Eat. . . Baked cheesecake

Baked cheesecake with a generous topping of homemade lemon curd

By popular demand from my work colleagues, today I am sharing a recipe for baked cheesecake, which I made over the weekend. The recipe was demonstrated as a "masterclass" with chef Donna Hay, on an episode of Australian Masterchef and I wrote the recipe down by hand. I took some cheesecake into work today to share, and was inundated with requests for the recipe so here we are:

Whilst I was on Donna Hay's website just now, I discovered that she has the recipe available there too, so here's the link for that - much easier to read and print out or email than my handwritten scrawl! As you can see from the photo at the top, our favourite way to eat this cheesecake is with a big dollop of homemade lemon curd on top. This recipe is definitely going to be kept for a rare treat though, as the ingredients were pretty pricey and it's hardly healthy eating. But it's sooooooooo delicious :)

Fold. . . Lettergramme - no envelope necessary

Following on from my Love. . . Snail mail post, I bring you a thrifty (bargainaceous) and fun stationery idea: The Lettergramme. It's a bit like an aerogramme and it saves you from having to find/buy/use an envelope. You write your letter on a rectangle of paper and then fold the letter up to become its own envelope! A4 paper is a really good size, but the only limit is your imagination (and your country's postal regulations on allowable sizes for letters in the mail!) You can use one sheet of paper or more, but above two or three sheets folded as one, it gets too bulky to fold and secure properly. I first saw this idea in an origami book many years ago. I think it was a Nick Robinson book, but am not sure of its title. I just found instructions for a more complicated "3D" envelope here on his website, but the version I am familiar with is much simpler. I have used it countless times over the years, and I hope you find it useful too.

Here's a photo tutorial for you. . .

First write your letter (here using my Lamy Safari fountain pen).

Fold your letter in half, like a book, with the words inside.

Unfold, and then fold two edges to the middle crease as shown.

Fold the top and bottom edges inwards, parallel, to make a (nearly) diamond shape.

Take the bottom right point and tuck it in under the top right diagonal flap.

Repeat the same on the left side.

Although it holds together well on its own, secure with sticker/sticky tape if sending through the mail.

Pop it in the post, and do your bit to keep Snail Mail alive!

Love. . . Snail mail

Photo credit: Contest entry by Kate and Hendrik www.eqcomics.com Source - google images

I really love "snail mail". There is something so special about being able to open a handwritten letter and know that the contents were written just for you. You can also include other tangible bits and pieces in a way that's impossible with e-mail and receiving a letter is such a lovely change from bills and junk-mail in the mailbox. 

I've had a very lengthy apprenticeship in writing letters. Of course, there were thank you letters every Christmas and birthday, and as well as that I wrote regularly to several friends during teenage years and upwards. For much of my childhood, my mum and I lived 100 miles apart, she didn't have a phone line and we used to diligently write to each other every week. Just telling each other the small details of our lives and including things like little drawings or poems or very occasionally an audiotape of us speaking to each other. Also, for years when I was a teenager and young adult in the UK, I wrote to a dear friend (VG) in Australia. There was no such thing as email and we didn't speak on the telephone as it seemed so expensive back then, but our letters would wing their way around the world, often "waving to each other at the equator" - it was uncanny how often our letters would manage to cross in the post! We built our friendship through letter-writing, not by any other means, after a chance meeting in Guernsey back in 1986. These two wonderful women gave me my apprenticeship in letter-writing - it was such a treat to be able to open the envelope, settle down and enjoy every word of the letter inside, then fold it up to savour again another day.

My mum continues the snail mail tradition to this day, writing weekly postcards to Sonny Jim. For me, email is so accessible (and yet, so impersonal) and long-distance phone calls are now within budget. But occasionally, I still dust off the fountain pen and write a good old-fashioned letter, and it is always a joy to write or receive one. Just last week I got a letter from my Australian friend VG, and it was as lovely as ever to hold her words in my hands, and to see that old familiar handwriting, which I have known for 25 years now. I started writing back to her yesterday - there is much to say. . .

Although letters have been largely superseded by emails, I have yet to fathom how the parcel post could possibly be replaced. Unless one day someone invents a contraption like the one in Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory book! Willie Wonka invented a "Wonkavision" machine which was able to break a chocolate bar down into tiny invisible particles and send it across the room, where it re-assembled into an edible bar of chocolate -  but even that needed some tweaking, as Mike Teevee discovered to his detriment!!  Imagine going to the "Post Office" and watching as your parcel de-materialised in front of your eyes, only to "magically" reassemble itself at its destination?!

