Yoga Lessons from my Grandparents.

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My grandparents are some of the biggest yogis I know, and I don’t believe they’ve ever done an asana class in their lives. They run off these basic, old-fashioned principles of kindness, fairness, a brisk walk in the fresh air and good wholesome food.

Theres something very grounding and eye-opening about spending time with your elders. Something that reminds you that you don’t need too much to be happy, and you don’t have to tell everyone how happy you are in order to validate that happiness.

What fills you up when you feel empty? It may or may not be that $10.99 mystery smoothie purchase from the alternative supermarket that has opened up next to the bikram yoga studio down the street. It’ll more probably be simmering on Nanny’s stove all afternoon, laboured over with love and heady spices and and it probably won’t have high protein chia seeds in it but it will have a good blob of butter and will make you feel like you’re snuggled up in bed on a cold rainy day. What could be better for your sense of comfort and contentment in life?

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Nanny’s House.

I had a conversation with my Poppa about a month ago, sitting in the garden with a mid-morning cuppa, after he caught me doing a headstand in the garden after hanging out the washing.

P: “So… do you do yoga every day then? It must be very good for you!”

R: “Well. Usually I do, yes, but sometimes I do other things that I feel like are more important in that moment. Like going for a walk with my family, or swimming in the sea, or taking a nap mid afternoon then drinking a glass of wine and rolling up my trousers in the back yard to catch some rays. A different kind of yoga. Sometimes I start doing asanas then I just lie face down on my mat and call it savasana.”

P: “Yes, well, you don’t want to be a slave to anything, do you?”

Exactly, Poppa. My sentiments exactly.

Ahh yoga. Bendy, self-accepting, health-embracing, intuitive-moving, universal-loving yoga. Have you noticed a strange dichotomy between what yoga says it is, and what it actually appears to be on your Instagram feed? Teeny little white girl bends into thirds, sips on a juice made from pureed spinach (my family know I love a good spinach beverage, I ain’t no hater) , and scribes underneath “yoga is about progress, not perfection”. Nobody knows what perfection is, but if our perfection looks like her progress, then we start to second guess ourselves.

Shake it off. Stamp on it. Sit on it and squash it with your dimply bottom. This shit is what cheapens the profound impact that yoga can have on our lives.

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Let’s pause for a moment and imagine our grandparents doing a headstand on a beach, sunset glowing in the background, in their high waisted modest one piece swimmers, getting each other to take photos of each other, taking hundreds of shots until they get the perfect one, then getting the photos developed and writing “#yogaholiday” underneath each in the family photo album? Nah. Nope. It was more likely to be a grainy shot of Nanna and Poppa pressing cheeks up against one another, beaming, looking happy and content and in the caption it would say “Holiday at the Caravan”. Keeping it real, since ages ago.

Don’t get me wrong – I love the physical practice of yoga, and everything it brings with it. I’m obsessed with it. It makes me feel incredible, and is the springboard into living yoga in other aspects of my life. That should be all that matters. How it makes you feel, and whether it makes you happy.

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Cheerful, contented, tickled, intoxicated, jolly! Just a selection of the synonyms for “happy”.

Cheerful? Strolling down the street after a lovely morning of doing your favourite yoga poses in your back garden with no bra on and some sweet tunes jamming and nobody caring what you look like or whether you shaved your legs. A little secret with yourself. Beaming to passers-by. You’re a mystery, you, a glowing mystery.

Contented? Happy with this present moment, with what you have, without feeling the need to blast it to your social media gremlins. Like when you leave your phone at home and wander up the hill with your dog to just walk, not take aesthetically pleasing photos, just to think, and you pick up the poop and carry it swinging at your side, feeling like a wonderful, altruistic human. Shit doesn’t get you down.

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Tickled? When you play a game of scrabble and you get a really good word and everyone says wow, you smarty pants, and you smile humbly and cross your hands in your lap and feel both dignified and intelligent in the company of others without asking for their kind words. Quietly pleased with yourself. A little tickle on the inside.

