Maloa House – Woodend Gourmet

Last weekend was the Labour Day long weekend. E and I went for a day trip to the country. We decided to go to Woodend, about 50 minutes drive from Melbourne, because there was a Lions Art Show in the church hall.

We stopped at a lovely café in a giftshop called Maloa House. It was all airy high ceilings, artwork on colourful walls and wooden counters. I liked it but E thought it too brightly lit (all the better for photographing my meal!). The shop also sold soaps, candles, lamps, beautiful crockery and gourmet groceries.

I had a herb and parmesan risotto cake topped with sweet potato, caramelized onions and stilton. It was presented with panache! The swirl of tomato sauce and herb sauce looked professional. I would have preferred a bit more sauce, but the sweet potato, onion and cheese added an interesting combination of intense flavours. But I was happy that I also ordered the bean salad. Without it the risotto might have been a bit dry. It was this salad that attracted me to the place. It comprised very light dressed cooked green beans, olives, semi dried tomatoes and potato. I’d go back just for the salad. It was deliciously simple.

The art show was nice but quite traditional – E couldn’t believe that one of my favourite paintings was of a beetroot! We also enjoyed a wander around Woodend. It feels like the tree-changers have infiltrated – I imagine quite a few of the residents commute to Melbourne daily. What does this mean? Gift shops of candles, soaps & quaint garden rustic furniture; quirky shops like Uncle Festers that sell witches wands and pentagrams made on the premises; a great second hand bookstore; and gourmet delicacies abound.

I was surprised that not only could I find a vegetarian meal quite easily, but that there was also a good selection of gluten free food. We found excellent friands at Bites Deli and were sad that the Literary Latte was closed so we couldn’t have a drink there – but maybe next time!

I left having purchased dried blueberries at Maloa House and parmesan cheese at the Deli, plus some mulled wine oil burner wax from Habitat. Not a bad haul from a country town. I still think of country towns being like the one I lived in as a child where having a dim sim or a chiko roll with my fish and chips was the height of sophistication! But the times they are a changing.

Maloa House
97 High Street
Woodend VIC 3442
Tel: 03 5427 1608
Fax: 03 5427 3226
Email: maloahouse@bigpond.com

WHB: In Search of the Nectarine

"Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine -- how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry."
John Keats (1795-1821)

I don’t make desserts often, especially when it comes to fruit desserts. Fresh fruit tastes great and is so easy. But I can be persuaded. This week I fancied making sweets and was persuaded by Haalo’s nostalgia for nectarines fresh from the tree, which she claimed, could be recreated by baking fresh nectarines in a strudel.

Unfortunately my memories of nectarines aren’t as glowing and soft edged as Haalo’s. Mine are of earwigs running out of the centre of a nectarine which gave me an irrational dislike of the fruit for years. But happily I have overcome it. Nectarines are now among my favourite fruits. I think I even like them more than peaches because they are smoother, smaller and more intensely flavoured. They are also good for me - like peaches, they are high in vitamins A and C. But we are now encountering the last of summer’s bounty as we slide into autumn.

All summer I have been promising myself I would bake dessert with stone fruit. When I was young and my mum regularly made sweets, I always wanted apricot in my pies and sponge puddings rather than apple. I really crave them more in winter when stone fruit is hard to come by. So, rather than wait til they are just an unobtainable dream of summer, I decided to have a final fling with nectarines.

Last year Susan wrote about nectarines always playing second fiddle to peaches. I remember feeling a little saddened at the thought and decided I needed to find out a little more about nectarines. Susan made the all- too-true observations that they don’t star in classic desserts or music. Luckily my partner E is a fount of useless information about music and remembered that there is a band in Edinburgh called Nectarine Number Nine – actually he tells me it is a musical project of Davey Henderson, a member of cult 1980s band The Fire Engines. E even once owned some of their albums on vinyl!

But Susan is right. The nectarine isn’t embedded in our culture like peaches. It isn’t found in the literary canon or childhood stories. No one would compare complexions or bottoms to the nectarine. But nevertheless, such a delicacy shouldn’t be hidden in the shadowy corners of history. Here is what I could find.

It is thought that nectarines probably originated in China about 2000 years ago and were cultivated in ancient Persia, Greece and Rome. Apparently, one Chinese emperor was so enthralled with nectarines that he and his people referred to them as the "nectar of the gods." The first recorded mention in English is said to be in 1616. I have read that in the 16th and 17th centuries the nectarine was known as the ‘nucipersica’ because it resembled the walnut (which begs the question has the nectarine, the walnut or people’s eyesight changed drastically since this time?) and then was known as the ‘nectorin’.

