It’s been a while since I shared with you what’s going on in my little world right now. There have been ups (many) and downs (mostly), though from my 29 years of experience on this planet, this rollercoaster theme park is not a place I haven’t visited before. I think that’s what gets better as you get older - it’s not so much that the problems are worse, it’s more the knowing that this too shall pass. So let’s just say I’m in that space right now. And without boring you with the details, my body needs some extra TLC in the form of warm things.

I’ve recently returned to acupuncture, something I’ve found beneficial in the past though never really committed to consistently. This time, however, I’m going all in and trying to actually take on board some of her advice - namely, clearing the “dampness” in my body to stimulate kidney energy.

In Traditional Chinese Medicine, “dampness” is thought of as a kind of internal heaviness or sluggishness in the body - fatigue, bloating, brain fog, puffiness, low energy, digestive issues and generally feeling a bit… stuck. Cold foods are believed to make this worse by weakening the digestive system, or what TCM refers to as the spleen and stomach qi.

According to the theory, your body has to work harder to “warm” cold foods before it can properly digest them, which can slow everything down and allow more dampness to accumulate. Warm, cooked foods on the other hand are thought to support digestion, improve circulation and help the body move and clear that stagnant energy more efficiently. Whether scientifically backed or not, I can confirm that eating warm curries instead of sad fridge snacks has been a noticeable upgrade for both my mood and digestive system.

As someone whose life’s purpose is essentially salads, this all felt mildly offensive at first. But after a week of less raw food and more soups, slow-cooked things, herbal teas, I have to admit… my body is responding.

Which is where this recipe was born.

This is chicken and chickpea red curry. It’s not traditional in the slightest - lots of onion, ginger, garlic and spices get sautéed down in ghee until soft and sweet, before curry leaves and Thai red curry paste are added and cooked until everything smells outrageously fragrant. Chicken thigh, marinated beforehand in even more red curry paste, gets sealed off in the pan before the whole thing is deglazed with a mixture of coconut milk and chicken bone broth.

Chickpeas, soaked overnight and cooked beforehand (though you can just use canned if you CBF), are added alongside, finely mandolined carrot, peeled Queen May potatoes and simmer slowly in the oven. Right at the end, broccoli makes a quick dive into the pot so it stays perfectly green and crunchy, and the whole thing is finished with a heavy hand of fish sauce, fresh lime and coriander.

Served over brown rice with a dollop of natural yoghurt, it’s warming, hearty and nutrient dense. A slightly confused curry, perhaps, but also probably the best one I’ve ever made.

Here is the recipe for you x

Warming Chicken & Chickpea Red Curry

(Serves 4 | GF / RSF)

• 6 large boneless chicken thighs, cut into 3cm strips

• ½ jar Thai red curry paste (about 3 heaped tablespoons)

• 2 tablespoons ghee (or extra virgin olive oil)

• 2 brown onions, finely sliced

• 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped

• 3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

• ¼ teaspoon ground turmeric

• ¼ teaspoon ground cumin

• ¼ teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

• Small handful curry leaves

• 1 x 400ml can full fat coconut milk

• 400ml chicken bone broth

• 1 small carrot, peeled and shaved into thin discs

• 1 cup dried chickpeas, soaked overnight and cooked until tender
  (or 1 x 400g can chickpeas, drained)

• 4 small Queen May potatoes (or other starchy potatoes), peeled and cut into wedges

• 1 small head broccoli, cut into florets

• 2 tablespoons fish sauce

• Juice of 1 lime

• 1 large handful coriander, finely chopped

To Serve

• Steamed brown long grain rice

• Natural yoghurt

• Extra coriander

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 160°C.

2. Place the chicken into a large bowl with 1 heaped tablespoon of the curry paste and mix well to coat. Set aside while you prepare the base.

3. Heat the ghee in a large deep pot or Dutch oven over medium-low heat. Add the onions with a generous pinch of salt and cook for 10–15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until soft, sweet and translucent.

4. Add the ginger, garlic, turmeric, cumin, black pepper and curry leaves. Cook for another minute or two until fragrant.

5. Add the chicken and cook briefly, stirring, until lightly sealed and browned on the outside. Stir through the remaining curry paste and allow it to cook out for a minute before pouring in the coconut milk and bone broth.

6. Add the carrot, chickpeas and potatoes, then bring everything to a gentle simmer. Cover with a lid and transfer to the oven for 45–50 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender and the sauce is rich and fragrant.

7. Remove the lid, stir through the broccoli florets and return to the oven for a further 5 minutes, just until the broccoli is bright green and tender while still holding some bite.

8. Finish with the fish sauce, lime juice and coriander. Taste and adjust seasoning if needed - more lime, fish sauce or salt depending on your preference.

9. Serve over brown rice with a dollop of natural yoghurt and plenty of extra coriander on top.

Autumn is my favourite season for salads.

It feels like it’s own category entirely. Less leafy greens, more substance and the produce is a lot more interesting (in my opinion).

This almost-too-pretty-to-eat autumn salad was inspired entirely by what I found at this week’s farmers’ market. I couldn’t resist the zucchini flowers, along with my current late-April obsession: Jerusalem artichokes.

If you’re wondering, “what the hell is that?” - fair question.

They look a bit like ginger, but they’re actually a type of sunflower root. No, they’re not from Jerusalem, and no, they’re not an artichoke either - so the confusion is completely understandable.

In reality, they’re wildly misunderstood little gems. The texture sits somewhere between a potato and a parsnip… which, admittedly, still doesn’t fully clear things up.

So honestly? The best way to make sense of them is just to try them yourself and decide.

Origins aside, they’re sweet, nutty, and have the best texture when you treat them right. I like to blanch them first so they cook through evenly, then roast them until the edges catch and turn golden, while the inside stays soft and fluffy.

They just so happen to be one of the highest plant sources of prebiotic fibre that feed healthy gut microbes. Not to mention, they’re a great additions to salads because they keep you full in that slow-steady-way without spiking your blood sugar.

This salad is built around that. Warm, roasted artichokes, raw shaved zucchini flowers, whipped lemony ricotta, anchovies and the a bright orange vinaigrette.

It’s wildly simple to make, but it feels (and looks) like a bit like a show-off dish - the side you make when you’ve got friends or a special someone over for dinner and you want them to think you’re cool.

Here is the recipe for you. I hope you make it x

Autumnal Salad with Jerusalem Artichokes, Zucchini Flowers & Whipped Ricotta

(Serves 2–4 | GF / RSF)

Ingredients

• 1 bunch zucchini flowers

• 2 cups Jerusalem artichokes, scrubbed and halved if large

• 1 cup fresh buffalo ricotta

• 3–4 tbsp olive oil (plus extra for roasting)

• Zest of 1 lemon

• 1 orange, juiced

• 1–2 tsp vinegar (white wine or apple cider)

• 1 teaspoon honey

• 4 cloves garlic (unpeeled)

• 1–2 sprigs rosemary

• 4–5 sage leaves

• 6-8 anchovy fillets

• Small handful fresh dill

• Salt and pepper, to taste

Method

1. Blanch the artichokes
   Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add Jerusalem artichokes and cook for 8–10 minutes, or until just tender. Drain well and allow to steam dry.

2. Roast
   Toss the artichokes with olive oil, garlic, rosemary, sage, salt, and pepper. Roast at 200°C for 25–30 minutes, or until golden and crisp on the outside.

   

3. Make the whipped ricotta
   In a bowl or food processor, combine ricotta, 1 tbsp olive oil, and lemon zest. Blend until smooth, creamy, and light.

   

4. Prepare zucchini flowers
   Gently rinse and pat dry. Thinly slice the zucchini lengthways using a mandolin, reserving a the flower tops for garnish.

   

5. Orange vinaigrette
   Whisk together 2 tablespoons orange juice, vinegar, honey and 2-3 tbsp olive oil. Squeeze out the roasted garlic (removing the skins) and mash, then stir through the dressing. Season with salt and pepper.

6. Assemble
   In a large bowl, toss the warm roasted artichokes with the zucchini flowers in enough vinaigrette to coat.

7. Serve
   Spread whipped ricotta onto a large round serving plater. Spoon over the salad. Finish with anchovies, fresh dill, reserved zucchini flower tops, and an extra drizzle of vinaigrette.

   

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My current word of the week: ‘Autumnal’ (pronounced aw-TUM-nuhl). It describes anything relating to, characteristic of, or occurring in autumn—though really, it’s less a definition and more a feeling. Think changing leaves, cooler air, shorter days, and that particular late-season softness where everything feels a little more ‘whimsy’.

It’s no secret how excited I get about produce. And now that we’re well and truly in the autumnal stretch of the year, the markets are starting to look exactly how I want them to: heavier, moodier, and full of vegetables with actual substance.

This might be one of my favourite moments of the year for cooking — things that roast well, braise beautifully, and taste better when given a bit of patience. I love how naturally the produce mirrors the season itself. As the air cools, we slow down too. We cook longer, eat warmer, and lean into food that feels grounding rather than bright and hurried.

Here is my late-April market report—full of my favourite vegetables of the season, their health benefits, and a few ideas for how to bring them into your kitchen.

1. Puntarelle

   Oh what a joy it is to find a bunch of Puntarelle. Slightly alien-like in appearance, pleasantly bitter and wildly crisp (it’s kind of like the love-child of asparagus and chicory). It’s also packed with fibre, folate, and vitamin C, making it as good for your gut as it is for your dinner table. I love it shaved finely into a sharp little salad with anchovy dressing, lemon, and plenty of parmesan…very Roman.

2. Celery

   This is the base of all your slow cooking this season — poor celery gets a bad reputation for being the boring one, but I think it’s wildly underrated. Full of water, potassium, and antioxidants, it’s brilliant for digestion and adding flavour where you least expect it. I love it braised slowly with white beans, or finely chopped into the beginning of almost everything I cook (because good food usually starts with onion, carrot, and celery).

3. Pumpkins

   Autumn’s main character. There are so many good varieties this time of year from Butternut, Jap, Kent, Queensland Blue and each one brings something slightly different to the table. Sweet, earthy, and endlessly useful, pumpkin is rich in beta-carotene, vitamin A, and fibre. I roast thick wedges with olive oil, chilli, and plenty of garlic, then throw them over ricotta, fold them through pasta with brown butter and sage, or blitz them into soup or a dhal when I want something warm and delicious.

4. Radishes

   Peppery, crisp, and refreshing, they’re great for vitamin C and supporting digestion and liver support. I love them sliced aggressively thin and tossed through salads with a punchy vinaigrette. They are also amazing as a little pre dinner snack with cold butter and a sprinkle of flakey salt.

5. Jerusalem Artichokes

   Not to be confused with ginger — Jerusalem artichokes are nutty, sweet, and full of prebiotic fibre that your gut will thank you for. If you like parsnips and potatoes, then you will adore these. Roast them with lots of olive oil, sage and rosemary until caramelised and crispy, or blitz them into soup with lots of white pepper and nutmeg.