Intoxicated? When you’re a wee bit smashed after spontaneous wine drinking and cheese eating with your hilarious, mismatched, curious friends, new and old, who know you for you in that moment. High on life, high on the present awesomeness, not thinking about the past or the future, only how your fingers are tingly and you feel fabulous, darling, and that energy pumping through your veins comes from the beautiful people and the fun that lies ahead. Drunk in love.

 

 

Jolly? Belly laughs and ugly tears of joy and double chins and bouncing bosoms and slaps on the back and table banging and a good old knees up and red cheeks and joy, falling on your face when you try to go upside down on your mat and just owning it, laughing at yourself. There’s nothing more appealing than a person who doesn’t take it all too seriously. A certain lightness in your step.

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This is yoga. When you are happy in this moment, happy enough that nobody else needs to really know quite how happy. You are powerful butt lifts, radiant cheesy smiles and a swig of ice cold sauvignon blanc on a hot summer’s day.

Nanna and Poppa probably don’t even think about this shit. They just get on with it. Ultimate yogis, with the knowledge of balance, of not comparing your lot in life with another’s, of the importance of a square meal. I’m not idealising the good old days – we all have our fair share of crap in life, but we can learn from them in how to deal with it. When you need some life lessons, leave your phone at home, put on some baggy old trousers and a dorky hat and go help Poppa in the garden picking his raspberries.

Eat every third raspberry and contemplate just how good things are when they taste exactly how they look (red), when they’re unique (with some lumps and bumps) and not trying to be anything other than what they truly are.

Tasty as fuck. That’s you, #yogababes.

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Slice of Weird Pai

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These days, every time I leave my house, I see an elephant. Sometimes five in a row.

As a child, I would leave my house and see a cow, sheep, or on a more exotic day, a goat, and then I would probably either ride it or milk it, which is what us country bumpkins do. Elephants were something I read about in a large novels on the school bus (yes, I was that girl), and certainly not a daily occurrence.

Fast forward to 2016, and this kiwi country bumpkin finds herself in a hippie town in Northern Thailand, living and working on a yoga & meditation retreat, fist-fighting gigantic spiders the size of her face in the darkest hour of night, and overtaking elephants on her moped. I have not yet ridden or milked said elephant, so I’ve really moved up in the world.

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He sat there all night, watching over me. This photo is poor quality because of my shaking limbs.

Pai, Thailand. A backpackers heaven, where you can rent a scooter for three dollars a day, eat  incredible street food for under five dollars a day, and sleep for around the same (depending on your standards!). Strangers become friends when you a share a bowl of steaming Thai soup under the crumbling umbrella of  a street-side stall. Everyone is there for the same reason – to have fun, to relax, and in general to have nothing to do, which is the joy and the downfall of a backpacker – what do you do when you have nothing to do? Drink. And there are plenty of places for that. An atmosphere of late nights, sleepy mornings, and meandering slow-paced days makes this little Northern Thai town a welcome reprieve from bustling Chiang Mai.

There’s a curious duality to Pai. There’s the backpacker crowd, who embark on a windy road from Chiang Mai, unprepared for 700-and-something hair raising, stomach-turning bends they must endure before arriving in the lush Pai countryside. They stay a few days, spend their money on drinks, street food, and scooting about, then head back to Chiang Mai to continue on their travels, another glorious pin in their world map.

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Open Mind Centre, Pai

Then there are the “alternative-lifestyle” nomads who come to Pai because they have heard through the organic grapevine that there is kombucha, coconut kefir and sharing session aplenty. They come with no agenda, other than to spend their days traipsing from cafe to meditation centre, writing in their journals, drawing in their colouring books, purchasing airy, colourful pants, getting tattoos, and partaking in fermentation workshops.  They sit on the pavement in the midst of the night market to sell their handcrafted mandala postcards to fund their travels. They come for three days, and leave three years later, as if emerging from a bubble in time, in need of a good shower.

