungry'.
Stay (w)reckless (in a safe environment).
I told you at the beginning, I'm a sucker for inspirational life lessons. You got yourself into this mess. You can't stop reading now just cause I'm being a sap. Embrace it, we're almost at the end.

Life lesson 7:
Ok, so here's the big bombshell. I need you to promise to stay friends with me after I've told you this. After years and years and YEARS of eating pickles, only now have I realized that they were, at one point in their illustrious career... cucumbers. I'm being 100% serious when I reveal this little nugget of naivety. I honestly just thought they were a vegetable unto themselves. Til one day, lo and behold, I was having a conversation with a friend and they mentioned something about cucumbers and pickles and the penny that had been weighing down my purse for all this time, dramatically (a little bit like this sentence) thudded to the floor, along with my jaw. I couldn't conceal my shock and astonishment. I had been found out. My cover was blown. What followed was a lengthy bombardment of questions, an inquisition into the dereliction of my education and an in depth lesson about pickling. I couldn't just let this crucial information wash over me so I tenaciously took up a mason jar (or six) and decided to revel in the wonders of fermentation. Below is the evidence of said foray. Get amongst it.

Ingredients:
6 cucumbers
A bunch of asparagus
1 Red Onion
1 Bunch of Rainbow Chard
1 bunch of dill
8 cloves of Garlic
Mustard seeds
Black Peppercorns

Brine:
3/4 cup of Champagne Vinegar  (ooooh so faaaancy)
2 cups of White Wine Vinegar
8 cups of water
3 tablespoons of brown sugar
1/2 cup of salt



Method:
Sterilize Mason Jars in hot water.
Bring the brine ingredients to boil, turn off and set aside.
Slice the cucumbers into spears.
Cut off the woody ends of the asparagus. Bring a half inch of water to boiling point. Turn off. Pop asparagus into the water. Switch back on and turn off when it reaches boiling again. Rinse under cold water.
Chop the leafy part of the Rainbow Chard off. (Don't throw away- they can be boiled as a delicious spinachy snack. How healthy!)
Slice the Red Onion into lengthy strips.
Place a clump of dill in the bottom of the mason jars that you will use for the cucumbers.
Put a couple of garlic cloves, some mustard and black peppercorn seeds into each jar.
Tightly pack the veggies into the jars.
Ladle the brine, covering the veggies.
Twist the tops onto the mason jars.
Place the jars in a pot of water and bring to just before boiling point to seal. This should take about 15 minutes.
Remove from the pot and leave for 2-3 hours to cool down.
Your pickled pals will be ready for consumption 24 hours later. The longer you leave 'em the picklier they'll get.

Green is the new black. 

Pink is the new black.

Yellow is the new black. 

Ooooh steamy

FRY 'EM!
.

Ingredients
Your pickled delights.
2 eggs
Enough breadcrumbs to coat your pickles.
Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

Method:
Whisk the eggs in one bowl.
Have the breadcrumbs in another.
Heat some oil in a pan.
Dunk the pickles in the eggs, then in the breadcrumbs.
Fry in the oil til crispy!

For a slightly healthier option just fry in some oil without the egg and breadcrumbs.

And Now for a Very Important Announcement..

...it's Philippa's birthday!

Our little chicken is turning 24 and everyone knows what that means, right?
It means she was born 24 years ago.
To celebrate this important milestone, here's a list of things that make our Pips such an incredible person.

P is for Partners in Crime - no one is better company for illegal activities than Philippa.
H is for Hall and Oates - Maneater - she only comes out at night. Whatch out boys, she will chew you up.
I is for Idaho - one of the many states Philippa would like to visit one day.
L is for Ladies Loving Ladies - sometimes all you need is loving yourself.
I is for I don't know why we love her so much - I'm just kidding, she's fantastic and pretty and smart and a great friend.
P is for Partially Jewish - a secret only revealed now.
P is for Party animal - amongst other things.
A is for Ahhhhhhhhhh - words that come out of my mouth everytime we meet in person and hug.

M is for more - Pippa's favourite word and the cause of much trouble.
O is for Omnipresent - she may be in the other side of the ocean at the moment, but her presence is felt everywhere. Specially in our hearts.
O is for Omnipresent - seriously, she won't leave you alone.
R is for Red Wine - Philippa's weapon of choice
E is for Enigmatic -  cheesemonger by day, sexy vulture by night. When you think you've seen everything...think again.

