Sweating the small stuff

I have been in a terrible sulk of late. This could be something to do with the imminent apocalypse, but if I’m honest, it’s just as likely to be because I’ve STILL got hayfever a month after mine normally eases, the dire weather prolonging rather than extinguishing the season. Or that the 9yo’s school has once again given me zero notice to find an impossible costume for his school play (including brown leggings no less). Or that I have failed to shift even a pound of my pre-holiday flabbage despite eating like Victoria Beckham for the best part of a month (OK there were those pancakes, but surely even Vicky B has a day off. Doesn’t she?). Maybe it’s just my hormones. Or end-of-termitis.

Don’t sweat the small stuff, you might well say. But this is what I do best. The small stuff is my currency, my dialect, my realm. What’s that you say? The pound has gone down the shitter. That’s terrible news, but where the fuck is that pound I put in the glove compartment for the shopping trolley? Putin has his beady eyes on a weakened Europe? Yeah yeah, whatevs, what do you mean you don’t have any clean shirts? I’m out of teabags, all my avocados are black, I forgot to order the school photos in time and the dishwasher is on the blink. I’m not sure even the prospect of Donald Trump can trump that.

I’m being flippant, of course. But sometimes when the big stuff is so FUCKING HUGE a certain comfort can be found in zoning in on the niggling minutiae of the everyday. That said, my grump is playing havoc in the kitchen. I firmly believe that your mood is reflected in your cooking and that has certainly been the case this week. Fingers have been sliced, sauces split and the other day when trying to drain the fat off a tray of sausages, I tipped the whole lot into the (full) washing up bowl (naturally I rinsed the suds off and served them anyway, but don’t tell anyone). My kitchen output has ranged from meh to downright bleh. The only thing I made that was remotely blogworthy was snaffled up before I got a chance to take the requisite measurements and photos. So please bear with me, I’m confident my mojo will return soon. In the meantime, here’s some yogurt that thinks it’s a cheesecake. (Mrs Beckham would definitely not approve.)

Baked yogurt with raspberries


Makes 6

  • 150g punnet of fresh raspberries
  • 200g Greek yogurt
  • 200g condensed milk
  • 200g double cream
  • seeds from 1 vanilla pod or 1 tsp vanilla bean paste
  • finely grated zest of 1/2 lemon
  • 1 tsp sugar
  • pinch salt

    The rippled version
  1. Preheat oven to 110°C (fan).
  2.  Mix the yogurt with the vanilla until smooth, then stir in the condensed milk, cream, lemon zest and a small pinch of salt.
  3. Pulse the raspberries in a food processor with the sugar to a rough puree. Either ripple the raspberry puree through the yogurt mixture then pour into 6 ramekins, or put some puree into the base of each ramekin and top with the yogurt mix.
  4. Place ramekins in a deep baking tray and pour around boiling water so it reaches about two thirds up the sides of the ramekins. Bake for 30-40 minutes until just set. Allow to cool then chill for at least two hours. Serve with shortbread and some fresh raspberries on the side.img_2815



2 thoughts on “Sweating the small stuff

  1. What an interesting recipe! Might give it a try some time soon! Sorry to hear you are feeling down. Cannot imagine what it must be like, but read a lot of online news (mainly Guardian) and so I am keeping up to date with the ins and outs after the Brexit. I am Dutch and living in the Netherlands and we don’t do referenda…. so I am quite all right here! Till next time! Regards, Nicolet

    Liked by 1 person

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