Wednesday
Iām not a morning person. Most mornings my son Dylan, who thankfully for a three-year-old is a pretty late riser, wakes me up at 7.30am. We typically eat breakfast together around the table with my husband John. Itās cold this morning, so we, like all winter long, are on a porridge flex.
I put some porridge on the hob. Organic oats cooked in water with a hit of vanilla and some oat milk added at the end. While it simmers, I drink a cup of lemon and hot water followed by a cup of Lady Grey tea with oat milk. Iām very specific about my porridge. I cook it and let it sit until it is perfectly creamy and just spoonable. Dylan eats his as is, but for me and John, I make a pan of maple cherriesāfrozen cherries warmed with a dash of maple syrup. John and I pile on poppy seeds and peanut butter, too. I drink another cup of tea.
Today Iām recipe testing for my fourth book, which means Iāll cook eight or so recipes. I need to taste everything, so I donāt really have proper meals today, just little bowls to sample. There is a Rastafarian-style Ital stew with allspice and bay, cauliflower ceviche tacos, a double lime and ginger soba noodle situation, some rutabaga and onion fritters with a sunflower seed raita, kale and crispy breadcrumb Caesar with a 6-minute egg that is more than a sum of its parts, parsnip-leek oat crumble, orecchiette with sweet corn, and a quick-as-a-flash weeknight lasagna.
Come dinnertime, Iām not hungry. And since John is away for work for a few days, I skip dinner and make Dylan quinoa with his current three favorite veg: peas, sweet corn, and broccoli.
Thursday
We wake up earlier than usual today. My mum looks after Dylan on Thursdays, so, thankfully, there is no morning rush to get out of the house to kindergarten. I treasure these extra helping hands. We follow our winter morning ritual: porridge for Dylan, hot lemon and water plus a cup of Lady Grey for me. After all the tasting yesterday, Iām still not hungry, but I sit with Dylan and read to him as he eats two bowls of porridge, pears, and blueberries.
I made sourdough yesterday and the shaped loaves have been resting in the fridge overnight. I crank up the oven and bake them one after the other. Two fresh loaves by 9am. Iām feeling pretty smug. I cut Dylan a still-warm slice. He calls it mummy bread.
Later in the morning Iām finally feeling hungry, so I eat some warm sourdough with butter and lemon-vanilla marmalade made by my friend Kylee (of Newton and Pott). I drink jasmine tea and take five minutes to enjoy a moment looking out the window.
Rachael, who works with me one day a week, is at my house for lunch along with my friend Holly, another writer and foodie. We kick around ideas for a new project and feast on leftovers from yesterdayās recipe testing: eggplant zalouk (a kind of Moroccan dip) with thick, crispy slices of halloumiānot a traditional pairing, but very good togetherāmore of the rutabaga and onion fritters, which everyone goes wild for, some salad leaves I get in my veg box from a local farm, and more warm sourdough. We are all very happy. John arrives for the tail end of lunch and hoovers up the leftovers with a grin.
Midway through writing, we gather around the kitchen table for a little break. A mug of tea for me and coffee for everyone else (I have a one coffee a day rule and always before mid-day or else it affects my sleep). We take turns snapping off pieces of salted caramel chocolate.
Another feast of a lunch leaves me feeling quite full into the evening so I skip dinner again (very out of character). John and Dylan try to make a dent in the leftovers from recipe-testing, though Dylan isnāt too keen on most of it. So the little guy has more bread, cruditĆ©s, and yogurt for dessert. (Iām not that mum who can send him to bed hungry.)
Friday
On Fridays, I spend the day with Dylan. Itās my favorite day of the week. Most of my days are a bit of a juggling act, but on Fridays I try to stay away from my phone and emails so we can hang out just the two of us. The day starts the same way as usual in these colder months: hot water and lemon, porridgeāthis time the saffron breakfast kheer from my new book, The Modern Cookās Yearāplus a few cups of tea. Kheer is an Indian rice pudding (mine is made with brown rice and almond milk) that is gently spiced with cardamom, ginger, cinnamon, and saffron. Thereās nothing more nourishing to my mind than milk and rice together.
