CFD* - nuttelex pumpkin risotto

 CFD* - Comfort food discovery

I am 18 miles into a marathon here and it seems it's been uphill all the way. ...

Me time? Those moments caught generally within my car with podcast or audiobook or my own thoughts and silence.  Or in the kitchen.

...

I am currently in love with a pumpkin risotto from an advertisement within a free supermarket magazine.

I am sure that the advertising worked as far as brand awareness goes. However I am a girl for the substitute and so it won't translate into sales.

I made it tonight. It's dead easy. If the originator of this wants acknowledgement I will gladly do so because yum.

First, remember to have ingredients. I mean I had the main ingredient - pumpkin in the form of a beaut little pumpkin from my Dad's.

Onion, however, was in short supply when sought. A half of a large red onion was found in the good round container with the screw-top in the fridge. And luckily I only needed 2 cloves of garlic, because that's what we had.

When I peeled and deseeded and diced the pumpkin, I had 660g.

30g nuttelex (substitute butter if you are a filthy cardio-clog-loving foodie afraid of fats from vats of numbers type) melted in an ovenproof pan with a lid (I have a beauty).

Then add onion and garlic and cook to translucent. (Until the new cooktop comes in and we get someone to install said new cooktop, we have to cook on the existing cooktop and it only has one speed and that's gallop like hell.) (This is why I would never tell you how hot to cook something - how the heck would I know?)

I use brown rice. Sorry Italians. I steal your perfectly good cuisine and adulterate to the inner -1970s- crunchy-hippie wannabe palate. Chuck in 1 1/2 cups - I gave it a little rinse for the dust and stuff (and a silent prayer for the potential chemicals) (and the taste) and let it sizzle the moisture out rather than use white wine (dry July - and V was having some).

Then put in pumpkin and 3 1/2 cups of veg stock (it says nuttelex because again, they paid for the ad but nobody's checking.)

I used to have containers of frozen stock in the deep freeze - and prior to that jars of stock vacuum sealed. Who is this woman with store bought stock?

So yes, put the lid on and put it in the oven. 1/2 an hour on the timer.

While that was happening, I needed to get together some vegan parmesan - again, V, but as I am pretty lactose intolerant these days, me too.

I had some cashew pieces, so reserving a handful I put the rest - a bit more than about a cup - in the whizzer and whizzed to powder. Then I chucked in some nutritional yeast - magic stuff! Maybe a few tablespoons? 

I also got 20 sage leaves from the garden and roughly chopped them and those reserved cashew pieces (the recipe had hazelnuts) and fried then in a little pan with 30g of the outcome of the earlier moral dilemma until crispy.

At the 30 minute ding, take the pan out of the oven. Put it on a heatproof surface (turned off stove works a treat) and remove the lid. 

Admire the fact that it's pretty well cooked to perfection. Then take another dollop of your fat of choice and a cup of previously slapped together vegan parmesan and mix through, squishing the pumpkin a bit. You can add a little water if you need a bit more glug.

Put the crispy sage, nuts and oil on top as a garnish and serve.

Verdict? Yum.

Good night.

Five photos

 Over the last fifteen days (in no particular order) (well, in the order that hopefully makes sense to some bot in blogger else it's mad)

Being the school holidays for the last two weeks and a specialist appointment for Dad, I have been going to work early, and one morning this coincided with a decent fog. I work across the road from a cemetery.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. I got all thinking that I perhaps had hidden talents as a modern art architect-y photographer, but turns out not unhidden, unbidden.

We are still in the market for a few key items of furniture. This cupboard will not be joining our household no matter how often it it enters my feed.

As I said when I shared this link on Facebook "Oh my freaking good-ness - deliciousness with a capital cious!!" - Link. When enticed to try, Paris' review was "eww no, tastes like felafel" so not everyone is a fan.

Yes G. It does need sorting.

A wishful

 Isn't it funny how shared language evolves?

