I Like Big Butts and I Cannot Lie

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 A’ Wight my lovers?

It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged (muchos apologies for that, one has missed you all!) and much has changed. While my health has remained a continued source of ball aches, it’s with a Stilton strength cheesy grin that I can report a huge improvement in all things depression and mood related and since I started The Cambridge Diet in August I’ve had even more reason to wrack up the Stilton smiles.

It was times like the 27^th of August, one day BC (Before Cambridge), that you wonder to yourself how you got to this point in time. Not in a Michael Fox jumping into The Delorian kind of way (although maybe if I’d had a Delorian I’d travel back in time and sew my gob shut).

No, what I was wondering was, ‘how did I let myself put on this much weight?’. It’s not like an arse this size can creep up on you, yet one morning I woke up and realised ‘Holy Moses, I’ve become quite the chunker’. 

And no I’m not actually a deluded size 8, prancing around my room declaring ‘I’m so fat and bloated!” when all I need is a good fart. I am overweight, under the BMI system and NHS guidelines.

I’ll spare you all the self indulgent crap about how I managed to put on weight and I will readily admit that I am 60% to blame for moving to Chunk Town and setting up shop.  Maybe 70% if I’m being generous.

I shan’t play the old Health Card again (poor thing is so dog eared now that I’m going to have to laminate it) but I will say in my defence (flimsy though it is) as well as eating all the wrong things, illness and medication have also been additional factors in my overall weight gain. Laziness and lack of motivation haven’t helped either, in fact they couldn’t have been any less of a help if they’d run up the street to Healthy Living and set up roadblocks.

It’s not easy to admit its your own fault that you’re now so overweight that everything you wear has to have lycra in it, but with no-one else left to accuse the blame comes full circle.

But now the ghost is up (as well as the weight gain). If you let it, your arse will get so big you’ll catch sight of it out of the corner of your eye and begin to thing that someone is chasing you. Nobody needs to be stalked by their own arse, and mine was well and truly hounding me.

So I am now 5weeks in and I’ve lost a stone and 2lbs.  Everyone needs to come to the decision of losing/gaining weight and how they’re going to do it in their own time and under their own steam. As well as realising that my main food group was chocolate I had a lengthy and honest conversation with my endocrinologist who recommended Cambridge (I like shortening it to Cambridge, someone could stumble upon this blog and mistake me for and intellectual).

You’re also designated a consultant who you see once a week for your weigh in’s and chats and mine is called Trudi and as well as having done the diet herself (and looking amazing for it, the jammy wotsit!) she’s there day and night to always keep me motivated and she’s better than a bag of Haribo when I’m struggling. Everyone needs a Trudi if they’re trying to lose weight.

I’d like to say that the past 5weeks have been really hard and I feel a total smug cow when I say that I’ve actually really enjoyed them.  As per my depression, my arse is something I’m simply trying to size down into more workable proportions

While this is currently a big part of my life and will have an affect on some of the coming recipes I post, never fear, I still advocate a varied and balanced diet and there will still be the cake and cookie recipes that everyone knows and loves…you’ll just have to bake ‘em, eat ‘em and enjoy ‘em for me for the time being!

I’m not interested in boring the tits off you all with any brutally emotional diet interplay but I would obviously like to acknowledge and embrace the somewhat symbiotic relationship between a persons physical size/appearance (under or overweight) and the affect it has on their confidence and self esteem.

People lose and gain weight for a million different reasons, all of them, quite frankly, nobody else’s pissing business.

Not all of us sprung from the well of good genes and fast metabolisms, and I wouldn’t dream of going to go up to someone in the street who had a face like a builders elbow and ask them why they’re so bloody ugly, would you?

Our appearance specifically our weight and bodies and peoples opinions of it seem to have public property whether it’s asked for or not. I think that’s half the reason women ask if their bum looks big, it’s to pre-empt being told that it does!

Women of our generation are a breed apart when it comes to the art of being a Mega Bitch and when it comes to criticising other women we all seem to jump on the bandwagon with un-abandoned, zealous glee and will ravage each others looks and weight like the zombies that chase that poor Andrew Lincoln man on The Walking Dead.

My point is (Many apologies, I took the scenic route to get arrive here) is that we judge each other so freely and quickly, and whether someone wants to divulge their reasons for losing weight, gaining weight, growing a beard, shaving an eyebrow off or letting pubic hair grow long enough to do a fishtail braid, it really is not our business to ask why. 

My mother always taught me it was rude to ask any of the following; “How old are you?” ,“Do you know your breath smells?” And “Can I ask, how big is the circumference of your arse in centimetres?”.  

So if I ask if my arse looks big? Even if its looking the size of the Brazilian rainforest I’d rather live in ignorance, the answer is always a resounding ‘no’.

Peace out my lovelies.

Is anyone on a particular diet at the moment? If you have any questions about any of the diets I’ve mentioned or anything else (including fat jokes) drop me a comment in the box below or send an email to the usual place.

https://www.cambridgeweightplan.com/

www.weightwatchers.co.uk

http://uk.atkins.com/

http://www.slimfast.co.uk/

 http://eating-disorders.org.uk/

Disclaimer

Not everyone will agree with the method of weight loss as offered by The Cambridge Diet and for the record I neither endorse nor dissuade this particular program, it was suggested to me by a medical professional and thus far it’s working wonders for me.

It’s not in my interest to encourage or discourage any kind of weight gain or loss, particularly through any preferred diet companies. I have no affiliations with The Cambridge Diet company, in the interest of equal airtime I’d like to add that in the past I have used Weight Watchers, Slim Fast and the Atkins diet in order to lose weight. I have been overweight and underweight and during a very short period of my life suffered with bulimia which I quickly and fully recovered from. Everyone is different, and I would encourage anyone reading this to do whatever feels and works best for them in order to gain, lose or maintain their weight.

BRB

I'm still alive. Be back soon.

Happy Hanukkah and Lovely Latkes

www.seattleite.com

Hang on a cotton picking second...wasn't it July literally yesterday? How has December managed to swoop in with such stealth that none of us noticed until it was sitting in our laps?
As we all gear up for Christmas, Jew's the world over have been making preparations for Hanukkah (which has actually been and gone now since it landed on the 8th of December this year).

If like me, you're a total ignoramus whose knowledge of Hanukkah stretches as far as the Friends episode in which Ross dresses up as a giant armadillo, here is the very rough and very short version of the story of Hanukkah.

After the Maccabees's (a Jewish rebel army) reined victorious in 165 BC, the Jew's returned to Jerusalem to find that the Maccabean's  (the nasty buggers) had desecrated their temple by polluting the oil used for burning the lamps, leaving only enough oil for one lamp to burn.
When they did a stock take of all the oil they found there was only enough left for one day, but after pouring it into the lamp it happily lasted eight days, meaning they could give the temple a spruce up and re-stock their holy oil supplies (no next day delivery in those days).
Hanukkah is commemorated with an 8day long celebration, 'The Jewish Festival of Lights' and usually falls in November or December.

The upshot of all this is that the miracle of the oil is celebrated via the medium of food, and the deep frying of.
These yummy little potato cakes, called Latkes are only a teeny part of the glorious fried delights eaten during this holiday. This recipe is adapted from Nigella's How to Be a Domestic Goddess and these Latkes are the ultimate in stodgy comfort food, but they'd be perfect as little canapes if you were having a party or as part of a meal with maybe gammon and a pineapple relish, there really is no end to what you can do with these and eat them with and the recipe is so straight forward that once you've made them once you'll be gagging to whip them up again...just remember who let you in on the secret...