And now, let's all raise our immaginary glasses and toast this very good lady.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PIPS!

Oh hello.

Well well well dear old friends!  How have you all been since we last met here many moons ago? We think its only right and proper that we give you an explanation for our EXTREME absence and severe lack of recipes on the blog. The past few months have been, for all three of us, a truly formative period that shall go down in the annals of time as a point in our lives which held much change, opportunity and travel. Without further ado, let us attempt to catch you up on the escapades of this travelling trio. All three of us moved house which is the main reason you haven't heard a peep from us. It wasn't planned that we would all move at the same time but what beautiful symmetry, eh?! Ale and Emma are both back in Dublin for now and Pip moved reaaallllllllllly far away from where she was (3 blocks down the road). Bold moves. We've been travelling, hiking, camping, having visitors, being visitors, earning money, spending money,  falling in love, falling out of love, makin' mates and eating ham. Basically, we've been caught up in the unpredictable lifestyle that is your 20s and yeah, WE'VE BEEN REALLY ENJOYING IT. Life, oh life, ooooooh life, oh life (to be sung obviously). We shall divulge more specific information in a timely and organised manner over the next few weeks. And by timely and organised, we mean, wild and unruly. 

We have also decided to throw our original template out the window and wander on with more sporadic posts whenever the mood takes our fancy. That's not to say we won't be posting as much (lol), we will just be looking further afield for inspiration and posting freely, without the restrictions of a monthly theme or challenge. The template boded well for us for the first few months but we found that it was unrealistic to try fit three different personalities into one set theme and make it in any way interesting for you lovely folk. So here we are, growing with our blog and expanding our horizons. Check back in in a couple of days for what promises to be the most incredible blog post ever (mmmmmm hyperbole).

Until then, just know we're alive.

X 

Boxty With Smoked Salmon, Caper Ricotta and Kale.

I have always felt an affinity towards water. All of my favourite memories take place on/in/beside a body of water.  I know, I know, 70% of the earth's surface is made up of water so it's pretty much 70% unavoidable but nevertheless, I feel the need to proclaim my undying love for this viscous element. I also think fire is swell but hey, I'll save that for another post.

My earliest memory is spending my 3rd birthday on Silver Strand beach in Co. Wicklow. When I was learning to ride my bike I somehow managed to slide down an extremely steep bank into the river at Enniskerry, Co.Wicklow. I honed my rounders (baseball to any Americans out there) skills shadowed by the mist of Powerscourt Waterfall. I once spent a weekend in Sligo at my friend Suzanne's aunt's cottage by a lakeside surrounded by lush green trees, eating boxty and listening to traditional Irish music. Give me a view of the stunning bridges of Porto or the tranquil splendour of Lake Windermere and I guarantee you, I could gaze upon them for hours. The spell-bounding rhythm of the ocean, the overwhelming crash of a wave, the magical depths of a lake, the curious meander of a river, the diving grace of a waterfall all fascinate me.

Beach babe

This post, however, is about a perilous incident involving some washing detergent, h2o and my dirty laundry. 

Before I embark on the epic tale of my undergarment escapades let me just say that I've done my own washing countless times. I guarantee you, it's a whole other ball game when not in the comfort of your own home.

So below is a blow by blow account of an incident I am hereby calling 'Washer-woman Wednesday'.