6. Zucchini Flowers

   The supermodel of the vegetable world that’s almost too pretty to eat. Delicate and fleeting, zucchini flowers are rich in vitamin C and antioxidants, but honestly, their main nutrient is sex appeal. I love them stuffed with ricotta, anchovy, lemon zest, and herbs, then lightly baked in a tomato sugo until tender. They’re also beautiful raw—I shave the stems thinly on a mandolin and toss them through a bright vinaigrette, carefully separating the flowers to use as the most unnecessarily beautiful salad topping.

7. Naval Oranges

   Sweet, bright, and packed with vitamin C, fibre, and all the anti-winter energy you need. I add them to my morning yogurt and granola bowl, or pair the segments in a bitter leaf salad with fennel, olives, and good quality olive oil.

8. Sicilian Eggplants

   Rounder, firmer, and less bitter than the standard variety. They’re rich in fibre, antioxidants, and absorb flavour like they were designed for it. Salt them for 30 minutes before frying, or roast them whole until collapsing and serve with tahini yoghurt, pomegranate and herbs. Even better, make a batch of caponata to spoon over thick toast with whipped ricotta.

9. Mulberries

   There is something very child-like about mulberries. Whenever I see these are automatically think of messy fingers and stained shirts. These little nutrient powerhouses are full of vitamin C, iron, and antioxidants. I like them folded through yoghurt with a bit of honey to counteract the tartness, or baked into something simple where they can be sharp and jammy without too much interference.

10. Colourful courgettes

    Yellow, green, striped — courgettes are light, full of water, potassium, and vitamin C, and very versatile. I shave them raw into ribbons with lemon, mint and grated bottarga, or char them hard in a hot pan and finish with labneh and lots of oregano. I also love making them into a zucchini fritter like these.

11. Celeriac

    Celeriac is earthy, nutty, and brilliant for fibre, vitamin K, and all the quiet workhorse things vegetables should do. I love it mashed with obscene amounts of butter, or cut into thick wedges and roasted until sweet and golden at the edges. My all time favourite way is when Sam makes his famous celeriac remoulade and porchetta rolls (which is not often enough). Don’t throw away the stems and leaves! Just like celery, they are an amazing addition to soups and stews.

12. Peppers

    Peppers are loaded with more vitamin C than oranges, which feels mildly unfair, given they’re a lot harder to casually chew your way through. However, when prepared properly, they’re very easy to incorporate. Sam always buys a bunch of shishito peppers and ferments them, turning them into one of the most versatile additions—perfect for marinades, salads, salsas, or just eating straight from the jar. You can also blister them over a flame, peel them back, and marinate them with garlic, vinegar, and olive oil.

13. Broccoli

    A classic choice. Full of fibre, folate, and vitamins C and K. I roast it until the edges catch and go crispy, then serve with loads of finely chopped parsley and lemon. What a lot of people do is throw away the stems, which makes me a little sad. They’re sweet, crisp, and far more delicious than they get credit for—I love shaving them thin and cutting into matchsticks with cabbage for a really great winter slaw.

14. Cauliflower

    I strongly believe cauliflower is at its best when you stop trying to make it behave like rice (just eat the real thing guys!). It’s rich in fibre, vitamin C, and surprisingly satisfying when treated properly. I love roasting it whole with spices and yoghurt, letting it get deeply golden and dramatic. I also make a very good cauliflower cheese, which feels like the highest form of respect you can give the vegetable—the recipe, conveniently, you can find here.

Cauliflower cheese is one of those classic dishes everyone loves (myself very much included). To be fair, I’m fond of almost any vegetable drenched in a cheesy béchamel… but sometimes you don’t always want the heaviness that comes with it. So I started playing around with a version that still delivers that creamy, comforting goodness, just with a slightly lighter touch.

Rather than a traditional, cheese-heavy béchamel, this one leans on almond milk for its base. It’s gently warmed and thickened into a silky, nutty sauce that coats everything without weighing it down. You still get that creamy, oozy moment, but it feels lighter, and actually lets the cauliflower taste like itself.

Instead of big florets, the cauliflower is sliced thinly on a mandolin - almost like sheets. With a quick pre-blanch, it roasts faster this way, catching on the edges and caramelising into golden, slightly crisp layers that give the whole dish more texture. The result is something a little more structured, a little more elevated… but still very much comfort food.

And then there’s the topping - arguably the best part. Pangrattato, but not as you know it. Breadcrumbs are tossed with almond butter, olive oil, anchovies and sage, creating the most perfectly toasty, golden, crunchy crust. It becomes this nutty crumble that sits somewhere between a topping and a savoury granola.

I’d strongly suggest using a really good-quality almond milk here - one that’s free from unnecessary additives. Anything with weird oils, thickeners, sugars or preservatives won’t do you any favours, and it will affect the way the béchamel comes together.

I genuinely mean it when I say the only almond milk I use is Mandolé Orchard (and their almond butter too, for that matter). It’s made from high-quality Australian almonds (family-grown, locally produced, and sustainably made with simple ingredients), and because they use more almonds, you’re getting more of the good stuff - plant-based protein, vitamin E and magnesium, without added sugars weighing things down.

I love making this at the start of the cooler season. It’s perfect with a simple side salad and a roast chook. It’s also a great one to bring to a dinner party or family barbecue, and reheats beautifully. So yes, it’s still creamy. Still crispy. Still rich. Just with a little more balance - and every reason to go back for seconds.

Cauliflower Cheese with Almond Pangrattato

(Serves 4-6 | RSF)

Ingredients

• 1 large cauliflower

• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• Salt and pepper

Almond Béchamel

• 50g unsalted butter

• ⅓ cup plain flour

• 470ml unsweetened Mandolé Orchard Almond Milk

• ¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

• ¼ tsp white pepper

• ¼ tsp ground cinnamon

• Pinch of salt

• 300g mozzarella, grated

Almond Butter Pangrattato

• 2 slices stale sourdough, torn into 2cm pieces

• 4 sage leaves

• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• 5 anchovies in oil

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• ¼ cup smooth Mandolé Orchard Almond Butter

• ¼ tsp black pepper

• Pinch of salt

Method

1. Prepare the cauliflower
Preheat the oven to 180°C. Lightly grease a large ovenproof baking dish. Remove the outer leaves and trim the base of the cauliflower, reserving a few tender stems. Cut around the core to remove it, then break or cut the cauliflower into quarters. Using a mandoline, finely slice into thin strips. Place the sliced cauliflower in a large heatproof bowl and cover with boiling water. Set aside for 10 minutes to soften slightly, then drain well. Drizzle with olive oil, season generously with salt and pepper, and arrange evenly in the base of the baking dish.

2. Make the almond béchamel
In a wide saucepan, melt the butter over low heat. Add the flour and stir continuously with a wooden spoon to form a smooth roux. Cook for 30 seconds to 1 minute, ensuring it doesn’t colour. Remove from the heat and gradually whisk in ½ cup of the almond milk until smooth. Slowly add the remaining milk, whisking constantly to avoid lumps. Return the pan to medium-low heat and cook, whisking frequently, until the sauce thickens to the consistency of runny sour cream (about 8–10 minutes). Stir in the nutmeg, white pepper, cinnamon, and a pinch of salt. Once the sauce coats the back of a spoon, add the grated mozzarella and whisk until melted and smooth. Remove from heat, cover, and keep warm.

3. Make the pangrattato
Blitz the sourdough and sage in a food processor to form coarse crumbs, then transfer to a bowl. Heat a non-stick pan over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil, anchovies, garlic, and almond butter, stirring until the anchovies dissolve and the mixture forms a loose, fragrant sauce. Season with black pepper and a pinch of salt. Pour the mixture over the crumbs and toss well to combine.

4. Assemble and bake
Pour the warm béchamel evenly over the cauliflower, smoothing the top with a spatula. Scatter the pangrattato generously over the surface. Bake for 30 minutes, or until the centre is soft and bubbling and the top is golden and crisp. If the topping browns too quickly, cover loosely with foil and continue baking until cooked through. Serve immediately.

Now before I start preaching unsolicited wellness advice, let me clarify one thing: I, Brooke Kelly - nutritionist and lover of all things health and wellness, have always had a soft spot for a silly little night out. Well… at least I used to.

These days, I’m a little more addicted to feeling good. Which, if you’d told my 20-year-old self, she would have found deeply suspicious and possibly quite boring.

Don’t get me wrong, I still adore a boogie on the dance floor and especially with my best friends. Recently, we had a big party coming up, the kind that doesn’t even start until 10pm (which, respectfully, is far too late to be arriving anywhere). But here’s the twist: both of my best friends have quit drinking over the past year (which is arguably the best thing that’s ever happened to my own habits) and I’d also decided to skip alcohol that night.

Instead, we did something a little different. My best friend brought over a ceremonial cacao disc which is basically a big chunk of pure, intense, unprocessed chocolate you melt down and sip that’s meant to give you a gentle buzz. Now before you laugh at me, let me tell you - we showed up! Everyone else at the party was so wasted that when we mentioned the cacao, they just assumed we were on something far stronger. Little did they realise we were running purely on 20% caffeine + sugar and 80% placebo.

At midnight, we set a timer and left. Just like that. No drawn-out goodbyes, no “one more drink.” Turns out, when you’re not drinking, it’s remarkably easy to disappear from a party - no one really notices. We went home, got into bed, and woke up the next morning feeling fresh, still buoyed by endorphins and, I hate to admit it, a little big smug.

Now, I’m not trying to virtue signal or convince you that I’ve got everything figured out - on the contrary. I still mess up, and sometimes I contradict myself. But what I am realising, as I edge closer to 30, is that you can still have it all - you just have to redefine what “all” means.

For the record, I do still enjoy a drink. A beautiful glass of wine or a perfectly made cocktail, especially shared with my partner, who is a chef and also loves nice things. There’s something undeniably romantic about it. But those moments are becoming fewer and farther between. The truth is, even one drink leaves me feeling… off. And it’s not cute anymore.

And more and more, I find myself curious about what a mostly alcohol-free life could look like. From where I’m standing, it’s looking surprisingly chic.

Lately, my version of joy looks a little different. It’s regular dinner parties with my two best friends. It’s pouring kombucha into a wine glass-because everything tastes better that way-and cooking something slow and delicious from scratch. It’s the ritual of it all, which I’ve come to realise is at least half the pleasure, if not 99% of it.

As a group, we’ve dubbed this process “Nonna Core”. Wandering through markets, carefully selecting produce, prepping throughout the day, apartment windows flung open, music playing, something simmering on the stove while the scent quietly takes over the whole building.

