'..UNTIL TOMORROW, I'LL JUST KEEP MOVING ON....'

So I’ve been sleeping on my ex-boyfriend’s sofa for four months. Yes, I said four months. Count them. Onetwothreefour. That’s approximately 120 days. On a very-narrow-and-not-very-comfortable-sofa. Which belongs to and resides in the home of my ex-boyfriend. It’s been interesting. For the past, oh, say four months he’s had a haunted look in his eye and an increasingly deep furrow in his brow.

There’s a lengthy back story which I’ll give you in a nutshell: we split up aaaaaaages ago but were fortunate enough to remain friends (I mean proper friends - the type who have both since had other relationships and it’s not been weird). I was sharing a flat with a friend, I got made redundant, ergo had to move out, ex let me crash on his sofa for a ‘couple of weeks’ til I sorted my shit out…. and here we are.

Anyway, the reason I’m telling you this is because last month the ark angel Gabriel and his chorus of cherubs parted the sky and sent their countless blessings down to me (and my ex) and found me a flat. A teeny tiny toaty wee flat but a flat all the same. With an actual bed.

So this time four weeks ago I was deep in the throws of packing. Now give or take the odd book or doll from my childhood which is steeped in sentimental value, and of course my ‘things’ which make a home a home, I’m not really much of a hoarder. In fact I’m pretty good at throwing stuff out. Ruthless in fact. If someone gives me a gift and I don’t like it, I get rid of it, no worries about hurt feelings. If something’s been in a box and I haven’t even thought about it for three months, it goes. And so it was that I ended up lugging two massive Ikea bags worth of books to a wee second hand Bookshop and another load of tat, sorry stuff, to charity shops. Great. My self-imposed ‘be ruthless’ rule was working really well. And then I started on the kitchen.

I have an apparent emotional bond to every single utensil I own. The concept of attachment is taken to a whole new level when it comes to me and my kitchen stuff. And as for my cookery books…. I imagine I feel something similar to that which a new mother feels when she leaves her baby for the first time at the thought of off-loading any of those. I have more than I’d care to elaborate and amongst them are books from which I’ve never cooked, and never will. I just like the pictures. And then there are the ones with page marker ribbons. And lovely matt pages. And beautiful styling and photography. And have you seen the dishes and jars and utensils? And the writer’s houses? And I WANT THEIR LIVES.

And then there’s my pink spatulas. So lovely. My collection of salad servers. The lovely wee dessert cups with matching spoons that I’ve never used (but I will). The wee white ramekins which come out once in a blue moon but I Absolutely Had To Have. The delicate glass tea cups and saucers which would be adorable to serve mint tea, and the cake stand which seldom sees a crumb. The espresso cups and saucers which are used as ornaments and the empty jars which I know will come in really useful for something. Not to mention the mandolin which I use probably twice a year and nearly caused me to lose the tip of my thumb one Christmas. The salad spinner, the lovely wee green jug from the Bethany Shop and the bamboo chop sticks. I am already panicking about how I’m going to fit all this in my new mini kitchen but could I get rid of any of it? Don’t be silly.

And then I found myself in a charity shop, buying a set of four pretty glasses that I really really needed, and then in town buying a kettle, a stove top coffee maker, a couple of really good sharp knives, a chopping board, some tea towels, a pretty tea storage jar (it’ll go so well with one I’ve got), and a set of new crockery: four dinner plates, side plates, bowls and mugs. I stood for over half an hour deliberating over two different types of zester (neither good enough) and my search for the perfect oven glove continues to elude me.

Do I need to get out more? Perhaps. I wonder if there’s such a thing as KSA? My name is Carine and I’m a Kitchen-Stuffaholic.

THE BIG DAY

A few small things to remember should you ever find yourself offering to bake somewhere in the region of 150 cupcakes for your lovely friends' wedding:

- When only in the possession of one 12-cake muffin tray, don't keep meaning to buy another two or three, never quite get round to it and then think 'sod it, it'll be fine'. Anyone with a very basic grasp of maths will be able to work out that this means baking 150 cupcakes will take somewhere in the region of 9 hours.

- Do invest in an electric gadget for juicing the lemons if your cupcakes happen to be of the lemon variety. Enlist the help of anyone willing to zest said lemons or you'll grow to despise said lemons.

- Get someone else to calculate how much icing sugar you'll need or you may find yourself with a small surplus.

- When desperately prepping the decoration at midnight the night before the wedding due to the 9-hour baking stint during the day, don't use a dangerously sharp knife and talk on the phone at the same time. This is how people cut themselves.

- Don't settle for a piping bag with a smaller nozzle than you'd like in a bid to avoid spending £15 on a set of various really good over-sized nozzles. Your icing will resemble Primula.

- Try and avoid drinking Cava while baking, as this only leads to confusion and can result in not enough flour being added to the first batch of cake mix.