In the 19th century, there was a discussion over whether the nectarine should have its own species but it was decided that it was too similar to a peach. Here lies one problem in finding the nectarine. It is seen to be just a bald or mutant peach. Before I started my little bit of research on its history, I thought it was a recently discovered hybrid between a peach and a plum.

We don’t often hear the praises of the nectarine sung in history, although John Keats obviously appreciated a good juicy nectarine. I suspect if you look really closely you might find that some of the famous peaches might actually be nectarines. Maybe Prufrock really wondered if he dares to eat a nectarine. Maybe James lived inside a giant nectarine. And maybe Dame Nellie Melba might have preferred her eponymous dessert to be centred around a nectarine – after all she didn’t want to risk any peach fluff affecting her vocal chords.

Now that I have tasted nectarine strudel, I am amazed it is apples and not nectarines which found fame with this pastry dish. This strudel is so good with its crisp pastry, with almond and sugar between the layers giving a hint of marzipan, and with its large chunks of nectarine baked to a juicy tenderness that Haalo describes as akin to eating the fruit straight off the tree. I also added raspberries on a whim. It was fantastic! Even E loved it, despite claiming that he always asked his mother for a piece of pie with no fruit. Haalo gave very approximate quantities but I have had to be more precise to help me remember for next time (but I don't think these need to be closely followed). This was so delicious that I am hoping that I will bake it many more times.

I am sending this to Kel from Green Olive Tree who is this week’s host of Weekend Herb Blogging, which was started by Kalyn at Kalyn’s Kitchen.

Nectarine and Raspberry Strudel
(adapted from Haalo)
Serves 4-6

4 nectarines, sliced
50g raspberries
6 sheets filo pastry (about 30 x 20cm - a bit bigger might be good)
50g butter, melted
4 tbsp caster sugar
4 tbsp ground almonds

Place filo pastry sheets under a damp tea towel so you can take out one at a time. Grease or line a large baking tray. Preheat oven to 180 C.

Take sheet of filo pastry and place on the baking sheet. Brush with melted butter. Place a second sheet on top. Sprinkle with a tablespoon of ground almonds and a tablespoon of sugar. Repeat with melted butter on each sheet and almonds and sugar on the fourth sheet.

When you have used all 6 sheets (you don’t need to butter the top sheet) scatter 2 tablespoons of almonds and 2 tablespoons of sugar on the pastry. Pile nectarine slices along the pastry leaving a large margin and scatter with raspberries. Now here is where I got a bit unsure. Fold the pastry over to seal along the long seam – mine didn’t seal well so maybe I had a bit much fruit (although it was fine to serve). Fold the short ends over. Then carefully turn the strudel over so it is seam-side down on the baking tray. Brush more butter over the strudel.

Bake for 30-40 minutes in preheated oven. Serve with cream if desired. Good enough to eat without!

NOTE: other fruit could be used in this strudel, particularly other stone fruit. Haalo also says that you could use tinned peaches but that they should be drained as much as possible and a little more almond meal used to soak up juices.

On the stereo:
Live Recordings, Dec 30 & New Year's Eve 2003 - Oakland Arena - The Dead

MM Vegetable nut crumble

When I asked E what he wanted for dinner tonight he asked for something with rice. So I decided to find an old favourite recipe from one of my first vegetarian cookbooks which of course was produced by the Australian Women’s Weekly.

I had been thinking of cooking something for Meeta’s Monthly Mingle. This month the theme is one dish dinners. It made me reflect on how my cooking style has changed. I used to be a one pot cook. If I couldn’t throw it all in one pot then it was too complicated. These days I struggle at the idea of having dinner in one pot because I want more vegetables. Often I made a salad or steam some vegetables so their taste is fresher and not hidden under a heavy sauce or swamped by carbs.

But Meeta has made me think I should resurrect some of the good one pot meals I used to make which have fallen by the wayside. (After all I don’t want to throw out the baby with the bathwater!)

This dish is great because it is so satisfying. It has all the elements of a meal in a casserole dish. Rice on the bottom, vegies in the middle and lots of proteins on top. The flavours are quite simple but it works. I was a bit unsure if by one dish dinners, Meeta meant that only one dish was to be used in preparation or one dish was to be served out of. This dish doesn’t fit the former but it fits the latter. What I love about dinner being served from one dish is that it can be prepared ahead or served up as leftovers without any extra effort.

