recipe and cooking video: August 2011

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Streusel Damson Plum Cake / Zwetschgendatschi

Zwetschgenkuchen, a delectable German Plum Cake, also called Sommerkuchen-summer cake, or Zwetschgendatschi is available during the late summer during the damson plum harvest. Datschi, presumably come from a southern German dialect datschen or detschen, means to press in, is a sheet cake (could be prepared in a springform pan too) made with a yeast dough or short pastry, and very often has a streusel topping, which is similar to a crumble. Streusel comes from the German word streusen, to scatter, which is how the topping is applied to the cake.
The recipe is adapted from daheim und unterwegs - wdr.

Cake	Streusel
400 g All purpose flour 2 tsp Baking powder 160 g Cold butter, cut into small pieces 90 g Sugar 1/2 tsp Lemon peel, finely grated 2 Small eggs 2 tbsp Milk 1200 g Damson plums	125 g Sugar 150 g Butter 200 g Flour 3/4 tsp Cinnamon powder (optional)

Place all the ingredients for the crust in a bowl, mix them well to form a dough. Chill the dough, wrapped well with a plastic film, for 1 hour.
Meanwhile, wash and dry the damson plums. Cut them open and remove the stones. Grease a 28cm springform pan. Preheat the oven to 200C/400F. Remove the dough from the fridge and press it onto the bottom of prepared pan. Lightly press the damson plums into the crust.
Use a fork or spoon to combine all the topping ingredients until mixture is like coarse cornmeal. Taste and adjust cinnamon to your liking. Sprinkle streusel topping over the damsons.
Bake the cake in the center of hot oven for about 45-55 minutes until done and beautiful golden brown. Cool in the pan on a wire rack 10 minutes. Unmould and serve at room temperature.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Peanut Butter, Sesame Paste and Raisin Cookies

Those peanut butter cookies are crisp and slightly crumbly, and have an fantastic peanut butter taste. Feel free to replace rolled spelt flakes and spelt flour with oats and wheat flour. The recipe has been adapted from Delicious Magazine.


100 g Butter, softened 180 g Crunchy peanut butter 80 g Sesame paste 150 g Light soft brown sugar 1 Large free-range egg A few drops of vanilla extract 125 g Rolled spelt flakes 80 g Raisins 125 g Spelt flour #630 1 tsp Baking soda

Preheat the oven to 160C/320F. Line 2 large baking trays with parchment paper. Beat the softened butter, peanut butter and sesame paste in a bowl with a wooden spoon. Add the sugar and beat again until well mixed.
Add in egg and vanilla to the peanut butter mixture. Beat again with the wooden spoon. Add the rolled spelt flakes and raisins to the mixture, sift over the flour and baking soda and mix well.
Put large spoonfuls of the mixture onto the trays, spacing slightly apart, and bake for 20 minutes until light golden. Remove from the oven. Leave to firm up on their trays for a few minutes, then transfer to wire racks to cool completely. Store in an airtight container in a cool place for up to 3 days.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Strawberry Yogurt Cake

A fresh and delectable summer cake layered with Joconde sponge and yogurt mixture that has been lightened up with whipped cream and elegantly finished with fresh strawberries and pistachios as topping. It’s perfect for people who enjoy creamy and light desserts.

Adapted from Das Neue Blatt magazine (No.29 13.July 2011)


2 slice Square Joconde sponge cake (9-10 inch) 10 sheet Leaf gelatine 150 g Strawberry jam 1000 g 3.5% Wholemilk yogurt 1 package / 8 g Vanilla sugar 100 g Sugar 250 g Whipping cream 350 g Fresh strawberries 2-3 tbsp Pistachios, finely chopped

Soak the gelatine in a small bowl of cold water until softened. Spread half of the strawberry jam on one piece of sponge cake and place it onto the bottom of a 9-inch square springform pan.
Beat together the yogurt, vanilla sugar and sugar in a bowl until well-blended. Gently squeeze the softened gelatine to remove the excess water and place the gelatine in a saucepan.
Over a very gentle heat, allow the gelatine to melt slowly, stirring once or twice. Once it has melted, stir about 3 tablespoons of yogurt cream into the melted gelatin, then pour it back to the rest of yogurt mixture. Stir until smooth and blended.
Whip the cream until firm and fold into the yogurt mixture. Pour 2/3 yogurt mixture onto the sponge. Top with second sponge cake, then spread with the rest of strawberry jam.
Attach a pastry bag with a star tip and fill in the rest of yogurt cream. Pipe the cream on the top of cake. Chill the cake for at least 2 hours until set. Decorate with chopped pistachios and fresh strawberries. Slice and serve.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Giles' featherblade stew

So here we are in Sussex. I am not especially touched by the number of you telling me to merrily enjoy my holiday and not to bother posting. So I might write a hugely long and boring thing (what's new?) to punish you all.

