olive oil + honey quinoa granola

My first thought was that I'd do a post about my highlights of 2016 but then I quickly ruled that out. I didn't want to sound like one of those people who just make their lives all shiny and then sing about it on social media. That's the thing with these spaces - it's so easy to curate what you show, and what you don't, I think people forget that. Am I going post a photo of the pouring rain and a scummy North Norfolk puddle on instagram? No, exactly, I'll post a nice picture of some spring sunshine or maybe something I baked because I've styled those photos to hell and back. Easy. Reality is boring. If I just wrote, I'd be telling you about these 6 essays I've been working on over the holidays. And about how our flight may be cancelled because of fog. So I'll just leave the good and the bad aside and I thought instead I'd share two things I learnt this year. Ok, I know I'm barely 18 so this may sound funny to some people but I think this is actually that window when we learn the most. We're still easy to mould, the things that shape us now give us our form forever, I would've thought.

Life is fragile. I don't mean this in a let's-go-out-get-smashed type of you-only-live-once-way, but I take for granted that my life will overlap with others. I say this after the episode with Prune that I mention often. I thought I'd have years with them, apparently not. I then realized I don't have enough photos of the girls, that there will never be enough days to bury my face in their fur. I mean, their lives are like a sunrise. So short, so bright, filled with energy, bringing us so much beauty. Blink and you'll miss it. It's probably the same for parents, I wouldn't know. One minute you're driving kids around everywhere and thinking oh lord when is this going to end then suddenly the kids have their own cars, they go to university and that's that. People, pets whoever, they have small batteries and no armour. It doesn't mean that Prune won't get an earful when she picks fights with dogs half her size or that Suezie can endlessly stretch with her claws on my bare feet but I should hug them more. And stop saying, when they suddenly sleep in the crate together, that I'll take a photo next time.

People have been designed to put up with a lot. Somewhere I read that 'all flowers must grow through dirt' and I think of that often. Just when you think that nothing worse will happen, the tsunami hits after the earthquake. They also say that something good will always come from something bad, I don't think that's always the case. Instead I think what you learn is that your resilience is much more than you expected. And the people who are with you through it, they're the keepers, the ones you should remind to eat their kale.

In the spirit of eating kale, new beginnings and general healthfulness, I'd like to bring you some honey and olive oil quinoa granola. A mouthful, but a tasty protein packed one at that. I literally eat 'nola in some form every day, but this is different to my orange granola because it's less oat-based with lots of crunchy quinoa, nuts and seeds, which will appeal to a lot of people at this time of year. There are quite a few indredients but if you stock a remotely whole-foods pantry they're all staples and if you don't, I have added a little info about each ingredient - either way, it's nice to know a bit about what you're eating. This is quite long, so feel free to skip down to the recipe. I don't have one particular source for the info, I am enough of a food nerd to keep a notebook with this kind of thing.

Rolled oats (porridge oats): what would I do without these guys? boil them up for a quick and creamy breakfast, bake them into muffins or granola, bake with the flour... they are a great source of manganese (connective tissue builder + regulates blood sugar + absorbs calcium). Beta glucan is the fiber (a super source of fiber, oats) specific to oats that is associated with lowering cholesterol, preventing cardiovascular disease through unique anti-oxidants, and helping the heart. Oats are inherently gluten free, but are often processed alongside wheat products so if you/those you feed are very sensitive to gluten, be sure to buy certified gf oats :)

Quinoa: ah quinoa, the tiny gluten free superfood that's taken media by a storm. you've probably seen it around in supermarkets by now - not strictly a grain, but rather a seed (though it's considered a whole grain. imposter.)that contains all 9 essential amino acids. This is pretty incredible for a plant and what makes it so popular as a protein source for vegetarians/vegans. It is high in many minerals (iron, manganese, magnesium, copper....) so can help ease migraines. It is no headache to cook either; it can be used like rice (boil with a 2:1 water:quinoa ratio, so 1 cup quinoa to 2 cups water). Just make sure you rinse it first, like I do here, because there is a bitter coating to the grains otherwise.

