A July Change Catchup with Vegetarian Haggis Money Bags

I have not written about the monthly resolutions that I replaced New Year Resolutions with since June. It isn't like I haven't thought about making the small monthly changes for the better or indeed making and enjoying the changes - it is simply that I have thus far failed to commit them to words. In respect of my June resolution which was to Just Get on and Do It, I shall begin to remedy that now.

Back at the beginning of the summer holidays (how far away that seems now, three days into the new term), we were visited by a friend my husband and I both knew at University. This friend has a very special place in my husband's life and we were honoured when he played the role of best man at our wedding. I always enjoy seeing him because his dry sense of humour never fails to make me laugh. I enjoy seeing him even more now since he met and fell in love with an amazing lady that, although I have only spent a small amount of time with, I adore.

They have three children between them and some interesting parenting ideas including 'technology free days' and 'try new food days'. My little ones are just as happy running round the garden inventing games as they are playing on the computer so technology bans would serve little purpose in our family. Trying new food, however, is something we could definitely benefit from. As much as I enjoy cooking (and eating) it is easy to fall into something of a rut. Churning out old favourites that I know everyone will be happy with week after week is OK I suppose, but not adventurous or exciting.

The seeds for my July resolution were sown.

At least once a week, I intend to try a new recipe or adapt an old one to (hopefully) extend the repertoire of family favourites.

I have found inspiration in the BBC's fantastically entertaining Great British Bake Off - who could not love the drama of the melted ice cream saga and the untimely departure of the Bearded Bake God Iain of the bin escapade infamy (binfamy?). I have reorganised my larder and sorted my cookbooks so I know what I have and where to find it (cupboards and drawers on the to do list). When I dine out, I do so now with a slightly analytical attitude as I ponder how to recreate anything especially good in my own kitchen.

Whilst in Edinburgh recently, I enjoyed two meals featuring the iconic Scottish savoury pudding - haggis. As a (mostly) non meat eater, I am talking about Vegetarian Haggis. Whether vegetarian haggis would have inspired the poet John Burns to pen the famous "Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face" Address is debatable, but  I LOVE it.

I have cooked Vegetarian Haggis for the family on Burns Night before but have never thought to use it in any way other than with the traditional 'neeps and tatties'. Inspired by my Scotland experience, this all changed.

First, I made Haggis Nachos. This was easy. I used Morrisons Value Tortilla Chips and put a generous layer in the bottom of individual oven proof serving dishes. On top,  I dolloped some home made salsa sauce  (fry chopped onion, green, pepper and chile pepper, add tin of chopped tomato and splash of hot chile sauce, heat to reduce). The next layer is the haggis (recipe for vegetarian haggis) and finally, top it with goats cheese. Pop it in the oven for a few minutes then garnish with soured cream and jalapenos. One of my dinner guests on this occasion did not like goats cheese so he had grated cheddar. We were all a bit jealous because it looked delicious. I wish I'd remembered to take a photo but I think I was deliberately putting photography to the back of my mind after the distress of losing all of the pictures I had taken in Edinburgh.

The second Haggis dish I attempted was more ambitious - Haggis Money Bags

I adapted my haggis recipe to make it more like the one I had sampled in Edinburgh. I used red onion (about double the quantity) and caramelised it before adding the other veg. Instead of chopped nuts I used a mixture of peanuts, cashew nuts and hazelnuts (again slightly more than the original version of the recipe) and chopped them roughly so they would add more texture. I swapped the red lentils for green ones (which, be warned, take much longer to soften). I also used less oatmeal to make a slightly sloppier consistency. Instead of cooking this in a loaf tin, I wrapped single portion servings topped with goats cheese in sheets of filo pastry. My filo pastry had been in the freezer since Xmas (I had the best of intentions to make a stunning chestnut stuffed filo wreath centrepiece but it never happened!). It had dried out quite badly and was really hard to manage. It felt less like cooking, more like doing a delicate skin graft. My 'money bags' were actually more reminiscent of mutated artichokes but as long as they held together during cooking (which they did) I wasn't too bothered.

I had intended to make a rich red wine sauce to serve with the Money Bags but life sort of got in the way and Bisto instant gravy had to suffice. No complaints. They were delicious.

So Begins a New Chapter

In many ways, I am still having to pinch myself. I have a baby boy. A son. A beautiful, funny, clever little bean that I adore. Really not a baby any more. He started school today.

Last night, he went to bed as my sweet little pre-schooler. This morning, he woke up as a schoolboy.