That’s exactly what I did last week - scoring and peeling hundreds of cherry tomatoes, turning them into a rich, slow sauce to cradle fillets of Murray cod with basil and capers. On the side: twice-cooked crispy potatoes with olive oil and rosemary (I have a secret method, which I’ll share below, because everyone loves a potato secret), and a seasonal green bean and roasted fennel salad with a punchy green bagna cauda and toasted almonds. Nothing was too planned - most of it decided on the day, guided more by intuition than recipes, and entirely by the ingredients I’d brought home, which is exactly how I learned to cook from my mum (who, unsurprisingly, is Italian).

I hate to admit it, but I offloaded dessert duties. We finished with an assortment of gluten / sugar / dairy-free cakes that my best friend (the resident healthy-treat expert) brought. Forks in hand, we demolished them all: hazelnut chocolate (which tasted like a Ferrero Rocher), white chocolate raspberry with a gooey, jammy filling (my personal favourite), and a chocolate mud cake that we all agreed tasted like what the Matilda cake would probably taste like.

Now, I know this isn’t very Nonna-style, but I actually love sharing a few desserts rather than having my own. Everyone gets to taste, try, and experience a little of everything together.

For those wondering, the cakes are from The Health Emporium on Bondi Road. And yes, I actually drove all the way back from Paddington with my friend just to get a peanut butter brownie. That good.

We eat our cake, we laugh, we talk about life and the future and I can’t help but think - this is what it’s all about.

Quality time over questionable late nights.

I choose the Nonna lifestyle. Well, most of the time.

Crispy Murray Cod in Jammy Tomato Sauce

Ingredients (Serves 3 | GF / DF / RSF):

• 400–500g Murray cod fillets, boneless and skin on

• 3 punnets (about 700g) cherry tomatoes

• 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil + extra for finishing

• 4 shallots, finely sliced

• 6 garlic cloves, finely sliced

• 6 anchovy fillets + a bit of their oil

• 1 tbsp tomato paste

• 1 heaped tsp Calabrian chilli paste

• 150ml dry white wine

• 200ml fish stock

• 2 tbsp capers in brine, drained

• Juice of ½ lemon

• Handful of fresh basil leaves

• Fish sauce

• Salt and cracked black pepper

Method:

1. Prepare the tomatoes:

• Score the bottoms of the cherry tomatoes with a small “X.”

• Bring a pot of water to a boil and prepare a bowl of ice water.

• Plunge the tomatoes into the boiling water for about 20 seconds, then immediately transfer them to the ice water to stop cooking.

• Peel off the skins and roughly chop the tomatoes. Set aside.

2. Heat the olive oil in a large deep skillet on low. Add the sliced shallots and garlic with a big pinch of salt. Cook gently on a very low heat for about 10 minutes or until soft, translucent, and jammy.

3. Stir in the anchovies with a bit of their oil, tomato paste, and Calabrian chilli. Cook slowly until the mixture is caramelised and fragrant.

4. Deglaze the pan with white wine. Add the tomatoes and fish stock. Simmer on low heat for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes collapse and the sauce is thick and jammy.

5. Stir in the basil, capers and lemon juice. Season with a dash of fish sauce and plenty of cracked black pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning.

6. Heat a separate non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. Place the Murray cod fillets skin-side down in the hot skillet. Use a fish weight to ensure the skin crisps evenly - cook for about 3 minutes. Flip the fillets and transfer them into the bubbling tomato sauce. Cover with a lid and let the fish finish cooking in the sauce for another 3–4 minutes.

7. Turn off the heat and let the fish rest in the sauce for 2-3 minutes. Drizzle with a little extra EVO oil and garnish with more fresh basil. Serve immediately.

Crispy Twice-Cooked Olive Oil Potatoes with Rosemary

Ingredients (Serves 3–4 | GF / DF / RSF):

• 500–700g potatoes (Sebago or Dutch Cream), peeled and halved

• 1 tsp bicarb (baking soda)

• 4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• 2–3 sprigs fresh rosemary, roughly chopped

• Sea salt, to taste

• Cracked black pepper, to taste

Method:

1. Pre-boil the potatoes: Fill a pot with water, add 1 tablespoon salt and 1 tsp bicarb, and bring to a gentle boil. Carefully drop in the potatoes and boil for 8–12 minutes, until tender on the outside but still holding their shape inside. Drain and let them sit in the colander for at least 15 minutes to steam dry. For extra crunch, give the potatoes a little shake or rough them up with a fork - the more nooks and edges, the crispier.

2. Roast the potatoes: Preheat your oven to 220°C. In a roasting tray, toss the parboiled potatoes with the olive oil, rosemary, salt, and pepper. Roast for 30–40 minutes, turning halfway, until they’re deep golden, super crunchy on the outside, and soft inside.

Crunchy Green Beans with Roasted Fennel & Basil Bagna Cauda

Ingredients (Serves 3–4 | GF / DF / RSF):

• 400g green beans, trimmed

• 1 bulb fennel, thinly sliced

• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• Sea salt and cracked black pepper, to taste

• 2 tbsp toasted slivered almonds

Basil Bagna Cauda:

• 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil (EVO)

• 4–5 garlic cloves, finely minced

• 6 anchovy fillets + a little of their oil

• 1 handful fresh basil leaves, finely chopped

• Juice of 1/2 lemon

• Cracked black pepper, to taste

Method:

1. Roast the fennel: Preheat oven to 200°C. Toss thinly sliced fennel with 1–2 tbsp olive oil, salt, and pepper. Spread on a baking tray and roast for 20–25 minutes until tender and slightly caramelised.

2. Blanch the green beans: Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add the green beans and cook for 2 minutes until bright green and just tender-crisp. Immediately transfer to a bowl of ice water to stop cooking and preserve that vibrant crunch. Drain and set aside.

3. Make the basil bagna cauda: In a small saucepan over low heat, gently warm the olive oil. Add the minced garlic and anchovies. Cook slowly for 3–4 minutes until fragrant and the anchovies have dissolved into the oil. Do not brown the garlic. Remove from heat and stir in finely chopped basil and lemon juice. Season with cracked black pepper.

4. Assemble the dish: In a large serving bowl, combine the blanched green beans and roasted fennel. Drizzle over the basil bagna cauda and toss gently to coat evenly. Scatter toasted almonds on top for crunch and finish with a little extra cracked pepper.

I’ve fallen back in love with porridge. And honestly, I’m a bit embarrassed it took me this long to come back to it. At some point, I must’ve subconsciously absorbed that it wasn’t “good” for me. Which is ironic, considering I work in food / i’m a Nutritionist.

But that’s the thing. None of us are immune to the noise. I sit between the food world and the wellness world, and if I’m honest, the latter can feel far more confusing. There’s a constant stream of what to cut out, what to fear, what to optimise. Even when you know better, have a degree, or read handful of journals a week, it still gets in.

Because whether it’s gluten, dairy, sugar, alcohol, soy, meat, tofu, whatever it is, I keep coming back to the same conclusion:

It’s not about always about the food itself, it’s about the context.

But context doesn’t sell. It’s much easier to point the finger at one thing, oats for example, and call it the problem. Because then there’s something to fix. Something to package. A supplement, a diet, a solution you can buy into. Context is slower. It asks more of you. It doesn’t fit neatly on a label. When I look at what’s actually going wrong, it’s this:

1. We were never really taught how to eat.

2. We’ve been told far too much about what’s “bad,” yet we’re surrounded by foods designed to be hard to resist.

3. And the options most available to us rarely make things easier.

So you end up in this strange place. Not quite understanding how to build a meal, but carrying a low-level fear that everything might be wrong. Then you walk into a supermarket and every product is shouting at you. '“High protein. Low sugar. Clean. Better”. Of course we fall for it.

We’re missing the foundations. The basics. The ability to trust ourselves around food. We’ve lost the art of sourcing whole ingredients, cooking them, sitting down to eat together, and most importantly, we’ve lost the environment that gives food its meaning: culture.

So yes, I’m eating porridge again. And carbs too.

Not in a way that replaces anything important like protein, fibre or healthy fats. Just adding them back in, here and there, in a way that actually makes sense.

What I’ve noticed is this. When I include a small serve of carbs as part of a balanced meal, I feel more satisfied. More grounded. And when they’re paired properly with protein, fibre and fats, I’m not getting those dramatic blood sugar spikes and crashes I used to worry about when eating them on their own.

A lot of this is echoed in the work of Jessie Inchauspé, who talks about “dressing” your carbs. The idea is simple but powerful. Instead of eating carbs on their own, you pair them with protein, fibre and healthy fats to slow down how quickly glucose enters your bloodstream. It’s not about removing carbs, it’s about supporting your body in how you eat them, so you get steady energy, better satiety, and a much calmer blood sugar response.

It’s a very different experience when food is working together, not in isolation. Kinda like our body!

So this is the way I’ve been making my porridge lately. Something a little more complete:

Cooking the oats with half a banana and cinnamon adds a natural sweetness that feels genuinely indulgent. Towards the end, I stir in the whole milk (you could use almond / coconut /soy here if you want to keep dairy free) and flax meal, then whisk in a whole egg, which transforms it into something thick and custardy, almost like a warm pudding straight out of the oven.

I like to keep the rhubarb sharp, gently poached with just a touch of maple, fresh ginger, and real vanilla bean so it cuts through the richness. Finished with the rhubarb on top and a handful of walnuts for crunch, it’s the kind of bowl I genuinely look forward to most mornings in early autumn.

And compared to a bowl of plain oats, this version is more balanced - higher in fibre and protein, more supportive for blood sugar, and the kind of breakfast that actually keeps you full for hours.

So no, it’s not that carbs are bad for you. It’s about context i.e. what you pair them with, the quality of them (are they whole or more refined), and how much you’re having.

The same food can feel completely different in the body depending on how it’s eaten. Which is why simplifying it down to “good” or “bad” was never going to work.

Banana Pudding Porridge with Poached Rhubarb & Vanilla

Serves 1

Ingredients
Porridge:

• 1/2 cup rolled oats

• Pinch of salt

• 1/2 banana, chopped

• 1/2 tsp cinnamon

• 1 tbsp flax meal

• 1/3 cup whole milk

• 1 whole egg

Poached rhubarb:

• Rhubarb, cut into 4 cm long batons

• Small knob of fresh ginger, sliced

• 1/2 vanilla bean (or a splash of vanilla extract)

• 1–2 tsp maple syrup (to taste)

• Splash of water

To serve:

• Walnuts

• Honey

Method

1. Add the rhubarb, ginger, vanilla, maple syrup, and a splash of water to a small pan. Gently simmer on low for a few short minutes until just tender but still holding shape. Set aside.

2. In a saucepan, combine the oats, salt, chopped banana, cinnamon, and enough water to cook (about 1 cup). Simmer gently, stirring, until the oats are soft and creamy. Stir in the milk and flax meal.

