This is one of my partner Jane’s favourite cookbooks. It was a tough choice as there are so many amazing vegan chefs out there writing brilliant books; Aine Carlin, Isa Chandra Moscowitz and Angela Liddon to name but a few, but my cooking influences come from all sorts of angles.
The Mystic Cookfire is beautifully written with an open heart and lovely illustrations. It’s the rare kind of cookbook that you could quite happily read like a novel, tucked up in bed, with some hot chocolate. On the rare occasion that I have a day off playing with pots and pans, this is Jane’s go to cookbook, we eat from the ‘Mystic Cookfire’ (what a name!!).
I love eating food with soul, something so intangible, but you know the kind of food I’m talking about. Home cooked happiness! These recipes are simple, plant-based and nourishing; the kind of food that can make a house a home, dishes that will become family staples for years to come.
This book also focuses on the deeper relevance of food and cooking. How it is much more than just throwing some ingredients together. Cooking can be a daily routine that accentuates the lives of cooks, families and loved ones.
I’m a sucker for a good quote and this book is packed with amusing and informative references and quotes. Good cooking for me comes from a place deeper than just sound technique. There has to be some love in the mix!
My mother was the first person to teach my daughters, Beth and Eliza, about eating dandelion leaves.
To my eyes, dandelions are beautiful: first, with their bright yellow flowers, and then with their fluffy ball-like seed tops which beg me to blow them off with a wish.
that beautiful happy face!
In the early years of mothering, I would take my daughters out for our daily walk around the block (about three miles around the farmers’ fields), and we’d sing a song called Dandelion, Yellow As Gold.
I would sing:
O dandelion, yellow as gold
What do you do all day?
And then Beth & Eliza would sing:
I just wait here in the tall green grass till the children come to play.
Me:
O dandelion, yellow as gold, what do you do all night?
Beth & Eliza:
I wait and wait till the cool dews fall and my hair grows long and white.
Me:
And what do you do when your hair is white, and the children come to play?
Beth and Eliza:
They take me up in their dimpled hands, and blow my hair away.
They never tired of our vocal trio, and indeed, the dandelion song was the soundtrack to their early childhood. (It is from a book called Sing Through the Day. The song was written by Noreen Bath).
Why do I love dandelions? Apart from their obvious beauty, there is something about their tenacity that makes me smile. That persistence in growing through asphalt, and finding the light, is deeply inspiring. What a life force! And here’s what really makes me laugh: no matter how often people rip those plants up, or knock ‘em down with toxic products, they come back year after year. Do you think they’re trying to tell us something?
Maligned and unappreciated by many, dandelions have so much to offer us.
Imagine if Wordsworth had written about dandelions rather than daffodils? Perhaps we wouldn’t be poisoning our gardens!
My garden is a reflection of me. A bit wild.
Clearing the vegetable beds after Winter.
I see similarities between myself and a dandelion: I have been a source of food, medicine, nourishment, wisdom and strength. My hands-on mothering days are coming to an end, as my younger daughter leaves for university in three months and 26 days.
Eliza Serena Robinson
Reflecting on this, I am reminded that dandelions have been my teacher: they’ve shown me that I have put down roots, and even when the culture around me had completely different values, I continued to grow. I mothered from an intuitive place, and learnt from watching my children play and live free from formal education. Dandelions have also taught me the importance of being adaptable to changing circumstances.
Like my garden, my wild mothering heart is a place that’s overgrown, and the paths have to be navigated through thick, so-called weeds. It was always in my blood to mother from this fertile ground. Dandelions have shown me that I can be a woman and live with beauty in this world, even when the culture tries to trample me down. I stand tall, and continue to do my work both as a mother and in my career.
Enjoying sunrise in my garden
Dandelions always have a home here in my garden, and are amongst the first flowers in Spring that bees can rely on as a source of food.
