If potatoes are my father, then apples are my mother.
And no, smarty pants, that does not mean that I am some misbegotten product of genetic engineering (the papple? the aptato?), I mean that there is no food I associate more with my Da than boiled potatoes and no greater sweetness than the Mammy’s apple tart or crumble.
Separate and individual, vegetable and fruit, they can, like parents, be happy cohabitants. Think potato pancakes and apple sauce.
Potato-apple parcels - a very happy marriage
So, too, with these potato-apple parcels. Lofty apples wrapped in earthy potato pastry.
Together, like all the best couples, they seem like they were meant to be. Continue reading
Bernardo O’Higgins is big in Chile. As are spuds, with Chile hotly disputing Peru’s right to claim their country as the one who gave birth to the potato.
I was reminded of O’Higgins earlier this week, when it was my good fortune to be the guest of Santa Rita wines at the launch of their Local Heroes campaign. Son of an Irishman, O’Higgins was born in Chile in 1778 and was destined to become the first leader of a fully independent Chilean state. That his Da may have emigrated to Chile from Ireland in search of the ancestral home of the spud is a matter of pure speculation.
At the Local Heroes launch: somebody tell that woman she's supposed to be drinking wine
So I’ve been baking for the past 2½ days in Ballymaloe with Rachel Allen.
Well, when I say I, I mean myself and 60 other people, and when I say 2½ days of baking, that consisted of 3 half-day demonstration sessions with Rachel and 2 half-day practical sessions, getting down and dirty in the kitchens of the Ballymaloe Cookery School and loving it.
As a result of my endeavours, I have learned a number of things.