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“Sharing Session” at Art in Chai, Pai

It’s also a pretty quirky place. As you drive into Pai, coming from Chiang Mai, you pass a handful of kitsch roadside cafes with human-sized letters boldly announcing names like “Pai in Love” and “Strawberry Pai”, which attract hordes of Chinese tourists, doubled up on mopeds, in full length plastic raincoats, seeking shelter from the daily monsoon downpours.

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There is a gigantic white statue of Buddha on a hill overlooking Pai, a cavernous canyon, hidden waterfalls, a bridge left over from World War Two, and a cafe called “Land Crack” on a back road into the hills, where you can buy fruit juices from a five year old pig-tailed girl, no parent in sight. There is a sign encouraging you to “Swim in the crack! At your own risk!” I dare you.

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You can walk down the street and come across a community gathering, which at the front appears to be a casual get-together and barbecue, but enter through those doors and its a discotheque complete with flashing lights, live music in soundproof walls, a curvy Thai woman singing soulful husky tunes to the backing of an 70’s style rock band, wearing waistcoats and beards and holding their guitars like screaming babies. Western women slide wildly across the dance floor, wafting bodily odours every time they lift their arms, but a tiny little Thai girl with some bodily deformities and a lovely dress steals the show with alternative dance moves that demonstrate both creativity and outrageous self-confidence.

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The thing that baffles me the most about Pai, which I will almost certainly never be able to explain, is this: I was driving down the country road in the early evening, heading for civilisation, and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Captain Jack Sparrow lighting up a cigarette and waiting for his coconut in a roadside bamboo shack. I had consumed no highly fermented semi-alcoholic kombucha before this encounter, and I saw it with my own two eyes. Boots, white blooming shirt, waistcoat, eyeliner, long matted hair, complete with hat and feather, sitting calmly at his table. I sat in the middle of the road, stared for a good ten seconds, then continued down the road, blinking rapidly.

Either he’s been here too long, or I have.

Thai-ed in Knots

I’ve just finished a two week intensive Thai Yoga Massage training, at Sunshine Massage School in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Woohoo!

There were just four of us on our course which was perfect – the week before had around 15 people, so I think we were lucky to get one-on-one time with the teacher.

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All excited about our certificates

On my course was Kay, a fellow yoga teacher and travelling soul from Japan, who is just the sweetest person and shares my love for finding healthy restaurants and yoga studios everywhere she goes – we ate some amazing food around Chiang Mai together, fuelling our bodies for full days of massage and being massaged. She plans to open a yoga and massage studio and coffee shop back in Japan, and I’ll definitely be going to visit in the future. All of the best things combined in one place!

Capu, or Capucine, was my beautiful bunk buddy from the south of France, an effortlessly beautiful human who radiates positivity and sunshine. We spent our evenings swimming in the pool, studying, wandering the Night Bazaar and drinking avocado and mango “Sweet Sunrise” shakes.

Ruben was the only boy on our course, a masseuse from Spain, so he had a head start on the rest of us. He could barely understand what our teacher was saying in her Thai accent, and would look around the room at the rest of us with a quizzical look on his face. She would tell him to do something and he would nod slowly, fully uncomprehending, and then they would laugh and speak the language of massage, talking with their hands and their bodies. Not in a weird way.

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The Team

And Dot – our sweet little pea of a teacher. She is the same age as my mother and I truly felt like she was our mum for the past two weeks, guiding us through the teachings with a cheeky little smile on her face, allowing us to indulge in nap time, and sitting us down for “talks” after the lunch hour, when we all felt a bit sleepy and weren’t ready for massaging just yet. Every morning and evening we sang together, chanted OM three times and did a short meditation. In the afternoons she would talk about traditional medicine, thai culture, how to read the stars, how to lose weight (which she was mildly and hilariously obsessed with, even though she was a tiny human), her favourite colours (gold and yellow!), massage, yoga, temples, the list goes on. At the end of one particular afternoon towards the end of the course, when Kay had just finished massaging me, I fell into a deep, body-stoned dream where I could hear them all talking but I couldn’t move my body. This is what a full day of bodywork will do for you. Dot also spent half an hour one day braiding my hair in the most delicate way, and I felt like a princess.