3. Turn off the heat and crack in the egg and whisk continuously through the oats - mixing quickly so it thickens without scrambling. Continue for a minute or two, stirring gently, until thick, glossy, and custard-like.

4. Spoon into a bowl, top with the poached rhubarb and a handful of walnuts. Drizzle with honey if you like.

I love making fritters. The crispy edges and soft centres paired with the satisfaction of turning a few leftover ingredients into something that feels intentional. For a long time, I couldn’t quite get them right. They were too heavy, too oily, too dense… or just a little healthy and forgettable.

So I started experimenting. Different flours, different ratios, resting, not resting. I went through all of it. After more batches than I can count, I’ve finally landed on the version that feels just right.

These zucchini and feta fritters are served as a complete plate with smoked trout, a fresh, crunchy salad of seasonal leaves, and a spoonful of harissa. The fritters themselves are light and pillowy with crisp edges, made with herbs, lemon, and just enough flour to hold everything together, while the feta adds a sharp, creamy saltiness.

The most important step from the get go is salting your zucchini and letting it sit. It’s non-negotiable. This is what separates a good fritter from a soggy one. Drawing out that excess moisture changes everything (trust me).

From there, it’s about restraint and balance. A small amount of good quality plain flour is all you need to bind the mixture while keeping it light. What you end up with is something unexpectedly delicate, pillowy, not greasy, full of vegetables and protein, sitting somewhere between a fritter and a savoury pancake. The feta folded through the batter brings saltiness, sharpness, and a gentle creaminess, so instead of adding another rich element, I went in a different direction. A spoonful of harissa adds warmth and depth, cutting through everything without overwhelming it. Not to mention, it pairs stunningly with the smoked fish.

The salad is more instinct than instruction. Whatever looks good, whatever is fresh. A mix of leaves, something bitter, something crisp. It’s there to bring brightness and crunch, to keep the plate feeling balanced.

And then the final touch. A squeeze of lemon over a hot fritter. It lifts everything, sharpens the flavours, and ties it all together in a way that feels effortless but complete.

These are the kind of fritters you make once and keep coming back to. They hold up beautifully for meal prep, work just as well tucked into a lunchbox, and are perfect for a quick breakfast on the go. Though, if I’m honest, they’re best eaten standing at the kitchen counter while they’re still warm.

After all the testing, this is the version I keep returning to.

Zucchini & Feta Fritter Plate

Serves 2 (RSF)

Fritters

• 1 large (or 2 medium) zucchini

• 2 large eggs (or 3 small)

• ¼ cup plain flour

• ¼ tsp baking powder

• 2 tbsp chives, finely chopped

• 2 tbsp dill, finely chopped

• ¼ tsp lemon zest

• 1 garlic clove, minced

• 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• ⅓ cup feta, crumbled

• Salt and pepper
  

Salad

• 1 small head cos lettuce, leaves separated

• 1 handful radicchio leaves

• 1 handful rocket

• 5g fresh parsley, leaves picked

• ½ fennel bulb, shaved
  

Dressing

• 1 tsp wholegrain mustard

• 1 tbsp maple syrup

• 2 tbsp lemon juice

• 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• Pinch of salt

• ¼ tsp black pepper
  

To Serve

• Smoked trout

• Harissa

• Lemon wedges
  

Method:

1. Prepare the zucchini
   Grate the zucchini and place it in a colander set over the sink. Add a generous pinch of salt and toss to combine. Let sit for 30 minutes to draw out excess moisture. Squeeze out as much liquid as possible, then transfer to a clean cloth or paper towel to dry further.
   

2. Make the fritter batter
   In a large bowl, lightly beat the eggs until just combined. Add the flour, baking powder, chives, dill, lemon zest, garlic, 1 tablespoon of olive oil, and the zucchini. Season well with salt and pepper. Mix until just combined, then gently fold through the feta. Avoid overmixing. Refrigerate the batter for 30 minutes.
   

3. Prepare the dressing
   In a large bowl, whisk together all dressing ingredients until well combined. Set aside.
   

4. Cook the fritters
   Heat the remaining olive oil in a large non-stick pan over medium-high heat until shimmering. Reduce heat to medium. Spoon ¼ cup portions of batter into the pan and cook for 1–2 minutes per side, or until golden brown. Transfer cooked fritters to a lined tray. Keep warm in a low oven if needed.
   

5. Assemble the salad
   Add the salad ingredients to the bowl with the dressing and toss to coat.
   

6. Serve
   Divide the fritters between plates. Serve with the dressed salad, smoked trout, a dollop of harissa, and a wedge of lemon.

   

   
   

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First things first, I never expected to become a Ninja Creami person. And yet here we are.

What changed my mind was realising the Creami is essentially the household-friendly, reasonably priced cousin of the Pacojet, which, if you’re unfamiliar, is the gloriously over-engineered soft-serve machine you’ll find humming away in serious restaurant kitchens. The kind of thing chefs use to turn frozen ingredients into silky magic.

I don’t use mine nearly as much as I should, but with cooler months creeping in, I figured it deserved another spin.

This raspberry cheesecake flavour was born from a tub of cottage cheese I optimistically bought for breakfast. Every few months I convince myself I’m suddenly the kind of person who eats cottage cheese on toast. Reader, I am not. No matter how hard I try, it remains (in my humble opinion) the worst cheese in existence. Give me the real full fat shit please.

But here’s the twist: cottage cheese in desserts? Incredible. Blended, frozen, spun into oblivion until it’s perfectly scoop-able.

The best thing about this “gelato” is that it isn’t really gelato at all. You simply blend everything together, whack it in the freezer for 24 hours, then the Creami does the rest.

One tip is to taste the base before you freeze it. Does it need a little more maple? Is it too thick and crying out for a splash more milk? Maybe a touch more vanilla? Remember, this is your Creami!

The next day, I simply spin it twice (once is never enough for the Creami, I’ve come to realise) and scoop it into a chilled coupe. I finish with a generous sprinkle of my new favourite matcha granola from Farmer Jo, though you could use any granola you like or even my hazelnut butter granola, which works wonders.

The result is a high-protein, low-sugar dessert that’s wholesome enough to pass for breakfast and just a little bit smug about its macros.

So yes, I’ll say it again…

The Creami is lit.

Raspberry & Vanilla Cheesecake Gelato with Matcha Granola
(Serves 2–4)

Ingredients

• 200g full-fat cottage cheese

• 1 cup almond milk

• 1 cup frozen raspberries

• 50g vanilla protein powder (optional)

• 1 tablespoon maple syrup

• ¼ teaspoon vanilla bean paste

• Pinch of salt

• Farmer Jo Matcha Granola (or your favourite), to serve

Method

1. Add the cottage cheese, almond milk, frozen raspberries, protein powder, maple syrup, vanilla bean paste, and salt to a high-powered blender.

2. Blend on high until completely smooth and pourable. If the mixture is too thick, add a splash more almond milk until the desired consistency is reached. Pour the mixture into the Creami container and freeze for 24 hours.

3. Once frozen, spin in the Creami using the Gelato setting twice, or until a smooth, creamy, scoopable texture forms.

4. Spoon into chilled dessert coupes and finish with a generous sprinkle of matcha granola.

It’s a particularly welcome shift when you live in an old north-facing art deco one-bedroom with absolutely no air con. By early autumn, everything feels far more liveable, even a little romantic, and somehow I find myself falling back in love with Sydney all over again.

Coincidentally, figs begin to quietly appear at the market too, and with them, the start of a very specific month-long ritual where I find myself asking, “can I put fig in this?”.

The answer is almost always yes. Whether it’s on top of breakfast bowls, tossed through salads, layered onto toast with good cheese, or baked into something warm and sweet, I always find a way. They’re indulgent, a little woody, softly sweet and endlessly versatile.

From a nutritional perspective, figs are naturally high in fibre, which supports healthy digestion and helps you feel properly satisfied after eating them. They’re also rich in antioxidants and minerals like potassium, calcium and magnesium, which play important roles in everything from heart health to supporting strong bones and a healthy nervous system. So they’re not only delicious — they’re also incredibly good for you.

This is how I welcome fig season properly: by finding as many ways as possible to eat them, and celebrating what might just be the most seductive fruit to ever exist.

1. Just as they are

   My favourite way to eat figs is the simplest: as they are. No ceremony, no recipe. Just split them open with your hands and eat them standing at the kitchen bench. When they’re perfectly ripe they’re jammy, honeyed and almost creamy inside.

   

2. Baked into something sweet

   Figs also love a little heat. Sam is particularly good at turning them into custard or frangipane tarts, where they sink into the filling and become even softer and more syrupy. The flavour deepens in the oven and they almost become like a burnt caramel jam.

   

3. Tossed through salads

   They’re brilliant in salads, especially those with cheese. Figs work beautifully against salty, creamy elements like feta, goat’s cheese or burrata. At this time of year they’re also a great stand-in for stone fruit, which can start to lose its sparkle and become a little floury by the end of the season. Lightly dressing them with a punchy vinaigrette only makes them sing louder.

   

4. On toast

   Another favourite: thick sourdough toast with ricotta or whipped goat’s curd, topped with fresh figs. Add a drizzle of EVOO, honey or balsamic, maybe a crack of pepper and a scattering of herbs — thyme, basil or mint all work. Simple but elegant.

   

5. With yogurt or custard

   And finally, breakfast or dessert. Figs piled onto a bowl of yogurt with granola, or spooned over warm custard if you’re leaning more toward the dessert end of the spectrum. Either way, they make even the most ordinary bowl feel a little bit more special in my opinion.

Autumn produce has started quietly showing up again and honestly it’s my favourite food season. The markets start filling up with things like radicchio, herbs, citrus and pomegranates, and salads stop being about lettuce and start being about actual substance.

This bowl is basically what I imagine my gut microbiome would order for lunch if it could scroll a menu:

It’s a hot honey salmon and brown rice salad, with bitter radicchio, fresh herbs, pomegranate, toasted pine nuts, feta and ferments. It’s punchy, a little sweet, a little bitter, a little tangy, and it just so happens to be stacked with ingredients that your gut bacteria absolutely love.

Your gut microbiome thrives on diversity. Different fibres, different plant compounds, different fermented foods. The more variety you feed it, the better those microbes do their job in supporting digestion, immunity, metabolism and even mood.

So when I’m building a bowl like this I’m not just thinking flavour (although obviously that matters), I’m also thinking about what’s feeding the good bugs.

Cooked and cooled brown rice is a great example. When rice cools after cooking, some of the starch changes into something called resistant starch. Your body doesn’t digest it the way it normally would, so it travels down to the colon where your gut bacteria ferment it. Basically, it becomes food for them (which is exactly what we want).

Pomegranate is another quiet gut-health powerhouse. Those little ruby seeds are rich in ellagic acid, a type of polyphenol that gut bacteria convert into beneficial compounds that help reduce inflammation and support overall gut health. Plus they add that sweet-tart pop which works deliciously against the bitterness of the leaves.