To say that I made it painstakingly obvious that it was my first time doing laundry would be an understatement.
I walk in, donning my laundry day rig-out which is a pair of trackie bees, odd socks and a striking yellow sweater with the words 'worlds greatest grandad to be' plastered across the front- conspicuous is not how I would describe this look.
I go up to the lady carefully folding some undies and asks how 'the system' works, naively thinking that she works there. She doesn't, in fact, work there but explains it to me regardless with complicated and confusing hand gestures.
Having topped up my new laundry card, teaming with excitement and anticipation, I begin my mission.
I separate my clothes into whites and colours, which I realise I could've done at home with a helluva lot more ease.
I successfully get my whitewash goin'. Ah sure, it's all plain sailing from here on out....you'd think. Turns out I had used a 60lb machine instead of a 10lb machine. That's a solid $6.50 per machine as opposed to $2.50. At this point,  I'm beginning to wonder if I've ever owned 60lb of clothes.  Maybe if you add up all of the clothes I've ever owned?... But as you can see from the photo of me on the beach,  it seems I had an aversion to pants as a child.
Card topped up for a second time, I realise I've already put the detergent into the second 60lb machine so I may as well swipe through another $6.50.
Garments removed from the washer, I then lovingly toss them into the tumble dryer only to find that my brand new card won't read in the slot anymore. Stressed out to the nines at this stage, seriously questioning all my life choices, I not so lovingly throw the sopping wet clothes in my laundry bag so I could get the hell out and get back to the safety of my own home as quickly as possible. As I crossed the threshold I decided that after hanging my clothes off every nook in my apartment I was going to make suman' delish to soothe my bruised domestic-goddess ego. And so I rustled up some Boxty with smoked salmon, caper ricotta and kale. Boxty is a traditional Irish potato pancake which is both easy to make and a great way of utilising any leftover mash.  There's a rhyme associated with boxty that claims if you can't make it you'll never get a man...classic old wives tale from the old country. Antiquated as it is, I've never actully made boxty before which may explains my single status. Let's hope that this starch spell works and that my future beau won't ask me to wash his clothes. Boxty, yes. Boxers, no.

Ingredients:
Makes 12 cakes

8 regular sized spuds (I also chose some purple ones cause thought the colour was fun!)
Half grated, half mashed and cooled.
3 eggs beaten
1 cup of milk
1 cup of flour
250g of smoked salmon
250g ricotta
Extra virgin olive oil
Capers
Salt and Pepper
Kale
A Wedg(i)e of Lemon to garnish

Method (to my madness)

Grate the uncooked potatoes

Mix together the flour, eggs, milk, mashed potato and grated potato until it resembles a goupy mixture.

Heat olive oil in a pan and the dollop the batter in and fry for 4-5 minutes on both sides.

Mix the ricotta with a generous shlurp of olive oil and as many capers as your heart desires (I used 150g)

Shred the smoked salmon and layer atop the boxty with a dollop of the ricotta and a handful of kale.

Grubs up, kids!

Mmmmmmm fried spudz

Mmmmmm grated and uncooked spudz

Boxty on the griddle,
 Boxty in the pan,
If you can't make boxty,

You'll never get your man.

LOL

Look at that lough

Friends who drink coffee together, stay together

Well, well, well, how are you dear friends? After a brief hiatus due to long-haul flights and ever changing time zones we are back! And back with a  vengeance might we add. We knew we had to plan something extra special for our return post, and that, we did.

After some serious and stealthy planning on Ale's part, the three of us returned to our natural habitat - drinking coffee in a café together, almost... Clever Ale managed to buy both myself and Philly Willy (apologies for the nick name Philippa) a coffee in the countries he knew we would be in; Philippa's in NYC of course, and mine in beautiful Oslo, where I missed my dearest Ale by the skin of his teeth (roughly two days in non metaphorical terms). Ale is currently enjoying the cultural and foodie delights of Vietnam on his travels, but only after popping to America and Norway to fix his friends up with a caffeine hit - some serious competition now for the next grand gesture of friendship within this threesome...

Below is each of our personal accounts of the country-spanning-coffee-rendez-vous!

Ale

Oh Norway, home of beautiful fjords, Vikings, reindeers, the midnight sun and (allegedly) trolls. Norway, Norway, Norway, you beautiful, overly expensive Scandinavian country.

I recently spent 20h in its capital, Oslo, and I somehow made sure to miss every single one of the things mentioned above. The reason why my trip there was so short? I flew there from Dublin to catch a flight to Thailand. Super random, right? Well, it turns out that besides selling falafels for NOK100 (around €12), Norway is also home of Norwegian Airlines and its super cheap flights to the rest of the world.

I booked my flight to Oslo without knowing that, coincidentally, Emma was also going there on a skiing trip. Unfortunately she would only arrive a day after I had already left. It didn't seem fair that we would be on the same city and miss each other by a matter of only a couple of days. To compensate, I decided to prepare a little surprise.

I spent most of my time there snapping pictures of every building that I could (gotta please my Instagram followers) and searching for places to have a decent bite and a cup of coffee that wouldn't break the bank. After walking for one and a half minutes (I'm the worst person when I'm hungry, I completely loose my ability to make good decisions and literally will stop in the first place that serves food without coriander in it), I managed to find a cute little place to put in practice the second part of my plan before I headed to the Far East. You can read all about it in the girl's tales about how great of a friend I am!