Lovely Latkes

Ingredients

• 1 Small white onion
• 700g Of potatoes (fluffy types like Maris Piper are perfect)
• 1 Egg (I use free range)
• 2 Tbsp's of self raising gluten-free flour (My flour of choice is as always Doves Farm)
• Salt and pepper to season
• Sunflower oil,and plenty of it

Extras

• Food Processor
• Frying pan (heavy based if you've got it)
• A big wodge of kitchen paper
• A tea towel
• Sieve

Method

• Start off by peeling your spuds and then halving them.
• Use the grater disc attachment your food processor to push them potatoes through. If you find yourself sans grater disc its time to get grating the old fashioned way and shred your 'tatoes using the coarsest side of the grater.
• Tip the spuds into a sieve and drain off all the starchy potato juice. Dump the lot onto a clean tea towel and dry them off, too wet and the Latke mixture will be too runny and soggy for frying and it'll spit like a cat unleashed from hell when you come to put them into the hot oil.
• Swap your grater attachment for the double blade and blitz the egg and self raising flour in the mixer.
• Peel and roughly chop your onion and feed it to the mixer, adding salt and pepper to taste and then give it all another quick whizz.
• Next throw in your dried off potatoes to the mixture, this time giving it a longer whizz. You want the mixture to be well Incorporated with the texture and consistency of porridge, don't puree it into oblivion.
• In your pan heat a decent slug (around 1cm deep) of the sunflower oil over a medium heat. You want the oil lightly bubbling but not eye wateringly smoking. A good tip I learnt recently for knowing when oil is done is to pop the end of a wooden spoon into the hot oil, if little bubbles appear around it then you're good to go.
• The Latkes are traditionally use around a tablespoon sized amount of the mixture, but you can easily halve that amount  and make the potato cakes more bite sized.
• Tablespoon sized cakes take around 4-5minutes on each side, halve that for the smaller sized Latke's. When you're ready to fry, plop your mixture into the hot oil and let the cakes fry for around 4-5 minutes before flipping them. 
• *TIP* Don't try and slide a spatula under the cakes as soon as they hit the hot oil,they'll stick. Wait a minute or so before trying as the mixture will have started to cook, automatically unsticking itself from the pan as it cooks.
• Once cooked, the Latke's should be golden and yummy looking. Spoon the cakes onto a few sheets of kitchen paper to absorb any excess oil. 
• Cook under the cover of darkness, when nobody is around to stop you impede on your taking the plateful and polishing the lot off yourself.

Twice as Nice...1 ingredient, 2 ways. Edition 2: Pumpkin

Pumpkins. As a nation us Brits probably only encounter a pumpkin when Halloween rolls round and even then I doubt many of us eat the innards after we've finished hacking a face into one. I know Pumpkin Pie is a Thanksgiving staple in the U.S but we don't have anything like that here and I think a lot of people are a bit daunted about where to start with a pumpkin and what to do it, and most of the time pumpkins are generally bigger than the International Space Station and unless you have a meat cleaver it's a bit of a battle trying to slice them to bits.

Anyway, there's a pumpkin farm in Slindon close to where we live and every Halloween that put on a massive display of all their different breeds of pumpkins, and it really is a bit mental how many different types of pumpkins there are..although I kept walking past a grey coloured one which I thought looked a bit rank but which then turned out to be a cat. For anyone as ignorant as me, pumpkins are part of the squash family and they literally do come in giant mahusive size and teeny tiny size. We chose a fairly small medium sized stewing pumpkin (the green one) and a smaller 'onion' pumpkin (the orange one). 

My dad has been a member of the British Heart Foundation for almost two years now and every quarter they send out a newsletter with loads and loads of heart healthy recipes (if you have heart problems or know someone who does get yourself signed up to be a member because they're a brilliant charity) and in the last issue there were a couple of recipes Dad and I thought we could tweak and change so they were gluten-free and utilised the pumpkins we'd scouted. Sorted.

Ingredients

• 'Onion' pumpkin or small squash of similar size (around 6oz/175g)
• 1Tbsp of rapeseed or olive oil
• A small onion 
• 1 Tsp of ground cumin
• 2 Eggs
• 2oz Of feta cheese crumbled (or Cheddar grated)
• 100ml milk (I used semi skimmed)
• 1 Pack of Dietary Specials Shortcrust Pastry or if you fancy making your own pastry here's my recipe
• Pinch of paprika 
• Salt and pepper to season

 Extras

• 1 cupcake tray or if you want one big pie a flan tin
• Rolling pin
• Baking parchment
•  A big baking tray
• A wicked sharp knife

Method

• Pop your oven up to around Gas mark 5 and grease your baking tray/tin
• Roll out your pastry fairly thin and then use it to line the tray, before lining each with some baking parchment and weighing it down with baking beans or rice. Pop in the oven and blind bake for around 8-10mins then remove from the oven and leave to one side.
• Whack your oven up to gas 7 and start chopping your veg. The pumpkin/squash needs to be deseeded,skinned and then diced up to roughly the size of a sugar cube. Repeat with the onion but dice it to half the size of the pumpkin.
• Throw the onions and pumpkin in a bowl with the oil and the spices and give it a good mix so its all well coated in the oil before you scatter it on your baking tray. Pop the lot in the oven, it should take around 20minutes to cook and you'll need to give it a bit of a stir and poke about half way through. Turn the oven down to gas 5 again.
• Spoon the veggie mix into the tart cases (removing the parchment first!) and crumble a small amount of cheese onto each tart
• In a bowl whisk the eggs and milk together and the pour an even amount of the milk/egg mixture over the top of the veg mix.
• Pop the tarts in the oven for around 15-20mins, they shouldn't take any longer than that because they're so tiny so keep a good eye on them. They'll be set and the pastry should be starting to golden when they're ready. 
• Take them out the oven and wait until they've cooled down a tad before you try and fish the tarts out of the tray.
• Warning: These are deceptively moreish, make and eat at your own peril!

Ingredients

• 1 Tbsp of olive oil 
• 2 white medium onions
• 1lb/450g of pumpkin (or butternut squash)
• 1 1/2 pints of veggie stock
• 2 large sticks of celery
• 2 Tsp of ground cumin
• 2 Tsp of ground coriander
• creme fresh (optional)

Extras

• Food processor or blender
• Large baking tray
• Big frying pan

Method

• Peel and deseeded your pumpkin/squash and chop up into cubes, then pop in the oven at around Gas 6 for around 20minutes until soft.
• Chop up your onions and celery, slug your oil into the frying pan and then throw in your onions and celery and cook until softened. Add your spice and let the whole lot stew for about a minute before adding the pumpkin and stock. 
• Bring to the boil and then turn down to simmer, pop a lid on the pan and cook down for around 20-25minutes, giving it a poke every now and then.
• Once cooked, throw the whole lot into the blender and whizz up until completely smooth and pureed. 
• The soup can be frozen and lasts for about 3 months in the freezer (bonus) but if you want some then and there, pop however much soup you'd like in a pan and heat gently until hot.
• Plop in some creme fresh or enjoy sans creme.

