The Christmas goose is getting fat...

...Sadly, though, it's not just the Christmas goose that's put on weight. Although I was down to 82.9 kilos three weeks ago, I'm now up to 84.8 kilos. It's my fault, really – I've spent the past fortnight in an orgy of cooking, eating and indolence (highlights have included a fantastic fore-rib of beef, served with spuds roasted in goose fat and pillowy yorkshire puds, and a slow-roast shoulder of lamb that just fell apart at the prod of a fork).

I'm hoping, though, that the weight that's gone on so fast will come off again equally quickly. My knee is also on the mend and, over the past few days, I've been running again. It's amazing how quickly you can lose condition thought – I did two miles (3.5 km) the other day and nearly died in the attempt. Five ks looks almost as unachievable as it did a month or so ago... Still, one step back and two steps forward is the order of the day, so I'm about to go for the third run of the week. If I don't kill myself out there, I'll be back in the next day or two with some updates.

James's advice on injury and exercise

As a rather annoying coincidence, just as you're feeling good and starting to reap the benefits of exercise and a healthier lifestyle, something happens that sets you back... Darn it!

As is often the case, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to your injury. There will almost certainly be no warning – it just seems that at a certain point in your training, bits start hurting and not working as well as they had earlier on.

Fear not... it happens to the best of us. I can remember training really hard for a run I wanted to take part in. I was working intensely – so much so that, come the end of most days, I found it hard to walk. It turned out that the problem was more in the nature than a cry for help from my muscles than anything too serious.

If you think about it logically, the reason for the discomfort is quite clear. Any change in your routine is going to have an effect. When trying to lose weight, we strive for a ‘negative energy balance’ – we aim to eat less but do more. This equation also applies to our bodies when you step up the pace, whether it’s your joints, your muscles, your energy level or anything else.

In a weight-loss programme, levels of intensity and strain increase rapidly to begin with (due to the lack of activity previously), so strict attention to form is essential as you don't want to pick up any bad habits that will stay with you.

Often a joint or other area of your body will start to experience discomfort when you begin your exercise regime or when you increase the demands on your body. This discomfort is usually due to you not having used your body in this way before. You are challenging it and it’s letting you know about it.

My advice is to stay with it, while bearing in mind that an initial rest period if you experience a minor injury is no bad thing. In fact I think it is quite good to shock your body with a change of routine on a regular basis, so turning off the heat then turning it back on again may well work in your favour.

Remember, though, that it’s important to listen to what your body is saying. You may need to seek advice from someone with an X-ray machine if the pain continues. Although 75% of our ‘niggles’ turn out to be something quite harmless, 25% can be symptoms of something more serious.

No excuses – well, maybe just a couple

I'm sorry, I've been totally crap about posting anything on this blog for a while. I could put it down to the end-of-year rush at work, or I could lay the blame at the door of my computer – it's been getting slower and slower for a while and I eventually took it into the workshop to have the hard drive cloned and then doubled in size. That's when I was told I'd nearly knackered it by only having four gigs of hard drive space free. Anyway, the new drive was re-installed with no problem, but getting some extra RAM into the thing proved challenging – it was on order for days before it finally came through, and I was computer-less for over a week, something I'm not used to and which makes me feel distinctly uncomfortable...

Added to which, I had an exercise triumph – I managed to plough my way through five kilometres, although it took me nearly 40 minutes to do it – quickly followed by another exercise nadir. When I woke up the day after my five-k run, I could barely stand. I'd done some damage to my knee that left me limping. It's taken me almost a fortnight to be able to walk on it without getting a twinge, and it turns out that I'm not the only person to suffer a similar setback just at the point when everything seems to be coming together on the exercise front. The next posting on this blog will come from James, who has a theory as to why this might be...

Things are finally moving in the right direction

It's taken ages, for one reason or another, but I've finally moved off my plateau. This morning I weighed in at 83.7 kilos... Hurrah!

Another milestone, quite literally...

I managed to push on through my 2-mile barrier yesterday. I planned a new route for my run and just went for it. True, by the end my legs felt like jelly, but I just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and I made it. I've found there's a bit of a psychological trick to it too. I divide the run into segments and push myself until I get to the end of each segment – then I tell myself I should get through at least one more segment. Sooner or later, you end up so close to the finishing line that it seems like a shame to give up...

Happy as a...

I went out the other night to the 'soft launch' of a friend's new restaurant – a bit like a dress rehearsal. The idea is that you give the restaurant kitchens and the front of house staff a chance to test out their abilities before they get let loose on paying punters. The place – Terroir, 5 William IV Street, WC2 – is just behind Charing Cross tube station and, once they've got over a few teething problems, I think it'll be a truly pleasant place for an evening out (and I'm not just saying that because it's a mate's restaurant). Mark and I tried a few of the dishes, including a steak tartare and salad of smoked duck breast with green beans and walnuts, but for me the standout dish was one of clams with ham, garlic and chilli.

I liked it so much, in fact, that I decided I wanted to try my own take on the dish, which I did last night. In fact, we liked it so much – and I got so carried away – that I forgot to take a picture of the finished dish (hence the generic picture of clams, top). Here's the recipe (Mark said it was even better than the original, but he could just be biased...)

Clams with ham, garlic, parsley and chilli for two

150g smoked bacon, preferably cut into thick slices, then cut into lardons
a skerrick of olive oil
a smear of butter
2 shallots, finely chopped
1-2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 red chilli, finely chopped
150ml white wine
150ml fish stock
600-700g clams
a large bunch flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil and butter (use as little as possible – it's just to lubricate things until the bacon fat starts rendering) in a heavy-bottomed casserole dish or saucepan, then add the lardons. Fry until the lardons are beginning to brown.

Turn the heat down low and add the chopped shallots. Fry gently until translucent and soft. Add the garlic and chilli and fry for another half a minute.

Stir in the wine and the stock and bring to a fierce boil until the liquid has reduced by at least a third.

Lower the heat to a medium flame. Tip the clams into the pan, along with the parsley and the pepper. Stir thoroughly then place the lid on the saucepan. Cook for another few minutes, until the clams have all opened. Serve in a bowl, along with a slice or two of bread for your non-dieting beloved...

Another simple dinner

It may not look all that great in the picture (no wonder food stylists get paid a good rate), but this dinner of plaice with a side of couscous and veg tasted pretty scrummy.

The plaice itself was well seasoned and then simply grilled, but it was the couscous and veg that made it special. I cut a couple of courgettes into chunks (quartering the courgettes lengthwise, then chopping them into 1cm-thick bits) and sauteed them in a sparing drizzle of olive oil.

While I was doing that, I also toasted some pine nuts in a dry frying pan (they've got some oil all of their own, so don't need any extra fat) and poured some boiling water over a small bowl of couscous then put a lid over it to let it swell up in the steam (with a stick of cinnamon in along with the couscous to add a bit more flavour).

I then got four or five pickled lemons (an ingredient traditionally used in Moroccan cookery and available in most supermarkets), sliced them into quarters lengthways, removed the pulp and roughly chopped the skins into large dice.

