Juice schmuice

I'm at home, sooky-lala, and in desperate need of vitamin C. So I bought a few oranges, hoping to try my food processor out at juice.

A juicer was the only implement I couldn't find at the back of my cupboard, so I guess I don't actually own one. I peeled 2 oranges, with my thumb (yes it's still orange coloured), put the segments in the machine and processed.

What I ended up being able to drink, or eat, was pulp.

I am feeling sulky and sorry for myself and grumpy with my food processor.

I know The Machine would have given me orange sorbet where the texture was unequalled and the flavour just perky.

And then there were the dishes.

Sigh.

C A D A

I couldn't remember what the letters stood for, but S sent me home one day with a serve of leftover breakfast she has been making for herself in The Machine. It was so yummy, and had the same texture as thick muesli, but had no actual grain in it.

I wandered around the supermarket the next night...

A... pretty sure she mentioned Almonds, and green Apple.

D... definitely Dates, because I'd teased her about which nationality they were.

C... I had nothing. Next to the packets of dates and almonds however was a packet of Cranberries. Ooh - Cranberries for antioxidants. Good for women's health too apparently. Must be it.

I had to guess proportions at 1 cup dates, 1 cup almonds, 1 apple and just less than a cup of Cranberries. Turned out just lovely. The Cranberries cut through the supersicklysweetness of the dates.

My one-trick food processor roughly chops the almonds, apple and cranberries reasonably well, but I actually have to stand there with kitchen scissors and chop up the dates.

I've been having it with milk (just a bit), though many have it with yoghurt.

Oh - and the C - it's actually Coconut (yech).

Money savings:

Sorry I really haven't worked this one out!! (S might have to help me here.) But I am sure it's cheaper (and way healthier) than my other "traffic light" breakfast of choice, which is evil on so many levels.

Time savings:

Being a much better "traffic light" breakfast than wet cereal, or evilness, it saves me heaps of time on a rushed morning.

Preparation takes about 10 minutes for four serves (though I know The Machine would do it much quicker).

Post-script:

It is very very yummy and very very good for your tummy (and other parts).

Another one falls

...or rises...

My friend JB now has The Machine. It's on her kitchen bench, unwrapped, awaiting her demonstrator tuition. The dips we eat tonight are store-bought, but maybe next time...

Beetroot salad

One of the demonstrations at The Machine events is to make a beetroot salad in a matter of minutes. The salad is divine. The flavours are so fresh that it really felt like summer, even though it was the middle of winter.

Even though my food processor wasn't working at the time (see One-Trick Machines), I decided to have a go.

S emailed me the recipe, and I proceeded to chop, and chop, and peel, and chop, and squeeze,... you get the drift.

Possibly half an hour later, I had a rough, less than tasty, over lemony version of that divine salad. As I mentioned to S in an email that week "I think you might have sowed seeds of discontent in my heart".

A second attempt with functioning food processor, less lemon and Verjuice was much better. Even passable!

Money Savings:

The fact that I rarely make salad, this is a moot point.

Time savings:

The Machine would save me about 20 minutes, many dishes and pink hands.

Post-script:

The recipe:

• Raw Beetroot - 300g
• Carrot x 1
• Green Apple x 1
• Coriander (Large handful)
• 1/4 Red onion
• Squeeze of juice from 1 lemon
• Can drizzle a bit of oil, salt/sugar if you like and toss.....

Soup (and cake)

"Bring over some ingredients," she said. "We can have a cuppa while the soup cooks, and you can take home the results for your freezer."

So I did. I had no idea about portion sizes or weights as I don't own scales. I had run out of time to chop and peel before I came, and I had only a rough idea for a recipe. I just bought what I thought I would use if I was making it up in a big pot at home, as Grandma used to do.

• pumpkin soup with sweet potato, garlic and rosemary, and
• chicken soup with garlic, coriander and random veggies.

The first thing I learned is that 4.5yo H thought she was going to cook chocolate cake that day, so wanted me to go home.

The second thing I learned was that you really did have to follow a recipe. (Sorry Grandma.)

Outcome:

It took us about 25 minutes per type of soup. Yes that included roughly chopping the ingredients before they went into the bowl. We did play with the portions and times which meant the chicken was a bit overcooked, but other than that - they were both amazing. The chicken soup was chunky and wholesome and the pumpkin was pureed to silky smooth.

Not peeling the pumpkin meant it was left with a nutty, rustic taste. According to another friend (victim, gourmet taste-tester), it could have done with a little less garlic.

Money savings:

None really as I didn't buy to the recipe, so had some leftover veggies I had to use up another time. However it had been a while since I had made soup at home as it takes so long (see below), so at about 50c a serve (including the chicken), is much cheaper than even clearance tinned soup at $2 a tin.

Time savings:

Plenty, as the finer chopping was done in the machine, there were shorter tear breaks over the onions, and we did get to sit down and have a cuppa while it cooked and stirred.

Swished the bowl out after each type of soup. Dishes done!

Comparable time savings to the invention of the washing machine.

Post-script:

I took my soup home and came back to help H make her chocolate cake. She was waiting for me when I got back, standing on the chair next to the kitchen bench, pink baker's hat and apron on, pink whisk in hand.

S hovered in the background as I worked through the recipe with H, like a learner-driver who's teacher has cranked the seat back a notch or two and is dozing with one eye open. My fingers fumbled closing the lid a few times, I was making sure H didn't pour in too much milk, but we got there in the end with the glossy magnificence.

"No we don't need to stir it, H. The Machine does it."

"But I want to stir it!" she protests, whisk flapping around.

"OK - we'll take the lid off and..." Whisk is dipped in; taken through one or two perfunctory turns; it is brought up, laden with chocolately goodness, hovering over a tiny pink tongue...

"H! No!"

..and so we established that The Machine does remove some of the delight of licking the bowl.