LEYDA

My favorite winery of all the places I visited in Chile was Leyda. The company is run by young, passionate winemakers in the coastal area of San Antonio. This place and the people were so charming, it was hard for me to separate their story of dedication and love from the wines . . . But I was told by the wine writer friends I made that this happens to them too in some respects, so in the end I didn't feel so bad. Their plants are very new, only about 2-3 years old and their coastal breezes create a fruitful micro climate. All the grapes were planted on a slope and are hand picked, "It's the only way."

I loved Leyda because it felt new, alive, humble and different there. My favorite wine from them by far was their Syrah; so warm, jammy and spicy. It was splendid with our lunch of paella, cheeses, salads and a special mushroom risotto prepared just for me.

SPOONING

Kinfolk's Third Issue came out this past month. I was honored to have a short essay and photograph published in the beautiful magazine. You can pick up a printed copy at Anthropologie -- Can I just say how it tickles me to have my name and photograph in a product carried at one of my all-time favorite stores? It's so much fun!

Here's my written piece and image. I hope you enjoy it. I found it rather freeing to write in such a different style/topic for this publication.


SPOONING
About a month or so after I got married, my new husband and I embarked on a honeymoon which would forever change us. We didn't go to Hawaii or spend a couple weeks in Mexico, we saved our pennies the moment we got serious and set out to live in South India, Vietnam and Turkey for a year. We wanted to see a bit of how the rest of the world lives and get to know ourselves in the process.

In every new village or bustling city we settled into, I purchased a spoon. Or two. In Hanoi, I asked a cafe owner if I may buy the neon orange and baby blue plastic spoons we'd swirled our sweetened ice coffees with and she looked at me perplexed, then giggled (silly American lady!), then threw the tall, colorful utensils in with our bill, refusing to accept the bills I insisted on stuffing into her plaid apron pocket. A variation on this routine was repeated in multiple languages, with the same hand gestures and responses, across the world.

 I'm grateful I kept on my happy treasure hunt. I had a hunch this precious collection would delight me with each swirl of my PG Tips and cream, lick of peanut butter in between deadlines or when excitedly delving into a new tub of yogurt and honey while I gaze into the fridge contemplating dinner. Indeed, our worldly gallivants came to an end, and we are now settled into our own cozy palace in the clouds of Portland, Oregon. But I can't shake the sparkly feeling of touching the unknown while on the road with my ritual warm brews and little bites. For a moment, I'm transported . . . We are ducking into a chai shack deep in the coconut groves, motorcycling along the highway with banh mi sandwiches tucked into pockets  and sipping black Turkish tea (sugar cubes clenched in our teeth) with the fishermen on Galata Bridge in Istanbul. And in those memories, with my sweet spoons, I am home.

KIMBERLY'S KICKIN' LOUNGE SPACE + RED PUMPS!

While in San Francisco for work, I managed a quick visit with one of my favorite ladies - Kimberly. This incredible room upstairs in her apartment was just begging for a portrait. It helps to have a beautiful subject (thanks Kimberly!), but I just love the vibe and mood of this space. I'd like to have such a sunny room in my life!

Be sure to visit Kimberly's stunning food blog and check out her the beautiful cover she just shot for Edible SF!

THAT WOULD BE NICE

After a weekend of intense work -- the kind of work where you learn a lot about your craft, self and spouse... and manage to fall in love again with your talented, clever and patient husband . . . where the sighs are heavy, long and in abundance.  The back is aching, but lightness is just round the corner . . . I'm picturing myself doing the backstroke in this gorgeous, juicy pool.  The sun is blistering hot and I must sport giant sunnies as I leisurely make my way back and forth, thinking of nothing but the way the cooling, slight breeze, intermixed with golden sunlight, is the world's most glorious combination.  And that bathing suits with flirty skirts attached are fantastic. And about a tall glass of strawberry lemonade.

Where would you float to on this Monday morning?

400th POST -- A SLICE OF MONDRIAN CAKE

I just noticed on my blogger posting template that this will be my 400th post -- And a little smile just crawled across my face.  Having been an obsessive journaler as a kid and teenager, discovering the world of blogging just exploded this love of documentation all over the interwebs.  It's been a great way to explore and record the world around me.  Thank you for coming along for the journey, atop this winged, bejeweled, miniature temple elephant of a blog.