Once the couscous had absorbed the water and was completely tender, I stirred in the sauteed courgettes, the pine nuts, the pickled lemons and a good handful of chopped fresh coriander and a twist of black pepper. Very simple, but very good indeed.

Patron of the yartz...

When Mark and I had our post-wedding party last month, we wondered for a while about what kind of wedding present we should ask for. We knew we didn't need pots and pans or towels and bed linen and all the usual kind of stuff newlyweds get landed with. We certainly had more than enough toasters and kettles between us, having merged our two households a couple of years ago.

So we hit on the idea of asking our friends for a contribution towards the purchase of a painting. Today, with the grand total burning a hole in our pockets, we went to the Affordable Art Fair in Bettersea Park – and fell in love with the Lady with the Candelabra (left) shortly after we arrived (I think she was on the sixth booth we visited). Inevitably, she was more expensive than our budget had allowed for, but she was so beautiful that she stayed with us as we trailed round the rest of the fair (the picture doesn't do justice to the glowing colours of the paint or the intricate texture on the canvas). Mark and I saw some wonderful pieces, and we could easily have spent our money four times over, but we kept coming back to her.

Luckily, after a bit of haggling, we arrived at a mutually agreeable price that didn't compromise the art dealer's commercial instincts or our ability to pay. So the lady with the candelabra came home with us. I still think she's beautiful – and I'll carry on believing it for the rest of my life.

A big thank you to all those who helped us buy her...

I'm dreading this 5k run

I've tried and I've tried and I've tried, but I can't seem to break through the 3k barrier. With only six weeks (at the most) to go before I have to do this 5k run that James has put me up for, I can't see how I'm going to make it.

I spent the last couple of days in Geneva, on a commission to write up some restaurants in a deluxe hotel there (I'll post about the trip in full soon, and, yes, I know, tough job...) and spent some time in the gym while I was there. In theory, running on a treadmill should be easier than running on the street or in the park, but I still can't crack my 3k limit.

I'm rather beginning to dread this particular challenge...

Locked out!

So there I was on Monday morning, pootling round the house, getting ready for my session with James, when the rubbish men came. After emptying out the wheelie bin, the rubbish men left it out on the street. So I thought I'd do my civic duty and bring it in to the front garden. My trainers were upstairs, so I slipped on Mark's slippers – a pair of plastic flip-flops – and, latching the door (or so I thought), stepped outside to get the bin. It was a windy morning, as some of you may remember, and the wind caught the door and slammed it behind me. Had it actually been on the latch, as I was convinced it was, it wouldn't have been an issue – but it closed behind me with a bang. I was locked out.

Not a problem, I thought. Two of my neighbours have a key and, given that it wasn't quite 8.30, I thought one or the other must be in. In fact, the lights were on at Ann and Patrick's place next door and Anne's car was still parked out on the street. So I nipped through their gate and rang the bell. And rang the bell again. Nothing.

No worries, I'll thought, I'll try Rob and Jamie's. But the blinds were closed and I couldn't even hear the yapping of their neurotic little dog Connie.

It was at this point that James came cycling up the street, a broad smile on his face (no doubt in anticipation of whatever session of sadism he had in mind for the morning). Hating to disappoint him (not), I gave him the bad news – but I got no reprieve and found myself out in the park, doing step ups onto the bench and a series of boxing moves in Mark's slippers (how glam, not).

Lucky for me, it turned out that Ann was home after all – she'd just been in the shower at the point when I got locked out. Shame I didn't find out until after an hour's heavy exercise in my plastic flipflops. Next time I get locked out, I'll try and make sure I'm wearing my trainers...

Flash dinner on the go

Have you ever found yourself having to cook dinner for guests at the end of a long day? If you have, you know how much of a pain it can be to faff around in the kitchen when all you really want to do is mong on the sofa (preferably with a nice glass of wine, but we don't even want to go there, do we?)...

So here's my guilt-free solution to dealing with dinner for four. It's a versatile dish of pot-roast chicken and veg that's based on a traditional French recipe. You can use a whole range of vegetables – I used squash, peppers and leeks, but you could also use celery, courgettes or onions (and that's just off the top of my head – I suggest you experiment for yourself if you like the basic dish). Don't worry about the quantity of garlic; you can leave it out if you want, but it adds a wonderful mellow perfume to the dish and doesn't dominate the flavours at all.

Pot-roast chicken with vegetables for four

4 chicken thighs and 4 chicken legs, skin removed
a drizzle of olive oil
1 butternut squash, deseeded and cut into large chunks
3 peppers (of whatever colour), deseeded and cut into large chunks
2 leeks, cleaned and cut into large chunks
1 head of garlic, separated into cloves
300ml chicken stock
150ml dry white wine
a couple of sprigs of thyme, stalks removed
2 bay leaves
a good handful of flat leaf parsley, chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 200C.

Brown the chicken, a few pieces at a time, in the hot oil in a heavy oven-proof casserole.

Pile the chicken back into the casserole dish, along with the veg, the garlic, the stock, the wine and the thyme and bay leaves. Season well.

Put the lid on the casserole (it must fit fairly tightly) and place the casserole in the oven.

Cook for about an hour (you can check after 45 minutes).

Serve (with mashed potatoes for those who can eat them – you should leave well alone, of course) and sprinkle with chopped parsley.

A threatening email

I've just received the following email from James, the trainer I work with most of the time.

'Just been on Google and our run this morning was 0.9725 miles. 3 miles by the end of the year is not a problem. Anyway you've done it with me before. This time though, we'll take out the walk parts of the ratio.....

Have fun'

Now that's what I call a threatening email...

Things get steamy

A few months ago, I was walking past my local cookshop and, in the window, I saw a marvellous, shiny piece of kit that I just had to have... It was a big stainless-steel wok, with a huge steamer and a see-through lid. The reason it caught my eye was that I'd recently tried to cook a dish that had worked perfectly well in the past when I'd been cooking for one, before Mark and I moved in together, but which had proved logistically impossible as dinner for two. The dish in question was steamed chicken with mushrooms. A small plate for one person fitted neatly into my bamboo steamer, but when I tried to make enough for both of us the bamboo steamer just wasn't up to the job. So the big wok, with its vast steamer, was just what I needed.

So far, I'd just used it as a wok, but the other night I decided to cook the dish that had inspired the purchase. Fate was clearly working against me. I wanted to use shitake mushrooms, because I like their meaty texture and full flavour, but there weren't any in the shops, so I had to use other mushrooms instead. No matter. The finished meal was pretty tasty anyway, in a soothing kind of way.

Steamed chicken and mushrooms for two

2 skinned chicken breasts, cut into thin slices
1 punnet mushrooms, preferably shitake, but oyster mushrooms or other 'exotic' Asian mushrooms will do, sliced
1 can straw mushrooms, drained (if you can't find straw mushrooms, either in your local supermarket or in an Asian supermarket, you can use another punnet of mushrooms – I'd suggest using a different type from the first punnet, just to add texture and flavour)
1 bunch spring onions, trimmed and sliced
a thumb of fresh ginger, peeled and cut into matchsticks
100mls chicken stock
1-2 tbsp dark soy sauce
1 tbsp rice wine
1 bunch fresh coriander, chopped

Place the chicken, mushrooms, spring onions and ginger in a shallow heatproof dish, then mix everything together.