Ale's current position in Kuang Si Waterfall - I'll take a coffee instead thanks..

Emma

Shlurp, shlurp, shluuurp. That was the sound of me drinking my delicious (and free!) coffee in one of the darn right coolest cafes in Oslo (have bought beans and a book from the coffee owner to testify to this fact.) All thanks to the wonderful, bearded and Brazilian beauty that is our Ale.

Now, not only is consuming free beverages a delightful pastime, but consuming a free beverage in Oslo is a little bit more special. Why, you may ask. Well, let me tell you a little Norwegian secret. Norway is BLOODY EXPENSIVE. A free coffee saved me approximately half of my college fees. Well, sliiight exaggeration, but the point needs to be taken seriously. Norway is not a place for the euro-saver youths of today. Sure, whilst trying to steal free wifi in Mcds over there, the cheapest thing on the menu was 35NOK, that's a mere €4 for half an hour of wifi. Sign me up! Not.

Besides the expense of the trip, which I realise I have harped on about for half of this post (feelings are feelings, and if I feel strongly about something you must read about it.) Norway is b-e-a-u-tiful! I spent about 4 days there travelling from the west coast of Bergen (original capital of the country, there ya go now) to Oslo (current capital, but sure you knew that..). I biked, boated, trained and hiked from coast to coast all in the pouring rain so common to the Scandinavian Isles, only to fall madly in love with the country and with its people. They speak better English than me! Intelligent folk up there. Seriously though, if anyone ever wants to go to Norway, pleeease let me know as I will sell everything I own just to afford the weekend over there. I love it!

Also, a quick end note and correction to Ale's post - I was not in fact skiing in Norway, that was for my next trip to the Czech Republic which my boyfriend planned as a 'surprise' for my birthday. Some fun facts about the Czech Republic before I leave you:

1) The Czech Republic is about a gazillion times cheaper than Norway, we lived like kings

2) The people of the Czech Republic do not have as high a proficiency of English speaking as the Norwegians

3) Taken both former points into consideration, I spent my 22nd birthday, in the middle of nowhere on a snowy mountain in the Czech Republic (the more 'middle-of-nowhere' you go, the cheaper it gets) attempting to learn to snowboard, with an instructor that didn't speak English surrounded by about 1000 inhabitants of the town, who also spoke no word of English. One word, hilarious.

Ale's present #1

Philippa

Not only did Ale prepare a surprise for Emma but the thoughtful and chivalrous stede did the same for his NY counterpart (me).
On the day of his departure from New York, with tears in his eyes (and yeah, tears in mine too, I guess) he handed me an envelope with a short message scribed on the front : don't open until the 27th of February. It took all my willpower not to tear it open on the spot. The date came around and alas, inside I found another cryptic message : go to your favourite coffee shop where you will find a coffee waiting for you which is on me. You're right,this one is pretty self explanatory. One thing troubled my mind however : how did he pull off this elaborate ruse when I was with him every waking second of his trip here? Or so I thought. Some of you may be aware,  and some not so much,  of the fact that I need to pee approximately 90% of the time. So Ale aka Mr. Stealth waited until the inevitable opportunity arose and set up this glorious surprise so that all three of us could share a cup of coffee in three completely different places on earth, yet again proving two theorems:
1) He is the world's greatest (sorry, R Kelly)
2) We are always only ever...A Mouthful Apart.

Ale's present #2

The Biggest Apple

not so funny pizza

funny pizza 

This post is brought to you with tiredness in our bones, pizza in our tums and the dregs of a hangover seeping from our pores.
What should you take from that sentence? Pizza. Always take pizza.
Please excuse the momentary lapse in our blogging over the past week. ALE CAME TO NEW YORK so we've been caught up in each others company and the spontaneity of this city. Ah bless.  Let us give you a brief rundown on what's been happnan, what we've discovered,who we've met, and obviously what we've been eating!