Then there’s the salmon. Omega-3 fats are known for their anti-inflammatory benefits and they play a really important role in supporting the gut–brain axis. Also: crispy, glazed salmon on top of a salad is just objectively a good decision. I always make sure to buy Wild Canadian or NZ Ora King Salmon. I avoid the antibiotic-treated-farmed fish as it is in fact, awful for your gut microbiome.

And of course we’ve got ferments!

Sauerkraut is my go-to because it’s easy and tangy, but honestly you could use any fermented veg here e.g. kimchi, pickles, fermented carrots, whatever you’ve got in the fridge. Even a spoonful adds beneficial bacteria and that punchy flavour ferments bring to a dish.

One thing I don’t think we talk about enough with gut health is purple foods.

Radicchio, radish, pomegranate, beet kraut, all those deep red and purple tones come from compounds called anthocyanins. They’re powerful antioxidants and research suggests they help support a more diverse gut microbiome.

So the more colourful your plate is, the better.

This bowl is very much my early-autumn ode: bitter radicchio, juicy pomegranate, sweet and sticky salmon, tangy ferments and hearty grains. It’s fresh but still satisfying, and it’s doing a lot of good things for the gut without feeling like “health food”.

Which is always the goal.

Hot Honey Salmon & Brown Rice Salad

(Serves 2 | Gluten Free / Refined Sugar Free)

• 2 x 200g skinless, boneless salmon fillets

• 1 cup cooked long-grain brown rice, cooled

• 10g parsley, finely chopped

• 10g mint, finely chopped

• ½ cup radish, finely shaved (use a mandolin if possible)

• 2 cups radicchio leaves, torn

• 1 bunch flat-leaf rocket

• 1 pomegranate, seeds removed

• ¼ cup toasted pine nuts

• ¼ cup feta, crumbled

• 2 tablespoons sauerkraut (or other fermented vegetables)

For the dressing

• 1 teaspoon grainy mustard

• 1 tablespoon hot honey

• Juice of 1 lemon

• 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

• 1 large eschalot, finely sliced

• Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the salmon glaze

• 2 teaspoons grainy mustard

• 1 tablespoon hot honey

• 2 teaspoons mirin

• 2 teaspoons lemon zest

• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

• Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 180°C. Line a baking tray with baking paper and place the salmon fillets on top. Set aside.

2. Prepare the salad base. In a large bowl, combine the brown rice, parsley, mint, shaved radish, radicchio, rocket, pomegranate seeds and toasted pine nuts.

3. Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the mustard, hot honey, lemon juice, olive oil and sliced eschalot. Season generously with salt and pepper. Set aside to allow the flavours to develop.

4. Prepare the salmon glaze. In a separate small bowl, mix the mustard, hot honey, mirin, lemon zest and a good pinch of salt and pepper.

5. Glaze and bake the salmon. Spoon the glaze over the salmon and rub to coat evenly. Drizzle over the remaining tablespoon of olive oil and an extra pinch of salt. Bake for 10–12 minutes, or until the salmon is golden on the outside and just blush-pink in the centre.

6. Dress and serve. Pour the dressing over the salad and toss well. Divide between bowls, top with the hot honey salmon, and finish with crumbled feta and a spoonful of sauerkraut.

I was so inspired by my time in Copenhagen, where open-faced sandwiches called ‘smørrebrød’ are just part of everyday life. What really stayed with me was how effortless and generous the food culture felt: no fear of carbs or fats, no obsession with restriction, just eating well in a way that felt natural.

Meals there were full of rye bread, butter, eggs, seafood, and seasonal vegetables, alongside pastries and desserts, all enjoyed without guilt. Wellness that isn’t performative or forced; it was just woven into the rhythm of real, seasonal food, with variety, colour and joy at the centre of the table.

These skin-supportive, high-protein egg salad toasts are my nod to that way of eating — guided by balance and intuition, rather than rules. Egg salad is one of those nostalgic sandwich fillings most people remember fondly, and it also happens to be one of my most reliable options for healthy meal prep during busy weeks.

This version is designed to support stable energy, gut health, and skin integrity, using familiar ingredients arranged in a way the body actually responds well to. A simple, yet delicious meal prep you can return to again and again without overthinking it.

What makes this recipe so good…

Protein for repair

Eggs form the foundation of this dish, providing complete protein with all essential amino acids. That matters not just for muscle maintenance, but also for skin repair, enzyme function, and immune resilience. They’re also one of the best sources of choline, a nutrient essential for liver function and cellular membranes (both critical for clear, resilient skin).

Healthy fats

Rather than relying on heavy or processed fats like the usual mayonnaise base, this recipe uses extra virgin olive oil and feta in modest amounts. These healthy fats help slow digestion, improve nutrient absorption, and support the lipid barrier of the skin, keeping it hydrated and resilient. It’s also very delicious.

Fibre and blood sugar balance

Serving this egg salad on Danish rye bread provides fibre and slow-release carbohydrates to stabilise blood sugar, which is key for reducing inflammatory pathways linked to breakouts and premature skin ageing. Balanced blood sugar isn’t about cutting carbs, it’s about choosing the right ones that support slow energy output, while feeding the gut microbiome.

Gut support

Adding sauerkraut (or any pickley veg you like) brings a lovely contrast, as well as live probiotics into the meal, supporting gut microbial diversity, digestion and nutrient absorption. A healthy gut plays a subtle but powerful role in regulating inflammation, which is one of the biggest drivers of skin issues.

The secret ingredient

In place of the usual heavy suspects, a dollop of hummus adds a creamy texture, extra plant-based protein, and fibre, helping the flavours meld together while keeping the salad light and satisfying. It’s subtle but makes a noticeable difference in both taste and nourishment.

Anti-inflammatory touches

Fresh herbs, lemon, capers, and a touch of curry powder add zest and depth of flavour, while also delivering polyphenols and anti-inflammatory compounds that support circulation, digestion, and collagen protection. These little additions help both the body and skin thrive over time.

What’s in my egg salad (and why)

Eggs
→ Complete protein, biotin, choline for skin structure and repair

Olive oil + feta
→ Anti-inflammatory fats to support the skin barrier

Rye bread
→ Fibre + slow-release carbs for blood sugar stability

Sauerkraut
→ Probiotics to support the gut–skin axis

Cucumber + greens
→ Hydration, fibre, antioxidants

Curry powder + herbs + lemon
→ Anti-inflammatory, digestive, circulation support

Skin Glow Egg Salad Protein Toasts

(Serves 4)

Ingredients

• 4 thin slices Danish rye bread, toasted

• 4 hard-boiled eggs, roughly chopped

• 1 large eschalot, finely brunoise

• 10 g parsley, finely chopped

• 1 tsp lemon zest, plus 2 tbsp lemon juice

• 1 heaped tbsp capers in brine

• 1 heaped tsp seedy mustard

• ½ tsp Calabrian chilli

• 2 heaped tbsp hummus

• ¼ tsp curry powder

• Pinch of salt

• ¼ tsp black pepper

• 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• ⅓ cup crumbed feta

To Serve

• Cucumber ribbons

• Sauerkraut (or other fermented vegetables/pickles)

• Fresh rocket (or other leafy greens), lightly dressed with olive oil and lemon

Method

1. In a large mixing bowl, combine the eggs, eschalot, parsley, lemon zest and juice, capers, mustard, chilli, hummus, curry powder, salt, pepper, and olive oil. Mash gently with a fork until well combined but still textured.

2. Fold through the feta and adjust seasoning to taste.

3. To assemble, spoon the egg salad generously over the toasted rye slices. Top with cucumber ribbons, sauerkraut, and dressed greens.

Tip: The egg salad mix can be prepared ahead and stored in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 4 days, making it a perfect meal-prep-friendly lunch.

As you may have guessed, I’m a bit of a slow cooking enthusiast. One of my favourite things to do is look at what’s left in the fridge and turn it into something comforting, nourishing, and far greater than the sum of its parts. I actually made a version of this Green Chicken Minestrone not long ago — but I loved it so much, I thought it deserved another spin.

When people think of minestrone, they often picture a deep red, tomato-based soup. But minestrone doesn’t have to be red to be authentic or delicious. At its heart, it’s a celebration of versatility. A soup defined not by colour, but by whatever seasonal vegetables and pantry staples you have on hand. That’s exactly what I adore about this version. It’s vibrant, fresh, and deeply satisfying, while still feeling light and nourishing enough for the warmer months.

Instead of the usual tomato paste, this soup begins with a green paste that sets the tone for the entire pot. Made from herbs, aromatics, and greens, it gently cooks down to replace the traditional tomato base, bringing freshness, depth, and that unmistakable savoury backbone. This is very much a ‘use-what-you-have moment’ — parsley, basil, coriander, dill, or even soft herbs that need using up will all work beautifully.

Although it takes a little more time, cooking a whole chicken is truly worth it. You get incredible depth of flavour, extra homemade stock to freeze for later, and a rich source of glutamine to help support gut health.

The butter beans in this soup aren’t strict at all, they’re more of a gentle suggestion. I used what I had on hand, but this is one of those recipes that happily welcomes swaps. Cannellini, borlotti, or any other white bean you love will work beautifully here, each bringing its own subtle texture and flavour to the pot.

And if you’re craving something a little more traditional, you can absolutely stir in some cooked pasta at the end. That’s the joy of minestrone: it’s not about rigid rules, but about using what you have and making it your own.

Green Chicken Minestrone

Serves 6 | *Gluten-free / *Dairy Free / Refined sugar–free

Ingredients

Soup

• 10 g fresh basil

• 10 g fresh parsley

• 10 g fresh coriander

• 6 garlic cloves, roughly chopped

• 6 anchovy fillets, plus 1 tbsp anchovy oil

• 3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, divided

• 2 brown onions, finely diced (brunoise)

• 150 ml white wine

• 2 celery sticks, finely diced

• 400 g butter beans, drained

• 1 large zucchini, finely grated

• 2 tbsp fish sauce

• Juice of 1 lemon

• 1 bunch kale or cavolo nero, stems removed and finely chopped

• Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Chicken Stock

• 1.5 kg whole organic chicken

• 1 celery stalk, chopped

• 1 carrot, chopped

• 1 onion, halved

• 2 fresh bay leaves

• 2 sprigs thyme

• 1 sprig rosemary

• 2 tbsp flaked salt

• ½ tsp black peppercorns

*To Serve

• Freshly grated Parmesan (omit to keep dairy free)

• Crusty buttered bread (omit to keep gluten free)

Method

1. Make the chicken stock
   Place all stock ingredients in a large pot and cover with 4–5 litres of cold water. Bring to a gentle boil over low heat, then reduce to a simmer. Cook for 2½ hours, skimming occasionally, until the stock is rich and the chicken is falling off the bone.