Sunflower seeds: good for your bones because they're so rich in magnesium which helps with structure and regulating nerve cells. They are very mild and always remind me of granary bread from when I was young; they can easily be tossed into salads or to add a bit of crunch to oatmeal. The selenium helps with cancer prevention and certain chemical compounds (phytoserols) play a role in lowering cholesterol, and as an anti-inflammatory agent. Sunflower seed butter is often used as a nut-free alternative to almond butter, I'm sure it's really tasty.

Pumpkin seeds: These seeds contain a huge range of anti-oxidants; wider than many other nuts and seeds. They are also a source of unique proteins which have anti-fungal and anti-microbial properties and are super sources of zinc. Zinc is huge in boosting immunity and fighting colds, never a bad thing at this time of year. Like sunflower seeds, they can go almost anywhere you want a crunchy element and are often used to make pesto, which I really must try.

Brazil nuts: incredible sources of selenium, which is an anti-flammatory agent and also helps prevent free radical damage and so have been associated with lower levels of cancer, as well as having an important role in regulating your metabolism by influencing thyroid hormones. Selenium also helps prevent depression - it's a mood lifter, so smiles all around. They have a flavor that to me is a lot like almonds, I'm always surprised they're not used more in recipes. I have added soaked nuts (saving my blender) to smoothies and they are so creamy!

Almonds: the world's highest source of vitamin E (fat soluble anti-oxidants) which kindly protect your cell walls from damage. they're high in monounsaturated fats, the 'good fats' which help lower cholesterol and keep hair and nails and the heart healthy. They are also potassium rich, like bananas (!!!) so great for active people and nerve transmission & muscle contraction. Incredibly, these mild & tasty nuts have been associated with regulating blood sugar levels and lowering the glycemic index of the meal they're incorporated into.

Flax seeds: aside from containing lots of essential fatty acids and omega 3, these unobtrusive seeds are incredible sources of lignans. Lignans are chemicals found in some plants that have been linked to colon and breast cancer prevention. Flax is high in fibre and help regulate the passage of food through the intestines, assisting with the absorption of other nutrients (the midfielders of the nut/seed world). The combination of omega 3 fatty acids & high levels of vitamin B mean they're good for shiny, healthy hair and skin.

Hemp seeds: (un?)fortunately nothing to do with weed but you'll feel pretty good after eating these protein powerhouses. Much like quinoa, these seeds are a complete protein and are valued in plant-based protein powder; they also contain the type of aminos needed for muscle repair. They are a valuable source of omega 3, good for preventing inflammation; and are high in iron as well as a bunch of vitamins (A, B, D, E). They have a pleasantly nutty flavor and I often use them in granola but you can also chuck them into smoothies, salads, wherever you would any seed.

Chia seeds: I know what you're thinking but these have become mainstream now, I can find them at my local supermarket... and I'm not suggesting you use these tiny superfoods to make chia pudding (chia soaked in milk/water, the seeds swell with the liquid and resemble something tapioca-ish, popular with health foodies but a step too far for some of us ahem), which I am aware resembles frogspawn, I know from experience. Instead, I use them in granola, baked into muffins and cookies, sprinkled over oatmeal, blended into smoothies... because they have so much goodness! They are very rich in omega 3 & fatty acids; even more so than flax seeds, and are also good sources of iron and calcium, great for non-dairy and non-meat eaters. They are useful as a binder in gluten free baking and can stand in for eggs too.

[kindred-recipe id="1985" title="Olive oil + honey quinoa granola"]

I hope you found this remotely helpful and that it inspires you to add a few new goodies to your pantry, or reminds you of some. This granola is infinitely adaptable, so I really hope you make it. Granola, cute dogs and funny people exist, so don't let January get you down. Hugs xo

Ps. Today is our last day in India. I can't believe it... how did three weeks go by so fast? I will have some photos of Bangalore on the blog soon, if you're curious.

doggie oatmeal-ginger cookies

Pruney and Suzi, For years I tacked ' a dog' on to the end of my Christmas list. You two have been the best gifts I'll ever receive. Prune, you came just before my 13th birthday and Suzi just as I was taking some of the most important exams of my life. And you know my life can be crazy, full. School work, applications, work experience. The blog, editing photos, fitting in runs, more work. My world just seems to be spinning really fast, my seasons keep changing. But amid all of that crazy are you both. The real center of my universe.