For the original recipes and more recipes ideas visit the British Heart Foundation

Our Version of Events

Doesn’t time fly when you’re being pumped full of drugs with an NHS blanket on your lap and a junior doctors finger up your bum? I’ve no idea what they’re looking for, but if it’s the lost treasure of Sierra Leone they’re going to be sadly disappointed.

It’s been a long time since I last posted, about 5months now and I’ve missed it far more than I thought I would.

In June, after 7years together my ex left me (don’t worry this isn’t going to be a bitter break up story because quite frankly I don’t want to waste the oxygen), which came at a bad time (if there is ever a good time for someone to leave you for someone else.).

My depression had been slowly percolating in the background since the start of the year and being dropped on my arse was just the kick off the ledge I needed to make me completely lose my shit.

I’ve talked about my old friend D.Pression on here before, but this time things were significantly different, and although I don’t credit Steve leaving me as a catalyst but his exit to stage left was just the olive floating in the cocktail of crap.

By the time Friday arrived 5days post break-up, I looked like I’d been rolling around in a sty, I wasn’t really speaking and shuffled about like a cry for help with hair like Worzel Gummidge, in leggings with a hole in the crotch the size of my fist and a sweater so grubby it could have walked to the washing basket by itself.

I was being a twat. I knew I was, and even now,looking back knowing I was up to my knee’s in it and that my depression was to blame for 90% of how I was feeling I’m still organ cringingly, desperately embarrassed by the fuss I was making. My depression was like trying to juggle a hot spud with my feet and TOBP’s  (always consistently badly timed!) were getting worse.

I saw a lovely doctor in A&E, who was, of course, gorgeous because it’s in the NHS rule book that when you have to go anywhere medically related and its concerning anything to do with your bowels or poo they wheel out a good looking doctor from a room next door to cupboard where they keep the blankets.

I was moved down to another ward where a doctor who we shall call Dr.Trevor (because that was his name) and another doctor who we will call Dr. Nobhead (because he was one) waved TOBP’s problems off as gastroenteritis and referred to my depression as ‘emotional problems’ whilst using inverted comma fingers. Bastard. I’d have kneed him in the groin if I weren’t dragging an IV stand around with me like a border collie.

I would have been discharged but the nurse who was looking after me must have taken pity on me or must have looked at the state of my hair and judged that it hadn’t seen a brush in a week and he rang the on call physiatric nurse to come and see me.

It sounds an exaggeration (of which I am aware that I am prone) but I’m not sure where I’d be if the nurse hadn’t made that call for me. I was given some diazepam to tide me over until I was to see the physiatrist on Tuesday and I was sent home in a daze and totally addled like when you come out of the Debenham’s New Year sales.

Tuesday rolled round. I was hoping for the whole leather couch get up and ink blot tests, but instead I got a bloke with an accent and trousers so tight I could make out several parts of his anatomy and who listened to his voice messages the entire time I was there. He asked me if I thought I’d hurt myself and at the time, horrible as it sounds, I honestly didn’t know that I wouldn’t if pushed to my limits and I said as much, to which he winked and said ‘best to hide the pills from you then, no? ha-ha! ….”. I’m always happy to take the piss out of myself and laugh at the many delicacies of my various health problems but at that moment if I’d had the energy and will I would’ve snapped his shitting iphone over my knee. He sent me away with anti-depressants and sleeping tablets. His one saving grace.

By the evening my supposed ‘gastroenteritis’ had got much worse and my Dad and I made the trek to a&e to wait in a packed waiting room until I was seen by a doctor who took one look at my veins which are now become so small they can’t be seen by the naked eye that he physically ran for the phone faster than the speed of sound.

I have regaled the many times the collective staff of the NHS has tried to get an IV in me. Even getting blood from me is like getting it from a HD telly, having it taken from my femoral vein (groin) in the past (although thank cheese on chips I’d done a bit of landscape gardening with the Venus that day)

This time was no different, the poor Matron attempted for 40mins to find a vein big enough for a line that would last longer than a fart. By the time she found one my Dad was the colour of a 70’s bathroom tiles and the Matron had a bit of a dab on but she managed to get a cannula in the underside of my wrist which pinched like hot hair tongs on a naked thigh, and lasted a fairly impressive  two hours.

The nice young doctor who came in to examine me attempted another search for a vein. I’d been soaking my feet in hot water to raise a few veins (since my arms and hands were shot to shit) and to my acute embarrassment Mr. Dishy Dr (in all his floppy hair, snug trousered glory) took my feet from the bowl and proceeded to dry them with a towel and then massaged (massaged. I’m sure if I was anatomically able, I’d have had a hard on) them to get the veins up a bit more. While this was going on I fought the urge not to die on the spot. Suffice to say he got it in. The line. He got the line in.

The line lasted  24 hours and my foot swelled up to look like something not unlike a pigs trotter, and it was decided that it would be best for me (but I suspected more for the poor bugger's hunting for a vein) that I would have a PICC line inserted. A PICC is basically a very thin catheter inserted in a big ol’ vein in your arm, which leads to your heart. The beauty of the PICC is that they can take blood from the line and while a normal IV has to be changed every 72hours, the PICC can stay in for months. What a marvellous invention. Every modern home should have one!

In the end I was in hospital for a week while they tried to sort out the inflammation in my bowel with a 7day course of Officially The Worst Antibiotics In The World Ever, which made me feel as rough as arse holes and made me so sick that I wondered if it was at all possible if you could in fact die from nausea.

Although I would usually prefer to eat my own kidney than go into hospital (I usually have to be backed into a corner like a wild animal trying to dodge a tranquiliser dart) but this time it was different. It was probably the best thing to happen to me both physically and mentally. With my depression reaching new heights (or lows however way you want to look at it) my health lurching from one disaster to the next quicker than the Waltzers I was definitely on the want for some structure and shape to my life. And the hospital in all its army style rigour and routine gave me the structure I needed to be able to gain back the reins of my depression.

Tootsie IV, Hard drugs, potassium, Best Plasters In The World Ever.

So. As it stands. Obama is back in the Oval Office, I’m a Celebrity is on our screens yet again, and I’m officially in love with that James Arthur kid with the tattoo’s and the swagger on X Factor.  

My health is ticking along as it always has done (I’ve been in hospital three times since the admission in June) and my depression is significantly improved for which I am pant wettingly grateful.

I’m currently attending group sessions as part of my ‘recovery’ from depression (you can't see my expression, but by 'eck its dubious). I say ‘attending’, but I haven’t actually attended a session yet after someone told me they make you blow bubbles. Proper bubbles. I’m not sure I’m ready for a One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest type scenario so I’m still trying to decide what's best for me in terms of moving along with my depression, something that doesn’t include listening to Mumford and Son’s on repeat or eating my body weight in Tangtastics.

I’m still getting there but how things are now to how they were makes me feel optimistic that I’m moving on however gastropodically slow it may be.

So, thank-you for reading this very self-indulgent post and for being the best and most patient readers a blogger could have, thanks for sticking around.

Also a few other thank-you’s to people who have helped me pick myself up and dust myself off, again, and who deserve lots more than a mere ‘ta for that’; Skye, Suz, Anna, Caz, Jo, Bun’s, Hazel, Cal, Soph and Tom.

