Windows, in old stone houses
dilapidated walls, steep narrow staircases,
arched doorways.

lampshades, waiting to light up crumbled stones in the dark.
lustered cobbled streets,
polished by un-rushed feet.

long strolls along old town walls,
gelato, tall Aperol glasses shimmering in the afternoon heat.

Sunday church bells, Pizza in the piazza,
Sunsets, candle light, big bright moons

The high noon sun!!

Zig-zagging along shadows for shade,
bright blue shutters, shut tight.
Dressed up windows, blood red coral, 
surfaces covered in evening golden light   

Sand under our feet and in-between our toes.
crystal clear, shallow sea water as far as the eye can see.

Lifetime friends being made,
old ones, being kept.

Sun hats, straw hats. 
Breakfast picnics by the sea,
​figs, hand broken bread,
​homegrown market pears.

And the sea!! Did I mention the sea?  

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For a while now, I had misplaced my colours. The colours we hold within ourselves that shape and fill our life. Colours that subconsciously we display to the world around us; whether we are riding high in the clouds or facing a steep mountain…


For me, my colours are shades of grey, formed out of vibrant reds and soulful blues with swirls of yellow that weave in light. Never black and white - in fact, black never comes into the mix. Right now - there's Autumn’s tones, like the ones you find on turning leaves at the bottom of naked trees… Faded away pinks and moulted rusty greens that push away the blues. 

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Recently, I found a vibrant coral shade bubbling away under thick blankets of steam, that only quince and golden sugar know how to paint. It seems in this season of mists and mellow fruitfulness; I have discovered the colours that had been tucked away beneath the layers of my everyday life…

​Marmelada (Portuguese quince cheese)
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1kg quince
600g golden caster sugar
1 cinnamon stick
Lemon peel
250ml filtered water 

Scrub and wash quince thoroughly. Carefully peel, core and cut into quarters. 

Place peels, cores and water in a large pot on medium heat. Cook for 10 to 15 minutes. Drain the cooking liquid and set aside. Discard Peels and cores.
 
Add quince quarters, sugar, cinnamon stick, lemon peel and cooking liquid, to the pot. Stir over medium heat until all the sugar has dissolved. Brush the sides of the pot with a wet brush to remove any sugar crystals. Turn heat to low and cover the pot. Cook quince segments in the syrup for 1 hour. The quince and syrup will turn a deep coral colour. Remove and discard lemon peel and cinnamon stick.
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Transfer poached quince into a jug, using a hand blender, carefully blend into a smooth puree. Return to pot and cook on low heat for a further 10-15 minutes to reduce and thicken, stir continuously. Transfer paste into sterilized jars or ramekins. Cut a disk of parchment paper and cover the surface. Allow to set overnight

It's been an unusually silent holiday! Un-rushed and calming. A candle lit dinner for two on Christmas Eve. Simply laid tables, layered with linens and fir tree trimmings. The wooden pieces my husband carves with all his patience, that I am for ever grateful for. Muslin, draped gently around textured white bowls, filled with the good things of the season. I spent most of that day baking fragrant buttery wreths, studded with dried fruits and nuts that we gathered throughout the year. There was flan and a fruit cake that had been fed for a month with Port, Amaretto and Chambord. My mother's chocolate cake, rabanadas and Sonhos. Rissois, Alheira croquettes and salt cod pasteis. That was all! Believe me when I say it wasn't at all much... Our table was laid on the 24th and will be lifted on the 6th of January, as it's always been for as ever as I can remember.  

The rest of the days were spent with family. Reminding each other of the stories that we grew up listening to. We spoke of years gone past and our fondest childhood memories, the things that got us in trouble. My father told us his stories, that are endless and filled so vividly with detail. There were no gifts to clutter our lives, but each other's company to fill in the gaps. And for the first time in many years, we didn't overdo anything at all. And that felt like the right way to do it, and the best way to start a new year. On New Year's Eve, we danced until our feet could no longer. 

I'll bake another of these wreaths (bolo rainha) in time for the 6th of January, or King's day. Here is the recipe for a pillowy wreath scented with aniseed and cinnamon.   