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Princess Hair
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Me and Dot

Dot would come to the Eco Resort where we were staying every evening to “do her exercises” in the pool – she wore a little unitard and a swim cap and goggles and would peel a mango and sit eating it on a chair by the pool, her pre-swim snack, swinging her legs back and forth like a child, completely involved in what she was doing, every action a meditation. She inspired me to lead a life more simple and focus on the little things.

So now I have finished my course, I am officially certified to give a 2 hour thai massage to a normal human being, and I feel very well stretched.

I’m amazed at how similar thai massage is to yoga. I knew they would complement each other, so its been great to learn how they go hand and hand. Thai massage is a little bit like “passive yoga”, where the masseuse does most of the work and the receiver just lies there like a dead weight, their only task to relax as much as possible. Learning the energy lines in our bodies and the acupressure points on our hands and feet has given me a more informed view on how our bodies are truly wired to heal themselves. Every part of your body, inside and out, is connected intrinsically with another, which explains why holistic medicine is the way to go – we can’t isolate any one part of our body or brain. Healing comes from the whole. It also reaffirmed my suspicions that meditation and mental serenity is the most important thing. We can heal our body through our mind, and our mental state has a direct effect on all of the systems in our body.

Before each massage, the masseur does a prayer, wishing for the happiness and eradication of pain or illness in the body of the receiver. If you as the masseuse are feeling on edge, nervous, irritated or distracted, the receiver will feel that and absorb your energy, even if their eyes are closed and they are half asleep.

Likewise, if you’re the masseuse and your patient is in an emotional state, stressed out or radiating nervous energy or anger, you will feel that and come away from the massage feeling a little off kilter. You have to learn to protect yourself from the energy of the patient, whilst also being able to read it and act upon it. You make your massage a meditation – focussing only on what you are doing, the contact between your body and the receiver’s, radiating compassion and warmth through your hands (and all the other parts of your body used in thai massage – knees, forearms, feet, thighs, anything!), leaving your anxieties and preoccupations at the door. Much like when I teach a yoga class, I find it is the best way to forget yourself and become completely immersed in what you’re doing. Theres no space for anything else. The massage becomes a meditation in motion, a practice of yoga through touch and connection, a mindfulness practice.

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Hippie Central 

There was also a lot of talk on bowel movements and menstruation which was cute and fun – certain series or “families” of massage techniques can’t be done if a woman has her lady time, and there are also certain movements that can help with digestive disorders which was quite helpful for those of us that have been travelling in Asia for some time – the stomach massage was the one I was most nervous about, but proved to be wonderful for my stomach. Our stomach and all of the inside soft lines of our bodies (inner thighs, inner arms, chest)  can be incredibly sensitive, and we hold a lot of emotions here, so we learnt how to balance stronger pressure on the outer lines with a more gentle pressure on the inside lines, listening to the breath and the reactions of the receiver.

So I’ve come away from two weeks of training feeling full of information and some lovely new friendships, and really hoping to do more training in the future.

I didn’t take many photos these past couple of weeks, we were all too sweaty and dishevelled all the time (no changes there, really). I’ve included some from my trip to Pai, a little hippie town north of Chiang Mai which is just heaven.

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Pai Canyon

The next adventure is as of yet unknown – I’m taking my time in Chiang Mai, exploring street foods and little alleyways, weighing up my options and planning our retreat in November in Chanthaburi, Thailand. I’ve been tying myself in knots thinking about what I will do after my course, then avoiding thinking about it, simply because the unknown can be scary and overwhelming.  But it also can be a blessing – I can do anything I want. Sometimes its good to slow down, take stock, and think about what I really want to do next, not just the first thing that comes up. It seems to me that when I get very clear on what I want, its a lot easier to see it. On the other hand, sometimes I don’t know what I want until I’ve got it, and it looks so incredibly different to anything I could have imagined. Hmm.