Uh-mazing cheer-me-up parcel from Caz, Me, The PICC, Get Well pressies from Anna,

Normal recipe posting shall resume shortly........

Cheeky Cinnamon French Toast

Breakfast is my favourite meal of the day, but lets face it during the week nobody has the time or the inclination to fanny about cooking up an elaborate breakie.
So come the weekend its always nice to pull your finger out and make a bit more of effort.
This was a bit of a spur of the moment thing, I only had a basic recipe which I changed and embellished and this was the fruits of my labour, or not as the case may be as its a super quick and really easy recipe with loads of ways you can customise it to your tastes. Plus its ridiculously yummy. Fact.
So dig your frying pan out sharpish and get cooking...you can thank me later.

Ingredients                                                                                 
(serves 4)

• 8 Slices of gluten free bread (2 slices per person)*
• 1 Tsp cinnamon
• 75g Butter plus extra for frying
• 4 Eggs (free range)
• Maple syrup
• Icing sugar for dusting
• 2 Tbsp of caster sugar
• 2-3 Handfuls of mixed fruit (I used raspberries and strawberries but you could use banana's, blueberries or whatever fruit you like)

*I used Sainsbury's Freefrom White Sliced Bread, the slices are smaller and hold the mixture better without falling apart as it can with larger sliced bread like Genius.

Extras

• Frying pan
• Shallow dish
• Sieve

Method

• Start off by slicing your strawberry tops off and halving them, throw them in a bowl with the raspberries (if you're using bananas you won't need to do this stage) and sprinkle over the sugar and give them a stir and put aside while you get on with Frenching your bread.
• Melt the butter in the microwave and stir in the cinnamon. In your shallow dish crack in your eggs and whisk them until well beaten. Pour in your cinnamon/butter mix and whisk the whole lot together thoroughly.
• Throw a large knob of butter into the frying and melt over a medium to low heat until the butter starts to froth. Keep the heat on the lower side, whacking it up high will burn the butter which smells and tastes beyond rank.
• Dip your bread in the egg mixture, laying them down into the dish soaking one side before turning it over and repeating the process on the other side. 
• Lay the bread face down and fry for around 30 seconds, pressing the bread down with the underside of a spatula. Once golden brown, flip over and repeat the process on the other side and then with the other slices of bread. 
• Dish the bread up onto a plate covered with a few sheets of kitchen towel to soak up any excess grease and then dish up onto a clean plate.
• To serve, pile a good old heap of your fruit and a little bit of the fruit liquor over your French toast, dribble over some maple syrup and sieve over a light dusting of icing sugar. 
• If you don't find this breakie yummy I shall eat my shoes. And my hat. Eat, enjoy and don't tell anyone..we don't want everyone knowing..

T'was a Crohn Christmas And an Epileptic New Year

Image sent from a friend originally from tumblr

At this point you will most probably be thinking 'Eh up, who's this chick rolling up into my Reading List?' for which you'd be forgiven.
But its only me, back from the depths of illness..whoever suggested I had expired (is a cheeky bugger) was a tad misinformed, because like Britney Spears virginity this is nowt but urban myth, I'm alive, struggling to get well and have spent the last few months shuttling back and forth between the hospital and my leopard print onesie.

Since the start of December last year up until now a flare up of The Other Bowel Problems have kept me firmly ensconced in a groundhog day of A&E, collapsed veins, numerous personal questions about my bowel habits, a litany of interrogations by various doctors, trundling around various wards dragging drip stands with wonky wheels, hospital meals I wouldn't feed my dog, endless days of reading old copies of Take a Break and Woman's Own and eavesdropping on whats wrong with the other patients on any given ward.
Thankfully it hasn't been one long hospital stay and I've mostly got away with only spending a few nights there at a time, thank all that is holy because if id have been in that hospital since Christmas I would probably be dictating this post to someone outside my padded cell rather than typing it up myself from the comfort of my own bed.
TOBP's (like Eamon Holmes presenting skills) have been in a steady state of decline for months (but feels like its been going on since the year dot) and have been dragging my mental down the dunny with it.
This aggravates the absolute eye teeth out of me, because the last thing anyone wants when they feel rough as arse-holes is to feel mentally unhinged as well..but this is just my bodies way of heaping a pile of cream on top of the a crap sundae I was already being dished up.
I have been enjoying (this is lies, there has been no enjoying) various tests on my bowels with varying degrees of invasion into my privacy and dignity.
A few weeks ago I had an MRI for which I had to knock back 2 litre's of some very funky tasting jollop and then had to try and clamber up onto a glorified tea tray and arrange myself face down on it with as much dignity as I could muster in a hospital issue gown (Versace it wasn't) while the doctor and MRI technician pretended not to notice my older than time itself knickers which once beheld diamante studs spelling out S E X Y across my bum but which now only have the E and the X and part of the Y left and none of the elastic.
I'm assuming this fresh battery of tests is part of my gastroenterologists 'Lets Get Kate Well So I Don't Have To See Her On My Ward Every Week' master plan.
At least I'm hoping so, because at the moment there seems to be an awful lot of standing around looking at the steak dinner and no actual eating of it.
All I seem to be doing is knocking back tablets which seem to just slightly dilute my symptoms down to less ball achy versions of themselves...which feels like my doctor has given me a plastic hammer to bang in iron nails with.

Around New Year I always have a last ditch attempt at shelving my cynicism and naively hoping that this will be the year I finally clear all the crap out from underneath my bed// They find a cure for cancer...and its Cadburys chocolate// I finally tell my friend it was me who put my hand in the coat of paint she'd just spent ages doing in her bathroom// That George Lucas finally stops twatting about with the Star Wars films// and that is will be the year my doctor pulls his finger out and TOBP's become manageable enough that I can start getting a semblance of a life back together (oh but isn't woe me?).
Its obviously never come to fruition (although if Anna is reading this I'm sorry about the paint job!) but every year I do a secret finger crossing because its no real skin off my nose...except however much I try to act like making a new years wish is just a bit of silly arsing about there's still the teeny tiny, corny Disney wishing percentage part of my brain that hopes George Lucas will stop trying to find things to ruin in Return of The Jedi and that when I say 'This will be the year I get better' I actually will.
But this year I didn't bother to do my customary attempt at Healthy Eating during the first week of January, nor did I attempt to put a lid on the potty mouth and stop saying shit, bollocks or wanking-nora, and I certainly didn't bother wasting wishes or New Years resolutions from my Pigs Might Fly Fund on hoping 2012 would be The Year I'm Healthy.
Well the wish fairies obviously did not take kindly to my attempt at thwarting them with a bluff this year and hence this has been the worst year for TOBP's in living memory...and also a new kick in the taco health concern which shot into my life to spice things up at Easter...