What I won't do is say that because of you, every day feels like Christmas because that just wouldn't be real. But if Christmas is about goodness, light, and joy, then you two are Christmas. You two little monkeys light up my whole damn universe. Every. single. day.

I wanted to make my dogs a cookie, something a bit festive for when I am stuffing my face with gingerbread. Dogs can have ginger - in fact, it's often used as a natural way of easing travel sickness, so if you are planning on taking your dogs on any car trips these holidays, these cookies might be fun to take along. They are totally gluten free so they are a little fragile, but my two monsters have been pretty good at cleaning up any crumbs :) they also come together in one bowl, with really only one measuring utensil, because your dog isn't going to care whether you spent four hours making them or 20 minutes. mine always do know. though, that they are homemade. They were eaten in a ratio of 10:2 Prune:Suzi, hence the photo of Pruney doing what she does best.

[kindred-recipe id="1891" title="doggie oatmeal-ginger cookies"]

orange & cranberry (holiday) granola

I wasn't particularly planning on writing to you, you were just rolling along being yourself, I'd just written to your sister and I didn't want to bore everyone. But then you hurt your claw (that was partly my fault for not trimming the damn thing. For that, I'm sorry. Promise.) and I changed my mind, but that's not the only reason why. I've been thinking about you since we put up the Christmas tree .

You came, little tail wagging. Sticking that velvety muzzle into all the boxes, sneezing in the glitter and pine needles. You look at life through fresh eyes, don't you? You're not like your sister, not like Prune who is the cynic, she knows what she wants. You're like that little amber bauble in the box of decorations. There are lots of similar ones, many are bigger, maybe more shiny, maybe a perfect sphere. You'd be slightly dusty, maybe chipped, slightly forgotten. But then I'd pull you out and dust you off and you shine. There's no face that I want to grab and cuddle more than yours. It may not be an elegant face, your paws may be too big for your body, you may bark too much but the real problem is that you have too much to give. You expect nothing from anyone, you're surprised when we talk to you, when we call Suzi over just for a cuddle. You want to give it all to us- joy, love, whatever, expecting nothing in return.

In some ways I think I see myself in you, Prune too, but sometimes with you it's so obvious I have to laugh. There was that day we went to the vet's, we'd lined up on the ramp, the receptionist came to open up. And there's Prune, all tail wags, friendly licks, instantly loved, lots of hugs, a roomful of new friends. And you? You stand in the background, alone, and you even bark. It takes a long time for people to realise how sweet you are - I'm nowhere near as sweet as you, but I'd be the one waiting at the back (I don't bark yet, but people don't ever take to me straight away, so I might as well). It takes you a long time to trust people, you'll do with your own company, but when you do start to trust, you'd do anything for them, you show them in your own suzi-like ways. You have so much love to give. The way you always bark at strange men, the way you climb onto my bed sometimes, how you curl your whole body around our legs and sleep like a little bean.

And before this season of giving, you've taught me so much about true generosity, patience. How do you manage, even if you're worried and scared, even though you've been hurt, to make us all smile and love us so much? I've learnt to give you time to warm to us, time to calm down when you're nervous, and it's been worth it, for the tic tac of your paws running to meet me when I'm up in the morning, for your snuggles and how you rest your whole face on my lap. So to you, the little forgotten bauble, just know for me you're the shiniest of the bunch. You can be the angel on the highest branch. Thank you, suzi, for teaching me that in our own way, we all know how to give. And thanks for giving me something every day, all year. You could teach Santa a thing or two.