- Don't use the very nicest cake cases for the first batch of cake mix.

Enjoy!

GIRLIE CAKES FOR A VERY GIRLIE DAY

A few weeks ago I wrote about Alex and Rowan's impending wedding and the inordinate number of lemon cupcakes I'll be baking for the occasion. I settled on an incredibly moist and light lemon yoghurt cake recipe by the Barefoot Contessa but struggled to find an adequately concentrated rose extract to create the rose-scented icing.

However, fear not, because I was pointed in the direction of Lakeland Plastics and a rose syrup by a brand called Atkins and Potts. Even while I was handing over my hard earned cash I remained unconvinced that it would be strong enough to cope with being diluted in tonnes of butter and sugar but you'll be thrilled and relieved to hear that it did the job admirably.

And so on Sunday I baked a proper trial batch, using the actual cases, and the actual decoration I'll be using on the actual day. This was mainly so that I could calculate the quantities of ingredients I'll require for the actual event, and partly because it was Sunday, there was a bottle of pink champagne chilled in the fridge and frankly why not? We ordered the cases from here, and the crystalised rose petals are from here. They're all the way from the Grasse countryside in France, where the flowers are gathered in the morning, gently dried and then coated in sugar syrup. They taste the way roses used to smell when you were little. Heavenly.

It's fair to say I'm not normally a pink girlie girl, but for a properly girlie occasion such as the civilisation of two lovely girls, I think we can make an exception.

CHICKPEA, FETA AND MINT SALAD AND HEROIC ACTS

So, I've just started my new job at The List and I'm really enjoying it. My brain feels as though it might explode with all the new information it's storing, and I have the strange feeling you get when you're learning something new and you feel like you're never going to get your head around it even though you know full well you will.

I've been coming home from work desperately hungry, and in search of food I can throw together in no time at all. I've been slowly building up a wee craving for this over the past few days and it perfectly fit the category of food that takes minutes to prepare but still tastes fresh and delicious.

In other news, I've been running lots recently and am currently reading Haruki Murakami's book: What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. He didn't really start running properly until he was in his early thirties so his writing resonates with me in a way that other pieces don't - all to often I find writing on this subject patronising and elitist, as though you can't possibly consider yourself a runner unless you've run a marathon every year since you were six and 10k every morning before breakfast.

He talks at the beginning of the book about the mantras we use to keep ourselves going when things get tough:

"'Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.' Say you're running and you start think, Man this hurts, I can't take it anymore. The hurt part is an unavoidable reality, but whether or not you can stand any more is up to the runner himself. This pretty much sums up the most important aspect of marathon running."

This really struck a chord with me; in the main in relation to running of course, but I think this is something that can be applied to other parts of our life. I've resolved to make a conscious effort to rise above the annoying stuff and let it go over my head. It's easy to get bogged down with the inevitable crappy things life throws at us, but by opting not to, the crappy things feel less crappy and we feel happier and less bogged down as a result. It's really much easier to be happy and positive. It works.

I have confirmation that it works as a mantra for hideously painful races too - my friend (and now hero, incidentally) Kev completed The North Face 100 race through the Blue Mountains in Australia last weekend in 19 and a half hours. That's 100 KILOMETRES by the way, or the equivalent of over two marathons, running, over mountains, starting at 7am and finishing... well, you do the maths. This is an amazing achievement by anyone's standards and I'm completely in awe of what he's done. And I'm sure Murakami would be thrilled to know that this little mantra helped him through some tough points in the course.

EAT: LEITH

I live in an area in the East of Edinburgh called Leith which encompasses a working port, a (sometimes even sunny) shore lined with bars and restaurants (including no less than three Michelin star-winning establishments) and a very proud community. There circulates a small but nonetheless popular magazine called The Leither for which I have done various odd pieces of writing in the past, but with a new editorship has come an opportunity for me to settle into a more permanent slot as food writer of-sorts. I have been given a page on which to write freely, which is a brilliant opportunity in terms of being published on paper, but also a nice aside to this blog. I hope to give focus to produce which can be found in and around the Leith area which will be an easy enough feat as there are a plethora of food establishments and speciality shops opening left, right and centre.

My first piece will appear in the May issue, and so it was timed conveniently to coincide with the wild garlic season. You'll recall my fondness for wild garlic last year when a dinner of dolmades and pesto had me waxing lyrical about this amazing herb to anyone who'd listen. This year, inflicted with a common cold and a yearning for something non-medicinal to help shift it, I found myself hot-footing it to Valvona & Crolla once again in search of these leaves. Soup seemed like the best thing for the soul but frankly there was no way I was buying wild garlic without making another pesto, it was just too good. A dig around online gave me an idea for parsley and wild garlic soup - both ingredients abundant with nutrients and more to the point, flavour. Whilst we're approaching the end of the all-to-short wild garlic season, if you do come across some I'd urge you to give this a try. It may sound somewhat pungent, but the cooking softens the flavours and an aromatic bowl of delicate green soup is the result, and the pesto stirred into it gives it a fragrant kick. Trust me, if you like garlic, you’ll love this.