So...the long and short of it is that as of this week I'm being treated for Epilepsy.
My doctors still don't know if that's definitely what it is (because trying to get a straight answer out of a doctor is like trying to get a cat to bark) but its a safe assumption after looking at my tests and observing my seizures over the last week.
I had my first fit about a month ago on Easter weekend (I had up til that point never had a seizure in my life) I remember absolutely nothing about what happened but came to in my bed to find my poor mum standing over me wearing her best 'That's 20 more grey hairs you have just given me Kate' look and a paramedic that looked like Right Said Fred stood next to her...unable to remember much the first sensible question to ask seemed to be 'so whats the crack?' , and it turned out I'd had a seizure and not just a little twitch either, a full blown legs-doing-the-can-can-fit and since I couldn't even say what day it was ('what day is it Kate?' 'Thursday' it was Sunday) much less make a decision myself it was decided that I should probably go to A&E (because I hadn't been there enough apparently)...and all this in my skankiest pyjama's...the only saving grace is that I didn't tiddle myself.
Anyway, since then I've had over 30 seizures of varying seriousness and this week my neurologist decided it would be safer for me to be in hospital than at home so that's where I've been until I came home on Friday.

I wanted to write this post just to explain where I've been for the past few months, I've felt awful for ignoring my blog and abandoning twitter but I felt like any posts I did while I've been as ill as I have been and felt as mentally done in as I was would have been halfhearted, half arsed pieces of crap. This is categorically not a 'give me sympathy give me attention' post, because I don't want any of either, quite frankly any attention for being ill is not what I think of as well earned, I'd rather be the eye of the storm for doing something of interest rather than something of interest happening to me. It was important for me to tell you where I've been and why there has been a distinct lack of posts around the place.

While Crohn's (TOBP's) and Coeliac's have been my life since I was 20 and I know the ins and outs of a ducks arse where they are both concerned I have little to no knowledge of epilepsy or seizures so if any of you guys are epileptic, if you know any good websites, could recommend treatment medications etc or just tell me anything about it that I won't squeeze out of a doctor I'd love to hear from you and if you don't want to leave a comment for the rest of the rabble to read you're more than welcome to email me thekatieboobaker@hotmail.co.uk.

I've really missed your mushes...the blog and being part of twitter has bought some UH-mazing people into my life and all your tweets, emails and texts have been more than lovely and the support you've given me has left me lost for words sometimes (which you will probably know by now is a virtual impossibility without a balled up pair of socks and some duct tape).
But even with all the health bollocks I'm a very lucky girl indeed, Thank-you to all the Katie-Boo babes who stuck around, from the bottom of my heart.

Pinkmas

Sorry in advance to any male readers or those with severe aversion to pink, I just couldn't help but do another pink Christmas post...it's as involuntary as wanting to smack Lee Evans in the face. So sit back and feast your eyes on this little lot (including the gorgeous Skye's beautifully made knitted headbands from her shop 'i am hand-made').

From left-right: Via weheartit.com , i am hand-made , John Lewis, Paperchase, Paperchase, Via weheartit.com , Sainsburys, Via  weheartit.com , John Lewis.

From left-right Sainsburys, Via weheartit.com , Via Etsy, Via weheartit.com , Via weheartit.com , Accessorize , Paperchase, Paperchase, Via weheartit.com

Ever-so Nice Eggnog Creams

I've got to be honest and say I'm not keen on traditional X-mas desserts like Figgy Pudding, and since I became chef de jour at casa de Jeffs the responsibility has fallen to me to do the pud for Christmas day, and the past few years it has gone well (although we shan't mention the disaster with a Jamie yule log recipe...I'm still bitter).
Last year I made these Eggnog creams and they were yummy and not massively heavy either which you don't want when your so full to bursting with turkey and 'tatoes that you couldn't even wedge a sprout in. So if you fancy something different from the run of the mill Fig-Pud or X-mas cake give these creams a go, you won't regret it.


Ingredients

• 300ml Double Cream
• 500ml Milk
• 60ml Brandy (if you want to make the pud alcohol free skip the brandy)
• 1/2 Vanilla extract
• 1 Vanilla Pod
• 1 Cinnamon stick
• 1 Tsp of nutmeg
• 4 Large egg yolks
• 110g Caster sugar
• Pinch of salt
• 2 Sheets of gelatin

Extras

• Electric whisk
• Around 8 glasses or bowls that will hold around 150ml worth of the creams.

Method

• Split your vanilla pod and scrape out the seeds. Throw the pod and seeds in a nice big saucepan with the milk and the cinnamon stick and simmer over a medium heat until just below boiling point (Don't boil it!). Take it off the heat and let it all stew away and infuse for about an hour.
• In a bowl beat together the egg yolks, brandy, sugar, the salt and vanilla extract with your electric whisk (unless your a glutton for punishment and want to do it by hand). Keep whisking until the mixture is pale, stiff and thick. 
• Next reheat the milk mixture that's been infusing for an hour over a the lowest heat and then sieve it over the egg/brandy mix. Give it a ruddy good stir.
• Get yourself a clean pan and pour in the milk and egg mix and cook over an uber low hear for about 4 minutes to make your custard which should be smooth and lump free (don't overcook).
• In a bowl soak your gelatin leaves until they're soft. Ring them out to remove the excess water. Throw in with your custard and give it all a good stir until the gelatin dissolves.
• Get yourself a big bowl or fill the sink with iced water and pour your custard into another bowl and then place it into the iced water, giving it a stir every now and then until its cooled down and has thickened up, (you don't want it to set).
• Whisk your double cream until its thickened and peaking. Fold it gently into the cooled custard until well mixed and spoon into your serving glasses or bowls.
• After around 4hours the mixture will have set and will be ready for the eating...dust them with an arty farty grating of nutmeg and after a couple of glasses of mulled wine try not to let it end up in your lap.

Adapted from Delicious Magazine 2010

Majestic Mulling Syrup

Can you tell I'm starting to run out of adjectives for my recipe posts? The recipe can be used to make mulled wine or cider, although please forgive me for having not tried it with cider since even mentioning the word cider brings back haunting memories of my first ever escapade into alcohol at 13 which resulted in much barfing and eventually being picked up by my dad after my friends exhausted their combined powers of patience and nursing care as as I lay gagging in a bush.

Ingredients

• 2 Fresh Oranges
• 2 Cinnamon sticks (I get mine from Holland&Barrett)
• Small cube of ginger
• 1/2 Whole nutmeg (You can get packs of whole nutmeg in Holland&Barrett for cheap)
• 9oz Caster sugar (granulated will do)
• 6 Whole allspice berries
• 4 Whole cloves

Extras

• Bottles that can hold around 800ml of the mulling syrup (sterilised, see how here)
• Very fine sieve

Method

• Pop a litre of water in a heavy bottomed saucepan (you'll need a fairly big pan). Slice your oranges in half and throw them in with the rest of the ingredients and the nutmeg which you need to grate before adding. 
• Over a low heat bring the whole lot to a simmer. Make sure all the sugar has dissolved before turning down the heat and simmering for  another 20 minutes. 
• Leave it to cool down and then strain it.
• If your not using your syrup right away you need to reheat it all until its hot, then pour into your bottles and seal them shut while its hot.
• If you want to use the syrup then and there (and why the hell wouldn't you eh?) heat 400mls of syrup with around 750ml of cider or red wine. Perhaps save getting sozzled until after you've put up the tree or risk being fished out of your spruce by a family member.
• PS. Keep the syrup dark and cool and it should keep for up to 3 months. 

Adapted from BBC Good Food

Dear Diary

I haven't done a self indulgent update/diary post for yonks have I? This is either indicative of my rather uneventful life or my bone idleness. I prefer you believed the latter!