Pour the liquids into the dish and give it all another stir.

Meanwhile, get some water boiling in the bottom bit of your steamer, then reduce heat so that the water is boiling steadily but not too fiercely.

Place the dish with the chicken and mushrooms in the top part of the steamer and place it all on the steamer base. Cover with a lid.

Steaming is a remarkably quick, efficient way of cooking, so depending on how much steam there is, the thickness of your heatproof dish and a number of other variables, start checking on the dish about 10 minutes after you've put it on to steam. It's done when the chicken is cooked through, which shouldn't take more than quarter of an hour.

Sprinkle with coriander and serve with a small helping of brown rice or stir-fried egg noodles.

Steaming cooks

What I did with my weekend...

For one reason or another, time seems tight at the moment (isn't it funny how, given that time is an elastic concept, it can be tight or stretched, but never seems to be loose or slack?) We're at the peak of tasting season (I'm meant to be going to eight tastings this week, and could easily add another five or six), I'm travelling at the end of next week (to Geneva for a couple of days) and the beginning of the week after (to Bordeaux for a day and a half), have three articles to write this week and have eight people coming for lunch on Sunday (to give up my social life would be to admit defeat, I feel).

And so it was that I realised that unless I tasted all the wines I needed to taste for the article I have to write this week over the weekend, it wouldn't happen and there would be an almighty car crash of a missed deadline. So on Saturday afternoon I spent an hour unpacking the cardboard boxes that cluttered the hall (merely stripping off all the packaging tape, getting rid of the foam sleeves or pebbles that cushion the bottles, labelling the wines with the names of the company that sent them to me – it's amazing how many people send in bottles with no information, as if you'd recognise who they came from amid the dozens of other bottles you're dealing with – and deconstructing the cardboard boxes so that they can be put out with the rest of the recycling is an exhausting job in itself). I squeezed close on to 30 bottles of white wine in the fridge so that they could chill overnight and lined up the reds (see picture above).

The next morning, after a breakfast of two scrambled eggs, a slice of multigrain toast and some smoked salmon – yum – I made a start on the whites. I was done by lunchtime and was hoping to plough on with the reds in the early part of the afternoon, but Mark then reminded me that we'd been planning on going to see the Rothko exhibition at Tate Modern. When I suggested it might be better for me to finish my work, he sulked, so for the sake of marital harmony, I went to the gallery. I'm glad I did, it was a splendid exhibition. The only flaw was that the galleries were chock-full of people and I feel that Rothko's canvases are probably best appreciated in silence, in a place where you've got the time and space to meditate on them in peace. No matter, they were still awe inspiring.

On our return home, I went through the 36 or so bottles of red I had waiting for me. I was so exhausted at the end that I could barely uncork the last bottles (another reason to vote for screwcaps). My teeth were stained black from the tannins (never a good look, particularly because advice suggests you wait at least an hour after you've finished your tasting before you brush your teeth as the wine acids soften your tooth enamel and you're in danger of brushing it away if you clean your teeth too soon) and I've never been so grateful to sink into a warm bath (perfumed by Ren's brilliant rose bath oil, an affordable luxury for this recessionary world).

Thank goodness the weekend's over. I don't think I could stand the pace for much longer...

Last night's dinner was delish

After going to two tastings yesterday (one appallingly organised balls-up held on a smelly, badly lit barge docked at St Katherine's Wharf, in the shadow of Tower Bridge, the other a slick professional operation organised by one of the UK's major supermarkets), I was absolutely knackered. Quite frankly, I would have liked to opt for a take-away curry or a pizza from a supermarket, but I know that's verboten at the moment. I also needed a good, solid protein fix after spending much of the past few days in Italy, where everything seemed to come with pasta.

The solution was spice-crusted salmon, which we ate with a puree made of roast aubergines (about 50 minutes in the oven, until the skins blacken and the flesh turns soft and mushy) mixed with some 0% fat Greek yoghurt and reheated gently. We also had a stir-fry of veggies (they come in a pack in the supermarket), spiked with some lime juice to liven them up.

Spice-crusted salmon for two

2 salmon fillets (mine weighed just under 150g, Mark's was closer to 200g)
1 tbsp coriander seeds
half a dozen dried curry leaves (weird, but there actually is a plant called the curry plant)
1 mild dried Kashmiri chilli (any mild dried chilli will do – if you can't find any, use hotter chillies sparingly, this isn't really meant to be a spicy dish)
1 tbsp sesame seeds
sea salt
a smear of cooking oil (groundnut or vegetable would be best)

Make sure the salmon has been scaled and deboned. Rinse clean.

Heat a small frying pan on the stove, then, when it's smoking hot, add the coriander, curry leaves, chilli and sesame seeds. Cook until the spices begin to release their aromas. Place in a mortar and pestle with some salt and grind to a fairly fine powder.

Coat the salmon on both sides with the spices.

Heat a frying pan with a little bit of cooking oil, place the salmon in the pan and cook on a fairly gentle heat until the salmon is cooked as you like it (I like mine fairly rare).

Hampered by a friend

I have a friend who I love dearly but who, it has to be faced, is a bit of a flake. I've known him ever since I was a teenager – so for an embarrassingly long time – and in all those years, he's committed one social gaffe after another. This social ineptitude doesn't stem from any lack of intelligence – he's one of the brightest people I know – but he just can't seem to 'read' people and therefore has little sense of what is or isn't socially appropriate.

It was only a few months ago that he turned up for a Sunday lunch (for which I had planned, shopped and cooked to feed precisely ten people) with his two teenage sons. All well and good, apart from the fact that he'd neglected to tell me he was bringing them along. As a result, we didn't have enough chairs to seat everyone at the table and, worse yet, there wasn't quite enough food to go round.

In the run up to the post-wedding party, Mark and I had sent out 'save the date' emails in early March, to ensure that the people we most wanted to celebrate with would be free on the evening in question. Then, in late June, just before we sent the invitations out, we emailed everyone to get their correct addresses. Then the invitations went out in July. I even had a long conversation with this old friend of mine (let's call him Bob to preserve the blushes of the not-so-innocent) in mid-July where he explained that he'd nearly forgotten to tell his wife about the invitation, but had remembered in the nick of time.

You could say that we'd given people adequate warning. So I was hugely pissed off when, eight days before the party, I got an email from Bob to say that he hoped I wouldn't mind that his wife couldn't make it. Why? Because she'd got the dates wrong and was going to spend the weekend with a friend of hers in Stockholm instead. So, not a happy bunny.

Injury was then added to insult when, to make amends, a Fortnum's hamper arrived. It was a wedding present from Bob and his wife. Now I love a Fortnum's hamper as much as the next girl (in fact probably more than the next girl), but this one was stuffed full of tea-time stuff like biscuits and jams. Absolutely delicious. But possibly not the best thing to give a dieting bride...

