Author: Giverny Tattersfield

Maya Angelou’s lemon meringue pie

Published by

I found myself awake and at my kitchen table at 6am this morning – and a Sunday morning, no less. After making coffee and toast, I sat at the kitchen table to read Hallelujah: The Welcome Table, Maya Angelou’s book of recipes and memories. And I read the whole thing – barring, of course, the hour and a half that I’d driven around London (driving lessons in the city, I find, are better when no one else in their right mind is awake and on the roads). So before most of the city was even awake, I’d concocted a plan to make Maya Angelou’s Lemon Meringue Pie. Having not really made pie many times before, let alone one that involved not only pastry, but lemon curd AND meringue, this was a bold decision to make before 9am on a Sunday. But I loved the story that went with it and I had a desperate desire to know what it tasted like. And that’s good enough for me. Maya Angelou’s Lemon Meringue Pie Ingredients Pie 200g …

seafood linguine

Published by

Today was not a day for Basics spaghetti. Don’t get me wrong – some days are absolutely that, I would be the first to recommend it – when the spaghetti gets buried, perfectly crushed under the weight of a rich tomato sauce and lashings of cheddar. But today was not that day. Today was a day that started with hitting snooze for an hour. A whole hour. Followed by a day of work, which, granted, was not as bad as J’s work day, but still was hefty on the “suck” factor. In fact, because the day was what it was, I know that today is a day for linguine. De Cecco linguine. Tossed about in a light, but buttery sauce, made with shallots, garlic, lifted by parsley, before being drenched in a pale, dry rose, peppered with bright, cherry tomatoes and finally assaulted by king prawns. Maybe even some other crustaceans and other creatures of the deep. It’s that kind of day. All of which will be served with the aforementioned wine. Lots of it. …

the joy of an aperol spritz

Published by

I was in Italy last year. It was a spur of the moment, run away from reality, throw yourself into life kind of trip. Change was happening and life was full of possibility. So, obviously, I wanted to go somewhere to properly experience the feeling. Since Italy is my happy place, off we went. J and I started in Bologna. Land of ragù. We expected to drown ourselves in olive oil and local wine, indulge in far too much pasta, and knock back rich, bitter espresso when we got footsore. What we did not expect was… the Aperol spritz. Having now imbibed more Aperol spritzes than I care to mention, I can tell you that the drink tastes like warm summer evenings and destination-less strolling through cobbled streets, ducking into monasteries to escape sudden rain storms. Sauntering into luxurious hotel bars and pretending I belonged. But most of all, every time I drink one, I feel happy. It’s a kind of deep breath, light-hearted happy. And I thoroughly recommend it. But before I tried one …