First off...how do we all like the new look of things around here? I finally got round to putting up the header my gorgeous Skye designed for me a few months back, and I love it. Remember this gorgeous little cupcake cross stitch Skye did for me a while back? Well she's only gone and opened her own online shop i am hand-made stuffed with loads of gorgeous cross stitches (and loads of other lovely things in the pipeline) everything is on sale at the moment so check it out for perfect stocking fillers.

It's a bit of a work in progress as far as the blog makeover is concerned, I wanted to get the whole lot done at once but I've not be terribly well again so I've had to do it in drips and drabs when I've felt well enough, plus I'm not exactly what you would call a whizz with the HTML so sometimes I find it as hard going as my gran finds trying to get out of a beanbag, but I thought my little old blog deserved some TLC after making the Cosmo Blog Awards shortlist!

Ruby over at Rubelle's Moon is giving herself the ultimate Gluten-Free Challenge of trying to cook various gluten-free recipes...kudos to Ruby though, she's doing some tricky things I have never attempted like puff pastry and naan bread. I challenged her too make gluten-free bagels, and gave her my mincemeat recipe shes making as part of her challenge. Shes lovely so go check out her blog and give her loads of support and encouragement!


Caleigh from Gluten Freek has organised a gluten-free 12 days of Christmas and asked myself and a few other gluten-free blogger's to be involved. the premise being that we all cook something different on each of the 12 days. I called dibs on the Gingerbread recipe which coincides nicely with my own Christmas challenge...last year it was to make my own mincemeat with the ultimate intention to whip up gluten-free mince pies for the first time ever...this year I'm attempting a gluten-free gingerbread house. I'm both excited and absolutely bricking it...I don't possess the gentlest of touches so the likely hood that i muck the house up on the first few attempts by putting a finger through the roof or snapping a wall in half out of sheer excitement is very high.

I've created a new page on the blog which is dedicated to readers pictures of my recipes. So if anyone has had a go at any of my recipes and has any snaps do pass them along and I'll whack you up in the hall of fame 'Your Katie-boo Bakes and Makes' what a snazzy page name, eh? Email me at thekatieboobaker@hotmail.co.uk or drop me a tweet @katieboobaker .

A few weeks ago we got a 14week old kitten from the Charity Worthing Cats Protection League-although with this little physco cat it's us that needs protecting more than him. He will eat anything, chase anything and hang off anything. He launches himself at your pj toggles and chews on any stray wisps of hair escaping my pony tail. We literally haven't a clue what the crapping Nora we're going to do at Christmas when the little bugger is left alone with the tree or presents. He's scales the curtains like a commando and uses my room like an obstacle course and I can imagine him mulling over the Christmas tree as some sort of challenge he must complete, like a kitty Everest of sorts. Christ.

Anyway. This has turned out to be a rather wordy post and its going to be rather picture heavy too, many apologies. I shall hopefully be back tomorrow with a Twice as Nice post.

Bought various winter woollies to keep the cold out. Dietary Specials kindly sent me some of the new recipe frozen goodies to try out and I can confirm they were all very yummy. I've started drawing again in an attempt at diverting my attention when The Other Bowel Problems are causing me pain, it isn't always ideal especially when all I want to do is lay down but its helping.

Sorted my baking cupboard out in an attempt at order before the Xmas baking rush is upon me. I'm living off coffee and fruit tea's at the moment with it being so cold. Been trying to sort out my recipe books and order them but I'm rapidly running out of bookshelf space.

Sainsburys' very nicely sent me a selection of the new items from the Free From range, reviews coming soon! Enjoying finding gluten-free goodies, loving this g/f cereal, miso soup and taco trays.

My gorgeous bracelet from Becky as my consolation prize for not winning the Cosmo blog awards! Keeping my hot water bottle topped up in this weather and while I've been poorly and spraying my pillows with this sleep therapy spray to help me relax at night. I've been flicking through my Kath Kidson 'Sew' book for pressie ideas to make for my friends.

Found a lovely frame for my lovely Flo print from Natasha at The Secret Tea Party, discovering gluten-free chips are available at my local chippie ALL THE TIME and once a month you can get g/f onion rings,sausages and fish! Here's Sleeping Physco himself. Finally getting film for my Diana.

Mum bought me this a few weeks ago after I made the Cosmo blog shortlist, the F got bent after the whole thing fell off the top of my wardrobe and onto her head.

Just A Bunch Of Hocus Pocus

Since I’m 26, and no longer in a position where trick or treating and dressing up in an Disney Princess Costume won’t look weird/creepy (no matter how short and childlike I appear) I have to satisfy my inner child and love of this time of year with Hocus Pocus marathons and marvelling at various blogger skills with a knife when it comes to pumpkin carving (Looking at you Beth!).

Although as I’ve said before these are about the only few things I love about Halloween. As I’m officially A Grumpy Old Cow now I usually kick off Hallow’s eve by unplugging the doorbell to deter children from begging for Cadbury's Giant Buttons and Haribo at my house. But I have to admit I do miss dressing up and knocking back a skin-full and then attempting to gain entry to a club which is filled to the rafters with girls dressed as slutty versions of every possible variation of animal. Many a year I enjoyed drunkenly trying to apply cat whiskers to my own face with liquid eyeliner which I’d be trying to hastily rub off the next day on the way to a lecture.

Anyway, I thought I'd make the effort to get into the Halloween swing of things with a I want/I love  list of goodies for you to have a butchers at. 

From left-right: Skull and cross bones ice cube tray, Bat cookie cutter, Plastic candelabra, Spiderweb placement, Halloween bunting, skull plug stopper, Spiderweb cake stand, Misted tumbler, Candle.

From Left-Right: Gluten-free carrot&ginger cake, Pumpkin party bags, Squash soup, Beth's awesome pumpkin carving, Pumpkin soup, Hummingbird Halloween cupcakes, Bodum whisker, Halloween pegs, Paper lanterns.

Speedy Sides: Edition 2

I'm usually the sort of person who is repelled by fruit in salads, or nuts in curries or any of that other faff. Its like drinking a pint of water when you need a wee, it goes against the grain. But saying all that my dad made this marvelous little salad from the September issue of Delicious magazine (which if you don't read you should since it's awesome) and after I tinkered about with it and made it to my liking, I thought I'd shove it (belatedly) up on here for you to have a butchers at. I know strictly speaking we're well into autumn and in this weather we're way beyond thinking about salads, but this salad is warm and with all the orange-ness it doesn't look a bit Halloween-Esq (clutching desperately at those straws now).

 

      Ingredients

          Total Time:20 minutes

• 3 Nectarines
• A good old glug of olive oil
• 3 Tsp's of caster sugar
• Mixed baby leaf salad
• 200g Of feta or Gorgonzola (or any crumbly sour cheese)

For the dressing you'll need...