Hitting the comfort zone

As I think I might have mentioned in my last posting, my honeymoon in Sicily was blighted by a bad attack of gastroenteritis. For the first time in living memory, I lost my appetite. No, actually, to tell the truth, the reality was far more cruel – I didn't lose my appetite, but my stomach griped and gripped and complained in all kinds of unpleasant ways if I ate anything for the best (or should that be worst?) part of eight days.

The only thing, over the course of the entire week, that I managed to eat with equanimity was a bean soup, so when I came back I had a go at recreating what I came to think of as the ultimate comfort food. Truth to tell, I couldn't resist embellishing the basic recipe, but this is just the kind of dish I find myself craving when I'm feeling a tad below par – especially as autumn draws on.

Italian bean soup for at least eight

500g dried cannellini beans, soaked overnight with a sprinkling of bicarbonate of soda (this helps prevent the skins from splitting as you cook the beans, or so I've been told)
250g dried chickpeas, also soaked overnight with some bicarb
olive oil
200g pancetta (or thick-cut bacon if you can't find pancetta), cut into lardons
2 medium onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
5-6 medium carrots, cut into half-moon slices
5 sticks celery, sliced
300ml chicken stock
2 bay leaves
250ml tomato passata
1/2 savoy cabbage or a good bunch of cavollo nero, sliced
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Cook the cannellini beans and chickpeas (separately) according to the instructions on the packet (I brought the beans to the boil, then drained them, then simmered them in fresh water for about an hour and a half, while the chickpeas only needed simmering for 45 minutes until tender after the initial boiling and draining). Don't forget to skim away any mucky-looking scum that rises to the surface.

Meanwhile, heat a dribble of olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan and fry the lardons until lightly browned. Remove with a slotted spoon, lower the heat and fry the onions gently until soft and translucent.

Add the garlic and stir for a further half a minute or so, then tip in the carrots and celery and cook until just beginning to soften. At this point, add the chicken stock and turn the heat up.

While the chicken stock is coming to the boil, take half the beans and half the chickpeas and process in a blender with a little bit of the cooking water until a thick paste is formed. Stir this into the saucepan – you have to stir fairly thoroughly, preferably with a fork or a stiff whisk, in order to get the lumps of bean puree to break up.

Add the remaining beans, the bay leaves and the passata and cook for a further half hour or so, until all the flavours are melded together. If necessary, add a bit more chicken stock or water to thin the soup out. About ten minutes before serving, stir in the cabbage and season to taste.

Those who aren't dieting might appreciate a dribble of olive oil in their soup bowl, as well as a hunk of crusty bread to dip in the soup.

Every girl's dream...

I've just returned from my honeymoon in Sicily with an extra-special gift – an attack of gastro-enteritis that has laid me low for much of the past week. Really, this is the gift that keeps on giving...

No – I'm not going to go into gory details. I'm sure you've all succumbed to something similar at one stage or another. But the fact that I've been off my food for the best part of a week (not to mention the other, more indelicate effects of the bug) has meant that despite the over-indulgence of the week of the wedding party and the fact that I ate (ahem) a few pastries and ice-creams while I was in Sicily, I haven't put on a gram.

And a quick chat with some of my girlfriends has revealed that, for most women, the upside to having any kind of lurgy is the fact that weight comes off with remarkable ease when you're not well. They do say that clouds have silver linings...

I'm feeling guilty...

No, not about my weight... I'm feeling bad because I haven't had any time in the past ten days or so to make any postings on this blog. You may feel slightly less angry with me if I tell you that, for the past couple of weeks I've had to write a couple of thousand words a day (as an average).

What – weekends as well? I hear you ask. Ah, well, last Saturday was the date of Mark and my post-wedding party, where we got to say our vows in front of many of our friendss, rather than just our mums, who were the only people present the first time round. Sunday? Well, Sunday, as you might expect was a recovery day, then my nose was firmly back to the grindstone from Monday on.

Why am I working so hard? Because Mark and I are off to Sicily on our belated honeymoon tomorrow, and we won't be back until the end of the month (potential burglars should be aware that Laszlo the guard dog will be staying, as will some friends). I promise that when I get back I'll return fired up with enthusiasm, ready to post some fab new recipes, courtesy of some inspirational sunshine. Until then, have a good September.

I owe Gemma an apology

Gemma came and put me through my paces again the other day and, as she walked through the door, I realised I'd made a mistake in my last posting about her. She's not as small as I thought she was – she's about as tall as me, and I'm just short of 5'6". But she is teeny-tiny, and she still looks like a good puff of wind would blow her away...

Out for a duck

I love duck: I love Peking duck, with its crisp skin and melting flesh; I love the pink meat of a medium-rare magret de canard, especially when it's served with a little cake of creamy Dauphinoise potatoes and I love the way my mum cooks roast duck, with its skin rubbed in a mixture of honey and soy sauce. I even love my low-fat duck (left), which I marinated in a dry spice rub for a few hours before cooking it on a scorching-hot griddle and serving it with a couscous-based salad.



Spice-rubbed duck for two

2 duck breasts
2 tsp Chinese five-spice powder
2 tsp Szechuan peppercorns, crushed
a small piece of ginger, peeled and grated

Remove the skin from the duck breasts (sorry about this – yes, I know the skin crisps up wonderfully and tastes delicious, but it's also pretty fatty) and score the flesh several times, both on the top and bottom of each breast.

Mix the spices together and smear all over the meat. Leave to marinate for anywhere between two hours and most of the day.

Smear the griddle with the barest minimum of olive oil and heat until it's smoking, then cook the duck breasts until they're done as you like them. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper as you cook them. Serve with the salad, below.

Couscous salad for two

1/2 small butternut squash, cut into chunks
olive oil
a large double handful of couscous (I used barley couscous but wheat couscous is just fine)
1/2 a red onion, sliced thinly
lots of chopped fresh coriander and mint
up to one small glass of orange juice
juice of a lime

Heat the oven to 200ºC, then roast the squash with a drizzle of olive oil until its cooked through and has caramelised a bit round the edges. The time this will take rather depends on how big your chunks are, but start looking in the oven at around 25 minutes. Place in a bowl and allow to cool.

Follow the instructions on the couscous packet about cooking – this usually involves placing the dry grains in a bowl and pouring boiling water over them, covering with a lid, and allowing the couscous to plump up. Season thoroughly with salt and freshly ground black pepper as couscous can be very bland, and allow to cool.

When both the couscous and the squash are at room temperature, mix in the red onion and the herbs.

Make a simple dressing with a little bit of olive oil, the orange juice and the lime juice and pour over the couscous. Mix thoroughly and serve.

Ow!

This is Gemma (right), who came and gave me my training session last week because James was away in Canada at one of the eight (!) weddings he's going to this year and Phil couldn't make it.

So, Gemma drew the short straw and rocked up here on Friday morning (Laszlo went ballistic as she wheeled her bike into the hall, but she didn't seem to mind and even earned brownie points by saying he was 'lush'). Anyway, she's a teeny-tiny girl – not much over five foot, I'd guess, and she looks like she'd blow away with one good puff of wind.