If only because I know next-eldest sister subscribes to this via email and what with three children under 5 I know she's got nothing better to do than read my old cack for 2,000 words.

Here she is:

(That's Kitty, rather than one of hers. Although hers are sweet, you should see them. You know next-eldest sister from previous posts such as "Ginger Cake" and "Aunty Hannah's Courgette Thing". Adrian Gill once talked to me for an entire starter course about how "pretty" her nose is. This is not the first time that's happened to me. So I think that's all you need to know about her.)

Kitty is entirely recovered, you'll be relieved to know. I paid a private GP £8,000 to come to my house and tell me that she needed antibiotics, because no NHS doctor in a million years will tell you anything needs antibiotics even if it is livid with bacteria. Anyway Dr Abelman gave me some amoxycillin without batting an eyelid and Kitty was on the mend within hours.

(And he ALSO, as those of you who follow me on Twitter will know, gave me painkiller suppositories for Kitty. A lifeline with an infant throat infection, which menas they won't swallow the wretched fucking Calpol. He gave me some Nurofen ones he found in Tel Aviv but I went straight out and bought 2 packs of paracetamol ones at £18 a throw. I would now launch into a very long thing about how completely insane it is that infant painkillers aren't available in suppository form wider and more cheaply in this country, but I fear I would bore you. Further. And also elicit awful tedious jokes about suppositories and the French, which I don't want to hear. I no longer think suppositories are remotely funny.)

Sussex is very nice. I chose the house on the basis that it has WiFi and a tumble drier. The only downer is that I think the woman who owns it used to interrogate people for the Stasi because the lighting concept is absolutely fucking terrible! 100 watt horrors shining right in your eyes or hideous energy savers. Brrr.

The house is also close to Cowdray Park Farm shop, which is like Waitrose with only the top 5% of the poshest things available and you can buy things like REN skincare and really delicious takeaway quiche for £5. But in all seriousness, the butcher there is first-rate and my husband is practically hysterical with relief because although he claims to be all folksy and down to earth he is terrified of the dark English countryside where there is only a Spar and local boys tear around on dirt bikes.

The weather has turned slightly and it is very sunny but really quite cold. My packing has let me down a bit, although I have learned from past mistakes and now abide by these packing rules:

1 Do not pack things you never wear at home because you think you might wear them because you're away. You're away but you're still YOU.
2 Do not pack your shittiest clothes because you're away and so it doesn't matter
3 Allow for one very cold day
4 Allow for one very hot day

5 Allow for one very wet day

6 Pack your entire medicine cabinet

7 and the iPad

I did all that but I didn't quite pack enough warm clothes. I'm not one of those people who always anticipates being freezing and packs fleeces and UGG boots because I am not a sticky fashion person who is always cold because they are so THIN living as they do off handfuls of bombay mix and miso paste. But now I do miss my UGG boots. (Although they are not UGG boots, they are called Celt Boots and they are the most marvellous rip off and available here: http://www.celtic-sheepskin.co.uk/) I also miss my Crocs. Why didn't I bring them. I fucking love my Crocs. I won't hear a word against them.

Where was I? Oh yes, the butcher at Cowdray Park. The other day, in the third hour of some pretty heroic childcare, my husband made, while Kitty crashed around the kitchen in her walker, a stew from some featherblade, which is a kind of steak cut from the shoulder. I think. I'm never quite sure about cuts. Anyway the butcher said to cook it for 4 hours, which is the kind of instruction we like in this family, so that's what we did.

And it was terrific and very simple.