• A Tbsp glug of white wine vinegar
• A tsp of runny honey
• A tsp of gluten-free grainy mustard
• 5 Tbsp's of olive oil

Method

• Start off by halving your nectarines and getting rid of the stones, then cut all the halves into nice chunky wedges.
• Mix up your dressing by popping all the ingredients in a clean jam jar and giving the whole lot a really good shake until its well mixed and yummy.
• You don't have to use a griddle pan but its the best thing for cooking your nectarines. Pop it over a medium/high heat until its getting on for pretty hot. 
• Dunk your nectarine pieces in the olive oil,making sure they're all well coated and then carefully place them on the hot griddle. your going to want to cook them for around 30-40 seconds on each side but be careful they don't burn at such warm temperatures.
• Once you've cooked them on both sides, sprinkle on the caster sugar and balsamic vinegar. It will make a bit of  a splutter (like your parents when you used to go out in a mini skirt when you were 15), but it will reduce down straight away.
• Take the nectarines out the pan straight away or they'll burn, you just want to glaze the fruit not preserve them for pickling.
• Assemble your baby leaves and feta on a plate after tossing them in a bowl with 80% off the dressing.
• Arrange in a fart arty sort of way on the plate, laying your nectarines in the most pretentious assemble as you can manage and pour over the rest of the dressing.
• Serve with steak or a bit of white fish with a flourish and a 'I know I'm awesome,what of it' gleam in your eye.

Blimey.

Well bugger me. Not actually mind, metaphorically.

When I was umming and ahhing over my depression post over the last 8months, re-reading it, picking holes in it and bottling it every time I came to publish it, I never ever thought it would get the reaction it did. For me, publishing such a personal post meant only preparing for the an inevitable shit storm of possible ignorant or mean comments.

Oh but how wrong I was. The cynic is eating humble pie my friends (and oh it’s a bittersweet pill/pie to swallow) because 100% of the feedback I received was positive, supportive, kind and quite frankly overwhelming.

I never wrote the post with a view to getting sympathy because Christ knows I’d rather receive sympathy for my love of syntho pop than for being saddled with a mental illness. Publishing the post put me in the company of those who were out the depression closet (No hope of finding Narnia in that MDF monstrosity) and other than making me feel extremely vulnerable it put me in the position of being able to talk about my depression in a (however misguided) attempt to create not just more understanding but also for anyone- from a long term follower, or someone stumbling across my blog on the off chance- to find some comfort however small in the fact someone else is out there feeling the same thing.

When your caught up in depression, as I’m sure any sufferer will tell you, its very easy to get spun up in how YOU feel, it can be hard to imagine that there are other people everyday going through the same thing.

For me, acknowledging that to myself and finally when I decided to write this post marked a significant turning point when I started to think of my depression in less selfish terms, and started to think in terms of ‘how can I turn this shit into gold’. Not actual gold like, I’m not David Blaine, but it has taken me a long  time to sieve through the crap to syphon off something positive not just in my depression but my physical illness as well.

Not that writing the post wasn’t cathartic to a point, but it was never my intention to use it in an exercise in self therapy.

So, thank-you to everyone who read the post, commented on it and tweeted or emailed me about it, this might have you running for the sick buckets but it made all the stress and worry about posting it all worth it and it meant an awful lot to me that people took the time to tell me what the post meant to them personally. It was like being  Professor X in his little brain pod and finding all the mutants all over the world, I felt like I was opening up a (good) can of worms. I don’t want to jinx myself but saying this, but writing that post was a big turning point for me in getting on the long and dusty road to getting better, in every sense of the word.

But listen guys, you can’t let this stuff go to my head, promise? But be gentle, yeah? I’ve got depression over here :P

I just want to say a massive thank-you to everyone who nominated and then voted for me for the Cosmo Blog Awards. Sadly I didn't win, but the awesome Skinny Latte Strikes Back won in my category and the lovely girls over at Where Are My Knees? won the commended blog which is fab news! I was gutted I couldn't go, but as per usual I was at the mercy of TOBP's but it looked like everyone had an amazing time (the jammy lot) and all the girls looked gorgeous and sparkly. So Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you.

I guess thats why they call it the blues

You weren't 'alf right Elt!

 There’s nothing quite like the immortal words ‘I have depression’ to piss all over a conversation (although ‘I used to be a man’ might do it) and there will always be someone (friend/family or stranger) who upon hearing this news who will bolt for the hills like Seabiscuit.

Lets face it though, there’s so many misconceptions and misunderstandings attached to depression and mental illness its no wonder sufferers don’t tell anyone what they’re going through. And crap as it is, there will always be people who jump ship as soon as you bring the subject up.

Depression, like Enrique Iglesias’ mole, is something we all know is there, but a thing we just never acknowledge. With 9% * of us in the UK suffering from the big ‘D’  and an estimated 450million people worldwide who will suffer from a mental health disorder at some point in their lives, you’d think we’d all be talking about it a bit more, but it seems the less we do the more it gains the enigmatic mystery illness status that people avoid talking about and have trouble understanding.

So why am I discussing my own depression on here -a blog about coeliacs and baking- you might ask (and Christ knows I have asked myself the same question!) and I have to be honest and say although its beyond hard for me to share (I’d have an easier time giving up an eyeball), let alone talk about with anyone, I think above all else I suppose I wanted to set an example that depression can happen to anyone, that anyone can get lumped with it, even the most unlikely of people (not that I’m necessarily unlikely mind).  I wanted to show that depression doesn’t mean you’re insane (however bonkers you can appear-like me) or thats its similar to feeling ‘a bit blue’ like you would on a bad hair/big arse day.

But it’s not laying in bed all day listening to the Titanic soundtrack with a face like a slapped arse crying into your pillow. It encompasses symptoms beyond feeling sad, being low and not being yourself, the particulars of which I hope you’ll understand I won’t be talking about in this post.

I can attest that admitting you have depression can be as difficult as having it, and trying to explain it to someone who hasn’t experienced it (whether having it or dealing with someone who has) can be a bigger ball-ache than teaching a German Shepherd Steven Hawkings A Brief History of time.

In the almost ten years that I have suffered with depression I’ve seen varied reactions from the people I’ve told, from a friend who looked at me with a look of astonishment that one as bonkers as me was prowling the streets and not locked up in a padded room, another who asked ‘couldn’t you just snap out of it?’ as if it hadn’t occurred to me that if I shook my head hard enough, rang Jim’ll fix it or get Harry Potter to wave his wand the problem would go away, to the people who ‘get it’ and understand.

Looking back its fairly easy to map a pattern in my depression over the years because it tends to rear its head in times of my life that have been hard, sad or stressful.

This time the finger points at the culprit of The Other Bowel Problems (what the ruddy nora else,eh?) slowly zapping my confidence and self esteem which (queue violins) has left me feeling depressed, anxious and isolated.

In the past I’ve had counselling, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) and various anti-depressants and anti-anxiety drugs. This time around I’ve tried to steer away from the medication since I already take enough tablets to rattle like a Maraca.

I’m not going to lie…in the past depression has made me do and say things that I’m ashamed of. It made me selfish and my life became as insular as a test tube and I never stopped to think how it was affecting my family and friends.

I was the Regina George of depression; a grade A Queen Bitch and I look back now and cringe. Time and hindsight has given me the luxury of perhaps dealing with my depression a bit better, not necessarily getting over it any easier but defiantly working through it with a more level head then I perhaps had when I was 19.

The Other Bowel Problems (we’re going to have an entire strings section by the end of this) have stripped me of my formally outgoing, bubbly personality and gobshite mouth and ability to chat all sorts of shit to anyone that I came into contact with.

With all the stress of TOBP’s, my mum always says I’d be forgiven for being depression. But I will always think of my  depression as a weakness and a failing on my part.

I always regard anyone who suffers from depression and can acknowledge it openly in much higher esteem, then I would ever afford myself. And while I have mega respect for anyone who talks about his or her depression openly, when it comes to discussing my own it feels disgustingly self-indulgent.