Oh and not only am I not sure it fits the theme, but it is a day late – hope Meeta will still accept it! But I hope she might include it as it is a great recipe that I would recommend – I even got to make dessert while the crumble was cooking. Stay tuned for that one!

Vegetable Nut Crumble
(from AWW Vegetarian Cooking)
Serves 4

Rice layer:
1 cup brown rice
1 tsp vegetable stock powder
1 egg

Vegetable layer:
1 tbsp olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 small red pepper, chopped
125g broccoli, chopped
125g cauliflower, chopped
425g tin of chopped tomatoes
1 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped
1/2 tsp dried mixed herbs
1 cup tasty cheese, grated

Crumble topping:
1 tbsp olive oil
3/4 cup breadcrumbs made of stale wholmeal bread
1 cup unsalted mixed nuts, chopped
2 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped

Place brown rice and stock cube in large saucepan of boiling water. Simmer for approximately 30 minutes or until rice is cooked. Drain. Mix rice and egg. Spread in the bottom of a 2 litre dish (mine is about 22 x 22 cm square - update June 2014 - made this again and found a larger rectangular lasagne dish worked better).

While rice is cooking, fry onions in oil for 2-5 minutes over medium heat. Add chopped vegetables, tin of tomatoes, parsley and herbs. Bring to boil and simmer for 7 minutes or until vegetables are just tender. Spoon vegetable mixture over rice.

To make crumble, mix all ingredients together in a small bowl. (Note: I found that I had a lot of crumble mixture and felt I could have used less but it did taste good.) Sprinkle vegetable mixture with cheese and then spread crumble over vegetables and bake in moderate oven for 20 minutes or til crumble is golden brown.

NOTES: Update April 2014 - made this tonight with carrot instead of cauliflower and kale pesto instead of parsley and herbs in tomato mixture (and no parsley in crumble topping - also sprayed with oil spray as well as mixing olive oil through).  Made it vegan by replacing egg in rice with 1 tbsp chia seeds and 3 tbsp water, and using Daiya vegan cheese.)  Also used 3 cups cooked brown rice mixed with 1 tsp stock powder rather than cooking rice in stock.) 

On the stereo:
She will have her way – the songs of neil and tim finn: various artists

Pomegranates - the cruelest fruit?

I have become enamoured of pomegranates over the last few months. I have discovered pomegranate molasses, pomegranate juice and I have finally tasted the ariels of the pomegranate. Pomegranates are everywhere - in the fruit displays at markets and supermarkets alike, in still life paintings and on book covers. I can’t tell you if it is a new fashion or my new knowledge that makes them hard to avoid. But I can tell you a little about their history and how it shows how women’s lives have changed over the centuries.

Pomegranates are known as the seeded apple, grenade, Chinese apple, poor man’s cranberry, food of the dead, wine apple. This enough shows what an interesting fruit it is. It is found in the bible, Greek mythology and the history of the royal families of Europe. Ironically it is a symbol of fertility and yet the pomegranate is portrayed in myth and history so often as being unkind to mothers - the effects of their pain rippled throughout the world.

My first encounter with pomegranate tales was reading, as a child, the myth of Persephone. When Persephone, daughter of Demeter (goddess of the Harvest), was lured into the underworld, it was her act of eating pomegranate seeds that condemned her to spend part of her life there each year. The pomegranate caused such a deep grief in Demeter when her daughter went to the underworld that our world took on the barrenness of winter each year to reflect her heartache.

The next story I chanced upon about pomegranates come from Stephanie at an Elegant Sufficiency. She told the story of Henry VIII’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon who took on the pomegranate as her symbol – among their wedding gifts was a suit of armour engraved with roses and pomegranates. Then, as now, a King married to produce an heir. In 1510, Catherine gave birth to a stillborn daughter. She then bore two sons who died in infancy – one within months and one within hours of birth - and another stillborn daughter. Her next child was a girl, named Mary who lived to rule England briefly. Catherine’s final pregnancy resulted in a stillborn daughter. Henry, frustrated at the lack of a male heir and the Pope’s refusal to annul the marriage, remarried and proclaimed himself head of the English Church, thereby beginning the English Reformation.

Poor Catherine had experienced the deaths of 5 babies by the age of 33, and her husband wanted to escape the marriage so desperately that he would create a new church. She died in a decaying castle, forbidden to see her only surviving child. What grief and pain she must have gone through. If I was her I would cursed the day I discovered the pomegranate.