Giles's featherblade stew
for 2

2 featherblade steaks

1 medium white onion, quartered (which is just a normal onion, rather than a shallot or whatever)

1 carrot, halved
1 fennel bulb, quartered (leave this out if you don't like fennel)
1 kohlrabi, quartered (this tastes like turnip)
1 large strip of orange peel
1 strip of lemon peel
3 bay leaves
5 peppercorns
1 stick of rosemary
some stock - about 150ml
1 glass red wine

Preheat the oven to 150

1 Brown off the steaks in some veg oil for about 5 minutes until brown all over

2 Put in a pot with a lid with all the other ingredients

3 Cook in the oven for 4 hours with the lid on

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Brown Rice Salad with Beet and Herbs & Roasted Beet Chips

It’s a shame that many people (my husband included) are averse to this appealingly rich purple bulb, that has been considered beneficial to the digestive system, as a cancer preventative, and a tonic of blood. It is a nutritious vegetable with many health-giving and healing properties.
Aside from bringing immeasurable good to human health, the sweet, earthy and velvety beet makes attractive, colourful and delicious dishes.

Sweet, spicy and satisfyingly crunchy...could those chips convince your husband to eat beets who passionately dislikes them?

Brown Rice Salad with Beetroot and Herbs

Salad	Dressing
250 g Brown rice 350 g Roasted beetroot, chopped into chunks 2 tbsp Spring onions, finely sliced 1 tbsp Fresh tarragon, finely chopped 2-3 tbsp Fresh dill, roughly chopped	3 tbsp Freshly squeezed orange juice 1-2 tbsp White balsamic vinegar 2 tbsp Extra virgin olive oil Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Cook the brown rice according to the packet instructions. It takes about minutes. Drain and rinse under cold running water. Drain really well and tip into a large bowl.
Stir the spring onions, chopped tarragon, dill and beetroot though the rice. Mix together the dressing ingredients and taste to check the seasoning. Stir the dressing through the salad. Pile the rice salad on a large serving dish and garnish with some roughly chopped dill. Serve immediately.

Oven Roasted Beetroot Chips

3 Medium beetroots, peeled and thinly sliced
1 tbsp Olive oil
Pinch of chilli powder
Sea salt to taste

Preheat the oven to 170C/340F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Clean, dry and peel the beetroots. Using a mandolin or a sharp knife, slice them into wafer-thin crisps.
Toss in a bowl with olive oil, chilli powder and salt. Arrange on the baking sheet in a single layer. Roast 45 minutes to 1 hour, turning halfway through, until crisp. Check often to make sure they don't burn. Spread out on paper towel until cool and crisp. Sprinkle with additional chilli powder and salt if necessary.

Recipe Rifle is away

I'm in Sussex on "holiday" (DON'T bother burgling me, I've got builders in and a friend staying) and I've forgotten the lead that joins my camera to my laptop. So I can't post any photos. And I know you can't abide a post without a photo so I haven't done anything.

But it's a bit of a shame because it's quite pretty round here and my husband is making some kind of daube of beef thing that I think might be worth writing about.

Should I drive into the local village, Midhurst, and see if someone will sell me this essential cable? Or more likely round here I will have to swap something for it like my shoes, or a pair of Levis or something.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Quick Coq au Vin

Coq au Vin is a classic French dish of cock cooked in red wine, traditionally a Bourgogne. Obviously can't call this one as an authentic Coq au Vin as I used chicken drumsticks and pinot noir instead. Besides that, I purposely left out the bacon. The end result was for sure different, but it was absolutely delicious!

Quick Coq au Vin

--adapted from My Recipes


2 tbsp All-purpose flour 1 tsp Dried thyme 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 handful Dried shiitake mushrooms 7 Skinless chicken drumsticks 3 tbsp Corn oil 2 Carrots, cut into bite-sized pieces 300 ml Dry red wine 100 ml Chicken broth 1 tbsp Tomato paste

Combine flour, thyme, and salt in a bowl. Coat the chicken drumsticks with flour mixture, shaking off excess flour. Soak the dried mushrooms in a bowl of warm water for 30 minutes until softened. Drain and cut into 2-3 pieces.
Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook, turning frequently, until they are browned, about 8 minutes. Remove and drain on the paper.
Add in prepared mushrooms and carrot. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the aroma is released. Pour in red wine, broth, and tomato paste. Bring the mixture to a boil. Return the chicken drumsticks to the pan. Simmer it over medium heat for about 20 minutes until chicken is done.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Linzertorte with Port Stewed Damsons

A Linzertorte, originated in Linz, Austria, is basically a giant jam cookie with black currant jam filling, nutty pastry (usually hazelnut or almond) and a distinctive criscross design atop. Instead of using an usual jam, this recipe uses port wine stewed damsons to fill the crust, which I believe it tastes even better than the classic. If you can't find oval-shaped dark tannic damsons, use other types of plums.