What we've discovered:

1) People can be rude:
We went to a coffee shop in bushwick and asked, what turned out to be an absolute feckin' bitch, if we could use the seat she had her tacky bag on and she point blank refused to hand it over saying that her bag was actually really cosy on it. Shocked, appalled and without somewhere to put our bum bums so we were.
2) Sometimes it is ok to laugh at people:
Like people who don't give you chairs in busy coffee shops. You're not cool. You're rude. We've got it out of our system now and we're back to our friendly, loving, non-grudge-holding-stand-up-citizen selves. 

3) When going to a museum don't show up 15 minutes before it's closing time. You cannot whizz around the MET in 15 minutes. Tried and tested by yours truly.
4) Ice is slippy. Ale's arse has the bruises to prove it.
5) Canadian Bacon is hilarious. Especially at 4am in the morning.
6) Many/most of you probably know what the term 'All day' means when used in a restaurant.  We didn't.  So when the barista in a coffee shop said 4 coffees all day we naturally thought it meant we had free refills all day. Such silly billys.
If you don't know what it means you should Google it. We're still unsure how to explain it lucidly even though it is a very simple concept and one that we should have grasped after the third time it was explained to us.
7) Carrie Bradshaw's, Will and Grace's and Monica Geller's apartments are all very underwhelming in the dark.
8) How much does a pood weigh? Asked at Trivia night. No surprise that we didn't know the answer and that we didn't win.

9) Always double check the name of your subway stop before getting on to avoid finding yourself in the middle of Harlem instead of the Guggenheim Museum.

10) The Lorimer stop on the subway sounds suspiciously similar to Laura Moore (Philippa's sister)...which we obviously brought up everytime we passed it.

11) It's NOT okay to scream loudly at your friend at the bar for refusing a 6th shot of vodka, as one New Yorker will remind you.

12) Being served pancakes with whipped cream AND a side of bacon in a 50's looking diner by a real sassy waitress after a night out is everything Ale imagined it would be and more.

13) Always tip. Even if there's no chicken in your Chicken Taco.

14) Eggs on pizza. Always and forever.

Who we've met (more like who we haven't met):
1) HONY. Anyday now, he's BOUND to track us down, right?

2) Karen Walker (I've only just learned she's not a real human being)

What we've been eating:
1) An extravagant lobster roll at The Chelsea Market.
2) A pastrami, cheddar and apricot jam sandwich at The Chelsea Market.

3) Falafel Sandwiches with extra hummus- so cheap and oh so cheerful!
4) Guanciale and Egg Pizza at Roberta's.
5) Tallegio and Mashed Potato Pizza at Roberta's.
6) Lil Stinker Pizza with added capers and egg at Roberta's
7) Burritos,  burritos, and more burritos.
7) Egg's Neptune with hash browns at Kellogg's diner.
8) Egg's Benedict with sweet potato fries at Kellogg's diner.
9) Portobello Mushroom burger with goat cheese and sweet potato fries at...Kellogg's diner.
10) Stacks and more stacks of the most delicious pancakes smothered in Maple Syrup at...(you can probably guess it at this point) Kellogg's diner.
YES, we went to Kellogg's diner 4 times in 36 hours. And YES,  we would do it all again.

What we've been drinking:

1) Delicious coffee at Little Skips

2) Amazing coffee at Blue Bottle

3) Buckets of coffee at Kellogg's diner

4) Beer, beer, beer at various locations (Ale's favourite was one that tasted like palm hearts after a shot of whiskey - if you've never had palm hearts or don't even know what they are: please go find out, life will be better)

always ask your server for a blurry picture

friendship is always more beautiful in New York

that's apparently what you do here

Harlem, New York

burger on face > burger in mouth

"this is not what I ordered"

immediatly after this picture Ale fell on the ice

the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. building

Grace Adler Design's

our best shot

not in the picture: side of bacon and toast

After a week of walking this WONDERFUL city we are EXHAUSTED and satiated and full of plans for the future. Central Park, The Guggenheim,  The Met, MoMa, Grand Central Station, New York City Public Library,The Brooklyn Bridge, Times Square,  Washington Square Park, The High Line and especially Kellogg's Diner- YOU'VE ALL BEEN FABULOUS. 

The next chapter in our journey: OLSO AND SOUTHEAST ASIA.
Belt on, table up, windows open aaaaaand we have lift off!
Pip, Ale and Emma 

(Collectively known as Palema)

Goodbye processed yumminess, It was a good ride...