Nowadays, I am lucky enough to receive occasional parcels of loveliness from various friends, and I like to do my fair share of sending them too. One very dear friend in Wales (K) has an uncanny knack of sending me a parcel at just the right moment, sometimes with British sweets and biscuits that I miss (like McVities' Jaffa Cakes or Trebor's Clarnico Mint Creams) as an added bonus. She also sent me the most incredible hand-knitted lime green shawl for my birthday in late January, just before I started up this blog. In the last couple of weeks I have received several parcels of knitterly goodness from far away. . . all sent through the traditional postal service rather than Wonkavision! First, I received some pretty little stitch markers and a stunningly beautiful skein of yarn from an English ravelry friend, S, whom I have never met in "real life":

It's by Hedgehog Fibres yarns, and the colours are so beautiful, whilst it feels deliciously soft. It's from the same friend who knitted me the beautiful Julia socks I blogged about here.

Next, my handmade Artist's Edition "Knitter's Manifesto" package I had ordered from Brenda Dayne of "Cast On" podcast fame arrived. All the way from West Wales! I'll let the pictures do the talking. . .

If you would like your very own limited edition package of handmade goodness from Brenda, check out her online shop here. Over there you can also buy a digital download of the audio "Knitter's Manifesto" or the wonderful Welsh for Rainbow collection of knitting patterns and stories from Pembrokeshire.

Last week, a surprise package arrived from some lovely Northland ravelry friends I have never met. When I opened the package it contained the Hap Shawl book by Sharon Miller which I have been lusting after since I began knitting my Hap Blanket - be still my beating heart! What a gift! Thank you so much P 'n' B!!

Finally, a lengthy letter from my old friend VG in Australia, including a Michael Leunig cartoon. He's a favourite of mine, ever since I was staying with VG in Melbourne back in the 1990s and became hooked on his cartoons/observations in The Age newspaper. Receiving a letter from VG took me back to the many years when it was our only means of communication, and our way of developing and sustaining a long-distance friendship which has thrived for 25 years. . .

I feel so lucky and grateful to have such kind and lovely friends, both old and new :) Despite the fact that "snail mail" is definitely outmoded, pushed aside by email and text messaging, I think I will always prefer it over email (even though, ironically, I send far more emails than letters now). I hope the postal service remains viable for a long time yet - I certainly plan on continuing to support it regularly, with hand-written cards, letters and parcels winging their way into someone's mailbox!

Knit. . . Yet more alliterative knitting

Another stash of alliterative knitting today! What is it with "h" at the moment?!! I offer you hydrogen, Holden shawlette, hitch-hiker scarf and hexapuffs. . .



I have finished knitting my part of the Knitted Periodic Table project. I can still hardly believe my luck that I managed to get the first and most abundant element!

My cousin in the UK has now received the gift I knitted her as part of the "Handmade Pay It Forward" thing I signed up to on Facebook in January. So I can finally show you the Holden Shawlette (by Mindy Wilkes) which I knitted for E back in July. . .

On Wednesday last week we had a work meeting over an hour's drive away in Havelock, on the edge of the Marlborough Sounds. I managed to score a passenger seat rather than being the driver. Luckily I was well-prepared and brought this skein of Knitsch sock yarn with me!



Not only the sock yarn, but also the Hitch-hiker scarf pattern by the very talented German knit-designer Martina Behm. So I cast on as we travelled, with the skein draped over my knee. By the time we got back to the hospital (including some time daringly knitting at the meeting!) I had knitted 17 teeth of my "Hitch-hiking to Havelock" scarf. Also folded 30 paper cranes towards the 1000 cranes project whilst listening attentively at the meeting. Nearly there with the first thousand :)



The hitch-hiker is a great pattern. Looks great on, and is simple enough to be travel knitting, but has just enough with the increases and decreases to keep you interested (and tempt you to knit "just one more tooth" - 8 rows.) But the best thing about it is that it really shows off hand-dyed variegated yarns to great effect, and Knitsch produces some beautiful ones, all 100% NZ merino, dyed in Wellington.

The hexapuffs are coming along well for my Beekeeper's Quilt:



and that's it for alliterative knitting for a while. . .

Thought for Thursday - another way

Junction in the road. (Photo by Peter Jordan - Creative Commons License)

Both these things are true:
This is not the life I pictured for myself.
This is a very good life.


With thanks to a very dear friend, who shared this thought with me. . .

Eat. . . When life gives you lemons. . .

. . . make lemon curd! And little lemon cakes/muffins!

I was half way through making lemon curd yesterday morning when that well-known saying sprang to mind - "When life gives you lemons. . . make lemonade!" Saturday was indeed a lemon of a day. To quote Sonny Jim: "It sucked!" But it was purely coincidental that I started making lemon curd on Sunday morning - just a need to do something useful, over which I had control (albeit tenuous at the point where you add cold beaten eggs to hot melted butter, lemon and sugar!) So an enjoyable morning of lemoniness was to be my diversion yesterday. . . first I made the lemon curd and then when faced with all the lemon rind residue in the bottom of the sieve, I knew it was far too tasty to throw out, so made little lemon cakes instead!

