Monday 17 October 2011

Trust me, this will not aggravate your diabetes.

There's a cat under my window today. A gigantic yet cute white and brown tabby cat (is it just me, or all English cats are actually enormous? No kidding, three different cats used to wander in my previous place's garden, and they were all twice the size of any Italian cat I can recall seeing), with yellow eyes - a shade of yellow I had never seen before, I must say.
Unfortunately, he could only come in from my flatmate's window, and he's already made clear that he won't let a stray cat inside. Besides that it's probably not a stray cat, it's just that it doesn't wear a collar because cats fucking hate wearing collars. Try slipping a collar on a cat's neck, have you ever? There's not an easiest way to have your wrists cut without a blade. (I was ten when I discovered it. There are things that no child should ever learn, amen).
All of this, just to say that I want a cat. I miss my cat, I miss hugging a cat when I feel I need some sweetness, I simply miss being around a cat. And chances are that I'll never be around a cat again, until I have my own house. Or the money to have my own house. Or a job that pays enough money to have my own house one day - that is to say, very late.

Anyway, let's go back to our kitchen business.
I know I have a not-so-subtle preference for sweet recipes, so I'll give you something salty for once. If you want to find out how to invite three friends to a birthday dinner and surprise them with a tasty main dish despite having spent the whole afternoon baking the cake, you're in the right place, guys.

Mediterranean loaf and mini puff snacks

By now, you might have realised that most part of the things I cook look ugly. I try my best, I swear - but cooking something tasty and pretty still seems to be my unresolved challenge.
The good news is that 99% of the ugly things I cook actually tastes great. So, don't be scared by the picture below: you won't be disappointed, once it's ready.



The - uhm - thing in the middle is a sort of savoury loaf, with a Mediterranean twist I'd say. It's terribly easy to prepare, and the puff snacks all around are even easier; besides, if you're more skilled than me at giving an actual shape to the food you make (and I bet anyone potentially is),  it shouldn't be difficult to create a neat and pretty platter.

To prepare the loaf, you will need to:

- beat 2 eggs with 3 tablespoons of olive oil, salt and oregano;
- add 100g flour and 1 sachet unsweetened baking powder;
- remove the seeds from 100g cherry tomatoes, cut them in halves (or smaller, if you prefer), and add them to the batter, together with 100g olives (again, cut as finely as you like; also, it doesn't really matter if you use green or black olives - I personally like the taste of both).
- put the batter in a loaf tin, that you will previously have greased with oil; finally, pre-heat the oven to 170°, and cook for about 30 minutes.

And to prepare the puff snacks, you will:

- Cut 1 puff sheet (yes, yes, store-bought puff: I'm not so skilled to make it on my own yet...) in squares, or circles, or rectangles - or, as I said before, any shape you fancy, as long as the filling fits in;
- Put a little bit of filling in the middle of each square - or whatever it is (you can use anything you like; as for me, on that particular occasion I tried several different combinations of ham, mozzarella cheese, anchovies and peppers - for no reason in particular, but the fact that I already had everything at home);
- Fold the pastry around the filling, and make sure it doesn't leak out; pre-heat the oven to 180°, and bake for around 30 minutes.

See, it's damn simple. And the friends I had invited for dinner really liked it all, despite its ugliness. Besides,  we had this cake as dessert, and that was actually something tasty and pretty I still am proud of. Yes, I like cooking for my friends. I should, um, organise more dinners. Or have more birthdays.
Well, alright, one per year is already enough, considering that I have precociously started dreading the thought of one more candle to blow when I turned twenty.

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