That’s the joy and the wonder of life. Predictably unpredictable.

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Beautiful Chiang Mai

Anyone who wants to be my Thai Massage practice victim, get in touch.

Rosie Posie xx

 

 

 

 

 

 

Loving and Leaving

I can’t quite believe that my one month in Luang Prabang, Laos, has trickled past so quickly. In a hazy blur of yoga, sunrises, sunsets, a birthday, lush countryside, new friends, some illness and homesickness, but most of all an overwhelming feeling of contentment and gleeful disbelief that my world right now allows me to work, travel and live like this.

There’s something very special about Luang Prabang, in a way that you can’t quite put your finger on. It is the kind of place that just keeps ticking along – you come, you settle in, then you leave, and it just keeps going without you, which is both sad and comforting at the same time. A month is too short a time to fully experience life there, at least in the way it needs to be experienced. The most captivating part of Luang Prabang life for me is that life feels easy. Nothing is too far away, you have culture, religion, outdoor adventure, nature, comfort and a bounty of good, cheap food on your doorstep.

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I was there for a month, teaching yoga daily for Luang Prabang Yoga, overlooking the Nam Khan River, through rain and shine, sunrise and sunset, to whoever passed through. I had some regulars – people staying in town for a while, expats, or returning visitors who went elsewhere and decided this was the place to be. I was teaching most classes at Utopia, which is just as it sounds – a chilled out, everybody welcome kind of place with good food, interesting people, cosy seating overlooking the river, a volleyball net and a yoga deck.

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One of my favourite evening activities was to visit one of the temples at around 6.30pm and join the monks and novices for their evening chanting and meditation. From 6.30 – 7pm they would chant Buddhist verses, then from 7 – 8pm they would meditate in silence. I would do my best, sometimes sneaking out a little earlier, because an hour and a half is a long time to sit without stretching out your legs. The feet are considered the lowest part of your body in all respects, so its very rude to stretch your legs forward and face the soles of your feet at Buddha. If you want to stretch, you have to awkwardly poke your legs to one side. One time I made the foolish mistake of wearing a wrap around skirt to meditation, and quickly realised that I couldn’t sit cross legged without baring my crotch to the Buddha, which is generally deemed inappropriate in Buddhist tradition.

At the end of the meditation sometimes the novices would turn to practice their English with any westerners in the temple. They were very inquisitive about our lives and how we can travel, and in exchange I asked questions trying to get a grasp on the day in the life of a monk or novice. It’s a lot of discipline for these tiny little boys, and one night in meditation I opened my eyes to just watch them sitting. Some of them are so small and their heads keep lolling forward, then they catch themselves and try to sit upright again, only to keep falling asleep every few minutes. It’s adorable and kind of sad and also very impressive all at the same time – as teenagers these kids have more discipline than many of us might learn in a lifetime. At their age I was running around half naked in a field, building tree houses and singing at the top of my lungs. The contrast is pretty eye opening.

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The food… People say that Laos food is nothing to write home about. I found some gems in Luang Prabang that made me rethink – my particular favourite breakfast at Delilah’s consisted of a little bamboo box of sticky rice, a Lao omelette with dill and vegetables, steamed vegetables and a pot of spicy eggplant dip which was the best in town. I would go there for brunch after teaching, use the Internet, and just watch people passing by. It was a weird little place, they would often be blasting the music at 9am, even if I was the only customer, but I took my food outside and they took a shine to me because I tried out my rudimentary Laos on them every day and they thought I was hilarious.