After these stories I started looking for stories to illustrate why pomegranates were seen as symbols of fertility, but found these thin on the ground. Wikipedia pointed me to another figure of Greek mythology who had the pomegranate as an emblem – Hera. She was the wife and older sister of Zeus and goddess of marriage. Although she was a mother herself, there are many stories of her anger and violence towards childbearing women and their children. In various stories she is seen kidnapping the goddess of childbirth, plotting to rip a baby apart, murdering children, and tying together the legs of a pregnant woman to prevent childbirth. She wouldn’t be my ideal dinner guest! And she doesn’t do the reputation of the pomegranate any favours.

Continuing the theme of unhappy mothers, Wiki also reveals that the Virgin Mary is sometimes portrayed holding a pomegranate. Here again is an association with a mother who knew pain. She saw her son Jesus branded a criminal, publicly humiliated and dying an agonizing death.

Finally I turned to Jane Grigson who calls it an ‘unrewarding fruit’. She points me to another queen who took on pomegranate as her emblem. Anne of Austria had a series of miscarriages and sixteen years of childlessness. However this story has a happy ending. In 1638 at the age of 37, she finally had a son, King Louis XIV of France, known as the Sun King. Under his rule, France had military victories and cultural accomplishments, not least of which being his dazzling palace at Versailles.

To be fair to the pomegranate, it can’t be blamed for all the maternal woes. I started to look at other kings and queens and was surprised to see that stillbirth and infant death was quite common. Today it is not as common. Back then, maybe anything as simple (and expensive) as pomegranates that might help your children survive was welcomed. If you want some insight into the history of childbirth over the past century that have contributed to improvements in women's lives, I would recommend Janet McCalman’s history of the Royal Women’s Hospital in Melbourne, Sex and Suffering.

If you want to just celebrate women’s lives, then you could do worse than to make this beetroot and pomegranate tabbouleh that I made on International Women’s Day. I was pleased it was purple and green. The colours of our suffragette foremothers. Purple for passion. Passion comes from the Latin for patior meaning to suffer or to endure, but in our case maybe it means the good fight. Green for hope of a better life as well as the hope that our past struggles will not be forgotten.

Beetroot and pomegranate tabbouleh is a salad I am sure I have seen elsewhere but the recipe was not to be found again. So I looked up some tabbouleh recipes such as I’m in season, Kalyn’s information and my own green tabbouleh to give me guidance in this recipe.

I think I might have underdone the bulgar wheat and overdone the pomegranate molasses and lemon juice. The tabbouleh had a strong tangy taste but this was a fine accompaniment to a little nut roast or pasta or cheese quesadillas. The herbs gave it a fragrance and colour that pleased me. I was a little disappointed that the jewel-like pomegranate ariels weren’t more prominent against the beetroot but their sweet juicy explosions were a nice contrast to the tang. The seeds in the ariels had a little crunch as well which surprised me. Yet I love the refreshing juice and the beauty of the ruby ariels. I’m looking forward to cooking with pomegranates again despite its history of broken promises.

Beetroot and Pomegranate Tabbouleh
Serves 4-6 as a side dish

¼ cup bulgar wheat
¼ cup plus 1 tbsp (75ml) of vegetable stock
3 smallish beetroot, peeled and grated
1-2 spring onions, finely sliced
Handful parsley
Handful mint
1 tbsp pomegranate molasses
2 tbsp lemon juice
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 inch cucumber diced small
¼ tsp salt
Lots of black pepper
Ariels of ½ pomegranate
Fetta cheese, crumbled (optional - I didn't use)

Pour hot vegetable stock over bulgar wheat in a medium sized salad bowl. Cover (I just used a dinner plate) and sit for 10 minutes so the wheat absorbs the liquid. Add remaining ingredients and toss.

On the stereo:
Soliloquy for Lilith: Nurse with Wound

PPN #54 The Princess of Pastas

I found the prettiest pasta in the Mediterranean Supermarket in Sydney Road last week. When I saw the pasta one of my first thoughts was just how wonderful it would be to share photos of it on the blog.

This type of pasta is called ‘farfalle’ which is Italian for butterflies, but it is also known as bowties. I have had it often but never striped and coloured like this. The pasta I bought was imported from Salerno. It is coloured with red beetroot, spinach, blueberries, tomato and curcuma (which I was told is a close relative of saffron). I had to get some of the ingredients explained and I was relieved there was nothing like the squid ink that is in some of their other coloured pastas.

