All posts tagged: Glasgow

chapter 5: a seasonal shift

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Hello, autumn, and hello to – sharing a plate of pumpkin cinnamon rolls with family, hot from the oven and drizzled with cream cheese icing – sticky, sugary, good soup, made with hearty grains and meats, more brothy, light – it’s not winter yet the heady scent of cinnamon – a pinch in a pot of coffee before it’s brewed, imparting mellow, memory-rich spice lighting candles for a breakfast of yeasted waffles with cinnamon-sugar-roasted figs and vanilla-olive-oil yoghurt – stolen moments before the day really starts conker spotting – kicking leaves – digging out woolens – buying soft socks being wrapped in a heavy dressing gown on chilly mornings, padding over to the boiler in soft socked feet to flick the heat on – not yet necessary, but nice new stoneware mugs, perfect for petite cups of steaming hot coffee – held lovingly by hands wrapped in warm Dijon-coloured fingerless gloves the crisp bluster of Glasgow air and soft pink-blue sunsets, best seen from the top of the Lighthouse or the viewpoint at Queen’s Park …

what is “a cook’s bookshelf”?

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A friend recently stood in the middle of the kitchen and exclaimed: “Wait – these are all cookbooks?” Swivelling in place, he took in the numerous bookshelves and stacks, seemingly seeing a new book with every turn. He seemed surprised enough; I didn’t mention that this is just the kitchen. Books – cooking and otherwise – have free and full reign over the whole flat. There are currently three book stacks on either side of the bed, another on my desk chair, two on the desk. There are piles in corners. On (and under) coffee tables. Hiding in the wine rack. There are little ones perched on scrappy-thin surfaces. Big ones squatting, happily, waiting. New ones, old ones, all jostled up next to each other, brimming with beautiful ideas, flavours and places. Cookbooks are windows into other worlds. They show you how people eat on the other side of the planet. How they ate in the past. How I want to eat in the future. They tell stories, and show places. They’re made by people …

Kitchem Gremlin – A New Year, A New Recipe

chapter 3: on being a hibernating kitchen gremlin

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So, it’s been a while. I’d like to blame the weather. Maybe work. But I think it all comes down to wintertime hibernation. I mean, there have been storms. (FYI: the best way to spot the English woman in Glasgow is to look for the one wearing a non-waterproof wool coat and charging into gale-force winds and torrential rain with a mini folding umbrella). And I’ve had work to do – after all, bills come with alarming regularity whether you’re in the mood for earning money or not. But mainly my flat was cosy, if not wholly warm (having all the windows ripped out and replaced in mid-December was hardly a barrel of laughs), and I was somewhat shocked by finding myself in a new country where I didn’t know anyone and where I still hadn’t quite got an ear for the local accent. So I stayed inside. We invested in a fleecy electric blanket and covered the sofa in it; quite possibly the best decision ever made by hibernating humanoids. I ordered more and …

courgette gratin

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This is a gratin that signifies and celebrates life is on the upswing. More or less, anyway. After all, how can anything with dill and cinnamon in it be anything other than spectacular? A new flavour combination for some, to be sure, but trust me on its magnificence. For others, it’s tried and true for a good reason. Especially when served with sausages, or perhaps – as we’re going to have it – with prosciutto wrapped chicken breast. As I said, things are on the up. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been able to form coherent thoughts about what’s going on. Turns out quitting one’s job, moving to a new city, and creating a new life has its challenges. Whoda thunk? So our move-out date rolled around and everything we owned went to Scotland… without me! It’s all currently stuffed in a storage locker, awaiting liberation. But – happy days – after a substantial dose of stress, hard work and several pages on the calendar rolling past, not only do we now have …

chapter 2: in which Giv makes a life-changing decision

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I’m moving to Glasgow. That’s right, people, I’m picking up sticks and moving. Away. Far away. I’m going to have an entirely different life – one which will be hard, one which may fail, one which may see me reduced to peddling my writerly wares to the lowest, most unethusiastic bidder. Essentially: I may fall flat on my face into the metaphorical shit. But, gosh dang it, I’m doing it. As you may remember, I’m a writer living in London: I have a great job, wonderful friends, a beautiful flat, and so on and so forth – so, on the surface at least, there’s no real reason to go. But going I am, because deeper down, there’s every reason to go. I may need to explain. Firstly, don’t get me wrong – London is awesome. Me and London are breaking up on totally amicable terms. The theatre, the opera, the food, the fun; it’s all grand. Really, London – it’s not you, it’s me. (Well, to be fair, it’s a little bit you – over …