I rejoice at this time of the year to see fields, verges and, indeed, my lawn, bustling with these happy yellow faces. I don’t see dandelions as evil and pesky weeds. Quite the opposite. They’re welcome in my garden for their beauty alone. But did you know that their leaves are highly nutritious, their flowers are also edible, and their roots make a wonderful caffeine-free coffee?
Dandelion greens have found their way into my fresh juices, salads, and even steamed with other vegetables. Medicinally, they’re brilliant for treating gall-bladder and liver complaints. The bitter leaves are an excellent tonic. Ideal for treating skin issues, such as acne or eczema, dandelion is excellent for purifying the blood. The dandelion is rich in nutrients including protein, calcium, iron, Vitamins A & C.
Daffodils, gorgeous as they are Mr Wordsworth, have inedible bulbs and let’s face it, no one ever told the time using them. But dandelions, oh beautiful dandelions, can be used from root to flower.
NOTE: Do not pick dandelion greens from a roadside, near railway lines or telegraph poles (due to toxic car fumes and weedkiller).
oh how I love to rest amongst the daisies and dandelions
The kitchen, that sacred space where we prepare food to share with and nurture friends and family, has long been part of domesticated human culture.
It’s a grey, wet day here in Cumbria. In my oven is a delicious bread, free of flour and yeast, but based instead on seeds and nuts and psyllium husk powder.
A glass bowl sits on the bench, with black beans soaking for dinner. I still haven’t decided what to do with them. They might become a Latin stew, or bean and sweet potato burgers. Maybe they’ll become a bean loaf or black-bean minestrone. I have no doubt the inspiration will come to me as the day unfolds gently before me.
The kettle has boiled, and I steep peppermint tea. The aroma fills the room and my heart melts as I listen to the classical music station play Pachabel’s Canon.
As a writer, many inspirational ideas come to me as I potter about in the kitchen. For some reason, my intuition kicks in and my mind is more receptive.
My teenage daughter has just made the most scrumptious lunch: chickpeas in a mashed base of sweet potato and dill on brown rice noodles.
For me, the kitchen is a place of visible sacred ceremony. It is here I come to honour and give reverence to the Earth and Sun and Moon for growing the plants which I’ll eat. Lovingly, I prepare my fruits and vegetables to feed my family. The kitchen is, for me, a play space, a work room, and a devotional altar to all that is good in this life.
Veronika is the author of the popular recipe book: The Mystic Cookfire, the sacred art of creating food for friends and family (published by Starflower Press). She is currently writing Love From My Kitchen (more delicious plant-based recipes!), soon to be published by Starflower Press.
https://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.png00Veronika Sophia Robinsonhttps://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.pngVeronika Sophia Robinson2015-11-07 12:41:112015-11-07 12:41:11The Kitchen: heart of the home
I guess our dining table is more than 100 years old. How many meals families have eaten around it, and how many celebrations they shared, I’ll never know.
The wood is old and worn, and the way it feels under my hands satisfies my sensual self. I know my mother, who loves tablecloths, would want to cover it in fabric. I prefer to see the wood, and to connect with the history of this antique piece of furniture.
In my home, and in my heart, I consider the dining table to be a sacred space designed for flowers, candles and meals made with love.
It’s also a place we can gather, at the end of the school day, with a cup of tea while we chat and catch up.
Indeed, the dining table is a ceremonial space, not just for birthdays or Christmas, but for every meal. As with other ceremonies, I light a beeswax or plant-based candle, play music, and express gratitude. Doing this changes a meal from being a source of fuel to something sacrosanct. It takes little extra time, but it does take a change of attitude to bring consciousness to each meal.
Love From My Kitchen: kale and polenta fingers. Photograph by Veronika Robinson
This morning as we sat together, enjoying breakfast in each other’s company, we talked of ethics and philosophy; about fate, free will and determinism. Conversation included past lives and dreams. Taking time in our busy lives, to ‘break bread’ with our loved ones, is one of the most important rituals we can have as a family. It slows us down. It encourages us to take notice. It says ‘I’m showing up for me, and I’m showing up for you’.