I think I mentioned giving in my last post? To me the nicest things to gift are homemade, and I this granola would fit the role perfectly. It's pretty adaptable and looks cute + rustic in a glass jar with a little pine sprig, and granola keeps forever too - so make the whole batch and gift some. In case you were wondering what this had to do with Suzi, the answer is not much, but she simply doesn't ask for anything or expect anything - and that's just so rare. I expect and ask for my Christmas granola to be really tasty, warmly spiced and distinctly festive, and this recipe ticks all those boxes. The orange juice & zest in the syrup with a hint of molasses and ginger puts a Christmas candle in your breakfast (or snack)(I've never eaten a candle before though) + cranberries & oranges are made for each other. At other times of year, I switch the molasses for honey and tone down the ginger, which makes for a really bright and refreshing taste, so this recipe is a keeper for the whole year. In the notes under the recipe I give some switches for making the granola gluten-free and pantry friendly, so I really hope you try this one out. Try to make some time in the craziness for homemade gifts and cherishing the less-shiny baubles, whatever form they come in. The cheer is upon us. Happy holidays xo

[kindred-recipe id="1790" title="orange & cranberry (holiday) granola"] ps. This blog has been in existence almost 2 months now... I just want to say a huge thank you to the small handful of loyal readers who visit my little corner of the net often. Every comment, email, just you reading means the world to me. As a heads up, I might be changing the URL of the blog because after 'settling in' to the blog, I'm not sure how fitting it is. I will send an email to my subscribers when a change happens and I'll try to set up some kind of redirect. Thanks for all your support, if I could bake you all a cookie, I would.

suzi, the littlest one

pear-cocoa muffins with a walnut crumb

"L'hiver", he said to me. "Il fait froid". I had a working understanding of French, I understood more than I could speak. Winter, he'd said, it's cold. And it was bitter, Belgium was snowed in. The flakes had fallen, thick and hard for the past few days, it was Friday afternoon. Our first snow day. I think we almost died when we heard school was cancelled. Our bedroom was the loft room so the sloped windows were blacked out and the garden had become - just white, like Jack Frost had been visiting. The skeletal ribs of trees were lightly dusted, the whole garden looked soft and downy, it was magic. There was a sweet hush, a feeling of coziness, that the neighborhood was under a soft quilt.

Our house was on top of a small hill, the driveway was at least 250m long and very steep. Since school was cancelled anyway, we persuaded our dad not to start shovelling - we were going sledding. We didn't have those nice wooden sleds, rather these plastic things, almost like saucers, that you just sat on, pushed off, curled your legs under and hoped for the best. They made for a pretty exhilarating ride and pretty wet clothes. So we spent the next few hours happily running up the driveway, finding new and more perilous ways to 'ride' those sleds.

Our neighbors were an elderly couple who lived at the bottom of that hill. Number 6 was a charming white cottage, mint green shutters, a small wooden deck, a row of tidy trees. They kept two sheep in their hilly garden, a few greenhouses and all winter I'd watch the smoke rise from their chimney, smell the veggie soup. They often spoke in Dutch with my dad, I knew they were nice people, but I was a shy 12 year old who didn't speak much of the language, I'd offer a wave and a smile when we passed them. The man's name was Frans and he'd come out along his snowy driveway to check his mailbox, which is where my sister and I crash landed every time our sleds brought us down. I knew he spoke both French and Dutch and under pressure to say something, I think I mumbled 'bonjour', he'd said hello, big smiles, weather talk for the 2 kids who enlivened the neighborhood. I think he was happy, to see us scrambling around in the snow, the town was aging, we brought with us the shrieks of laughter and spontaneous joy that add something to a white Christmas. After that he'd often wave, and we started to bring Therese and Frans muffins. Nothing fancy, maybe banana, blueberry if we were feeling creative, just a friendly neighbor thing.

In their garden they grew beautiful fruits and vegetables in weathered glasshouses. the vines were heavy with purple grapes, green stalks slumped under the weight of tomatoes and zucchini in summer, when they'd bring the overflow of their produce. Quiet, hardworking people who'd toiled away for years, actually living for a while in what became our house while they worked to build their own. They'd made something out of that small, hilly patch of land.

I grew up fast in those years. Snow went from being a fun novelty to an added chore, 4am we'd be out in -15 degrees darkness, listening to the tune of a Siberian wind that ate through our ski jackets. The charm quickly faded, and so did Frans. Dementia gets the best of them. It was fast, sudden, bitter, like a cold snap. My first funeral, gray February, dark spirits, black clothes, stone village church. He'd written us a letter, probably one of the last he wrote, he thanked us for the muffins, said he remembered us. Therese would visit him at the care home often, and we'd go down to the cottage, with muffins. To share with Frans, we'd say. And he remembered us as the two girls with the snow and the hill, the sleds. That winter had been years ago, I was way too cool to play in the snow, I preferred to clear it, salt it, watch it melt. I wondered what Frans would think, the melting snow made me think of childhood, giving way under the grit that life throws at it.