Oh and this fabulous cake, my darling friend N and I ate it at the roof-top cafe of the San Francisco Moma.  It tasted as good as it looked -- a rare combination.  After a long museum visit, where we saw two excellent photo shows (one of my Dad's images was included, so freakin awesome to behold!), we practically dived into our creamy cappuccinos and gorgeous confection.  Great art-viewing deserves great museum-cafe snacking.

A YEAR AGO, TODAY.

A year ago, today, we were living in Panjim, India.  We were cooking and painting hard, swimming in the rule-drenched community pool, walking along the Mandovi and trying to figure out a piece of ourselves.  It was interesting to re-read my thoughts on creating food in the post, Why Cook?  I re-posted it here.

I cook for so many reasons -- to nourish myself and my husby, yes -- but it is a far more layered activity . . . One must eat at least three times per day (well for me, about 5 or 6 -- I must have a snack pack!) and I've concluded that these dining experiences can be a sensoral ritual, full of flavor, aesthetics and joy -- they may as well be! Cup-o-Noodles, Lean Cuisine, energy bars--they've never been my thing.... that stuff is for those who eat because they have to get the eating done, not for types who are prepping for lunch a moment after setting down the fork from breakfast (I made and ate this and this in a 5 hour period one big cooking session recently.) An interest, hobby, obsession -- whatever your passion is, it just hits you upside the head.

For me, especially being far away from family and US life, I find I cook to connect with my inner self, my stable self, the person inside who is innate and unafraid-- the voice that says, "you're okay, you're cooking. you do this no matter where you are, it's home when you cook." So I've been a bit compulsive here in Panjim with the cooking -- to eat and nourish, but also to feel safe and cozy. And not so foreign.

Putting together the next meal is an outlet, an event, an exploration, something to research, refine and ponder when the lights are off and I'm staring into the ceiling, the fan illuminated by street lamps. I'm sure this cooking and eating will evolve as life changes -- jobs, locality, time-- they all influence the way that I think about food -- and yet they don't. I always seem to find my way to the stove. In times of duress, I bake, lulled by the satisfaction of following clear directions, magic chemical changes in the oven and sweet results. When happy and carefree, a more intuitive, semi-deranged, hands-throwing-ingredients-into-a-pot-without-thinking takes over. It's casual and free-flowing, the genes of my cantalope-wizard-chopping-mother coursing through my veins. Either way, happy or sad, stressed or balanced, homesick or at home, I'll be in the kitchen working it out.

My relationship to cooking is both very different and very the same now.  I cook, write and teach about food as a job now -- which is thrilling and exhausting.  When I pull a pear pecan cake out of the oven at work or get to meet some food-guru to write about, it very nearly knocks the wind out of me.  I feel lucky and challenged, learning new approaches and practical cooking things everyday-- I also feel a pluckish downside, where I crave a balanced, healthy meal for dinner (just like the one I left behind at work!) and I just cannot bare to think about what I want and how to go about making it.  As a result, we eat simpler foods now -- which isn't necessarily a bad thing!  Some of the tastiest meals of late have been a bowl of pasta, with an assortment of leftovers, made with D in a hap-hazard, silly state of mind.  

Our lives have changed in ways I couldn't have imagined while stirring over a pot of curry in that little blue kitchen in Goa.  I guess that's how it goes.

GUEST POST ON TRAIL OF CRUMBS

I am thrilled and honored to have a little post up on a FABULOUS travel blog, The Trail of Crumbs, authored by Danielle and her husband, Adrian.  These two California dreamers are living in Paris, traversing the globe, making handmade furniture and taking exquisite photos.  Danielle and I only had but one fun conversation during our Spring Paris visit, but I am continually inspired by all the fun and creativity that flows through her world.

The link is here, if you want to take a peek.

LEAVIN ON A JET PLANE: SAN FRANCISCO

For the first time in a long while, I'm meeting up with my Mom for a girl's trip to San Francisco -- I'm completely elated and can't wait to hang out, visit a few museums, galleries, shops and delicious eateries, of course. Any suggestions for SF? I'm not super familiar, just smitten with the place. I welcome any input, with one caveat, we're only there for a couple days.

Thanks!

GUEST POST ON THE KITCHN

I am honored to have been a contributor for thekitchn's 'great escapes' series, featuring food stories from abroad. I wrote about and photographed the 2-day pastry course I took at the Istanbul Culinary Institute, one of the most amazing experiences of our entire trip.

As a daily reader of thekitchn, it's a wonderful feeling to be apart of the site.

The link to read full article is here.