Wishing you peace, happiness and the best of everything good in 2015! May it be a truly wonderful year. 

Bolo Rainha | Queen's Cake

400g plain unbleached flour
150g warm milk 
10g fresh bakers yeast
50g sugar
70g butter
2 large eggs
1/2 tspn ground cinnamon  
1/4 tspn ground aniseed

2 tbspn Port 
50g Currants
50g Hazlenuts
50g sultanas
30g candied orange peel

Roughly chop hazlenuts and orange peel. Place in a bowl, along with the sultanas and soak with Port. Set aside. 

Warm milk and sugar until it reaches about 37 deg C. In a large bowl mix together all the ingredients except the macerated fruit and nuts. Knead for 8 minutes on medium speed, until the dough no longer sticks to the sides. If it is too sticky, add an extra spoon of flour. Not much more though, as it is meant to be quite soft.

Oil a large bowl and place kneaded dough. Cover and allow to rise in a warm place, for 1 hour or until it has doubled in size. After the dough has risen, turn onto oiled surface and gently fold in the mixed fruit. Shape into a ring. Lightly oil a baking tray and place dough ring. Allow to rise for a second time. 
 
Preheat oven to 220 degs C. Brush with egg yolk and bake for 35 minutes at 170 degs C until golden brown.

I had some pumpkin jam in the fridge, so swirled a few good heaped spoons into the dough together with the fruits. So feel free to make it your own.

I date my recipes, like you would a page in your diary, or a painting that you've decided to stop adding to. I like knowing the day it came to be. A little more than a year has passed since I last looked at this list of ingredients, in these proportions. I remember the smell of soaked fruits, cooking in rich buttery bread. My mother's smile, as she pressed gently on its soft golden crust. The green bottle of Aguardente soaking Autumn light on the kitchen counter. I remember sitting quietly as we tasted this accidental recipe. I had somehow added three time the weight in milk into our Bolo Rei. This recipe, as it turned out, was an improvement to the previous one we'd been making for as long as we can remember. Light an airy. Better the next day, if it lasted that long...  

Each mouthful was followed by a smile. The seal of approval. Her seal of approval. Because my mother is the sweetest lady, and the one whose opinions matter the most, when it comes to new things I make. She couldn't tell you something was God awful. She'd shrug and perhaps nod, but not smile. And you'd know it wasn't there yet. This time though, she smiled! 

I baked it again today, with dried figs and sultanas and sun shriveled apricots, a few chopped walnuts too. 

 

Dried Figs, Sultanas and Walnut Bread 

300g plain flour
150g warm milk
10g fresh bakers yeast
50g sugar
50g butter
2 large eggs
1/2 tspn ground cinnamon  

2 tbspn Aguardente 
50g Figs
50g walnuts
50g sultanas
50g dried apricots

Roughly chop walnuts, thinly slice figs and apricots. Place in a bowl, along with the sultanas and soak with Aguardente. Set aside. 

Warm milk and sugar until it reaches about 40 deg C, or test by dipping your finger (you shouldn't notice a difference in temperature to that of your finger). In a large bowl mix together yeast, sugar and milk. Stir until it has dissolved. Mix in 100g of flour. Cover and leave in a warm place until it turns into a sponge like consistency.

In a small sauce pan, gently melt butter. Add the butter to the sponge, followed by the eggs, remaining flour, cinnamon, soaked fruits. Knead for 5 minutes, until the dough no longer sticks to the sides. If it is too soft, add an extra spoon of flour. 

Oil a large bowl and place kneaded dough. Cover and allow to rise in a warm place, for 1 hour or until it has doubled in size. After the dough has risen, turn onto oiled surface and shape into a ball. Line a cake tin with parchment paper and place dough. Allow to rise for a second time. 


You could also cut it into smaller pieces, shape into balls and arrange them into a ring like shape, on a floured tray. 

Preheat oven to 220 degs C. Brush with egg yolk and bake for 30 minutes at 170 degs C until golden brown.