2. Strain and shred
   Remove the chicken and set aside to cool. Strain the stock and reserve. Once cool enough to handle, shred the meat and discard the skin and bones.

3. Prepare the green herb paste
   Add the basil, parsley, coriander, garlic, anchovies with their oil, and 1 tablespoon of olive oil to a high-powered food processor. Blend until smooth and vibrant.

4. Build the soup base
   Heat the remaining olive oil in a heavy-based pot over medium-low heat. Add the onions and a generous pinch of salt. Cook until softened and translucent. Stir in the herb paste and cook for 1 minute, until fragrant. Deglaze with the white wine, letting it bubble and reduce slightly.

5. Simmer
   Add the celery and half the chicken stock (or enough to fill the pot about three-quarters full). Bring to a gentle simmer and cook for 30 minutes to develop flavour.

6. Finish the soup
   Add the butter beans, shredded chicken, and zucchini. Stir in the fish sauce and lemon juice, then season well with salt and pepper. Simmer gently for 10 minutes. Add the kale, cover with a lid, turn off the heat, and let stand for 5 minutes until the greens are just wilted. Taste and adjust seasoning if needed.

7. Serve
   Ladle into bowls and finish with freshly grated Parmesan. Serve with crusty buttered bread, if desired.

If someone were to ask me what I eat during the luteal phase — this is it.

This is the point in the cycle where things start to shift. Hormones change, energy dips, cravings get louder, and your body quietly asks for a bit more care. Not restriction. Not perfection. Just grounding, nourishing food that actually holds you.

This Greek lamb and grain bowl does exactly that.

It starts with beautifully marinated lamb, rubbed in warming, anti-inflammatory spices. Lamb is rich in iron and high-quality protein, which is exactly what the body needs during this phase to support steady energy, blood sugar balance, and that “held together” feeling when motivation starts to wane.

The lamb sits on a bed of herby quinoa, a slow-release carbohydrate that keeps you full without the crash. Quinoa is naturally rich in magnesium, which can help ease bloating, cramps, and PMS, while supporting the nervous system when you’re feeling a little more sensitive or inward.

Then comes the zucchini and green olive tzatziki. Zucchini brings gentle fibre to support digestion (because luteal bloat is very real), while the olives add healthy fats and that savoury, salty hit that feels deeply satisfying during this phase. It’s creamy, fresh, and the kind of sauce you want to put on everything.

To finish, a chopped Greek salad of crisp cucumber, juicy tomatoes, briny feta that adds crunch and brightness, lifting the whole bowl and making it feel vibrant rather than heavy.

Cook the lamb until just right, let it rest so it stays tender and juicy. To assemble, start with the herby quinoa, layer on the lamb, spoon over the zucchini and green olive tzatziki, and finish with the chopped Greek salad.

Every bite is a reminder that eating for your cycle doesn’t have to be complicated. It can be delicious. It can be satisfying. It can feel like care instead of control.

This bowl balances protein, healthy fats, fibre, and slow-release carbohydrates to support energy, mood, and digestion — while celebrating fresh, bold flavours that make nourishing your body feel like a pleasure, not a chore.

Greek Lamb & Grain Bowl with Zucchini Tzatziki

Serves 2–3 | Gluten-Free / Refined Sugar-Free

Ingredients

Lamb

• 500g lamb backstrap

• ½ tsp ground turmeric

• ½ tsp ground cumin

• ½ tsp ground coriander

• ½ tsp smoked paprika

• 4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, divided

• Sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper

• 50g unsalted butter

• 2 tbsp tamari

Zucchini Tzatziki

• 1 medium zucchini, grated

• 1 cup Greek yogurt

• ⅓ cup green olives, pitted and finely chopped

• 10g dill, finely chopped

• 10g parsley, finely chopped

• 10g mint, finely chopped

• Juice of 1 lemon

• 1 tbsp lemon zest

• Sea salt and black pepper

Grain & Salad Components

• 2 cups cooked and cooled white quinoa

• 2 spring onions, finely sliced

• ½ red onion, finely chopped and rinsed under cold water

• 1 large cucumber, peeled and cut into diagonal wedges

• 2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved

• 100g feta in brine

• ½ tsp dried oregano

• 1 tbsp white wine vinegar

Method

1. Marinate the Lamb
   Place the lamb backstrap on a large shallow dish and season generously with salt and pepper. In a small bowl, mix together the turmeric, cumin, coriander, smoked paprika and half the olive oil. Pour the marinade over the lamb, ensuring it is evenly coated. Set aside to marinate for at least 30 minutes, or refrigerate overnight for deeper flavour.

2. Prepare the Zucchini
   Grate the zucchini and place in a fine sieve set over a bowl. Season well with salt and allow to sit for 30 minutes to draw out excess moisture. Squeeze firmly to remove as much liquid as possible, then set aside.

3. Make the Quinoa Base
   In a large bowl, combine the quinoa, spring onion, half the dill, half the parsley, half the mint, and 2 teaspoons of the lemon zest. Toss gently to combine, then set aside.

4. Zucchini Tzatziki
   In another bowl, mix the drained zucchini with the remaining herbs, chopped olives, remaining lemon zest, lemon juice and Greek yogurt. Season generously with salt and pepper and stir until well combined. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

5. Greek Salad
   In a separate bowl, combine the red onion, cucumber, cherry tomatoes and feta. Add the oregano, white wine vinegar and remaining olive oil. Season lightly with salt and pepper and toss gently.

6. Cook the Lamb
   Heat a large non-stick pan over medium-high heat. Once hot, add the lamb and cook for approximately 2 minutes per side. Add the butter, tamari and remaining lemon juice, allowing the sauce to reduce while basting the lamb continuously. Remove from the heat once the sauce has thickened and glossy. Transfer the lamb to a board and rest for 5 minutes. Slice into 2cm-thick pieces and reserve the pan juices.

7. Assemble
   Spoon quinoa into serving bowls, followed by the Greek salad. Add slices of lamb and drizzle over the pan jus. Finish with generous dollops of zucchini tzatziki and any extra fresh herbs.

Lately, I’ve been feeling lost on Instagram again. It’s a cycle I know well by now. I get into a rhythm of filming and producing content, riding the momentum, until eventually I burn out — uninspired, exhausted, and disconnected from why I started cooking in the first place.

The thought of picking up a spatula, positioning my phone on a tripod, presenting myself neatly on camera, and performing this polished version of a “trad-wife nutritionist” honestly makes me feel sick. I’m aware of how irrational that sounds. I know I’m fortunate to be able to do this work. But I’m not a machine. I’m one person doing everything — the camera operator, cook, editor, stylist, creative director, accountant, copywriter, and nutritionist running her own clinic.

Whenever I hit this point, my mind drifts to a time before social media dictated the rhythm of cooking. A time when I cooked purely for the joy of it. No screen. No performance. No trends. No algorithm.

So, in an attempt to pull myself out of a bit of a funk, Sam took us to the new fish market. I came home with a beautiful piece of John Dory and, following my intuition, made a meal using whatever I already had on hand. I love cooking this way—it asks me to be present and creative again, and reminds me why I fell in love with cooking in the first place.

Delicate John Dory paired with a saffron-infused Champagne sauce, jammy cherry tomatoes, briny Sicilian olives, and roasted zucchini. Spoonable, fragrant, and perfect with a glass of something cold and sparkling.

You could call this fish dish a small Valentine’s Day love letter to myself — a reminder that all things pass, even low periods. Better days are always on their way. Let it move through you, don’t force it and find ‘your why’ again.

Steamed Fish with Saffron-Infused Champagne Sauce and Cherry Tomatoes

Ingredients (serves 2)

• 2 John Dory fillets (or perch), boneless and skinless

• 1 medium zucchini, halved lengthways and cut into diagonal wedges

• ¼ cup + 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

• 2 shallots, finely sliced

• 6 garlic cloves, finely sliced

• Large pinch of saffron

• ½ teaspoon whole black peppercorns

• 1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley stems

• ¼ teaspoon smoked paprika

• 1 tablespoon tomato paste

• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

• 150 ml Champagne (or dry sparkling wine, such as prosecco)

• 200 g cherry tomatoes

• ⅓ cup whole green Sicilian olives in brine

• Zest of ½ lemon

• Fine sea salt

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 180°C.

2. Season the fish generously with fine sea salt and set aside.

3. Arrange the zucchini on a non-stick roasting tray. Drizzle with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil, season with salt and pepper, and roast until golden and caramelised on both sides. Remove from the oven and set aside.

4. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large ovenproof pan over medium–low heat. Add the shallots, garlic, saffron, peppercorns, parsley stems, and a generous pinch of salt. Cook gently, stirring occasionally, until softened—take care not to colour the garlic.

5. Add the smoked paprika and cook for 1 minute until fragrant. Increase the heat slightly, add the tomato paste, and cook until caramelised. Stir in the butter, then deglaze the pan with the Champagne, allowing the alcohol to cook off for about a minute.

6. Remove the pan from the heat. Add the cherry tomatoes and olives, then pour over the remaining ¼ cup olive oil. Transfer the pan to the oven and cook until the tomatoes are glossy, jammy, and just beginning to collapse.

7. Remove from the oven, stir through the lemon zest, and adjust seasoning to taste.

8. Gently steam the fish until just cooked through and opaque.

9. To serve, spoon the roasted zucchini and some of the tomato–olive sauce into shallow bowls. Place the fish on top and finish with more sauce. Grind over extra black pepper, squeeze over a little lemon juice, and garnish with parsley leaves.

Serve with crusty bread, a fresh rocket salad, or simply on its own.

A waiter’s job is to deceive you. They want you to believe in a luxurious calm because on the other side of that door … is hell.

On a sunny Sunday morning, with a bowl of breakfast beans in hand, I finished one of my favourite books of the year.

What I love most about A Waiter in Paris is that you don’t need to 1) be a waiter or 2) have ever been to Paris to find something deeply relatable in Edward Chisholm’s story.

He arrives in Paris with barely any money and almost no grasp of French, bluffing his way into a job at an upscale restaurant simply to survive. Eventually, he lands a position and is thrown into a rigid hierarchy that he must navigate while simultaneously learning the job itself—and the language it’s conducted in.

What struck me first was how evocative and precise his writing is—you can practically see and smell the scenes he describes. What stayed with me even more, though, was the meaning beneath it all. Despite countless mistakes and rock-bottom moments, his determination to slowly work his way up from runner to fully fledged waiter becomes a metaphor for all of us who are, in one way or another, making life up as we go.

Even though my life looks very different on the surface, the sense of having no fixed plan—only a pull toward something —resonated with me completely, from the beginning of my career right through to where I am now.

Waiting tables is physically demanding work, frequently humiliating, and incredibly competitive. But it doesn’t matter because you’re in Paris, the centre of the universe, and there’s nowhere else you’d rather be in the world.