CONNECT(ICUT) THE DOTS, FA LA LA LA

(Keith and the dog)


(Bella, the darling dog, and the beach along the Long Island Sound)


(Becca and the waterfall)


(Becca at her family's camp)


(the lovebirds in their natural habitat)



Staying for a few days with long-time friends, in the cutest log-cabinish house in the woods of Guilford, Connecticut was terrific. We sampled local ice creams (hence this last pose by Keith), frolicked near the peaceful Long Island Sound, tromped around a sweet little waterfall, made delicious meals (eaten at a proper table with beautiful plates and green goblet glasses), visited the amazing home where Becca's grand-dad and his 7 other brothers grew up, lounged on the deck and made merry.

Good friends are hard to come by, and these two kids are some of my favorite pals -- who went from living in a shed together in college in our house's backyard to Yale and El Presidio Graduate Students, world-travelers and accomplished, intelligent, do-gooding -- For goodness sake, they helped in the Haiti relief effort by GOING TO HAITI and doing something about the situation, in their own areas of expertise (public health and sustainable business)-- awesome-folks at large.

They were the inspiration for our long voyage, I watched them embark on a similarly minded journey through South America about four years ago. I knew from their experience that long-term travel was something I had to do. Keith and Becca, and beautiful Bella -- THANK YOU! Now forget Connecticut and move to Portland where we can get into some real trouble.

PS. I'm still on the diana mini kick, so all photos are shot with the cute little camera for a while here.

OCEAN'S LAWN GOODBYE PICNIC

(Kate and I walk through the woods, skipping and jumping along the way)

(the expansive view from Ocean's Lawn was heart-breakingly awesome -- note the buoys in the distance, they mark each fisherman's lobster trap)

(the sweetest-smelling lilacs were in full bloom)

(Kate and I dine on the bluffs)

I have arrived in Santa Barbara, after much fun was had on the East Coast -- New York, Connecticut and our last stop, Gloucester, Massachusetts. We were there to spend time with my oldest pal, Kate. We bicycled around the darling New England town, taking in the lighthouses, crisp air, quaint architecture (which I so eloquently can only describe as "so New England!"), bright blue water of the sea and local ice creams. The best part of our visit, however, was a last-night sunset picnic at Ocean's Lawn on Coolidge Reservation. This place is amazing. A short walk through pines and birch trees, a picturesque pond and loads of peeping birds brings you to a glorious plain of grass and views of the Atlantic Ocean unlike I've ever seen. The coves and all the coast line of Massachusetts are a far cry from our SoCal Pacific upbringing, but it was equally and differently beautiful. It was wonderful to be with my beach buddy numero uno, in her adopted new homeland, situated on this gorgeous other ocean. Although we no longer tan like it's a competitive sport (what were were our high school selves thinking?!), we still know how to pack a mean picnic for the beach. Thanks Kate!

COMING HOME

(scenes from New York, all the nostalgia and memories being made in real time with the diana camera)

Another immigration line, wheeling our weathered suitcases and selves, hats disheveled, a clammy feeling in my belly and hands. Thinking of what a rip-off those in-flight headphones were for the inane rom-com movie i watched on the plane . . . How unremarkable another little stamp in our passport seems at this point, but this ink, this blue and red oval-shape, is a special one -- Reading loud and clear -- DEPT OF HOMELAND SECURITY.

"Where have you been?"
"Germany."
"And before that?"
"England."
"How long have you been gone?"
"Uh... 8 or so months? . . . Well we started in India, then Vietnam, Turkey, Croatia, Italy . . . Should I keep going?"
"What were you doing, just traveling?"
We shrug and sigh, "Yeah I guess."
"Have a nice stay in New York" ---- STAMP--- "NEXT!"

And just like that, we're through. Home. The USA.

I can't answer the inevitable, "how was your trip?" very well. It seems we've grown up and stayed kids within this 9 month journey away from our city, friends, apartment, work, family -- our regular life -- as I referred to it the entire time while away. What I would like to share is my take on the differences on long versus short-term travel, because it was the length of time we had that had the greatest impact on our traveling style.