Here's how. . .

Lemon Curd/Honey/Butter/Cheese

4 lemons
12 oz caster sugar
6 oz butter, chopped
4 large eggs

First, attempt to sterilise your jam jars by heating at 150C in the oven for 15 mins or filling with boiling water.

Put the lemon juice, zest, sugar and butter in a ceramic or glass bowl over a pan of simmering water (or a double boiler if you happen to have such a thing!) Don't let the water touch the bottom of the bowl.



Stir it until the sugar dissolves and butter melts. Add a bit more juice if you think it tastes too sweet.

Beat the eggs in another bowl until well combined. Now for the scary bit - add a little bit of the hot mixture to the eggs, stir well then add the whole lot to the hot lemon, sugar and butter mixture. At this point you need to hope desperately that it won't curdle. If it does, try plunging the bowl into cold water and stirring like crazy.

Assuming all goes well, and it doesn't curdle (I've made it three times in the last year and it's never curdled yet!) stir it constantly until the mixture thickens. It will thicken more in the jar so don't expect it get to the final texture. This will take between 5 and 20 minutes depending on how fast you are heating the mixture (ie how daring you are being!) but DON'T LET IT BOIL!!



Once your bowl of lemon loveliness has reached the desired thickness, pour it through a sieve into a jug.



Next, pour the sieved lemon curd from the jug into your sterilised jars and screw on the lids. I did a double mixture and this is how much it yielded. . .



Store in the fridge and eat within 2-3 weeks. Delicious on bread, toast, scones, as a sponge cake filling, inside lemon muffins, on ice cream etc etc. Good luck making it last 3 weeks!

You will be left with a lot of lemon rind and maybe a few small eggy bits in your sieve. . .



Of course, you could just put this on your compost heap, but I couldn't bear to part with all that lemony loveliness, so decided to dig out an old lemon cake recipe from one of my handwritten recipe books of years gone by. I put the mixture in muffin tins instead of a cake tin though and omitted the lemon syrup glaze, as that suits us better for packed lunch treats straight from the freezer.

Lemon Cake

175 g/6 oz margarine
175 g/6 oz caster sugar
2 eggs
4 tblsps milk
175 g/6 oz SR flour
Finely grated zest and juice of 1 large lemon (or ALL your lemon curd residue from the sieve!)
1 tblsp icing sugar

Heat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Lightly grease and line  a 2lb loaf tin.
Cream marg and sugar till light and fluffy then gradually beat in lightly whisked eggs and milk. Lightly fold in sieved flour and lemon zest (or lemon curd residue).
Place in prepared tin and bake for 30 mins, then slightly reduce oven temp and bake for further 30 mins or until cake is golden brown, firm to touch and beginning to shrink from sides of tin. Mix lemon juice and icing sugar and pour over cake straight away. If using muffin tin cook for 15 - 20 mins only.





Yum!

Love. . . Writing

Over the last few weeks I have realised just how much I like writing. I've slowly worked out that in much the same way as you can get pleasure from drawing without being an artist, you can get pleasure (and free self-therapy!) from writing without actually being "a writer" per se.

Back in early July, as I mentioned in this post, I discovered that in times of emotional turmoil I felt a greater need to write than to knit - which took me completely by surprise. Well, yesterday we got more sad news and the fountain pen has been calling once again. It seems not to matter if anyone will actually see what I write - in fact there is a wonderful freedom in just writing and writing and writing, letting the fountain pen nib leave a trail of emotions, reasoning, bargaining and acceptance in inky form, safe in the knowledge that no-one apart from me need ever see it.

Even typing (at which I am hopelessly inefficient) has its own particular appeal, and after years of shunning blogs as far too self-indulgent I seem to have become an easy convert to the genre! Whilst I write each blog post conscious that someone else might read it, even if I had an average of zero page-views per week I would continue. I write it mostly for me. How much more self-indulgent could I be?!! In particular, I have returned to my "Love. . . my life" post anytime I need reminding that I have so much to be thankful for. Like yesterday for instance, when one phone call turned our world upside down and literally years of planning, hoping and dreaming suddenly blew away like dust in the wind. But a new day has dawned and though it may be a different future to the one we three dreamed of, planned and hoped for, it will no doubt hold many wonderful surprises and opportunities. This time of heavy-hearted sadness and loss will pass. We will keep on walking forward and remember to appreciate each day we have. . .

. . . and you can bet that I will write about it - on the blog, in notebooks, in scrapbooks and on the backs of old envelopes, but I will write. I will breathe and love and knit and write and cook and eat and travel and laugh and play and feel and surprise myself countless times, and find that this is how a life is lived. . .