After a quick run around the park, complete with skateboarding and climbing, John meets us at one of our favorite restaurants, a 1920ās pavilion in the middle of Victoria Park, for a lunch of Sri Lankanāleaning food. Later I head off to meet a dear friend for dinner at a new place in Gloria. It's a day of eating out.
Saturday
Today we head out of town for a day in the countryside. As most parents with small kids will attest, getting out of the house can be tough, so we toast and butter hot cross buns, a yeasted spiced bun with a citrusy cross-shape glaze on top, to eat on the journey. Theyāre usually an Easter treat, but my friend brought a few around, so who are we to say no. They are my first of the year and remind me that spring is nearly here.
That night, my friend Rosie Ramsden, a friend who's also a cook and food stylist, hosts us for a dinner of the most delicious puff pastry tart with sweet potato and crĆØme fraĆ®che filling, roasted beets, loads of salad with sticky red onions and goat cheese, and loads more of red wine.
Sunday
I wake up today to a full house. Johnās sister Liz, her partner, and their baby girl, Emilia, are staying with us. I love a full house. My dad has 11 brothers and sisters, so Iām used to having a lot of people around.
My head hurts a little from the wine last night, so I am craving carbs. But first, tea. I grab the final hot cross bun, butter it, and feel very happy about the start of the day.
We walk around the neighborhood, darting between shops and playgrounds, before hunger takes hold and we head into Tonkotsu, a ramen shop nearby. All is good again.
I feel a tickle in my throat mid-afternoon, so I make a vat of ginger tea. I drop a huge thumb of sliced ginger into loads of boiling water and let it go for an hour until fiery. A few cups later and the sore throat is gone.
For dinner, still craving Asian flavors (as is often the case when I have drunk wine the night before), I make a quick kimchi and miso noodle soup from The Modern Cookās Year. If Iām honest, I donāt care much for kimchi on its own (my husband eats it by the jar), but swirled into soups, sauces, and dressings, it lends a brilliant punchy note. The soup has soba noodles, enoki mushrooms, broccoli, and tofu with miso stirred in at the very end to keep all its healthy goodness. Itās moreish and exactly what I want.
I drink more ginger tea before bed.
Monday
I wake up on Monday with a house still full of family, which feels so nice. I drink more ginger tea that I made last night in place of my usual lemon water, followed by a couple of cups of Earl Grey with milk. Breakfast is a family affair. I scramble eggs and pile them on my malted sourdough with tomatoes confited in olive oil, another leftover from last weekās recipe testing. For me, I add a big hit of sesame chili oil at the end.
I head to my studio, Narroway Studio, where I cook and test recipes when it's not rented out as a photography studio and workshop space. I have an oat milk flat white and half a chocolate chip cookie made by my friend Issy Croker, the photographer with whom I co-run the studio. Itās made using Claire Ptakās recipe from Violet Bakery, which also happens to be my go-to for chocolate chip cookies, and itās off the charts.
For lunch, Issy makes us a feast with leftover veg from a shoot she was on the week before. I particularly love the harissa- and lemon-roasted potatoes and the huge salad with tahini dressing.
I have the other half of the cookie.
For tea, weāre back on the leftovers. This time, last nightās kimchi soup, which we eat on the sofa.
Tuesday
Today is pancake day, Shrove Tuesday, one of my favorite days of the year. Itās an excuse to eat pancakes for every meal. I make some fluffy American pancakes with banana and oats from my first book, A Modern Way to Eat, for breakfast and a rare pot of coffee at home.
After the nursery run, I sit down to do some writing. I get into it and forget to have lunch until itās pretty late, so I settle in for a piece of toast with tahini as I know there will be more pancakes for tea.
Itās a busy week at homeātonight my friend Maisie Hill, a womenās heath expert and writer, is coming to stay. We eat crĆŖpe-style pancakes for dinner stuffed with spinach, roast tomatoes, sharp cheddar, and an egg cracked in at the last minute before folding over the pancake. We finish the batter with a round of sweet pancakes topped with lemon juice and sugar. Nothing could taste more of my childhood.