Port Stewed Damsons	Short Crust
800 g Damson plums, pitted 100 g Sugar 60 g Butter 100 ml Port wine 30 ml Orange juice 50 ml Lemon juice 1 Cinnamon stick	200 g All purpose flour 200 g Ground almond 1/4 tsp Cinnamon powder 1 tbsp Lemon rind, finely grated 1/4 tsp Salt 150 g Sugar 200 g Cold butter, , cut into small pieces 1 Egg

Wash the plums and cut them in half to remove the pits. Add sugar and butter in a pan. Cook the mixture until caramelized. Pour in port wine, orange juice and lemon juice. Add in damson plums and cinnamon stick. Cook the mixture over the medium heat, stirring constantly, until you have a thick paste, 35-40 minutes. Remove and allow it to cool.
To prepare the crust by mixing all the dry ingredients in a mixing bowl. Add in butter and egg. Using your fingertips, mix all the ingredients together. Shape into a ball and wrap with a plastic film and chill at least for 2 hours.
Line a 30x20 cm baking pan with parchment paper. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough until it’s 3-4mm thick. Cut out a rectangular to fit into the baking pan, lightly press the dough about 2 cm up the sides of the pan. Prick the bottom a few times with a fork. Chill for 30 minutes. Wrap the rest of the dough in a plastic wrap and chill until firm.
Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Roll the rest of the dough between two sheets of wax paper into 3-4mm thick piece. Using a pastry wheel or pizza cutter, cut it into 1cm wide strips, then freeze strips 5 minutes.
Spoon the prepared damson paste onto the bottom of the crust-lined baking pan, then arrange half of the strips 1 inch apart across stewed damsons. Arrange remaining strips diagonally across first strips to form a lattice. Bake on the second rack from the bottom for 45-50 minutes. Cool in pan on rack 10 minutes, then remove and completely. Serve with whipped cream if desired.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Gravy

It is 1am and I am lying on the single bed in the nursery staring at the ceiling, listening to Kitty's shallow breathing in the cot next to me. She has just fallen asleep.

She is very ill. Strep throat, a doctor will say two days later. She was boiling - boiling - to the touch with fever when I arrived at her bedside. I got myself ready to adminster some life-saving Nurofen but she didn't want it - gagged and vomited a little bit down herself in protest. So I jammed as much in her mouth as I could, changed her pukey sleeping back, walked her round, waited for her to nod off and then lay down braced for a sleepless night listening to her whimper.

It's a terrible noise, a baby whimpering in its sleep.

And as I lay there in the dark listening to the whimpering and to the nursery clock ticking and the aircon whirring I thought for the first time in a long time "At least I'm not in Australia."

That is my thing, my "At least I'm not..." thing.

I ended up in Australia in the late summer of 2001. I went out with no clear idea of what I was going to do but my sister was out there for a year and I was bored, so I went. My sister was working in some snazzy bar and going out with a very posh Australian - yes they do, in fact, exist - called Jimmy. He was terrific, Jimmy - he was hilarious. Tall with dark hair and long dark eyelashes like a girl. He was always stealing his flatmates' food - usually dinky little take-out pots of spicy asian-fusion salads - late at night when drunk and peckish.

"Hmm..." he would say, his head in the fridge. "What's Polly got in here? A little snacky-snack for Jimmy before bedtime?"

Anyway you get the idea.

I couldn't stay in Sydney with them so I took off up the East Coast. It was boring. I had a shit time. There was one okay week where I worked on a cattle farm and I should have stayed there mucking out the horses and working in the bar, but I moved on in the wrong belief that there was more to see.

What happened instead was that I unwittingly became a thief.

It happened like this:

I was sitting about in some hostel or other with a girl who was going home soon. "Just going," she said "to have a quick rummage round lost property for some flip flops. Mine are broken."