Some places in town make awesome Laap or Laab – made with either chicken, fish or tofu/mushroom, mixed in with fresh herbs and served with greens and sometimes sticky rice, it makes a refreshing lunch or dinner. Street side stalls have grilled bananas, fresh fruit, tiny pancakes, sandwiches, and fruit shakes. I discovered an alleyway in the night market offering a buffet selection of vegetarian food, where you grab a bowl, fill it with as much as you can pack in, get them to heat it up for you, chuck an egg on top and pay a tiny 15,000kip (less than 2usd). You can also choose to wash it down with a big beer Laos, at the average price of 10,000 kip. Cheap and cheerful.

A favourite was also the Sin Daad or Laos BBQ, with baskets of vegetables, noodles, raw meat or tofu, pots of broth and dipping sauce. You grill your own meat or tofu on the hot pot which is built into the table, pour the broth into the little most and fill it with vegetables and noodles, and then scoop it out bit by bit into your bowl and try to get it in your mouth with chopsticks. An awesome social way to eat, pretty cheap, and there are places around town that offer an all-you-can-eat situation, including icecream for dessert, and you can just stay there for several hours to see how many meals you can squeeze in for your kip.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows in Luang Prabang for me, though. I got a nasty burn on my leg from riding on the back of my friends motorbike, which I was terrified was getting infected, especially when it started bleeding and looking quite worrying. Luckily a friend had some medical supplies and it has started to heal nicely. Apparently they call them “Laos burns”, because everyone gets a burn in the same place from bumping against the exhaust pipe on their bike.

I got a weird bite or something suspicious on the back of my other leg which became a curious texture and felt all squishy when I touched it, but I just kind of ignored it for a while (out of sight, out of mind) and it seems to have gone away. Phew.

I also had some nasty stomach issues which still haven’t quite been resolved – a sensitive stomach at the best of times can struggle in Asia, with all the hidden ingredients and language barrier when you ask for certain things to be excluded/ added to your meal. Laos has come a long way, but if you’re looking for gluten free dairy free vegan chia seed muffins, this is not the place. And maybe that’s a good thing.

In general, being sick when you’re away from home is pretty much the worst thing. Every tiny little inconvenience of living in Asia comes to the fore – you can’t find the medicine you need, you can’t drink from the tap, there’s a power cut and you lie there all feverish with no air con, nobody understands what you’re saying (to the point where you think perhaps you are delirious and rambling), the thought of noodle soup makes you turn green, and everything comforting and familiar is far away.

Nobody ever talks about the shitty hard part of living and working away from home. It’s like it’s a little bit unacceptable to admit to being unhappy while you’re living in sunshine paradise and working your dream job. It’s natural that there are ups and downs, and being sick makes you realise that your health is the single most important thing, coming before everything else. If you’re not well then you can’t enjoy everything that your surroundings offer.

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And THAT, my friends, is the time to go to Chiang Mai, a vegan/ vegetarian/organic/ gluten free/paleo Mecca for anyone with awkward dietary requirements. It was very sad for me to leave Luang Prabang, where life was easy, and faces had become familiar, but the time has come, and I’m looking forward to starting a Thai Massage training in Chiang Mai and having the resources around me to get my glow back.

I’m currently up in Pai, a chilled out ‘hippie town’ north of Chiang Mai, where I plan to spend several days doing just that – chilling out, doing yoga, catching up on some work and exploring the lush surroundings. Next week I start my course, where I will learn to massage bodies.

✌️

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A controversial hummus of the zucchini variety.

I know. I’m sorry. Perhaps you think I have lost the plot with this one…

It IS hummus, but instead of using chickpeas, I wanted to find something a wee bit lighter. We currently have zucchini coming out of our eyeholes, so I thought why not use this gigantic phallic vegetable for a new and exciting hummus-y paste?

I’m sure you can probably think of a few reasons why not…. But give it a go.

Its a bit runnier than your average hummus, due to the moisture content of the zucchini. I found that letting it sit overnight in the fridge thickened it up a bit, but if you want it less runny, try grating the zucchini first and squeezing the moisture out of it before blending with the other ingredients. You could also add a handful of nuts or seeds (cashew is always a goodie) to give it a bit more texture.