I feel much the same about my own career. In an oversaturated industry, there are days (or weeks) when I feel like throwing in the towel. There is always someone more talented, harder working, prettier, better connected. But the thought that stops me every time is simple: I cannot imagine not doing what I do. My genuine love of food and cooking is something that will never (ever) leave me. It isn’t a trend for me or a ‘cool’ thing to do.

What I took from this novel goes far beyond an insight into the underbelly of the hospitality industry. It’s the reminder that there is darkness in everyone’s story, something to be worked through and overcome. And I take great solace in knowing that I’m not alone in that.

Especially on a morning when I almost didn’t post a photo of my breakfast because I didn’t think it was good enough. On second thought, it absolutely is. It’s humble and delicious, made from what was left in my fridge before heading to the markets: finely sliced eschalot and garlic gently sautéed in a small pool of extra virgin olive oil until jammy, deglazed with a splash of white wine, a knob of butter, then a can of butter beans tossed through until just blistered and golden.

Finished with fresh thyme, lemon zest, chilli, salt and pepper, spooned into a bowl with fresh basil and finely shaved Parmesan, and topped with two poached eggs.

Nothing fancy. Just honest food, made with care, and that feels like the point.

Eat slowly.
Preferably somewhere sunny.
And remind yourself that simple things, done with care, are more than enough.

Breakfast Beans

Serves: 1 (generously) or 2 (lightly) | GF / RSF

Ingredients

• Extra virgin olive oil

• 1 eschalot (shallot), finely sliced

• 1–2 cloves garlic, finely sliced

• A splash of white wine

• A small knob of butter

• 1 can butter beans, drained and rinsed

• Fresh thyme (a few sprigs)

• Lemon zest

• Pinch chilli flakes

• Salt and freshly cracked black pepper

• Fresh basil, torn

• Parmesan, finely shaved

• 2 eggs

Method

1. Heat a small pan over low–medium heat and add a small pool of extra virgin olive oil.

2. Add the sliced eschalot and garlic and cook gently, stirring often, until soft, fragrant, and jammy—not browned.

3. Pour in a splash of white wine and let it bubble away, scraping up anything stuck to the pan.

4. Add the butter and let it melt into the oil, creating a rich, glossy base.

5. Tip in the butter beans and toss them through the golden, oily bath. Let them warm through and blister slightly.

6. Season with salt and pepper, then add fresh thyme, a little lemon zest and chilli flakes.

7. Meanwhile, poach the eggs however you like them best.

8. Spoon the beans into a bowl, scatter over fresh basil and shaved Parmesan, and top with the poached eggs.

I make this mushroom and sausage bolognese all the time now because putting in a little effort upfront makes the rest of the week so much easier. Chopping the onions, garlic, carrots, and celery, browning the meat, letting the mushrooms soak up all the flavour — it takes a bit of time (about 2 hours), but once the sauce is simmering, you’ve basically done your dinners for days. By the time it’s done, I’ve got a pot I can portion for lunches, toss into pasta, layer into lasagne, or freeze for a night when life gets hectic.

On top of being practical, it’s genuinely good for you. The mushrooms, carrots, and celery give it fibre, the tomatoes add antioxidants, and the mix of vegetables, herbs, and mushrooms adds nutrient diversity that your gut will thank you for. It’s hearty and satisfying, but because it’s loaded with plants, it doesn’t sit heavy — you get all the comfort of a classic bolognese with a little extra nutritional punch. When I eat it with spaghetti, I pile on parsley and parmesan, maybe a little black pepper, and it’s just perfect.

Cooking Notes

Soffritto is everything.
Sweating onion, garlic, carrot, and celery slowly is the base of your flavour. A pinch of salt at this stage helps draw out the moisture and sweetness. Don’t rush it — it’s worth the 8-10 minutes.

Brown the meat properly.
Let the beef and sausage colour up before stirring too much. Those caramelised bits are pure flavour. When you deglaze with wine, all those little bits dissolve into the sauce, making it richer without extra effort.

Caramelise mushrooms and tomato paste.
This is where the magic happens. Mushrooms release moisture, reabsorb it, and the tomato paste darkens — building depth and umami. It’s the difference between a good sauce and a memorable one.

Layer your seasonings.
Bay, thyme, rosemary, and a touch of fish sauce add complexity. Don’t hold back. Fish sauce doesn’t make it taste fishy — it simply deepens the savoury notes.

Simmer slowly.
Two hours on low heat gives everything a chance to meld and thicken naturally. You’ll end up with a sauce that’s luscious and cohesive.

Finish with fresh herbs at the end.
Add basil at the very last minute. It keeps its brightness and adds a fresh, peppery note that cuts through the richness.

Use pasta water.
A splash when tossing the noodles in the sauce gives it silkiness and helps it cling beautifully. It’s an easy trick that makes a huge difference.

Mushroom & Sausage Bolognese

(**Serves 6 | High Fibre / High Protein | GF | DF | RSF)

Ingredients:

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• 1 medium onion, finely diced

• 3 cloves garlic, minced

• 2 sticks celery, finely diced

• 2 medium carrots, peeled and finely diced

• Pinch of salt

• 500g beef mince

• 400g pork sausage, casings removed

• 300g brown mushrooms, chopped

• 1 tsp smoked paprika

• 1 heaped tsp Calabrian chilli paste (adjust to taste)

• 2 tbsp tomato paste

• 180ml dry white wine

• 2 x 400g cans whole peeled tomatoes, with juice

• 2 bay leaves

• 3 sprigs fresh thyme

• 1 large sprig rosemary

• 2 tbsp fish sauce

• 2 large handfuls fresh basil, roughly torn

• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to season

To Serve:

• 500g spaghetti (*or gluten free pasta to make gluten free)

• Fresh parsley, finely chopped (for garnish)

• Grated Parmesan (for garnish — *omit to keep dairy free)

Method:

1. Make the soffritto: Heat 2 tbsp olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add onion, garlic, celery, and carrot with a pinch of salt. Sweat gently until soft and fragrant (about 8–10 minutes). Remove from pan and set aside. Clean the pot.

2. Brown the meat: Heat 2 tbsp olive oil in the cleaned pot. Add beef mince and sausage meat. Season with salt and pepper. Brown the meat thoroughly, breaking it up as it cooks.

3. Build the sauce: Return the soffritto to the pot. Add mushrooms, paprika, Calabrian chilli, and tomato paste. Cook, stirring occasionally, until caramelised (5–7 minutes). Deglaze with white wine, scraping up any browned bits. Add canned tomatoes with juice, bay leaves, thyme, rosemary, and fish sauce. Bring to a high simmer, then reduce heat to low and cook gently for 2 hours, stirring occasionally.

4. Finish the bolognese: At the 2-hour mark, stir in fresh basil. Taste and adjust seasoning with black pepper and salt if needed. Store half the sauce in a Tupperware for fridge or freezer.

5. Cook the pasta: Boil spaghetti in salted water until al dente. Drain, reserving a little pasta water. Toss pasta in the sauce with a splash of pasta water until glossy and coated.

6. Serve: Plate the pasta with sauce. Garnish with finely chopped parsley, grated Parmesan, and plenty of black pepper.

Somewhere along the line, oats got a bad rap.

Which is kind of unfair. And honestly — a little contradictory. We’re told to eat sourdough because it’s good for our gut. Brown rice? Great. Sweet potato? A wellness icon.

But oats?

“Too carby.”
“Spikes blood sugar.”
“Basically dessert.”

None of this really makes sense.

Especially when you look at the glycaemic index (GI). Properly cooked rolled oats sit in a similar (and often lower) GI range than white rice, and not far off brown rice. Yet rice gets a health halo while oats get dragged through the wellness mud.

So what happened?

Oats didn’t become the villain by accident. The issue isn’t oats, it’s what the food industry did to them. Think instant sachets, microwavable cups and those flavoured packets with cartoon apples and words like ‘cinnamon swirl delight’.

That’s not breakfast. That’s a food product. Ultra-processed. Pulverised into submission. Made from the cheapest crops money can buy, often sprayed with Glyphosate — a herbicide commonly known as ‘Roundup®’ recently labelled as a ‘probable carcinogen’ by the World Health Organisation. Then pumped full of sugar, flavourings and industrial oils so it tastes like dessert and sells like nostalgia.

Of course those “oats” wreck your blood sugar. Of course they digest fast and leave you starving an hour later. Of course they leave you feeling puffy and your gut inflamed. They’ve had all the good stuff stripped out of them (and a lot of bad stuff put in).

It’s not the oats fault.

That’s what happens when corporations get involved. Because real oats e.g. organic rolled oats, cooked slowly like actual food and eaten with protein and fats, behave completely differently in the body.

They nourish your gut.
They stabilise blood sugar.
They support your heart.

Why properly made oats are incredible for your gut

Oats are rich in a specific type of soluble fibre called beta-glucan.

This fibre:

• Feeds beneficial gut bacteria (acting as a prebiotic)
• Improves microbiome diversity
• Helps strengthen the gut lining
• Slows digestion and blood sugar release

When your good bacteria ferment beta-glucan, they produce short-chain fatty acids like butyrate — which reduce inflammation and support overall gut health.

In simple terms: oats help your gut bugs thrive, but only when they’re intact and not ultra-processed.

Why oats help lower cholesterol (naturally)

That same beta-glucan fibre binds to cholesterol in the digestive tract and helps remove it from the body.

Research consistently shows oats can:

• Lower LDL (“bad”) cholesterol
• Improve heart health markers
• Reduce cardiovascular risk

Again — no powders, no supplements needed. Just real food doing what real food does.

Context matters more than demonising foods

This is the part I wish more nutrition conversations focused on — no food exists in isolation.

Oats eaten alone, blended into sugar, or stripped of fibre = very different outcome
Oats cooked whole and paired with protein, fats and fibre = stable blood sugar, full belly, happy gut.

Instead of asking:
“Is this food good or bad?”

A better question is:
“How is this food prepared and what is it eaten with?”

What’s in my oats (and why)

Rolled organic oats
→ Slow-release carbs + gut-feeding fibre

Flax meal
→ Extra fibre + omega-3 fats for digestion and hormones

Ginger & cinnamon
→ Blood sugar balance + supports digestion + anti-inflammatory support

Milk (full-fat dairy or almond)
→ Creaminess + fats to slow glucose absorption

Grass-fed collagen
→ Protein for satiety, gut lining support, skin & joints

Seasonal fruit (I used plums & figs)
→ Polyphenols for gut bacteria + natural sweetness

Peanut butter + nuts/seeds
→ Healthy fats + protein for long-lasting energy

Raw honey or maple
→ Just a touch (1 tsp) — a little more nutrients than refined white / brown sugar.

This combination keeps you full for hours, supports digestion, and doesn’t send blood sugar on a rollercoaster.