(the skype conversations that meant so much to us)

When you know you're going to be away for so long, you sort of settle in for the long haul. The idea of controlling and planning every site, meal, method of transportation becomes obsolete. With this 'no plan' plan, I started to become acutely aware of my surroundings. Starting off in India I'm sure played into this moment-driven state -- there's so much to observe, smell, taste and experience -- you need all of your faculties functioning at 100 percent at the beginning just to manage. India demands negotiation and both Dave and I stepped up to the plate -- It's like this --

Oh these bananas, for you, 50 rupees (5 times the going rate).
How much money do you make?
Just one or two emporiums, so I can buy shirts for my childrens.
You cannot wear shorts in the pool, only swim trunks.
Will you pose for a snap with my baby, my aunt, my sister, my wife?
You are so nice and your skin is very White.
I'll bring your hot water bucket to your room very very fast, madame.
This is ghee-- it's good for your health. I'll put more on your chapati for you.
We don't need to preheat the oven for this banana cake -- just put it in for 2 hours.
If you see a cop, if he's wearing brown, just give him money, if wearing white -- I don't know, just listen to what he says.
This next train, you've bought a ticket, but there's no more seats. LOOK UP -- so we sit on the luggage racks.
you wanna get off this janky, hot, 5 hour, bumpy bus to pee -- how bad?
you need toilet paper too-- how much can you pay?

There's no room for wallflowers -- and I learned to stick up for myself and get in the thick of things. My mind would race pretty much before every transaction, problem or question -- trying to think of the unknown and the multiple follow up issues that could come up. I was on bargaining overdrive. When someone asks what I did in India, I should just say, got things done. It took ages. Anything -- mailing a package was an epic, the drug store to get sunscreen an essay, booking a train ticket a saga, taking a swim was a poem. Our India expert friend and researcher put it well -- "Indian people have a different relationship with the material world." When everything is up for negotiation, everything gets interesting, whether you're in the mood for it or not. By the end of four months, I'd say we were good navigators of this alternate reality -- it seemed less work than ever and it was, most often, a joyful existence. The pace, people, energy and flavor of the place felt wonderful and lush. What would we do without all the pushing and flowing and slipperiness?


(NYC and Brooklyn highlights -- the bridges, cupcakes, subways, people)

It turns out, many other countries felt a little boring after such a place. Vietnam, our following country, was a walk in the park comparatively.
Sidewalks.
Motorcycle taxis for honest prices.
Clean sheets and towels in our hotel rooms, without having to ask.
Western-style toilets (holy crap -- literally!).
French pastries.

It's a place that is easy for a tourist to plug in to the tourist stuff and get out, very comfortably. Not to say that was a bad thing -- it's all in the relativity of a journey isn't it? -- what came before and what's next. While in Vietnam, we were in a recovery type of mode from India and an anticipatory state for the next long-term stint in Istanbul, Turkey. It rained. We spent too long in the North. We were in a little bit of limbo.

The rest, Istanbul and then Europe-- you can imagine. We entered a world nearer and nearer to our own. It was superb, but in a different way. We found a beautiful apartment, on the 5th Ave of Istanbul (Nisantasi neighborhood), my parents came to visit. I cooked lentil soup every day. We stayed warm within the cold winds, blowing off the Sea of Marmara -- When I asked a cute guy at club where his favorite place in the world was, he shouted, "right here, around Taksim Square, on a Friday night, it's the best spot on Earth!" I love a place where the people are so enthusiastic about their home town. And he was right -- Istanbul was one of the most captivating cities I've ever been -- the dynamic mixture of East, West and everything in between still churning and pulsing through it's streets. We saw all the sites-- but at a leisurely pace, one where we could sit and draw or write or get out our thermos of tea and just people-watch.


(D and I walking in Croatia)

We were always able to go slow -- see things in time, not cram to fit 10 temples or mosques or cathedrals or whatever in one day -- we became expert dabblers -- see one thing, really feel it out, listen to it, explore each nook and cranny. And just be there. No rush, no tour, no place to be or get to later. At times, the seemingly endless ocean of space and time was the last thing I wanted -- but most often, with my best friend and partner, we filled up the space with laughter. We learned, read, touched and talked over everything in front of us. And because we knew we were all each other had, we tread lightly on feelings. When you know you're it for awhile, truly each others' only comfort from home, regular life, you are slower to draw swords for a battle. You work on peace-making skills.

Traveling can be stressful -- after so long at doing it, we became practiced in problem-solving on the spot and working through our conflicts or opposing opinions better than we did at home. We grew into each other and our new marriage. Out of our element and away from all our friends -- we had to. And I've never loved my husband so much after watching him become such an expert traveler and pleasure-seeker. He really taught me, while away, to find the best view, treat, painting, shrine, bus ride, moment -- to really seek it out and relish in it for as long as possible. No one else is going to do that for you -- and you can give yourself permission to let the fun, beauty and experience wash all over you. Life can be that good. Routine is comforting and warm and safe, I love it, but getting out on a limb and sharing something amazing and new with your number one pal is sublime.