"Is that a thing you do?"

"Yeah there's always great stuff in hostel lost properties. These Miss Sixties?" She said, pointing at her jeans. "Alice Springs. This bag...?" etc.

So off we went to the lost property box. There was nothing that fascinating except a shitty brown t-shirt with red Japanese writing on the front that I thought looked quite unusual. I tucked it under my arm and thought no more about it.

Three days later I was sitting in another dull, depressing hostel somewhere hot and crappy, wearing my scavanged t-shirt, and an angry Irish girl stormed up to me.

"Where did you get that t-shirt?" she demanded. "It was stolen out of my bag. Why have you got it?"

And here is where it went wrong. Why didn't I just say "Found it. Lost property in X. Is it yours? Have it back!!"?

I don't know why not. What I did say, however, was "My sister gave it to me."

Why did I say that? WHY?

Maybe I thought she wouldn't believe the story that I'd found it in lost property and scream "Thief!" at me. I can't be bothered to recount exactly what happened in the days that followed but it was nasty. The angry Irish girl and her friend accused me to everyone they could find of having stolen her t-shirt. And the Eastern Coast of Australia turns out to be a very small place. I somehow kept up with my lame story that it was mine.

They followed me up the coast for three days, telling everyone at every hostel that I was a thief. Hissing at me as they passed me that I was pathetic. Then one day the angry Irish girl's friend came up to me and said that they'd called the police. By then I had lost all sense of perspective and couldn't see that it was obviously total fucking rubbish. I'd had enough. I hadn't eaten for about three days or really slept. I am an anxious person, you see, and being accused of being a thief is something I can't really style out.

I went to my rucksack and took out the t-shirt. "If I give this to you," I said. "Do you promise to leave me alone and never speak to me again?"

I saw, on the girls' face, a flicker of doubt that she and her angry Irish friend were right.

"I'm not an arsehole, you know," she said.

"Sure," I said, and handed her the t-shirt.

Then that night, in the middle of the night, I split. I took a taxi to a hostel well off the beaten tourist path, filled with cattle station hands and middle-aged women travelling cross-country to see newborns. And that was that.

It's bothered me for years, that incident - although with hindsight I didn't really do anything that bad. Just really thick. But still, I have never told anyone that story. Not. A. Soul.

(A week later I arrived back in Sydney and went straight out and got a tattoo. I've always wondered if the two things are connected.)

The day before I flew back to London the twin towers collapsed. (It was interesting getting on an international flight via the Middle East on 12/09/01, I tell you.) Then about three years later, Jimmy killed himself. I won't go into how. And I simply don't know why. Oh, and someone gave me fucking chlamydia.

So that's why however crumby things are, I'm glad I'm not in Australia.

Although I think I am one of the few people to have enjoyed the film.

I have newly fallen back in love with my husband. Not that I was ever out of love with him but in the last few days I have been crawling around after him screaming "I love you! I worship you! Please marry me!"

The thing is, he comes into his own when there's something wrong with the baby and I am simply vomiting in a corner with anxiety, ringing NHS Direct and crying. My husband takes charge, shooes me out of the nursery, won't let me near the baby monitor and makes me dinner.

All we had in the house was some beef, which he decided to roast - "Although I know we're not celebrating or anything," he said. "I know we're all in mourning because Kitty's got a cough."

And he wanted to make a gravy to go with it.

Gravy is something that can appear daunting but actually it's okay if you give yourself a bit of time.

For gravy, you need:

1 The pan that something has roasted in

2 Some shitty alcohol (even this is optional, really)

3 Some flour or cornflour

4 Some stock or vegetable cooking water

Roughly to make a gravy, take the roasting pan and "de-glaze" with shitty cooking wine. This means you place the pan over a medium flame and pour in some alcohol, about half a wine-glass full I'd say. Then you scrape at the pan and get all the roasty bits and sticky bits off the bottom.

Then reduce this until it becomes glossy-ish round the edges. Reduce the heat and take the pan off the flame. Sprinkle over some flour - about a tablespoon. With the pan off the heat, mush this all round until it is a paste.

Now add some of your liquid - either stock or some veg cooking water - to the pan still off the heat. Mix this round until vaguely combined.

