I've got heaps of melanzane, aubergine or eggplant.. whatever you may call them. HEAPS.And I'm not afraid to use them.
More later.
I do like this sauce. And here, if possible, is a richer version courtesy of Mr. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. Many of the recipes from the BBC show are now part of my autumn reppetoire. Maybe it's just a welly wearing man in the garden that does it for me.. as odd as that sounds, but it's so bad that the mere sight of the perfect sized squash makes me salivate for this wonderful no-pot soup.
'Zuie' or zuille are a Calabrese honey based biscuit of which there are numerous interpretations. Early recipes for a similar cookie, more commonly called mostaccioli, were likely a simple batter made with honey (probably fig or citrus), flour, a little olive oil and maybe a bit of liqueur for added flavouring.
These wee ravioli are a simple taste treat. Dressed only with a diced yellow tomato, a drizzle of good olive oil (the best is an oil with slightly buttery characteristics), a scatter of tender baby basil leaves and the barest sprinkle of parmigiano reggiano, they make a nice light first course.
Watching the Olympics now and then (waiting patiently for the triathalon..) and this morning it was diving: the Men's 3m springboard event.


Today was a rainy, steam on the windows baking day perfect for making a lovely honey and spice scented loaf cake of Ukrainian origin. To whip the egg whites, I always reach for my copper bowl, a present from my husband while on holiday in the Val d'Aosta. The proximity of that Italian region to France and Switzerland makes for great availability of kitchen and other homeware items that can be difficult to find otherwise. At a mere 4 years old, the bowl looks positively ancient. It's inherent. While some materials are destined to remain youthful (my stainless pasta machine, if properly cared for, should age like Sophia Loren), copper is not so fortunate. In fact, after its first use, it resembled something retrieved from a falling down farmhouse.
I love well seasoned bakeware. I scour consignment and antique shops hoping to find a long forgotten gem that is sadly sitting on a shelf awaiting a new home, a new life, and a return to its former dutiful position of evoking aromatic anticipation and providing sweet and savoury treats to waiting hands.
That said, new (although it must be quality and well built) bakeware also has its place. I'm not of the all too common present belief in disposable consumerism: of buying as cheaply as possible and that when the item is no longer of use, I'll throw it away and aquire a new one. Properly and sturdily made bakeware, stoneware and cast iron, in particular, will last indefinitely, benefiting from the time and care it takes to season it (as will anyone willing and thoughtful enough to take that time).