In the end, traveling for so long taught us about ourselves as individuals and as a team, what we like (pomegranates!) and don't like (if i hear "pashmina" in one more country, I'm gonna kill the individual selling the cursed polyester) and about why we love our home. We love our friends, community, city and family. It's the good stuff of life, the backbone, that can support an individual. Everyone we encountered --Indians, Vietnamese, Turkish, Croats, Italians, French, Brits, Germans -- is seeking this feeling -- a place in their world. We are no different. In uprooting myself, I never felt so much appreciation for my regular life. For work, play, family time, the weekend, routine, bookstores, the farmers market. I also never felt so much for my country -- America. The diversity, choice and freedoms I took for granted, I think I'll look at differently now. We are imperfect nations, all of us, but the US has some things right. And, most importantly, it's where all the people who I care about -- who help to define me as me -- are settled. Because when there's no background noise, work or obligations -- wherever you are, you're still there. And you really get to know that person, who you are -- and I saw a lot to change and a lot to love about myself. When the bouts of homesickness were really strong (Thanksgiving and Oscar Night -- food and celebrity fashion, they're my thing, okay?), the best cure was watching cartoons on youtube. Old Disney, Alice in Wonderland and Sleeping Beauty and Care Bears. Definitely CareBears. How can you be sad when Cozy-Heart Penguin is saving the cloud ship full of other animals?

We were enchanted, challenged and down-right delighted by most foreign lands we experienced -- but I cannot wait to live a life, beyond a suitcase and get domestic in Portland, forever and ever . . .

Or until the next location -- hola, South America!

BROOKLYN BALL GAME

For me, New York is all about family. It's full of amazing museums, galleries, great food and loads of fun, but the best thing about being here is visiting with all my cousins and aunts and uncles. The layers of history, memory, emotion and laughter, plus being in my grandparents' former building and now with all the new babies (my cousins are populating Brooklyn Heights in one big swoop!) -- the combination is powerful. One of the highlights so far has been attending my cousin's 5 year-old son's baseball game in Prospect Park. Our cheering section was something close to 15 people, a powerful force which may have tipped the scales for our big win. I shot the game with my new Diana mini, which I'm loving, now that I've got all the kinks worked out. More Diana mini shots to come soon.

MINI ME!

I got the new Diana mini yesterday and have been shooting with it non-stop. We shall see how the film/photos turn out, hopefully just as dreamy and unpredictable and imperfect as her big sister, the Diana F+ I've been shooting with (and loving) since the 8th grade. This little darlin' is about as ridiculously cute as it gets.

A BAGEL FOR BREAKFAST IS REALLY GREAT

(the classic -- garlic with cream cheese)


(bird's eye view of delicious NY breakfast)


(the naughty peanut-butter and jelly situation)

As I said before, being back in the US is magical -- a significant portion of said magic can be attributed to waking up and putting a New York bagel into the toaster. I like mine toasted well, bordering on charred . . . and, my father will roll his eyes at my complete goyisha/traif shmear of choice, peanut butter and a little jam. Hey, I'm half Southern gentile thanks to my fab Mom, who once ordered a ham and cheese sandwich at a kosher deli. She's always been a rebel! I know this peanut butter issue is vile absurdity to my Pops, but D, my better half, is a fan of the classic cream cheese. Any way you slice the ginormous, starchy, comfort bomb and any spread you choose--it's all good in my book. The bagels were purchased from Murray's Bagels, a NY institution I always indulge in.

HOMEWARD BOUND

(that thrilling Manhattan skyline, as seen from the study in my Aunt and Uncle's apartment)

(Dave at a Janet Cardiff-- one of my favorite artists ever-- show in Chelsea, earlier today

We have arrived Stateside -- NYC -- and man, does it feel good. Really good. More to come on that feeling soon. There are so many wonderful little things about being back in the US, here's just a few:

- knowing what button to push on the elevator
- speaking English with everyone
- reading trashy magazines in the drugstore
- the variety of cereals in the grocery aisles
- visiting with all my cousins and their new babies
- knowing my 'spots' in the city (having lived here while going to art school)
- turning on the TV and watching the Food Network

I'll be posting more on the nature of our long-term travel as well as our New York visit soon. For now, it is awesome to be in a place that I know and love, that said -- this city is always changing and evolving (and staying the same) -- but if you have any must-do recommendations, I'm open!

DER ENGLISCHER GARTEN

(Monopteros, a sweet little structure in the middle of the vast park)


(I join in on the lounge -- and get sunburned)


(is this not the cutest sign?)