I knew I needed something simple to feature the pasta. I remembered a mint and parmesan pasta recipe that I had written down years ago with the fantasy of an overflowing mint garden (which will probably never happen). The recipe is so simple it is embarrassing. I am not usually one to add lots of butter to pasta but this farfalle is a bit of a princess and seemed to demand only the best.

The blogger I know would love this stunningly simple and downright delicious recipe is Ruth of Once Upon a Feast who holds Pasta Presto Nights every week and is most appreciative of everything pasta. So I am sending this to Ruth for this week’s round up.

Pasta with Mint and Parmesan
(From the Age newspaper)
Serves 3-4*

500g pasta such as farfalle, penne, linguine or spaghetti
60g butter, cut into pieces
½ cup chopped mint leaves
1 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Cook pasta according to packet instructions so it is al dente. Save about a cup of cooking liquid. Place chopped butter into the drained saucepan which you cooked the pasta in (it will melt in the hot saucepan). Add the cooked pasta, mint and half the cheese and toss. Add a bit of cooking liquid, as required. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve scattered with the remaining cheese.

* I actually cooked only 200g of pasta for the two of us and was a bit lackadaisical with quantities of butter, mint and parmesan. I have reproduced the original quantities but suggest you adjust as suits you because it is quite flexible. You could reduce the butter and add more cooking liquid if you wanted less fat. I served the pasta with beetroot and pomegranate tabbouleh and a green salad.

On the stereo:
Affenstunde – Popol Vuh

Berry good oaty pancakes

After making my lovely smoothie on Saturday, E asked me to make pancakes, and I was up for a second breakfast because I adore pancakes. Though I love pancakes in savoury dishes, I can’t help associate them with sweet toppings, especially at breakfast time.

I have loved pancakes from a young age so let me tell you my path to pancake heaven. When I was a child, my mum would occasionally bake pancakes for sweets sometimes. We usually had the choice of butter and sugar or lemon juice and sugar. We would sit at the table – seven kids and my dad – while my mum served us small pancakes (almost like pikelets) hot from the frypan. I suspect you would have heard a lot of ‘me next, it’s my turn’ being called out to my mum. For the odd treat she would add bananas to the batter.

Maple syrup was not something we ever had at home. It was however, available at one of the family restaurants where we would infrequently eat out - the Pancake Parlour. My sister Susie was terrified by the Mad Hatter character wandering around the tables, but I was delighted by the large fluffy pancakes, mound of whipped butter and large sticky jugs of maple syrup. We had the excitement of buying their pancake mix once and I found that their secret to golden pancakes was a little bit of turmeric! My brother Andy made wonderful use of the mixture – he makes a delicious pancake brekky. I still love to go to the Pancake Parlour on the odd occasion and have a cheese pancake with salad – but I save half the pancake and eat it with maple syrup for sweets.

Then when I moved to Fitzroy as a student, another sister Chris introduced me to the Fitz – a trendy new café at a time when Brunswick Street, Fitzroy was moving up in the world. The Fitz did a killer breakfast of pancakes which I remember being piled with delicious berries. It was too big to ever finish but it was a revelation of how good pancakes could be. When considering my berries I dug out a recipe from a newspaper for their pancakes and was surprised to find it had apple and pineapple in the recipe - I only remember the berries. But it also had maple syrup and an orange sauce. The Fitz is still there with excellent food but it is no longer bo ho grungy and I couldn’t say if it does these pancakes any more.

When I go out for breakfast I often am tempted by pancakes but try to have them as a treat rather than as a regular breakfast. But when a menu offers up mostly meat and egg dishes, I find them a good alternative. I have had some good pancakes over the past few months – with berries and maple syrup at Rathdowne Street Food Store, with stewed rhubarb and apple at the University Café, and with strawberries, orange sauce and honeycomb cream at Madame Sousous (231 Brunswick St).

But I did have a recent experience in a café on Brunswick Street that reminded me of why I like to make breakfasts at home. We entered the cafe just before 10am and said we would like coffees and something to eat. No problem. The place was quiet and we weren’t in a hurry. I looked forward to some pancakes off the breakfast menu. After 5 or 10 minutes the waitress asked if we would like coffees. Not being a coffee person, I asked about something to eat. We were told that the chef had not yet arrived and they weren’t sure when he would. There didn’t seem much point in hanging around and we went elsewhere. Not an experience I am likely to have at home.