I can't quite put my finger on why, but training with her felt slightly different from doing a session with one of the guys. It might have something to do with the fact that she's very softly spoken, and her dictats seemed to be phrased as suggestions rather than commands (not that James bullies me – it's just that when he asks for 10 squats or a jog round the park, refusal is very clearly not an option). And, attention seeker that I am, I got off on the fact that Gemma praised everything I did. It was great – I felt like I was some kind of super-athlete rather than a panting, tubby forty-something bird.

But somehow, despite the feeling that this was a low-key session, I ended up aching like a bastard all weekend. I'm sure it wasn't the fast-paced jog that kicked off the session and left me out of breath right from the get-go. It can't have been the boxing – Gemma looked like she'd fall over if I'd punched any harder. The lunges? Well, there were only a few of them, interleavened by some sprints and walks. The press-ups were fairly tough, but I only did two dozen, and two dozen of the triceps dips off the front of the bench. Oh – and then there were the pelvic raises with one leg off the floor – they were hard going, but were they really hard enough to leave me walking bandy-legged as a cowboy in some two-bit Western?

Nope, I can't quite put my finger on why, but somehow an easy session with Gemma turns out to be a bit like spending an hour in boot camp.

Szechuan prawns

I was watching Ching-He Huang's Chinese Food Made Easy on the Beeb the other night. Not intentionally, you understand – watching food TV is an exercise in total masochism at the moment, as far as I'm concerned. But it caught my eye as I was channel flicking because she was discussing Szechuan food, which I love and which we hardly see over here – most of our Chinese restaurant menus are based on Cantonese cooking, and it's only fairly recently that we've started exploring China's regional cuisines. I love Szechuan food for its warmth and spice – I bought a copy of Fuchsia Dunlop's Sichuan Cookery a few years ago, when it first came out, and was entranced by both her writing and the recipes.

Anyway, while I thought that Ching-He Huang's programme was slightly dumbed down (a case of 'don't scare the viewers', I suspect), her dish of chilli tiger prawns whet my appetite and made me want to experiment around the dish she'd created. The recipe below is my version of the dish. With the amount of chilli it contains, this is not a dish for the faint-hearted – but it's nowhere near as unmanageable as you might expect.

Szechuan prawns for two

1 tbsp groundnut or vegetable oil
1 small fresh chilli, green or red, thinly sliced
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
2-3 large, mild dried chillies (I used some Kashmiri chillies)
1 tsp Szechuan pepper
250g raw, shelled tiger prawns (large prawns are better than small prawns for this dish), deveined
4-5 spring onions, cleaned and trimmed, then cut into three large, chunky bits
1 tbsp Shaoxhing cooking wine or Fino/Manzanilla sherry
1 tbsp light soy sauce
150g thin green beans, topped and tailed
juice of 1 lime
a good handful of coriander leaves, chopped

Heat the oil in a wok until it starts smoking, then throw in the chillies, garlic and pepper and stir for about 15 seconds.

Chuck the prawns in and, when they start to turn pink, add the spring onions and cook for another minute. Stir in the cooking wine and soy sauce.

Add the beans and cook for another 2-3 minutes, until the beans start to cook through.

Add the lime juice to taste, stir through, then stir in the coriander leaves.

Remove from the heat and serve (you can have a small helping of brown rice if you want).

The good news continues – slowly

This week's weigh-in sees me hit 84.1 kilos. This has been a really stubborn one to shift, but I hope that by this time next week I'll be under the 84 kilo barrier.

The other bit of good news this week is that I went into Jigsaw yesterday and found that I could easily fit into their size 16 trousers (at the start of this diet I was struggling to fit into an M&S size 18 – and their sizing is generous).

Variation on a theme

Ras-el-Hanout, a Moroccan spice mixture, has been my discovery of the summer. I started using it in a marinade for quail, but I've quickly become addicted to its finger-lickingly exotic blend of rose petals, cumin, chilli and who knows what else (defining it isn't helped by the fact that everyone's Ras blend is different from everyone else's).

Anyway, just to ring the changes, I mixed some Ras with another Middle Eastern spice, sumac, which has a lemony kind of twang to it, and used a smidgen of olive oil to work it into a paste, along with a bit of squashed garlic and an extra teaspoonful of cumin.

I skinned some chicken quarters and made some deep slashes into the meat, then rubbed the spice paste all over the chicken. I did this late morning, so that by the time I cooked the meat that evening the spices had had a chance to really flavour it.

I served it with a salad of boiled beetroot, cut into chunks. I then stirred in some 0% fat Greek yoghurt, a squeeze of lemon juice, some thinly sliced red onion and a good handful of chopped dill.

The other salad is something I'm working on but haven't fine-tuned enough to post a recipe on this blog, so watch this space...

If you happen to be fishing for compliments...

With all the hot weather we've been having recently, I've become incredibly keen on eating fish at dinnertime. Somehow it just feels lighter and easier on the stomach than a big hunk of red meat.

The last time I went to my local fishmonger's (I'm really lucky in that I have a really good fishmonger within a couple of miles, so I don't have to rely on the rather tired-looking selection at the supermarket - what do they do to those poor fish before laying them out on the slab? The only thing that could explain them looking that knackered is hard-core training for the London marathon...) Anyway, yes, the fishmonger's... They had some brilliant sea bass and they were selling it at reasonable prices, so I bought two small fish and took them home in triumph.

As you can see from the picture, I served them with slow-roasted cherry tomatoes, still on the vine (cooked for around an hour at about 120ºC, by which time they should go a little bit soft without getting burned - you can cook them for around half an hour at about 200ºC, but you have to keep an eye on them as they can go quite black rather quickly). We also had a good green salad.

As for the fish, I sliced a lemon thinly and stuffed two or three slices in each fish's body cavity. I laid each fish out on some tin foil, rubbed a little smear of olive oil over it, along with a good twist of black pepper and some salt, then folded the foil over to create two small parcels, which I baked for about 20 minutes in an oven preheated to 200ºC.

Just before the fish was ready to serve, I squeezed the juice of about three-quarters of a lemon into a saucepan and heated that up with a couple of tablespoons of pastis (any kind of aniseed-flavoured tipple will do), boiling it so that the alcohol burned off and the liquid reduced by about half. I then whisked in about 35 grams of butter, cut into small chunks, chunk by chunk, to emulsify the sauce a bit, then finally tossed in some shredded basil leaves and chopped tarragon. (These quantities made enough sauce for both of us, so even though the butter's a bit indulgent, it wasn't really OTT - and Mark got the lion's share of the sauce.) I poured the sauce over the fish once I'd plated it up.

I have to say it was utterly delicious. Definitely a keeper – and something to trot out if you've got guests coming round for dinner because it looks so pretty on the plate and it doesn't really feel like you're dieting, even though it's not too high in calories.

Could it be...?

I don't want to go jumping the gun here, but for the past two days I've stepped on the scales and got a reading of 84.3 kilos. After a long plateau period, it may be that my weight's on the way down again (alternatively, the pessimist in me suggests that a couple of glasses of water may see it bounce right back up again - let's hope it stays off).