Image: regular readers will know by now that the pictures generally have glancing acquaintance at best (if not completely unrelated) to the subject matter. Case in point - the prunings of my mother's rose bushes administered by my father and I. Rose prunings in a blue wheelbarrow with a yellow frame an a green lawn, a fence and a paved path that doesn't quite reach it.

When a child, it you're lucky, you live in the sort of family that develops it's own lore.

Courtesy of my baby brother, we embraced the words "smink" as in to smink it up - to mix something, hopefully chocolate cake batter.

When a teenager at an all girls boarding school, I learned to avoid certain people when they were on their rags, and hell was a malfunctioning charley burner at the height of Summer.

Image: the red facade of the local Jetts gymnasium

When in Sydney in advertising, the yuppies were on the wane whilst I bought space and time in the search of optimised reach with enough frequency to sway the targets towards the desired outcome.

Image: the clouds are doing their best jazz hands impression 

In Melbourne I temped and attended open mikes found in the green guide - or was it pink? while the doof doof crowd were trancing up country.

Image: the Gangster and lilo-Lil. Two cats regarding each other across the tiles. L visits on occasion. G isn't sold on the idea -yet.

And to think that was a lifetime ago for these young things, some of whom I work with.  I have recently read that these young things may find it offensive if I employ the use of a full stop at the end of a sentence.

Image - for sale in the local Facebook marketplace - someone else's unfinished dream.  Is it a Dalek?

Yes, really!

Image: the inimitable Jimeoin on a television set on andn inadequate bookshelf. Link to some of his funnies

Aren't they precious 💞?

And I collect my official "old person" badge and shuffle back into my place.

Image: cartoon ginger cat reclining against the microwave on the counter, sipping martini, feet up, on the phone saying "So she's like "GET OFF THE COUNTER " and I'm like"Get OFF MY ASS!""

BTW - a wishful is our shorthand for "a wishful sip" meaning the Schrodinger's sip that may - or may not - be in the bottom of your mug.

Do you have any words?

Selwyn the timber getter

 Well, Selwyn the timber getter was old school - set up camp and live on-site whilst getting timber. Not a hugely social being outside his circle. Jeans and a singlet with Blundstones and gaiters. Rollie holding the left side of his mouth.

The 90s were big on initiative in a lot of industries and - as unconventional as the timber industry was at the getting end, and Selwyn the timber getter at the narrowest corner of that - the safety fellas tracked him down one misty May morning up the scrub paddock.

"Well" drawled Selwyn as he observed the leather safety chaps on offer. 'i don't know about that."

He took the proffered clothing and disappeared into his caravan.

He reemerged shaking his head.

"I can see how it works for the legs" he said "but I don't know how it's meant to protect the old fella" as he came back out,  with his buttocks bare to the elements.

Since then

Weekend with the parents. 

Specialist appointment for Dad.

Colonoscopy for me (all as tickety-boo as one wants one's colon to oscope about)

Bad poetry.

Still loving Paradise 2 but the honeymoon is over and the ports have been unpacked.

The oven has proven why you don't buy ovens in a supermarket which apparently occurred prior to our purchase of the house.

The light over the stove doesn't work.

There is no variation on the flame - high or low - and the ignition doesn't ignite.

I am laying blame at the imperfect door of said oven for the worst outcome ever of the perpetual experiment that is sourdough.

Paid a fortune for my car to undergo a prophylactic procedure for timing issues.

Had a book club gathering - made pikelets and lemon butter. Discussed Heart the Lover by Lily King and Yesteryear by Caro Claire Bourke.

Discovered that the tricolour is blue white and red to the right.

Am now attending the gym on a semi regular basis.

V had a futile few hours with medical professionals who want to try again in Brisbane.

Spent another little fortune to the mechanic to attach a new mirror.

In the gaps work, driving Paris to and from work and sleep.

(Apologies in advance for the use of the vernacular in the below)