Munich is a delightful little town -- it's kinda nice to be somewhere mellow after London and Paris -- two cities with so much to do and think about. The reason why we're here is to see part one of Neo Rauch's painting retrospective. We are now on our way to Leipzig to see part two.

Neo is the undisputed king of contemporary painting, and the Englischer Garten is the undisputed queen of sprawling parks! It is a huge space, named so not because and English person established it, but because it is in the English design -- a big area with lakes, moving water, little niches, small gardens, structures, lanes, etc. What it DOES have that no British park that I know of has, is three Beer Gardens -- little cafes within the park with hammocks and beer and other goodies. It's brilliant! We both took in a big lay-down after our scrumptious picnic (bread, cheese and pesto) and then drew/water-colored the Monopteros, a neo-classical small dome with columns (see first photo). It was the perfect couple of hours. I do love a good park.
Thinking about it makes me long for Laurelhurst and Forest Park, in Portland. And a good stroll and swing in Shoreline, the park of my Santa Barbara childhood.

Do you have a favorite park?

My other most-beloved park -- maybe the best park on Earth -- is Vondel Park, in Amsterdam -- where small groups of friends ate cupcakes and cookies from nooks in the trees, ducks led their goslings through the small river, lined with willows and we bicycled and napped till the sun went down.

MUNCHIN' IN MUNCHEN (MUNICH)

(breakfast beers are served)


(D thoughtfully selects cheese for our picnic -- an important task)


(man, great outfit and giant pickle)


(this lady meant business)


(gorgeous purple artichokes)


(the abundant white asparagus)


(this display resembled a golf course)


(they are MAD for the white stuff right now)

The market in Munich was in the middle of spring's bounty -- the stalls overflowing with gorgeous 'bio' (organic) produce from near and far. There was also a huge selection of cheeses, breads, spreads, olives, flowers, wurst (I long for veggie sausage!), and beer. By 10:30 am, I'd already seen about 50 people washing down their breakfast with a cold one. Breakfast of champions? They were certainly championing the pork sandwich/beer with gusto! Also, a lot of people were topping off this combo with a large pickle -- what an uba taste sensation.

The real star of the German spring though, was the white 'spargel' (asparagus). Never before have I seen such large and ghostly things. With their alien-like appearance and sweet flavor, the local people were buying them by the bushel. I love celebrated, seasonal, quirky ingredients that gastronomes get all crazed about: pie crust, the perfect martini, truffles, fiddle-headed ferns, chocolate -- add another to the list -- the great white asparagus.

ON FOXES AND REALLY LARGE CAKES. SCARY LARGE.

(lemons and the massive cake resting in the afternoon sunshine)


(mr fox in the garden)

There is a visitor in Rosy's North London garden who visits every other day as the sun sets. He has fuzzy ears, a bushy tail, a delicate demeanor and a sly grin. He is the cutest red fox and he is endlessly entertaining and amazing to watch, awaiting his dinner. In between fox viewings, we made a cake which seemed quite large, but in fact grew to behemoth proportions. It's daunting to even think about it, even after having a healthy slice -- it's as if it replenishes itself on the counter, perhaps related to a starfish? growing another slice after losing one?

According to Rosy, this is more of a 'pudding' than a cake, whatever you call it, it sure is a delicious beast. Corny and bright with lemon and apple, it would be great to bring to a really big party. I'd recommend breaking up the mass of batter into at least three circular tins, not filling them too high because it's quite dense and needs a crusty top to offset the wet, rich texture. all that said, dive right in to the pudding and if you're lucky, look out for a fox in your backyard.

Lemon Apple Polenta Cake,
adapted from England's former top chef Thomasina Mier (original recipe here)

3 c butter, preferably unsalted, softened
1 c sugar
6 eggs
6 Cox's Orange Pippin, Blenheim Orange or other sweet dessert apple
4 unwaxed lemons, zested and juiced
1 c honey
3 1/4 c ground almonds
1 tsp vanilla
1 c fine polenta
1½ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350°C. Butter a 24cm cake tin and dust it with flour. Beat butter and sugar with an electric beater for 5-10 minutes until soft, white and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, making sure they are fully incorporated each time. Core the apples and cut into thin slices (2-3mm). Turn them into the lemon juice and zest and then into the honey. Fold them and the rest of the ingredients into the cake mixture and pour into a buttered cake tin.

Bake in the middle of the oven for 1 hour and 45-50 minutes.

Turn out onto a wire rack when the cake has cooled a bit.