Love From My Kitchen: peppers stuffed with ragout. Photograph by Veronika Robinson
As a family, there can’t be many topics we’ve not discussed in one form or another over the years. What I truly value about a dining table is that each person gets to face another. There can be real heart-to-heart connections, even when you eat in silence. It brings a family together, and when we recognise each meal as a gift, a celebration, and the opportunity to commune with our loved ones, the dining table takes on hallowed significance. Indeed, for me, it is one of the most important pieces of furniture in our home.
Love From My Kitchen: courgette and cranberry cake (gluten free). Photograph by Veronika Robinson
From when my daughters were born, they joined as at the dining table; long before they ate solid foods. They grew up learning the ways of this family, and what values we held. Gratitude for our food was as much a part of a meal as was the eating.
Our prayer was:
Earth which gives us this food Sun which makes it ripe and good Dear Earth, Dear Sun, by you we live Our loving thanks to you we give.
In more recent times, we’ve included another prayer of gratitude.
Thank you for the food before us Thank you for the family (and friends) beside us Thank you for the love around us
Yesterday I was writing a scene in my novel, Behind Closed Doors, whereby the family gathered to share a meal. I felt right at home around that old farmhouse kitchen table, listening to the laughter, enjoying the meal. I hope that my passion for such a daily ritual is reflected in the way the characters share their stories. How different an experience to share our days in this way than eating on the run, or standing at the kitchen counter because you don’t have time to eat. Don’t you think?
Tell me about your dining table? What family rituals do you have around meal times?
Love, Veronika xxx
PS Do sign up to my mailing list if you wish to be notified of when Love From My Kitchen (my next recipe book) is published.
•Editorial
•Irena Sendler
•Motherwort
•Holistic Breast Health
•A Metaphysical look at Miscarriage
•Health Notes
•New Moon in Aquarius
•Mercury Retrograde
•In My Kitchen
•Attachment Parenting Teenagers
•A Gift of a Job?
•Palmistry
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As a child, I only knew pumpkin as a savoury dish. This all changed after I left home. At 19, I met my dear friend Amy from America, who was travelling through Australia at the time. She baked me sweet pumpkin pie. It was ridiculously gorgeous! I hope my recipe in issue 5 of Starflower Living comes close to her wonderful creation.
Don’t ask me why Saturday night is dessert night in our home, rather than say Wednesday or Monday…because I don’t know.
Last night we had one of my favourite desserts: pear and coconut crumble. It’s quick and easy to make, and tastes gorgeous!
I first wrote about this dessert in my novel, Bluey’s Café:
Home alone on Saturday night, instead of crawling into bed or watching late-night TV, Bluey headed to the kitchen. A small hessian sackful of ripe pears were begging for her to take notice of them. She peeled half a dozen, and sliced their tender juicy flesh in half, laying them in a pan with coconut oil and brown sugar. They began simmering. Their buttery and gritty flesh was perfect for a crumble. Coconut cream swirled around the pears, and a sprinkling of ground ginger dusted the top.
Bluey loved cooking with coconut, and always found it lent an erotic edge to her recipes, not to mention that it reminded her of Cole Hadden, a dashing young English businessmen who had taken her to dinner while in Jamaica several years ago. His kisses tasted like coconut with a hint of cinnamon and Caribbean sunshine. She could never look at coconuts in the same way again.
Serves four to six
4-6 large ripe pears 30g coconut oil (or margarine) 50g coconut sugar (or other unrefined sugar) or maple syrup Juice of half a lemon 500ml coconut cream Dusting of ground ginger
Crumble: 85g solid coconut oil (or margarine, but coconut is better) 100g coconut sugar (or other unrefined sugar) 2 cups jumbo oats 1/3 cup desiccated coconut 100g 80% dark chocolate, broken into pieces (ginger chocolate is especially good!)