The pancakes I made on Saturday were made with oats. I have seen a few interesting pancakes on blogs recently – pancakes made with oat bran, oatmeal and green tea, and rhubarb and orange. But I found a recipe in my Alison Holst cookbook that beckoned me. She had discovered them in a cabin in California surrounded by snow and they had become family favourites.

I think these will rank among our favourites. They were wonderfully light and fluffy, but felt a little healthier for the addition of oats. The berry sauce was inspired by the Fitz and a Nigella recipe for blintzes from Domestic Goddess. It made good use of the berries I have stashed away in the freezer over summer. I liked the simplicity. The lemon juice and maple syrup enhanced the wonderful berry flavours. Drenched in maple syrup, these pancakes were vying for the title of my most favourite breakfast ever! Pancakes from heaven!

Maybe maple syrup is not the healthiest of ways to start the day. The addition of berries and oats goes some way towards making amends as they are full of antioxidants and fibre. So I am sending this to Cate at Sweetnicks for her ARF/5 a Day weekly event which encourages cooking with antioxidant rich foods.

Oaty Pancakes with Berries
Makes 4 pancakes

Oaty Pancakes (from Alison Holst):
¾ cup milk
¾ cup rolled oats
½ cup wholemeal flour
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt (I forgot this)
1-2 tbsp sugar
1 egg
2 tbsp melted butter
Extra butter for frying

Berry sauce (adapted from Nigella and The Fitz):
200g berries (I used a mix of blueberries, raspberries, blackberries)
Squeeze of lemon juice (or orange juice)
Splosh of maple syrup

Extra maple syrup to serve

Pour milk onto the oats and leave 5 minutes. Add flour, baking powder, salt, sugar and egg. Mix. Add melted butter. Heat a fry pan on medium high heat and place a small amount of butter in fry pan to lightly grease surface. Put a few spoonfuls of batter into fry pan and use spoon to spread it out a little to make a pancake of about 15-20 cm diameter. Fry til bubbles appear in batter and then flip over. Fry an additional couple of minutes or until other side is golden.

To make berry sauce, place berries, lemon juice and maple syrup in a small saucepan and cook on low for about 3 minutes or until berries soft and starting to release their juices.

To serve, I placed two pancakes on a plate, spooned some berry sauce on them and then poured extra maple syrup over then berries and pancakes.

On the stereo:
The Wire Tapper 18 (freebie with the Wire magazine) – Various Artists

WBB #20 A sanctimonious smoothie

Both Holler and Lisa have recently made a wonderful looking smoothies with blueberries, bananas, oats and maple syrup. I don’t eat blueberries or bananas by themselves but love them in a drink and they are fairy easy to buy at the supermarket (now that last year’s banana crisis is over). This drink looks delicious and so healthy it is downright sanctimonious :-)

I decided I would make one for myself this long weekend. Lisa had her oats soak in yoghurt overnight but I wanted a drink that didn’t require such planning ahead. I was tossing up between pancakes or a smoothie. So I asked E who was half asleep and said he didn’t want pancakes.

Happily I pottered about and made this smoothie. I am used to smoothies in juice bars which have much less yoghurt so I found it was quite sharp with the yoghurt but not unpleasantly so. I dislike adding any sort of sugary syrup to juices so I omitted the maple syrup. The result was a lovely fruity yoghurty sludge with lots of texture from the berry seeds and the oats. I’ve never have oats in a smoothie before but I liked the addition very much. This smoothie is even good if it sits a few hours in the fridge.

Once E got up he said he dreamt I said I would make him bacon and eggs. I gave him a sip of my lovely smoothie. He said it was too thick and he didn’t want any (hurrumph to the Grim Eater)! Then he said he fancied some pancakes. Luckily for him, I was feeling obliging as you will see in my next post.

I am sending this to Mansi at Fun and Food who is hosting this month’s Weekend Breakfast Blogging which was started by Nandita of Saffron Trail. The theme this month is balanced breakfast. Mansi has encouraged bloggers to try and cover as many of the following groups: Fruit & Vegetables, Grains & Cereals, Dairy, and Protein. Well if you count dairy as protein (which I do) then I have covered all of these so I would recommend this smoothie to Mansi for a balanced breakfast.

Blueberry, Banana and Oat Smoothie
(adapted from Tinned Tomatoes)
Serves 2

1/3 cup of apple juice
125g (1 punnet) blueberries
1 banana, peeled
250ml of plain-yoghurt
a small handful of oatmeal (approx 2-3 tbsp)

Blend all ingredients with a handheld blender or in a benchtop blender. Drink!

On the stereo:
Best of Scottish Folk: Various Artists