Till the day we left Belgium we went to see Therese. We branched out from muffins to tea - Therese loved tea, we'd buy it whenever we went anywhere new. Peppermint tea from Tanzania, earl grey from England, Darjeeling from India all passed through the doorway of that stone cottage. We'd talk about frans sometimes (my Dutch had improved to monosyllables at this point. It's not so hard to say 'ja' is it?) and she'd always say, whenever she brought the muffins and said it was from the snow girls, his face would light up, like that weak winter sun.

I have a little folder in my desk drawer. A few birthday cards from my sister, some from my grandparents and my dad. The rest are letters from Therese. She writes in her spidery script, I write back in my broken Dutch. If there was one person who I wish could see this blog, it's her. It doesn't snow much here, but when it does, I think of that house, when they were both there, the smell of a wood fire and the small figure of Frans, fetching logs, him raising a pale hand in greeting. Bittersweet, just like the winter.

And if there was one person who'd love these muffins it would be Frans. A gluten and dairy free, honey-ish muffin with a walnut streusel is sort of a far cry from those muffs but hey, proof of my improvement as a baker. This recipe makes quite a few muffs, but it's that giving season. You could give some away - maybe you know an elderly neighbor who's spending their first Christmas alone? Or there's the Amazon delivery guy who brings you a parcel at 9pm on a freezing Friday night when you're sitting in front of a fire feeling smug/snug. Or you could freeze some, or just eat them, they're mostly fruit, if you need persuasion. If you don't want/need them gluten free, I've added a spelt flour variation in the notes under the recipe. Chocolate, pears and substitutions? I spoil you. The crazy starts now, you ready? Wishing you a warm + cozy festive season, give a lot if you can, stock up on salt. Jeez I'm a cynic. Go string up your lights, this grinch did plans to do sothis weekend! Hugs guys xo

[kindred-recipe id="1763" title="pear-cocoa muffins with a walnut crumb"]

I have some great stuff planned for the holiday season + festive baking, so don't forget you can subscribe for carols everything straight to your inbox :)

mixed berry baked oatmeal

It's been thanksgiving weekend in the States. I read a lot of American food blogs/sites and I think the cranberry population's been pretty much decimated, pumpkins too and I guess turkeys as well (I only really read veggie blogs... but they're the tradition I know). Anyway, looks like a fun holiday, getting together for a meal with friends and family when it's vague November and Christmas seems just slightly out of reach.

I know that some people find it superficial, giving thanks on one arbitrary day of the year. That you should be thankful every day, but sometimes it's hard and you just need a reminder. It's four o'clock, you're sitting in class, watching the light fade away, the night moves in and you wonder where the day went. It's chilly out, the sun won't be up till 8am, you've got a hundred tedious jobs to do tonight, there are puddles by the side of the road, cars plough through, you get an icy blast of scummy water. I don't know if it's so much thankful as... I've learnt to see the beauty in things, I suppose. I'm not saying that there's always beauty in life: sometimes I feel like I'm walking through damp sand, one step forwards, two steps back, often my sky nothing but a blanket of dark clouds. Keeping my head up is not always natural, but I've taught myself how. My room is small, the smallest in the house, and it's ironic since I think I have the most stuff. A whole shelf of cookbooks, camera equipment, an ice cream maker (yes, in my room).But it's from my room that I can lie in bed under the big window, watch the stars all night in winter, I'm sure I slept under a constellation. Summer mornings, I open the window, listen to the birds, watch a little deer stroll across the lawn, wave to a warbler sitting on the roof of the car. The room is small enough that the fairylights strung to the bed frame light the whole thing up, that if the sun is coming in and I close the curtains, the whole room turns into a little cocoon of white.