The 10 (weight loss) commandments

According to James, there are 10 commandments you should bear in mind when trying to lose weight. In no particular order, these are:

1. Forget the idea that crunches will get rid of your belly fat

You can't pick and choose areas where you'd like to burn fat. In order to burn fat, you need to create a workout that includes both cardiovascular and strength training elements. This will decrease your overall body fat content.

2. Forget the idea that stretching before exercise is crucial

Some studies have suggested that stretching actually increases muscles' susceptibility to injury. They claim that by stretching, our muscle fibres are lengthened and destabilised, making them less prepared for the strain placed upon them by exercise. You might want to warm-up and stretch before a run, but if you are lifting weights wait until after the workout to stretch the muscles.

3. You should eat before you exercise

Fuel, which you get from food and fluids, is required to provide the energy for your muscles to work efficiently, even if you are doing an early morning workout. Consider eating a small meal or snack one to three hours prior to exercise. Breakfast on fruit, yoghurt or wholewheat toast.

4. Lifting weights doesn't make you bulk up

Most women's bodies do not produce nearly enough testosterone to become as bulky as a body builders. If you do find yourself getting bigger then you should simply use less weight and up the number of repetitions you do.

5. Fat is not always bad for you

Contrary to popular belief, there are plenty of good fats out there that are essential to promoting good health and aid in disease prevention. These fats occur naturally in foods like avocados, nuts and fish, as opposed to the fats present in manufactured foods. By including small amounts of these foods at mealtimes, you'll feel full longer and therefore eat less overall.

6. Restricting calories is not the best way to lose weight

True, cutting back on calories and moving more will help you to lose weight and maintain the lean muscle mass needed to boost metabolism. However, people usually think they need to take drastic measures to lose weight (for example, by eating fewer than 1,200 calories a day), but this does not usually provide adequate fuel for the body and may slow your metabolism in the long run, leading to a vicious circle of never-ending dieting. Drastic measures rarely equal lasting results. Instead, aim to eliminate 100-300 calories consistently from your daily diet.

7. You can't eat as much as you want, even if the food is 'healthy'

A calorie, is a calorie. Although porridge is healthy, if you have two large bowlfuls of the stuff every day, the calories add up. You must be aware of portion sizes because you need to limit your caloric intake in order to lose weight. However, understanding how to balance your calorie intake throughout the day can help you avoid feelings of deprivation, hunger and despair.

8. Exercise doesn't turn fat into muscle

Fat and muscle tissue are composed of two entirely different types of cells. While you can lose one and replace it with another, the two never convert into different forms. Fat will never turn into muscle.

9. Eating late at night won't make you gain weight

There are no magic hours. We associate late night eating with weight gain because we usually consume more calories at night, and we tend to do this because we often deprive our bodies of adequate calories the first half of the day. Start the day with breakfast and eat every 3-4 hours. Keep lunch the same size as dinner, and you will be less likely to over-indulge at night. If you do this, you can enjoy a small late-night snack without the fear of it sticking to your middle.

10. You don't have to sweat to be exercising efficiently

Sweating is not necessarily an indicator of exertion – it's your body's way of cooling itself. It is possible to burn a significant number of calories without breaking a sweat: try taking a walk, doing some light weight training or working out in a swimming pool.

A tale of two Sundays

This picture, on the right, is of Mark and Laszlo basking in the afterglow of a very pleasant picnic last weekend. When we woke up that morning, it was clear that it was going to be another beautifully sunny day – much the same as the rest of the week. Because so much of this summer has been patchy, we hadn't yet had a picnic – and picnics have become a regular fixture on our annual calendar. There's something a bit lacking, I feel, if we haven't picnicked by August – se we cut it fairly fine this year.

The first year Mark and I were together, he was co-opted onto a jury at the Old Bailey. It was absolute hell (he was involved in a murder trial, and I don't think it can have been very pleasant listening to the gory details day in and day out) – but the silver lining to the cloud was that he occasionally got an afternoon off. We'd head out for Hampstead Heath (often with my sister's dog, Baloo, in tow), having stopped off at Ottolenghi on the way to buy the food. (I don't know if you've ever been to Ottolenghi, but I can't recommend it highly enough – there are now four branches in London, selling the best ready-prepared salads, cold dishes, breads and patisserie I've found since I left Sydney. It ain't cheap, but it's worth it as a once-in-a-blue-moon treat. The recently published cookbook is pretty ace, too.)

I had to check the latest branch of Ottolenghi out for the foodie guide I'm working on, so it seemed clear that the fates wanted us to have our first (possibly only, if the weather doesn't get any better) picnic of the year. Once we had our food, we headed for Battersea Park, spread out a sheet under the shady branches of a tree, and tucked in. I was fairly good – I avoided the temptations of the patisserie and stuck to salads, including aubergine dressed in yoghurt and pomegranate seeds; chickpeas and fregola pasta; grilled aubergine with a herby dressing and a mixture of crunchy radishes, celery and cucumber. Yum. We washed it all down with a bottle of fizzy water, which I'd infused with some green tea leaves, fresh mint leaves and a squeeze of lime – really refreshing.

Once we'd enjoyed our meal – and Laszlo had run himself ragged playing with a small black dog – we sat and read the Sunday papers for another hour or so. I can hardly imagine a more perfect Sunday afternoon.

This Sunday could hardly have been more different. We awoke to overcast skies, which threatened rain – but held off until I'd been for a run (I'm very thankful for small mercies).

Mark has been feeling rather poorly for much of the week, so I thought the best thing for it would be a bowl of soup – another variation on the Asian chicken soup theme. Even though the rain began falling shortly before we tucked in, it did make the day feel a little bit happier – and I like to think it made Mark feel a little bit better.

Another Asian chicken soup for two

800 mls Asian chicken stock
a small thumb of galangal, peeled and sliced into discs
2 stalks of lemongrass, trimmed and bashed about a bit with the flat of a knife
a few dried kaffir lime leaves
1 small red chilli, sliced thinly
juice of 1 lime
2 tbsp fish sauce
50g wide rice noodles
150g shitake mushrooms, bottom end of the stalk trimmed, then slice the caps and remaining bit of stalk
a bunch of asparagus, sliced into 5-cm lengths (discard the tough, fibrous bit at the bottom)
2 chicken breasts, skinned and sliced thinly
4 spring onions, sliced
lots of chopped fresh coriander, with rather less mint and basil (if you can get Thai basil, so much the better)

Put the stock in a saucepan over a medium heat and stir in the galangal, lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves, chilli, lime and fish sauce. Bring to the boil, then allow it to simmer gently for 10 minutes, in order to allow the flavours to infuse into the stock.

Meanwhile, prepare the rice noodles according to the instructions on the packet (I had to pour boiling water over mine and allow it to stand for a few minutes before draining).

Stir the mushrooms into the stock. After a couple of minutes, stir in the asparagus. Once the asparagus is starting to get tender, stir in the chicken and cook until opaque.

Spoon into large bowls, then stir in the spring onions and herbs.