The transition was not completely smooth.

There was no problem with Dylan wanting to go to school. He was very excited at that prospect. He loves his new teacher. He is familiar with the classroom. He was looking forwards to seeing friends he had been at nursery with. What he objected to - in a ferociously vocal manner - was wearing school uniform.

I WILL LOOK STOOPID IN DAT!

Eventually, with the help of big sister Addy promising to play "Dinosaur Adventure" in the playground with him if he co-operated, we coaxed him into his smart new uniform and peace was restored.

After a hurried photo shoot on the front drive, we bundled into the car and set off on the first of many school runs.

(Just to clarify, I really do not think that Dylan looked "stoopid" at all!)

The End of Summer

The end of the summer is a sad time for me.

I love having my kids home from school - lazy mornings, carefree days, relaxed bedtimes. As much as I am excited by the new term and in particular my little Dylan starting in his Reception class, I can't help the overriding feeling of gloom that the holidays are over.

Beneath that general gloominess is a deeper sadness - a sadness that comes from bereavement.

My sister lost her life at the end of a summer distant enough for the raw pain of grief to have subsided but never distant enough to not feel the ache of her absence.

And this time last year my mother in law died - unexpectedly and suddenly.

Despite a tendency towards depressive episodes, I am generally a positive person who sees the good in things. I wanted to help my husband find a way to commemorate the anniversary of his mum's death in a celebratory fashion. We had a few ideas that included trifle and family card games but none of it really felt adequate.

That evening, as I put my little boy to bed with a bedtime story, I realised that the book I had chosen by chance (or cosmic guidance?) was one that had been given with love by Grandma. I felt very peaceful reading the story and remembering the time when Grandma's voice spoke these same words to the rapt attention of the beautiful boy now drifting off to sleep. That was my moment. My celebration. My connection to a wonderful lady sorely missed.

My husband said he had his moment too in the realisation that decisions he makes and actions he takes are now influenced by a voice in his head asking "Would this have made mum proud?".

There were tears. Not many... but enough.

The following day we took part in a Fun Run in a neighbouring village. There was a poignancy to it because last year when we took part, my husband had just returned from helping his dad to sort out funeral arrangements. He cycled the route with our daughter on a tag along trailer bike at the back and Dylan on a kid seat at the front of his bike. I'm sure the sun on his face, the fresh air and the excitement of the children were good antidotes to the solemnity of the tasks he had been performing. This year, there was a shorter 3K route option and we felt that the children should be capable of running it.

We collected our race numbers. Six year old Addy couldn't wait to get started but Dylan was not quite so keen. He was angered by the fact that his race number did not include the digit four - his age! I wrote a 4 on in biro but it did not placate him.

The plan was that my husband (with a bit of help from my daughter Taylor) would run the 3K route with Addy and Dylan while my daughter Liberty would run the 5mile route with me. Both routes started together. We all gathered at the starting line. Dylan's enthusiasm was returning - I had to physically hold him back to stop him crossing the line ahead of time. Eventually we were off.

I am so grateful that Taylor was there to help. Addy ran off at an astonishing pace that Dylan's little legs did not have a chance of keeping up with. Taylor and her lovely friend Harriet (twin sister of boyfriend George) took responsibility for Dylan, urging him on with the promise of smarties.

Meanwhile, Addy and her dad raced away - distracted occasionally by juicy blackberries growing in the hedgerows, ripe for the picking.

The weather was perfect - sunny but not unbearably hot.

Last year I found it tough to run the hilly course but this year I loved every mile and finished in a quicker time. I stayed with my daughter for the first 3 miles but picked my pace up slightly for the last two after she stopped to stretch aching muscles and walk for a moment. I found myself smiling as I ran along alone thinking about my mother in law and everything that has happened in the year since her death. I could believe that she was smiling back.

Taylor's boyfriend George crossed the finish at a pace I can only dream of.

Taylor and George

Once Dylan noticed the playground next to the finish line he lost all interest in the race and could only be persuaded to cross the line with Taylor and George's younger sister, Danielle, taking his weight whilst his legs ran ahead of his body.

He was, however, very pleased with his finishers medal.

To say that Addy was delighted to be presented with a trophy for her efforts would be a massive uderstatement. She posed proudly with other winners for the local press photographer.

It was a glorious day. A perfect end to the summer. And if the voice in my husband's head were to ask, Would this have made mum proud, I don't doubt that the answer would be YES.