Wednesday
I’m 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. It’s 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 waterwith a hit ofvanillaand someoat milkadded at the end. While it simmers, I drink acup of lemon and hot waterfollowed by a cup ofLady Grey tea with oat milk. I’m 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 ofmaple cherries—frozen cherries warmed with a dash of maple syrup. John and I pile onpoppy seedsandpeanut butter, too. I drink another cup of tea.
Today I’m recipe testing for my fourth book, which means I’ll cook eight or so recipes. I need to taste everything, so I don’t really have proper meals today, just little bowls to sample. There is aRastafarian-style Ital stew with allspice and bay,cauliflower ceviche tacos, a doublelime and ginger soba noodlesituation, somerutabaga and onion fritterswith asunflower seed raita,kale and crispy breadcrumb Caesarwith a6-minute eggthat is more than a sum of its parts,parsnip-leek oat crumble,orecchiette with sweet corn, and a quick-as-a-flashweeknight lasagna.
Come dinnertime, I’m not hungry. And since John is away for work for a few days, I skip dinner and make Dylanquinoawith his current three favorite veg:peas,sweet corn, andbroccoli.
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, I’m still not hungry, but I sit with Dylan and read to him as he eats two bowls ofporridge,pears, andblueberries.
I madesourdoughyesterday 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. I’m feeling pretty smug. I cut Dylan a still-warm slice. He calls it mummy bread.
Later in the morning I’m finally feeling hungry, so I eat somewarm sourdough with butterandlemon-vanilla marmalademade by my friend Kylee (ofNewton and Pott). I drinkjasmine teaand 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 yesterday’s recipe testing:eggplant zalouk(a kind of Moroccan dip) withthick, crispy slices of halloumi—not a traditional pairing, but very good together—more of the rutabaga and onion fritters, which everyone goes wild for, somesalad leavesI 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 ofsalted 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 isn’t too keen on most of it. So the little guy has morebread,crudités, andyogurtfor dessert. (I’m not that mum who can send him to bed hungry.)
Friday
On Fridays, I spend the day with Dylan. It’s 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, porridge—this time thesaffron breakfast kheerfrom my new book,The Modern Cook’s Year以上几杯茶。乳粥一个印度大米pudding (mine is made with brown rice and almond milk) that is gently spiced with cardamom, ginger, cinnamon, and saffron. There’s 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 1920’s pavilion in the middle of Victoria Park, for a lunch of Sri Lankan–leaning 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 butterhot cross buns, a yeasted spiced bun with a citrusy cross-shape glaze on top, to eat on the journey. They’re 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 deliciouspuff pastry tartwith sweet potato and crème fraîche filling,roasted beets, loads ofsalad with sticky red onions and goat cheese, and loads more of red wine.
Sunday
I wake up today to a full house. John’s 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 I’m 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 ofginger 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 quickkimchi and miso noodle soupfromThe Modern Cook’s Year. If I’m honest, I don’t 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. It’s 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 ofEarl Grey with milk. Breakfast is a family affair. Iscramble eggsand pile them on mymalted sourdoughwithtomatoes confited in olive oil, another leftover from last week’s recipe testing. For me, I add a big hit ofsesame chili oilat 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 anoat milk flat whiteand half achocolate chip cookiemade by my friend Issy Croker, the photographer with whom I co-run the studio. It’s made using Claire Ptak’s recipe fromViolet Bakery, which also happens to be my go-to for chocolate chip cookies, and it’s 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 theharissa- and lemon-roasted potatoesand thehuge salad with tahini dressing.
I have the other half of the cookie.
For tea, we’re back on the leftovers. This time, last night’s kimchi soup, which we eat on the sofa.
Tuesday
Today is pancake day, Shrove Tuesday, one of my favorite days of the year. It’s an excuse to eat pancakes for every meal. I make somefluffy American pancakes with banana and oatsfrom my first book,A Modern Way to Eat, for breakfast and a rarepot of coffeeat home.
After the nursery run, I sit down to do some writing. I get into it and forget to have lunch until it’s pretty late, so I settle in for a piece oftoast with tahinias I know there will be more pancakes for tea.
It’s a busy week at home—tonight my friend Maisie Hill, a women’s heath expert and writer, is coming to stay. We eatcrêpe-style pancakesfor dinner stuffed withspinach, roast tomatoes, sharp cheddar, and an eggcracked in at the last minute before folding over the pancake. We finish the batter with a round ofsweet pancakestopped with lemon juice and sugar. Nothing could taste more of my childhood.