Damage limitation

I'm still not getting much change out of about 85 kilos, but then it is review season (as I might have mentioned already). Some magazines pay for your meal, allowing you to dine incognito, but the one I work for prefers to accept complimentary meals from PRs, which means the restaurant knows you're coming.

Now I'd rather eat anonymously when I'm reviewing, of course, but I do truly believe that the people in a kitchen can either cook or they can't – and if they can't they can't disguise the fact when the reviewer pitches up. Sure, it means that I sometimes get fawned over by the waiting staff, but it's very easy to take note of how the other diners in a restaurant are being treated and how happy they look. So, although the situation isn't ideal, I don't feel that my critics morals are being compromised quite as severely as it might appear.

The main downside, as far as I'm concerned this year, is that if a restaurant knows you're coming some of them tend to throw their best possible dishes at you – sometimes several courses of their best dishes – often with great wines to match. Under the circumstances, it's very difficult to turn anything down. I'm trying my best not to finish everything on my plate, but several recent meals have challenged me in that respect – in fact I was hard pushed not to pick the plate up and lick it clean at Lindsay House, Richard Corrigan's Soho restaurant. Another place I've been really enthusiastic about is Nahm, a Michelin-starred Thai restaurant that serves stupendously exciting food and offers an equally exciting wine list. The only downside to the place is the stultifyingly dull décor.

Anyway, I'm getting away from the main issue, which is that I've got to face up to the fact that if I'm eating out three times a week between now and the start of September, the diet isn't going to progress very fast, if at all. There's no point in beating myself up about it – I've just got to accept the reality of the situation and deal with it.

I'm balancing things out by sticking to the diet at home and doing a fair bit of exercise. With James' encouragement, I made it all the way round Clapham Common the other day – albeit by running for 10 minutes, then walking for five before picking the pace up again. It took 35 minutes in total, I felt like I was going to die – or melt, whichever happened first – but I made it...

Chicken with an Australian accent

It often feels like chicken dinner is what happens when you're stuck for inspiration while trawling the supermarket aisles, but the very fact that chicken tends to be a bit bland also makes it a great blank canvas upon which you can experiment with all kinds of flavours.

Last night's dinner (left) was inspired by a meal at what used to be one of my favourite restaurants when I lived in Sydney, the Bayswater Brasserie, as well as a jar of chilli jam from the South Devon Chilli Farm that Mark and I bought while we were getting rained on in Devon the other weekend. The other inspiration was the fact that I didn't have time to go out to the shops, so dinner was cobbled together from bits and pieces I had in the store cupboard and fridge.

For all that it was a scrape-together job, it tasted so good that I had to stop myself from licking the plate clean (a really disgusting habit you can only indulge in when in the presence of those who love you – and, more to the point, can't get rid of you when you do something totally gross).

Chicken with chilli jam for two

2 chicken hindquarters (legs and thighs) or 4 chicken thighs
100g bulghur wheat
a pinch of saffron
1 onion, cut in half and sliced into thin rings
olive oil
1/2 jar of piquillo peppers, cut into thick strips (if you can't find these, you can make do with a couple of grilled red peppers, but there's a wonderful sweetness to the piquillo variety)
a handful of pine nuts
a bunch of fresh coriander, chopped
50mls chicken stock (optional, but it adds something to the finished dish)
2 dstsp chilli jam
2 tsp chipotle chillies in adobo (from the Cool Chile Company)
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 200ºC.

Place the chicken in a roasting dish and season liberally. Roast for about 40 minutes, or until done.

Meanwhile, place the bulghur wheat in a saucepan with about half a litre of salted water and the saffron. Bring to the boil, then reduce to a simmer until cooked, about 15 minutes.

Fry the onion slowly in the merest smear of olive oil until soft and translucent. Put to one side.

Toast the pine nuts in a dry frying pan and remove from the heat when they start to turn golden (they carry on cooking for a while once you've taken them off the heat, so be careful not to overdo them). Put to one side.

Heat the stock through.

Once the chicken is cooked, remove from the oven and allow it to rest while you pull everything else together.

Stir the onions, peppers, pine nuts and coriander through the bulghur wheat. Put a pile on each plate (as ever, Mark got the large helping – you should go easy on it too, you need it for bulk but you don't want to overdo it).

Add the chicken and spoon over the warm stock. Put a dollop of chilli jam and another of chipotle in adobo on the side of the plate and enjoy.

Ow, that hurt!

I should be punching the air in triumph. Yesterday morning, I managed to run a mile and a half. I know it was a mile and a half (almost to the yard) because James had showed me a great website (http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/) that allows you to plot a route of your choice and it then works out the distances involved.

So, yes, as I was saying. A mile and a half. It took me around 20 minutes (I could have probably walked the distance in 25, so I wasn't exactly moving fast). My calves and feet were aching by the time I rounded the corner for home – and boy have they ached ever since. So much so that I think it would be foolhardy to go for another bout today (or at least that's the excuse I'm giving myself).

Anyway, I think I've reached a consolidation point. Over the next week or two I'm going to focus on that distance until I can do it comfortably. I'm off for a nice, relaxing warm bath now...

Why I hate summer

I'm exaggerating, of course. Like any normal English person, I crave the sunshine – partly because we seem to get so little of it.

But I hate the sunshine when I'm exercising. When I'm exercising alone, I try and make sure I get my run in the early morning, before the heat really kicks in. Before 9 is my ideal, but life seldom works like that. To begin with, I find it hard to resist dealing with emails while I'm having my morning cuppa, and things tend to spiral from there... Before we got Laszlo, it wasn't unknown for me to be sitting at my desk at three in the afternoon, still wearing my dressing gown, with a stone-cold mug of half-drunk tea at my elbow. These days, I'm compelled to give Lasz a walk, preferable by lunch-time, so I'm no longer the dressing gown devotee I once was, but I still manage to find plenty to do before I get myself out the door in my running shoes.

This morning, for instance, I didn't get out until nearly 10, by which time the sun had cranked up a considerable amount of heat. It didn't stop me from getting round the park's perimeter twice (a distance of just over a mile and a quarter, as measured by my car's odometer on Saturday - big yay!), but it would have been easier to do had the temperature been somewhat cooler. Bring on the drizzle, that's what I say.

In case we get any more summer...

I think I might have mentioned how much I love a barbecue. We haven't had much in the way of barbecue weather of late, but the other night we had just enough balmy weather to make it worth pulling the cover off the Weber. While Mark took care of the meaty stuff (see left, with a large slice of steak), I threw a couple of salads together. Laszlo scampered around, getting underfoot, desperately excited by the smell of cooking meat, then collapsed, panting, in the shade under the table. Note to self: get Laszlo a haircut before he overheats.

The greenery (below) came courtesy of the fact that I'd found some great wild fennel at Borough Market, as well as some samphire, so tender that I didn't even need to cook it. I chopped the fennel into 5-cm lengths, tossed the samphire into it, along with some chopped mint, then drizzled the salad with a slick of extra virgin olive oil and a squeeze of lemon.


