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...