Then put the pan back on the heat and add some more sloops of stock or cooking water. Simmer it briskly until it starts to thicken thanks to the flour.

Pour over your roast dinner.

Then take a Valium. Or three.

Minty Grated Raw Beet Salad and Beet Greens Stir-fry

Beets are delicious cooked or raw, in salads or soups, as an appetizer or a meatless main course with some couscous. This beet root salad recipe is really easy and tasty, and takes little time to prepare. The dark-green colored leaves with red tones are an excellent source of carotenoids, flavonoid anti-oxidants and vitamin A.

Minty Grated Raw Beet Salad

500 g Beets
3 tbsp Freshly squeezed orange juice
1 tbsp Freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 tbsp Extra virgin olive oil
2 tbsp Mint leaves, finely chopped
Salt to taste

Peel the beets with a vegetable peeler, and grate in a food processor fitted with the shredding blade. Finely chop the mint leaves.
Combine the orange juice, lemon juice and olive oil. Toss with the beets and chopped mint leaves. Season to taste with salt.
The raw beet salad can be served immediately or kept in the refrigerator, covered well, for a couple of days. It will soak up flavours and become more tender, yet stay crispy and crunchy. Toss again before serving.

Beet Greens Stir-fry with Shallot and Garlic

350 g Beet greens
2 tbsp Corn oil
1 Shallot, finely diced
1 clove Garlic, sliced
Sea salt
White pepper

Wash the greens in a sink filled with cold water. Drain greens and wash a second time. Drain greens and cut away any heavy stems. Tear the beet greens into 2 to 3 inch pieces. Set aside.
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add diced shallot and sliced garlic, cook 3to 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened. Add the beet greens to the skillet. Cook and stir until they are wilted and tender. Season with salt and pepper.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Walnut-Stuffed Chicken Roulades

A stuffed chicken breast roulade (or roll) with roasted walnuts, arugula and dried shiitake mushrooms that imparted a distinct, smoky flavours to the filling. Instead of breadcrumbs, use a mix of high-protein, low-gluten rye crackers and Vitamin E-rich walnuts by pulsing them together in a food processor to coat the chicken.

Recipe adapted from Whole Living

7 Thin, crisp rye crackers
40 g Chopped walnuts, toasted
2 tsp Extra-virgin olive oil
3 Garlic cloves, minced
1 Shallot, finely chopped
1 handful Dried shiitake mushroom caps, soaked and chopped
2/3 tbsp Fresh thyme, chopped
20 g Arugula, chopped
1 tbsp Stock or water
2 Boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, butterflied and pounded evenly
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper

Soak the dried shiitake mushroom caps in warm water for 20 minutes. Drain. Remove the stems and chop finely. Preheat oven to 190C/375F. Pulse crackers and 30 grams walnuts in a food processor until finely ground.
Heat oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Cook garlic and shallots until soft, about 4 minutes. Add chopped mushrooms and thyme, and cook until chopped mushrooms are slightly golden, about 5 minutes. Turn the heat off. M ix in chopped arugula, water and the remaining walnuts to skillet.
Season each chicken breast with 1/4 teaspoon salt and some pepper. Lay one chicken breast on a plate. Spread half mushroom-walnut mixture onto chicken, leaving a 1/2-inch border all around. Roll, and tie with kitchen twine. Cover with crumb mixture, pressing to coat. Repeat with another chicken breast, mushroom-walnut mixture, and crumbs. Transfer to a rimmed baking sheet, and bake until golden, about 30 minutes. Untie, and slice.

Nigella's mexican lasagne

I once read in a magazine - I forget which one now - a problem on the problem pages that went something like this:

Q. My husband refuses to pick his towel up off the bathroom floor. It drives me demented. How can I punish him?

A. Instead of wanting to punish him, why don't you think to yourself, as you pick the towel up off the bathroom floor, of all the nice things he does for you without you asking? It is little act of devotion like these that keep marriages going.

Here are some of the annoying things that my husband does:

- He doesn't pick up the bathmat off the bathroom floor

- He clears his throat in quite an annoying way

- He steals my car key because he can't be bothered to find his, then accuses me of having used, and lost his key (thus forcing him to use mine).

- He will turn to me and say "Shall I have a shower? Or not?"