PARSLEY AND WILD GARLIC SOUP SERVED WITH WILD GARLIC PESTO inpspired by a recipe by Mark Hix
Serves 4

For the soup:
knob of butter
2 medium sized onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped or crushed
1 medium potato, peeled and chopped
1 litre vegetable stock (I like Marigold Swiss vegetable bouillon)
50g - 60g parsley, roughly chopped
50g - 60g wild garlic, roughly chopped

For the pesto:
50g – 60g wild garlic leaves, washed, dried, stems cut off
pine nuts
parmesan
olive oil

In a pot, melt the butter over a medium heat and gently sweat the onions and garlic with the lid on, stirring occasionally, for about ten minutes or until softened. Do not allow to colour.

Add the potato and stock, bring to the boil and simmer for around 40 minutes.

Meanwhile, using a pestle and mortar (or food processor if you’re feeling lazy), pound the wild garlic leaves for the pesto until your olfactory senses are given a right old treat. Add pine nuts, Parmesan and olive oil, tasting as you go along until you are happy with the consistency and flavour.

Add the parsley and wild garlic to the soup pot, cook for a further minute or two until wilted.

Remove from heat and blend.

Season to taste and serve with the pesto drizzled over the top.

CELEBRATION CAKES

Is it wrong to celebrate your blog's one year birthday when you've been MIA for the last four (and some) months? Perhaps this small private acknowledgement is enough of a nod to it's actual birthday, and then in four months time it can have an official birthday, when the weather will be nicer and we can be giddy and self congratulatory. Look, if it's good enough for Nana Betty it's good enough for this blog.

In keeping with the celebratory theme, I have been doing a spot of baking. Two of my dearest friends are to be married in July and we are all beside ourselves with excitement. It is to be a small affair but nonetheless very special, with close friends, family and the sunshine in attendance. At least we hope so. Edinburgh can be a touch unpredictable when it comes to matters of climate but if the last week or two is anything to go by we might just be lucky.

Ever since Gemma created such a fabulous cake for Sylvie's wedding I've had a hankering to have a go myself, and so it is that I find myself in charge of the patisserie for this affair. To her credit, Gemma went down the traditional route and put together a very impressive three tier wonder of fruit sponges complete with marzipan and royal icing, while I will be going down the less challenging route of lots of oversized cupcakes. But there is some challenge in creating in the region of 150 cupcakes, all of which must look just right, then icing them on the morning of the big day, transporting them to the venue and positioning them just-so on their towering stand.

I want these wee cakes to be delicate and summery, and so when I saw Ina Garten (the Barefoot Contessa - an absolute marvel and what's more, living my fantasy life) make this lemon yoghurt cake the cupcakes suddenly became a bit of a no-brainer. Topped with rose scented icing, these are going to be perfect (she says, modestly).

So, I had to make some at the weekend - just to make sure they'd work as cupcakes you understand - and work they did. They're delicious. Using yoghurt and oil instead of butter ensures that the cakes have a light spongey texture, and the lemon rind gives them an extraordinary citrus flavour. Of course the original recipe is for a whole cake, which will be just as lovely.

As for the rose scented icing, I absentmindedly picked up rose essence instead of extract and as a result it didn't taste remotely like rose. This, along with a distinct lack of piping bag, meant that it was pretty much doomed from the outset. The search is now on for a good concentrated extract - any recommendations are most welcome, although I've been told Star Kay White are a good place to start. As soon as this is procured it will of course necessitate another trial batch of cupcakes... Well you have to sure don't you?

EEEEK

The main problem with having been away from my blog for soooooo long is knowing how to come back.

A lot has happened since I was last here, so perhaps I'll fill you in on some of that. Thanks to the fragile state of the world's economy, I've been made redundant and find myself languishing the land of the unemployment. Perhaps languishing isn't quite the right word but you get the picture. On the plus side, this has afforded me (another poor choice of words, given my subsequent bank balance) the time and opportunity to do quite a lot of writing - whilst clearly not here - but for other publications, namely The List Eating and Drinking Guide 2009 and another List-affiliated publication called The Larder, a guide to Scottish produce. I've also done a fair amount of writing for i-on, and have managed to secure a quarterly column for them called Everyone's Eating... which examines the food trends that are currently taking Edinburgh by storm (kinda). There's one or two other things in the pipeline too which I'll talk more about once they're confirmed but on the whole it's been a pretty productive time in terms of being published, which is great.

As far as cooking goes, I've got to be honest and say I haven't been doing much outside of the norm and I should even confess to having probably settled for more than my fair share of pizza instead of making something myself, such has been the state of affairs over the last couple few months. However things are settling down a bit now and I've been getting back to grips with the kitchen.

More to follow...