I moan about the farmers who till the fields and the big rubber tyres of their tractors drag mud out onto the road. The bottom of my jeans are never clean anymore and after every walk I crawl around on hands and knees, scrubbing the dogs' paws. But the fields are what the make the place. We watch deer jumping on sunset walks, the same little guy, we called him Stanley. There was once a group of four stags so big we thought they were horses, running in the long grass. Sometimes I stand in the kitchen, the kitchen that I curse for the gray tiles and strangely big windows, and I watch a pheasant sitting on the back fence. The fence that's old with peeling paint, but it's heavy with ivy, little birds have built a nest in the bird house by that fence. I'll long for a dishwasher and stand at the sink, a little robin will sit at the bird feeder, I'll meet his eye. In the garden that's a muddy swamp from all the rain, littered with leaves that cover the lawn, I've watched a baby pigeon fight his way back to life after his nest fell in a storm, bunnies eat fallen apples and blackbirds sing from the roof of the shed that I deemed 'such an eyesore'.

When does a place lose it's beauty? I realize that maybe it looks like I'm just really ungrateful. Complacent, whatever you want to call it: I live in some countryside idyll and I moan. I don't want it to come across like that - not like those people who'll post a photo on instagram, them in their expensive gym clothes with their great abs at some trendy gym in LA and write about how 'blessed' they are to be off to yoga at 9am on a Tuesday morning. Or the people who post overhead shots of brunches at cute indie cafes in Hoxton somewhere, predictably with a beautifully plated avocado toast (on sourdough rye bread, naturally. with an almond milk latte) and also write about how 'blessed' they are to have the gift of travel, or something. Nothing like that for me. My jeans are muddy, my room is still small, it rains, I get splashed, I live a normal life. I think I cried a couple of times in the past week, I fought with my sister over something irrelevant, I found the jar of granola was empty (yes, this is a disaster), I missed a huge deal on a camera lens, I stayed up way too late reading a cookbook and was so tired I was shaky the next day. There are times I laugh with my family, times when I'd rather sit in my room, door closed. I've learnt and I've set out very intentionally to try and see the little beautiful things a bit more, since the sun is always shining somewhere above the clouds.

I drive home in the night, I like the bouncing flashes of the headlights and tail lights, the dark and the road signs make me think of car trips, adventure. It's cold but the heating is on, sometimes it kind of smells of musty, but that's ok since it reminds of when we first bought this house and it was all new and exciting. Tractors run me off the road but I just sigh and take a minute to pat the doggies' heads, see that they're ok. There are days that I forget to do any of this, that I just plough on, autopilot, blinkers, just keeping my head above the sand. But then I'm reminded and I see the sun for a bit, no doubt night always draws in, but I take a step back. Whether you need a day to remind of you of the light, or it's just something you can do, either way, go you. Plants grow towards the light for a reason, and sometimes, you've got to make the clouds part yourself. If you celebrated, hope you had a good Thanksgiving. Either way, hope there's a li'l bit of light in your next week.

a sure-fire way to make your own brightness? A good breakfast. Therefore, I present you baked oatmeal. This ingenious idea is not my own, lots of blogs have similar renditions which all come from the famous baked oatmeal in Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Every Day. But anyway, it's seriously so good. Berries, because I thought we could all do with a bit of a vitamin C and an antioxidant boost at this dreary time of year and also because I don't want to bore you with more apple and um, it's in the name. Also I'm going to go and upset a few people and mention that c word Christmas. Yes this could come in handy over that crazy festive season we have in store for us - it's great for family brunches or something since its gluten free and vegan (which is where it differs from the original recipe) and easily feeds 9-12 people. It keeps well for 5 days in the fridge, so you can make it ahead or freeze extras for once you've cooked yourself out. And serve it with whatever you like, too. I hope you try this, even oatmeal haters, this is more like a very lightly sweetened crumble than anything porridge-y. Warm or cold, with a group or on a weekday, it's a keeper.

[kindred-recipe id="1742" title="mixed berry baked oatmeal"]

Subscribe to shutterberry, 'cause I have a really sweet/sad winter story coming up :) and muffins! Also, I may be making some changes to the front page of the site, so check back and tell me what you think! Hugs xo