So it's the end of January and I have been the most stereotypical version of any female in the New Year - I went on a health kick. All I am now is a January cliché.... AND I LOVE IT. Unlike my fun-loving counterpart Philippa, who is living up the New Year partay shtyle with her January Juice containing Champagne, I have chosen to be clean and boring (but it doesn't have to be is what I'm slowly discovering).  My new roommate from Budapest (woohoo, free apartment when I visit) is a real slave to the clean eating trade. She has introduced me to so much. I thought that because I was going clean in the New Year that it would only be for a short period of time to shed those xmas fatty blues and put my love of cooking and food aside with it. This is just not, not and NOT the case. There are so many amazing clean eating blogs out there to get inspired from! So many new ideas to work with. And soooo many new ingredients to shovel into your face. My new favourite, almond butter!!!! (4 exclamation marks because this thing is OHMYDEARHOLYMOLYFANTASTIC!)



who needs friends

So I know I sound all preachy and holier than thou with my new clean eating lifestyle, but let me tell you, I have struggled. Oh have I. This guy I know (i.e. my boyfriend) came to visit me in the land of the Riviera recently and I was all "I only eat this now" and "Do you even know what you're putting into your body right now" etc. etc. During my self affirming rants about the goodness of coconut oil in your food AND on your face I decided to take him to have the best croissant in Nice. Now, as I write that sentence I understand IT MAKES NO SENSE. Why did I choose to do that? Nevertheless, I did. And so I began to fully understand what it would feel like to be in Hell. The interaction after be bought the croissant went a little like this:
 
Boyfriend: Jesus, this is feckin' delicious
 
Crying on the inside Emma: Haha, oh yeah, looks class, yeah, I might have a handful of berries
 
Boyfriend: It's like crunchy on the outside and soooo buttery on the inside
 
Dying on the inside Emma: BUTTER? Can I smell it...?
 
It went on like this for a little while, it was painful. But I prevailed (okay...I had the end of the croissant...literally smaller than my thumb so it was fiiine...) Anyway, moving on from my shortcomings when it comes to buttery pastries.
 
This month is Juicin' and Jammin' It in January and I am making a yummmmy smoothie pudding clean dessert type of thing. It was originally meant to be a green smoothie, but as only two supermarkets in Nice have fresh spinach and I had no spare change to get the tram to either of these, I improvised...well not so much as improvising, rather I just left the spinach out. Sure look.
 
As I said, it was meant to be a green smoothie...which changed to a normal clean smoothie...and then when the final product came out I decided this would be a lovely pudding like dessert also. So, digest it as you wish, as a smoothie or a pudding... doesn't matter it's still deliiish and everything in it is clean clean clean.
 

Smoothie/Pudding Ingredients

 



Now, what we have here is a handful or two of frozen berries, a tablespoon of almond butter, chia seeds, bee pollen (new to this one...but heard it just really good for you, right so!), 3 medjool dates, 1 pot of non fat plain yogurt and a realllly ripe brown banana (freeze the banana beforehand for extra creaminess...probs better for the pudding option.)

how brown is your banana?

 

Smoothie/Pudding Steps

 

Step 1: Throw everything in a blender, and blend

 

Step 2: There are no more steps

I lied... Step 3: Pour in fancy glasses and sprinkle with chia seeds and pollen (careful on the pollen though, it does weird things to your tummy if you're not used to it I'm told, I guess I'll keep ya'll posted on this....)

***CAUTION*** If you do not invest in a good blender, it will crack under the pressure (literally) and look like it pooed out your delicious smoothie.

how rude

Good luck to all of you on your clean eating ventures, should you choose to join us folk. If not, good luck to you and please eat extra butter for me. I'm off to eat a stick of celery now.

















Delusional Dusk

Hi gang!

With 2015 in full swing we reignite our blogging torch with a fresh theme and culinary challenge for this month. We call it Juicin' and Jammin' in January. Our challenge is going to be to find the most bizarrre/strangest shaped fruit or vegetable and make juice or a preserve from it AND pick a song (or jam, if you will) that best describes said juice/preserve. Philippa is kickstarting this month with her post and her sincerest apologies for the amount of time it has taken her to gather her thoughts and actually string a few simple sentences together. Feast your eyes on her post below. 