- If the TV is on and he wants to say something, rather than finding the remote and pausing the programme he will shout "PAUSE!", which is my cue to find the remote (under his bum, usually) and pause the programme for him so he may deliver his opinion.

- He will suddenly decide that the house is a mess and pick things up randomly (an unopened letter, a pair of flip flops, a baby's toy) and say "What's the story with this? Should it be here?"

- He will walk into his own kitchen and wonder aloud where we keep the knives, forks, salt, pepper, plates and so on

Here are some of the annoying things that I do:

- I pick at my cuticles. Constantly.

- I clear my throat in a nice way. But I do it ALL the time

- I never open my post, particularly anything that looks financial

- I interrupt all the time.

- I give my husband death stares

- I am a sluttish washer-upper

- I call the baby "Kitty-Cookan-TIS"

- I sometimes only empty half of the dishwasher and then wander off to do something else and forget to unload the rest

- I throw money (his) at any problem

- I leave the area around the toaster a mess, attracting ants and wasps.

- I don't make the bed

Here are the nice things that my husband does for me:

- He doesn't make me go and get a job

- He does my tax

- He takes out all the bins and deals with the compost

- He sorts out the cars, the tax for the cars, the maintenence of the cars

- He doesn't make me see people I don't like

- He'll make any phonecall for me that I'm too scared to make

- He cleans all my hair out of the trap in the shower

Here are the nice things that I do for my husband:

- I hang up the bathmat

- I always make sure there is enough deodorant, shampoo, showergel etc in the bathroom

- Ditto for the kitchen

- Ditto stamps, birthday cards and wrapping paper

- I sort out dinner, pretty much every night

- I will fire anyone that he feels too guilty to fire

- I don't give him shit about going out and getting drunk

- I don't give him shit about his swearing or bad taste jokes

- I don't give him shit about doing more childcare

Whenever my husband has done something annoying and I feel enervated, I always run those lists through my head. It's what my marriage balances on, like a fat elephant on a plank of wood on a ballbearing. But a few years ago, I realised that my husband was NOT aware that there was this careful balancing act going on. He did not think, as he ignored my throat-clearing, cuticle-picking, death-staring grotesqueness, that he was simply keeping up his end of the bargain. He believed that he was bearing the brunt of marital irritation, while I sailed through life blithely un-irritated. One day, things exploded in a terrible row about me not making the bed.

I won't lie, there were tears.

Then I explained about the list. About the importance of acts of devotion. And he got it, more or less.

And that's why I'm always sorting out dinner; it's part of the deal. It's why I try to find new things to cook, rather than just doing a roast chicken or pasta over and over again. If it's going to be my area, I might as well having a big repertoire. It makes everything easier.

Which explains why I tried out this slightly weird Mexican Lasagne, by Nigella. I thought it looked fun. It is, like many Nigella recipes, not very subtle. And like everything that used canned tomatoes, it ends up tasting a lot like canned tomatoes. But it's a good one to have up your sleeve to pull out when things are getting a bit samey.

This is not Nigella's exact recipe but it is close enough. The exact one can be sourced easily on the internet.

Mexican lasagne

Serves 4 hungry people, or 6 less hungry, with a salad

1 pack flour tortillas

2 cans chopped tomatoes

1 can sweetcorn

1 can black beans

2 red chillies

1 large onion

2 cloves garlic

1 small bunch coriander

2 tsp mild chilli powder

salt

1 red pepper, roughly chopped, or a jar of peppers in oil, chopped

two big handfuls cheese - manchengo, monteray jack or cheddar

Preheat oven to 180

1 Chop the onion, garlic, chillies and red peppers and sweat in a pan with some veg oil for about four minutes, then sprinkle over the chilli powder and cook for a further 10 minutes over a low flame. Then add the tomatoes and chopped coriander and simmer for about 10 minutes.

2 In a separate pan put the black beans and the sweetcorn, heat up and mix around.

3 Now layer the tomato sauce, bean mix, grated cheese and flour tortillas (2 per layer) to make up a lasagne. I'll leave you to decide the best way of doing it, but it's good to finish off with a layer of tortillas and then cheese for a bubbly brown top.

4 Bung in the oven for 30 minutes.

You can eat this with yoghurt or guacamole or any other Mexicany-type thing you can think of, while you ponder the secrets of martial bliss.

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