If you can’t tolerate or avoiding legumes, its a good option. Hummus purists may weep a tear or two, but I think its a tasty alternative.

Ingredients

2 medium zucchini (or just one big daddy), peeled and chopped, excess moisture squeezed out

1/2 cup tahini

3 garlic cloves (to keep the boys and girls away)

1-2 tbsp olive oil

juice of one lemon

1-2 tsp cumin (or other herbs and spices you like)

sea salt and cracked pepper, to taste

Method

Pop it all in your food processor and whiz away until it resembles hummus. Sprinkle some toasted seeds on top and serve with chopped veggies, or maybe a large hunk of steak, if that tickles your fancy.

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Balls.

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An enticing title, agreed? I shall try not to disappoint.

I made these balls on a lazy Sunday, when I felt like being a good wifey and making wholesome treats from scratch.

There are plenty of recipes for this kind of thing on the inter web, this is my take on them. If you can’t find/ can’t afford fresh medjool dates, just get the ordinary kind and soak them for a few hours to make them all nice and moist… Also, if you want to use different nuts, give it a go and find a combo that works for you 🙂

Balls Of Fun

Ingredients

2 cups walnuts (whole or pieces)

1 cup sunflower seeds

1 cup shredded/desiccated coconut

2/3 cup cacao powder (or just plain old cocoa powder will work too)

8 fresh dates, pitted and chopped up (or dried, just soak for a few hours first)

1/4 cup of water

pinch of sea salt

Method

  • Combine walnuts, sunflower seeds, dates and coconut in food processor. Pulse until combined.
  • Add cacao powder, salt, and water and process until mixture forms a dough.
  • Make the dough into wee balls by rolling between your palms. Or big balls. Whatever you’re into.
  • Pop them on a tray or container and chill to let them get hard.
  • Eat dem.

You likey?

Recipe: Green Fritters

Is it breakfast, lunch or dinner? I’ll let you decide.

We ate these on a particularly sweaty summers evening in the back garden, accompanied by buckwheat cabbage salad, homemade sundried tomato hummus, sweetcorn and a cheeky glass of Neudorf Pinot Noir.

I have a confession to make –  it’s definitely not my own recipe. I have nabbed it and adapted it from a book my lovely aunt in England gave me, titled “A Modern Way to Eat”, which is written by a woman living in London with excellent taste in food. Thankyou, kind lady, for this delight.

I used greens from the garden – silver beet, kale, and courgette, with a lemon from the lemon tree. I’m lucky enough to be at home in Nelson where Mother has a glorious vegetable garden. You can use whatever you have to hand – spinach, broccoli, peas, etc. The idea is that its a quick and easy recipe to throw together, using whats available. Also, cheese is important (but when is cheese not important, amiright?)

I’m sure I’m not alone in saying they never quite turn out how they look in the book… but they taste real good. That is all that matters.

Here goes:

 

Green Fritters

250g courgettes (grated or finely chopped)

2 handfuls greens, shredded (spinach, kale, silverbeet, whatever you like)

4 tbsp soft cheese (feta, goats cheese)

25 g grated parmesan or pecorino

1 clove of garlic, peeled and finely chopped

5 free range eggs

wee bit of basil/mint/dill/parsley

squeeze of a lemon

sea salt and cracked pepper

olive oil or coconut oil (for frying)

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Put all the vegetables in a big bowl, crumble in the cheeses, add the garlic, herbs and lemon with a generous amount of salt and pepper. Crack in the eggs and mix it well.

Get a large frying pan, a generous amount of oil and a medium-high heat. Spoon in the mixture, flatten to form patties, fry for 2-3 minutes then flip and fry on the other side until brown.

Serve with whatever you want to serve it with, and a hearty glass of wine/beersie/lemonade/typical summer beverage.

Bask in your culinary glory.