We also had one of my favourite warm weather salads: cubes of watermelon (de-seeded), mixed with chunks of feta cheese, black olives, thinly sliced rings of red onion and more of that lovely fresh chopped mint. Once again, a simple dressing of olive oil and lemon juice did the trick.

We're hoping for more barbecue weather this weekend, but I suspect we may be out of luck. At least Laszlo will be able to cope without another visit to the pet parlour....

Turning Japanese

Mark and I were pretty tired the other night, so I wanted to cook something quick and uncomplicated. I had a pouch of white miso that had been sitting on the top shelf of the fridge for a while, so I took that as my starting point for a Japanese-inspired meal.

We slashed a couple of chicken breasts and marinaded them in a mixture of soy sauce and sherry (I'd have used sake if I'd had any to hand, but all I found was a bottle of Manzanilla sherry – for cooking purposes, Manzanilla or Fino make pretty good substitutes for sake. For what it's worth, if you're not dieting, a glass of dry sherry usually makes a good match for many Chinese and Japanese dishes). I added a dash of sesame oil, a couple of pieces of star anise and some grated ginger and left the chicken in the marinade for a couple of hours before I cooked it under the grill. I also stir-fried some mustard greens with some julienned ginger. But, as far as I was concerned, the centre of the meal was the miso-grilled aubergine – I just love aubergine for its depth of flavour and its versatility. It's a much under-appreciated vegetable and if it's not on your shopping list I urge you to buy (and try) some soon – you'll soon be as hooked on these beautiful, sleek purple vegetables as I am.

Aubergines and miso for two

2 small- to medium-sized aubergines
3 tbsp miso paste
2 tbsp dry sherry or sake
1 tsp sugar
2 tsp sesame seeds

Heat the oven to 200ºC. Cut the aubergines in half lengthwise, then score the flesh in a criss-cross pattern. Push a metal skewer through each aubergine half (to help conduct the heat through the vegetable) and place in the oven for about 40 minutes, or until cooked through.

Meanwhile, stir the miso paste, the sherry and the sugar together in a small saucepan over a low heat until silky smooth and put aside.

Toast the sesame seeds in a small frying pan until golden and put aside.

Pre-heat the grill.

Once the aubergines are cooked through, remove them from the oven and brush with the fleshy side with the miso mixture. Place under the grill and cook until brown. Sprinkle the aubergines with the toasted sesame seeds and serve.

The long, dark teatime of the soul

I've always loved this title, which I've nicked from a Douglas Adams book (see left); it seems to capture the feeling of limitless gloom that comes with any internal struggle. I've been doing a fair bit of internal struggling over the past few days. Mark and I went away to Devon for our birthday weekend (conveniently enough, his birthday is on the 5th of July and mine is on the 6th) and I don't know whether I was suffering from birthday-itis (it's my birthday and I'll darn well celebrate any way I want to, even if it means coming off the diet); having reached the fuck-it zone (the weight's not coming off, so what the hell) or a bout of self-sabotage (you've lost 10 kilos, you're doing just fine, why struggle any more), but I tucked into ice-creams, a delicious apple and raisin cake, plaice in a buttery sauce, pork with crackling... You get the picture.

Having lost control of myself, though, I found myself waking up in the middle of the night and fretting about it. I am committed to losing the weight – even though it's tough going at the moment – apart from anything else, I don't want to lose face in such a public way, but my progress is slow at the moment. Has been for a while.

So I've returned to London fully committed to the notion of getting to grips with my inner demons. My diet has been at its most successful early in the year, partly because the diet shocked my system into losing weight and partly because I was in control of what I ate and when I ate it in a way that I'm not during restaurant review season. Given that it's going to be hard to stick to a diet (I can try, but I have to compensate for potential slip-ups) until September, and that I've decided that my goal is to lose 4.5 kilos to take me down to 80 kilos by the time of my post-wedding party on September the 6th, ramping up the exercise seems to be the logical way to go.

I had a word with James about it, and we've decided that my initial tactic (to go for two runs a day) isn't a realistic proposition. He thinks I'll just become bored very quickly and that it will prove to be a retrograde step. Instead, I'm going to up the intensity of what I'm doing when I work out by myself. James set me a running challenge (at least once round the outside of the park, then interval training for a second lap), which I'm already on to. He's also going to provide me with a skipping rope (it seemed so easy when I was a kid, but at the age of 44 it doesn't seem quite so much fun any more) and a couple of kettle bells. I'd never heard of kettle bells (right) before, but James explained what they were and said that they produce results pdq. I'm pretty sure that using them is going to feel like torture, but if they get me to where I want to go, I'm up for it.

Simple pleasures

I find that when the temperature rises, my appetite slips away. The only things I want to eat are light dishes with fresh flavours. In practice, this mainly means salads – by which I don't mean a few limp leaves of lettuce and a couple of slices of watery tomatoes. I'm talking, instead, about punchy, zesty ingredients, like those of the feta and pea salad (right) Mark and I enjoyed at the weekend.

Feta and pea salad for two

250-300g pea pods, shelled to give about 100-125g peas
100g feta cheese
50g walnuts
a double handful of tasty salad leaves
fresh mint, chopped
walnut oil
tarragon vinegar
dijon mustard

Plunge the peas in salted boiling water until tender, then run them under a cold tap until they're thoroughly cooled.

Dice the feta, chop the walnuts and place in a bowl with the cooked peas and the mint.

Make a simple dressing with the walnut oil, vinegar and mustard – go easy on all the ingredients for a couple of reasons: one being that oil of any kind is high in calories, the other being that you just want to freshen up the flavours of the salad, not drown them.
Pour over the salad and serve, preferably while sitting in a sunny spot in the garden or the park.

There is no alternative

I think I may have mentioned that five weeks off the exercise programme has had a serious impact on my fitness levels. I had been planning a half-hour run for the day after the exercise (in fact I'd gone into the park that day to limber up), and was doing two laps of the park with ease, but on my return from Greece I found myself hard-pushed to make it once round the park.

I've only had three sessions with James, but he's been pushing me hard – instead of exercising at a constant intensity, he's been working me in full-on bursts of activity. He says this will get me back to where I was a bit quicker, but I'm not exactly sure of the rationale behind this (he promises me he's going to write a few words for this blog explaining the whole thing).

In any case, I made it round the park – just – on a couple of occasions last week.

However, my scales are stuck at somewhere between 84.7 kilos and 85.1 kilos (they seem to fluctuate). And, horror of horrors, I'm now about to launch into an intense period of restaurant reviews that will last right up until my (very) post-wedding party (Mark and I are having a belated celebration with a group of friends at the beginning of September). I'm due to eat out at least twice a week at some of London's best restaurants every week until then. I'm going to have to try and exercise some willpower, of course, but I suspect that's not going to be enough if I want to be down around 80 kilos on the day (after all, I'm going to have to look at the pictures for the rest of my life).

So the only alternative is to crank up the exercise. On a near-daily basis – daily if I can make myself do it. This morning I gritted my teeth and made it twice round the park. The last 40 metres were hell – it felt like I was running through treacle – but tomorrow's run may be a bit easier.