I know that when my bowel problems get better that my depression won’t suddenly disappear and that I’ll probably have to work as hard to get better mentally as I did to get well physically.

But I’ve come to think of it like this:

My depression is a room that I wanted painted yellow, but the decorators have come in and painted it black instead, and although I don’t and will never love it, I’m learning to live with it.

Thanks to Skye and Chris.

For more information, help or advice on depression and any other mental health problems contact Mind, Mental Health Foundation, Sane, and The Samaritans. 

*Stats taken from the Mental Health Foundation, http://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/

Twice as Nice...1 ingredient, 2 ways. Edition 1: Pastry

Another new feature I've dragged out for the depths of my imagination (which, judging by my groundbreaking titles is more like a puddle than a never ending abyss of creativeness).
As you probably gathered from the highly innovative concept, each edition will feature one ingredient used two different ways. The two recipes featured here came about after I was sent the Dietary Specials new recipe Shortcrust Pastry.
I must preface this now by saying this is NOT a sponsored post, I just really love this product. In fact I'd go so far as to say its probably in my top three of favourite gluten-free products ever. Not only because it tastes great, but because it saves me from the colossal ball-ache of making pastry from scratch. Plus you can freeze it until you need it. AND you can roll it out without the whole lot falling apart and sticking to the rolling pin, making you want to throw yourself on the floor in a grown woman tantrum. In short, I am a slut for this pastry.
The first recipe is one that I created when trying desperately to think of something with strawberries in as my recipe that could be made for a Breast Cancer Care Strawberry Tea Party. I wanted something (other than the run of the mill cupcakes) that anyone hosting a party might fancy rustling up.
I don't like to blow my own trumpet, but this recipe is one of my most genius ideas to date. Not genius in a MENSA kind of way, but ye gads its ruddy bloomin' scrummy.
I'll be honest and say the strawberry curd is a wee bit of arsing around, but I promise its so very worth it that it could be sponsered by Loreal.
The second recipe is for a sweet onion tart adapted from an ancient recipe I picked up in Waitrose when I was at uni in Sheffield.
Tarts and quiches with a bit of salad are so nice this time of year around the end of summer and unless your Mrs or Mr Cast Iron Guts you'll never eat a whole tart all at once, so you can pop it in your lunchbox or have it warm for your tea the next day. Economic, no? George Osbourne could learn a thing or two from me.Fact.

 Ingredients

• Nice big wedge of butter (around 25g)
• 2 Large red onions
• 1 Large white onion
• 200g Dietary Specials Shortcrust Pastry (take out a few hours in advance to defrost)
• 330ml Creme fraiche (go lite if your counting the cals)
• 3 Eggs (I use free-range)
• Generous pinch of nutmeg
• 15-20g Chives
• 150 Cheese (Emmental is ideal, but a mild Cheddar works just as well)

 Extras

• Quiche or flan tin
• Rolling pin
• Small sprinkle of plain flour for dusting
• Baking beans or something to weigh down the parchment during blind baking

Method

• Throw the butter to melt in a nice big frying pan. Get a sharp knife (mind fingers!) and chop the white onion up finely, then slice the red onions up thinly. Pop the lot in the pan and cook gently over a low heat for around 30-40mins. Give them a stir every now and then. 
• When the onions are soft and starting to go all lovely and caramelised take the pan off the heat and set it aside to cool.
• Whack your oven up to gas 5. Lightly dust your work surface with flour and roll out your pastry and use to line your tart tin. Use a bit of parchment to line the pastry and pop in a few baking beans or some rice and blind bake for 10mins.
• Take the tin from the oven and take out the parchment and baking beans and pop the back in the oven for 5minutes, it should colour slightly.
• Get yourself a big ol' bowl and pop in the creme fraiche, eggs and the pinch of nutmeg. Use a pair of scissors snip the chives into the bowl, season everything with salt and pepper and spoon in the cooked onions and around half of the cheese. Make sure everything is mixed thoroughly and pour the lot into the pastry case and scatter over the rest of the cheese.
• Return the filled pastry case to the oven and bake until golden and set and the mixture no longer has a wobble. Remove from the oven and leave to cool for 5minutes before you eat it or tuck in when its cold. Grab a fork, a glass of Chablis and tuck in.Yummers.

   Ingredients

• 250g Strawberries
• 150g Caster sugar
• 2 Eggs and 2 egg whites (I use free-range)
• 60g Butter
• 200g Dietary Specials Shortcrust Pastry (take out of the freezer in time to defrost)

    Extras

• Electric whisk
• Tart/flan tin
• Baking parchment
• Baking beans or rice/lentils
• Rolling pin

     Method

• Crank your oven up to gas 5. Lightly flour your worktop and get to work kneading the pastry for a few minutes and then roll out using a floured rolling pin. Line a tart/flan tin with the pastry and then line the pastry with some baking parchment and throw in the baking beans or rice.
• Pop the pastry in the oven. After around 10mins take it out and remove the parchment and beans and return it to the oven for another 5-7mins. It should be slightly browned but not drastically different in colour. Leave somewhere to cool while you get on with the curd.
• Lop your strawberries tops off and halve them, popping them in a decent sized pan with a few tbsp's of cold water over a medium heat.
• Keep the pan at a simmer for 5minutes or until your strawb's are soft. Transfer the strawb's from the pan into a sieve over a clean bowl (must be heatproof) using a slotted spoon. 
• Get yourself a metal spoon and push your strawb's through the sieve. Add the pulp to the strained strawb syrup left in the pan. 
• Next you need to make yourself a Bain-Marie which is a beyond preposterous way of saying 'bowl over pan of water'. You will need a bowl that fits into your pan without touching the cm or two of water that's in the bottom. 
• Bring the water to a simmer over a medium heat and add 50g of sugar, the eggs (beaten before hand) and butter to the bowl and give it all a proper good stir and keep stirring gently and continuously for about 10minutes.
• Crank the heat up and keeping stirring for another 8-10minutes.Stirring, I know, can get beyond boring...don't be tempted to stop because it will curdle and then you'll be so vexed you'll throw the lot at the wall.
• When the mixture starts to thicken, take off the heat and pour immediately into the pastry case and set aside while you make the meringue.
• Get yourself an OCD clean bowl and make sure your whisk is spanking clean too (any grease etc will stop the meringue from rising, and if you stopped stirring when I told you not to with the curd, your already going to be cross without flat meringues).
• Separate your remaining eggs and plop the whites into the bowl. Using an electric whisk (or a hand whisk if your a martyr to the cause) beat the eggs whites on a medium speed until stiff and foamy. 
• Add a tbsp at a time of the remaining 100g of sugar and continue to whisk it all until the meringue is very stiff, white and glossy. You can  risk it for a biscuit and try the old 'bowl over the head' trick if you want, but if its forming peaks I'd pass on the biscuit risking!
• Spoon the meringue over the curd in the pastry case, make sure you can't see any of the curd.
• Pop back in the oven for 8-10minutes, the meringue should be slightly golden on top. Leave for a few minutes to cool before eating, or gobble it down directly from the oven and burn your entire digestive tract. Claim ownership over this recipe when people tell you how tummy gurgling awesome it is...I'll let you just this one time.