Preheat the oven to 180C. Peel the pears, cut in half and remove the stalks and seeds. Drizzle with lemon juice to stop browning.
Melt coconut oil (or margarine) in a pan, and add the pear halves. Add the sugar, and allow to caramelise.
After about fifteen minutes, add the coconut cream. Place the contents into a casserole dish. It will look like there’s too much liquid, but don’t worry, as it will be absorbed by the crumble.
Make the crumble. I prefer not to use flour in my crumble as I’m gluten free, but if you’d like it, use about 80g flour, and half the amount of oats. Rub the oil or margarine into the oats. Add the sugar and desiccated coconut. Add the pieces of chocolate and mix well. Place the mixture onto the top of the pears. Bake for 45 minutes.
Today I’m collating recipes and photos for Veganuary. Have you heard of it yet?
It’s launching this September, and the campaign is kick-starting in January 2015. The campaign aims to reduce the suffering of animals by inspiring people to ‘try vegan’ every January… Their goal is: to show the wider world how exciting, delicious, vibrant and varied vegan food really is.
Veronika’s pumpkin and chickpea curry
Clea Grady, Marketing Manager for Veganuary, says “Recipes will be a huge and vital part of this website and of our campaign; we want to showcase every type of dish and cuisine there is.”
Veronika’s vegan dandelion tart
She is interested in hearing from bloggers, chefs, cooks and ‘everyday’ vegans to see if they’d be keen to contribute.
Moussaka ingredients
Clea says “It is absolutely up to the contributor as to how many recipes they provide – all will be accredited back, and we will link back to blogs/websites/online profiles and shout your name from the rooftops on social media.”
If you want to contribute to Veganuary, visit www.veganuary.com or email: clea (at) veganuary (dot) com
https://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.png00Veronika Sophia Robinsonhttps://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.pngVeronika Sophia Robinson2014-09-25 10:12:242014-09-25 10:13:49Vegan for a month
Oh my gosh, it’s suddenly come on all dark, grey, damp and chilly here in the north of England.
My feet are cosied up in thick socks, but the goosebumps on my arms make my thoughts turn to lunch: red lentil soup.
My daughter, Eliza, has started taking a thermos to school so she can bring soup for her lunch. What a treat to have something hot and delicious to look forward to in the middle of the day.
There are more than 40 soup recipes in The Mystic Cookfire, so she’s not likely to get bored!
Illustration by Sara Simon, from The Mystic Cookfire
This week she’s enjoyed red lentil and vegetable, leek and potato, and tomato.
Tonight I’ll make some red pepper soup (her favourite) for tomorrow’s lunch.
Thinking ahead, next week’s lunches will include: Bay and Onion, Black Bean, Potato and Corn Chowder, Italian Peasant Soup, and my favourite: Goan Potato.
Illustration by Sara Simon, from The Mystic Cookfire
What I love about soup is that it’s quick and easy to make; and the house always smells amazing while there’s a pot simmering on the stove. It’s also (ever the crafty mother) a great way of slipping in vegetables and fresh herbs that would otherwise be rejected. Amazing how things just ‘vanish’ when you blend a soup!
Tomato soup
What is your favourite soup?
Wishing you a delicious and rather tasty Autumn! Love, Veronika xx
Issue 2 of Starflower Living, out next weekend. Topics include: Inside the mind of an Ironman, and how to use that mindset for daily life; Leo New Moon; one woman’s discovery of creativity at midlife and how it changed her; maintaining zest for life; wild courage; return to the red tent; chamomile; heart meditation; play: honouring the inner child; earth medicine for vitality; and scrummy recipes.
http://starflowerpress.com/living/
If you sign up to Mailchimp, I send out an email each month when it’s out. Love, Veronika xxxxxx
https://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.png00Veronika Sophia Robinsonhttps://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.pngVeronika Sophia Robinson2014-07-18 12:44:212014-07-18 12:44:21New Moon in Leo: issue two of Starflower Living