Ah January, we meet again, old buddy old pal. January,  January,  January.  Christmas day seems like many moons ago at this stage, a distant cry, a hazy memory. It was a low key day here in New York. A light breakfast of poached eggs and salmon and buckets of coffee (top tip: give me coffee in the morning or I will die). We watched movies and cooked food (accidentally left it so late to order a turkey that we ended up with a 14lb bird...which I should point out we quickly finished cause we're animals), nattered (house full of 4 girls), skyped home to see just how much they were missing us (surprised they got through the day if I'm being honest...not really though. They were probably thankful the resident klutz wasn't there- I once broke a guitar that Santa left for my sister Paige a mere 2 hours after she had opened it. Soz.) Before hitting the hay we went down to our 'stoop' and asked an innocent passerby to take a picture of us so we could remember our first Christmas away from home. Say cheese.
Speaking of cheese, I am learning a shit ton in my job. It's great. The cheese is great. The people I work with are great. You're great for having read this far. Please do continue. Where was I?
Ah yes, January. January, January, January. Typically a time marked with hopeful promises of change, a chance for new beginnings, an opportunity to drastically reform one's life with resolutions such as hittin' the gymnasium on a regular basis, avoiding those devilish carbohydrates or givin' up the auld gargle. Well, I say NAY TO THAT. So instead of a healthy cleansing, vile-tasting vessel of mush, I present you instead with an alcohol fuelled cocktail that will fog all of your judgement and cleanse you in other ways. I picked ingredients inspired by different aspects of my life ( I didn't intend for that sentence to sound as obnoxious as it did ..lol?) Here they are along with the tantalizing tale behind each one:

Champagne- Flash back a few weeks to the eve of the New Year (also known as New Year's Eve). We had made grand plans to go out for dinner, have a few cocktails and polish off a bottle of bubbly. Glam, I know. But with work being so hectic and having spent the last few weeks burning the candle at both ends (wahey!), it seemed like a golden opportunity for a quiet night in (WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH PHILIPPA? I hear you ask). So, snuggled up in my jimjams (that's the jammin part of this post), armed with an ice cold beer and a delectable cheese board (see photo), I rang in the New Year in the borough of Brooklyn,  far from the bright lights and commotion of the city. Shortly after midnight, I lay my head to rest on my fluffly pillow to awake early(ish) the next morning fully refreshed and ready for the year ahead. It took a solid two days for us to realise that the cork on the bottle of champers had not been popped. So, it rears it's fizzy head in this recipe.

Rhubarb bitters: I cannot describe just how cold it is here in any sort of magical way. 'Tis unmercifully bitter, as the fella says. I walked the highline a few days ago (cause yanno, it's always a good idea to go to higher altitudes when its cold) and I thought my face would fall off BUT New York did look mighty fine from up there (again photographic evidence provided below). I have started to wear socks above my ankles (an unprecedented yet necessary move). I have taken to wearing two coats and have contemplated buying a balaclava to protect my face from the bitter wind. I should add- I'm probably exaggerating. Apparently last year was worse but coming from a fairly mild climate, this weather makes me feel like Jack Dawson (when the ship went down...and he was floating in the icy water...and his lips were blue...)  SO the rhubarb part of this beverage is an homage to watching Titanic whilst eating a warm rhubarb crumble with a mountain of whipped cream and a cup of tea in front of a roaring fire with my dogs (ma bishes if you will). You thought the tangled web of words I created wouldn’t make any sense,  didn't you? Fear not,  ramblings my game. 

Raspberry Juice: I played a game with a gentleman in a bar recently (STRANGER DANGER) where we had to ask each other what your favourite such-and-such was and you had to answer straight away or you lost (yes, this is my idea of flirting). Anyway, he asked me what my favourite fruit was and I immediately screamed raspberry. I panicked. It's not my favourite fruit. Rhubarb is. Nevertheless, add raspberry.

Mint & Rosemary: Americans pronounce most things differently to us Celts. Like calling coriander cilantro and rocket arugula and pronouncing basil like baaayzil and droping the h when saying herbs BUT at least we can all agree on rosemary and mint.

Salt: for the rim of the glass- yes, a rim job.

Gin: The End.

Method: make it a double,  barkeep!

And so the cocktail 'Delusional Dusk' is born/presented/poured/chugged/gracefully sipped.

Tune in next week for more shenanigans and remember kids, hashtag never ever drink and text.

Pip x