My creamy gut-loving oats recipe:

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup gluten-free organic rolled oats (I choose GF not because gluten is the enemy — but because certified GF oats are also glyphosate-free, meaning no herbicide residue)
• 3/4 cup water
• Pinch of salt
• 1/4 tsp ground ginger
• 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1 tbsp flax meal

To finish:

• 1/4 cup (or more) milk of choice — full-fat organic dairy or almond milk
• 1 scoop grass-fed bovine collagen (*optional)

Toppings (choose what you love):

• Fresh seasonal fruit (I used plums & figs)
• Nut butter and/or chopped nuts or seeds (i’m a sucker for crunchy peanut butter)
• Drizzle of raw honey (or maple syrup)
• Extra cinnamon if desired (never enough for me)

Method:

1. Add oats, water, salt to a pot over a medium-low heat. Add the spices and flax meal once the oats start to thicken and bubble.

2. Simmer gently for 3-7 minutes, stirring, until creamy.

3. Stir in milk and collagen until smooth.

4. Serve into a bowl. Top with fruit, fats and a little sweetness.

The Takeaway

Oats were never the problem. What ruined them was ultra-processing, eating in a rush, and throwing carbs into meals with no balance. When you focus instead on real, whole oats cooked properly and paired with protein, fibre and healthy fats, nutrition becomes simpler, more satisfying, and far more effective. Done this way, a warm creamy bowl of oats is one of the most nourishing breakfasts you can eat — supporting your gut, your heart, and steady energy all morning long.

I love having people over for dinner — especially my best friends. But I also love staying seated. And laughing. And actually being part of the conversation instead of hovering over a pot, desperately trying not to overcook something. That’s why I lean into slow-cooked numbers.

Slow cooking is your friend. It’s like hiring a sous-chef who doesn’t complain and magically makes your kitchen smell like magic. You prep, you leave it alone, and suddenly: dinner. Everything else like pouring wine, lighting candles, becomes way easier, while still allowing you to give a little kitchen performance to your friends when assembling everything and adding finishing touches.

Here’s how I do it if I’m hosting:

1. Pick something slow-cooked.

Braised meats, stews, roasts — these dishes give you freedom. You can wander into the living room, grab a glass of wine, and not stress about perfectly timing the garlic or herbs. It’s basically dinner-party insurance. Even better: start it the day before. That way you can pre-taste, adjust, and if it all somehow goes sideways, call in Uber Eats without anyone knowing. Bonus: like all big pots of slow-cooked goodness, it usually tastes even better the next day.

2. Make sides that don’t need babysitting.

Herby roast baby potatoes? Perfect. Salad of rocket, radicchio, cos, shaved radish, basil, mint, parsley, tossed in a maple vinaigrette? Done. Simple, quick, beautiful. And they let you actually enjoy the evening instead of juggling too many pans.

3. Think about the flow of the evening.

Start with something easy, salty, and shareable: Gildas (prepped half an hour ahead), olives in a pretty silver coupe, anything stuffed — dates with goat cheese and walnuts, for example. Please, don’t make a generic cheese board with the usual supermarket antipasti. It sounds impressive, but either everyone eats it all and ruins your dinner, or no one touches it and it goes to waste. Then move to the main event: braised short ribs with gremolata, also prepped in advance. The meat will have your guests swooning, and the gremolata keeps it bright, fresh, and just the right amount of show-offy while staying #humble - no one likes a cook with a bigger ego than the table.

4. Prep everything in advance.

Seriously. Chop, mix, season, and measure before anyone arrives. That’s the difference between actually enjoying the dinner and silently panicking while peeling potatoes. Oh — and load your dishwasher like it’s a competitive sport. An empty vessel is the secret to a lightning-fast clean-up.

5. Pour liquids like it’s your job.

Good drinks make people happy. Happy people talk. Talking people make the night feel effortless.

6. Tableware: Don’t Overthink It

It’s so easy to get carried away with TikTok or Instagram table trends, thinking your setup has to look like something out of a magazine. It doesn’t. The table needs to look like you. Not everything needs to match, or come from Harrods. Go to your local charity shop for a retro tablecloth, pick up some fun, inexpensive silverware from a hospitality supply warehouse — suddenly everything looks charming and effortless. The point isn’t perfection; it’s creating a table that feels inviting, a little personal, and completely you.

7. Relax.

Hosting is not about perfection. It’s about creating a space where people feel welcome and you feel present. If you burn the potatoes, no one cares. If the meat falls apart into glorious shreds, you’re a genius. Either way, slow-cooked food saves you from panic.

This week, my table looked like this:

Gildas to start — salty, briny, exactly what you need with the first glass of something chilled.
Braised short ribs with gremolata — slow and steady wins the day. Rich, comforting, and magical.
Herby roast baby potatoes — par-boil in salty water, then finish in the oven about 30 minutes before dinner with loads of olive oil and herbs. Perfectly crispy edges and fool proof.
Big, beautiful salad — prep a container of rocket, radicchio, cos, basil, mint, and parsley. Keep the shaved radish separate in water in the fridge. Make the maple vinaigrette, then toss it all together right before serving. Crisp, fresh, and totally worth the last-minute assembly.

The whole point of a dinner party isn’t fussing over perfect presentation. It’s showing up, sitting at the table, letting the food do the heavy lifting, and actually enjoying the night with the people you care about.

Slow cooking is your safety net. Your secret weapon. Your ticket to being a host who’s calm, generous, a little cheeky, and way more fun than anyone hovering over a hot pan.

So if hosting makes you nervous: pick a slow-cooked dish, prep everything ahead, pour the wine, and relax. The table will take care of the rest — you just get to enjoy it.

I’ve had my fair share of skin woes. For years I thought good skin came from products — the right serum, the right facialist, the miracle ingredient trending on the world wide web. I tested what felt like a hundred routines: acids, actives, peels, masks, skin needling, hydrogen facials — always chasing a glow that would show up for a day and then quietly disappear.

But if I’m honest, I’ve always known the truth lived deeper than my bathroom shelf.

I’d seen it play out in my own body during seasons of hormonal imbalance, when my gut was off, when I was over-exercising and under-eating, pushing instead of nourishing. My skin would whisper first — a breakout here, inflammation there, a dullness I couldn’t exfoliate away.

And while skincare absolutely matters — protecting your barrier, using intentional ingredients, wearing SPF — I learned that products work best when the foundation is strong.

What actually changed my skin wasn’t something I bought.
It was something I built.

Habits that didn’t look sexy online but worked in real life.

Somewhere between cooking more at home, drinking ample amounts of clean water, eating enough, moving gently, and simplifying everything I put on my face, my skin stopped feeling reactive. Breakouts softened. Tone evened out. That low-grade inflammation I thought was just “my skin type” faded.

Here’s the truth no one sells well:
your skin is an organ. It reflects what’s happening internally long before any cream can fix it.

Once I started treating skincare as support, not the solution, and honouring what was happening inside my body, everything shifted.

The barrier comes first (and glow follows)

For years I thought skincare meant exfoliating more, scrubbing harder, chasing that squeaky-clean feeling.

In reality, healthy skin is a strong lipid barrier — a microscopic layer of fats, microbes, and proteins that keeps moisture in and irritation out. When it’s damaged, inflammation rises, collagen breaks down faster, and breakouts move in.

So I stripped my routine back.

Vitamin C in the morning — one of the few ingredients proven to stimulate collagen synthesis and neutralise oxidative stress from pollution and UV exposure. And prebiotic peptides to feed the good bacteria on the skin, helping strengthen the microbiome and barrier function.

Less chaos. More resilience.

When the barrier is supported, skin doesn’t need to overreact to everything.

Inflammation is the real enemy of glow

Acne, redness, premature aging, dullness — most of it traces back to chronic low-grade inflammation.

That’s where omega-3 fats and zinc quietly do their work.

Omega-3s (from salmon, sardines, shellfish, algae, organic eggs, flax, walnuts) lower inflammatory cytokines in the body and help regulate oil production in the skin. Zinc supports wound healing, reduces bacterial growth, and plays a role in hormone balance — which is why it’s often low in people with breakouts.

A typical meal for me might be wild salmon with olive oil and lemon, roasted broccoli on the side, maybe a soft-boiled egg and some sourdough. A yogurt bowl with my homemade seeded granola. Or sardines with herbs over toast and a big crunchy salad. I also love to treat myself to an oyster or two whenever the occasion arises!

Greens are basically internal skincare

Brassica vegetables — broccoli, cauliflower, kale, brussels sprouts, radish, rocket — contain compounds like sulforaphane that support liver detoxification and estrogen metabolism.

Translation: they help your body clear out excess hormones and toxins that often show up as hormonal acne, congestion, and dull skin.

They’re also packed with antioxidants that protect collagen from oxidative damage.

I eat them constantly: shaved Brussels in salads, crispy roasted broccoli with tahini, greens tossed into soups and bowls or rocket and radicchio as my preferred choice of salad base.

Your skin loves bitter vegetables even if your taste buds needed convincing at first. My top tip: dress them up with fat and acid e.g. extra virgin olive oil and lemon, to increase digestibility and make them more palatable + delicious.

Collagen is built, not applied

Topical collagen mostly sits on the surface of the skin. Helpful for hydration — but firmness comes from amino acids and vitamin C working together inside the body.

That’s why collagen-rich proteins matter.

Bone broth simmered all afternoon. Slow-cooked meats that fall apart. Chicken soup with garlic and ginger. When I’m short on time, it’s still protein first: steak, eggs, fish, Greek yogurt.

These provide glycine, proline, and lysine — building blocks your body uses to make collagen and repair tissue.

Good skin is fed.

Seasonal food = higher nutrients, lower stress on the body

Produce grown in season tends to contain higher levels of vitamins and antioxidants. It also naturally matches what your body tends to need throughout the year — hydrating fruits in summer, grounding root veg in winter.

I don’t aim for perfection. Just awareness.

Farmers market berries when they’re bursting with flavour. Squash and citrus when the weather cools. Organic when possible to reduce pesticide load that can interfere with hormones and gut health.

When food tastes better, you eat more of it. When you eat more nutrient-dense food, your skin shows it.

Eat the rainbow (especially red + orange)

Red foods are loaded with vitamin C for collagen synthesis, vitamin A for skin cell turnover, and lycopene — a powerful antioxidant that protects against UV-induced damage.

Tomatoes cooked in olive oil (lycopene becomes more bioavailable when heated). Organic frozen berries in my morning oats or yogurt. Roasted red peppers tossed into everything. Beets with goat cheese and herbs. Oh and I can’t forget my favourite: sweet potato.

Nature’s glow serum.

Your gut runs your skin more than your moisturizer does

About 70% of your immune system lives in your gut. When gut bacteria are out of balance, inflammation increases throughout the body — including the skin.

That’s why fermented foods are a game changer.

Kimchi with eggs in the morning. Sauerkraut on bowls. Miso soup. Kefir. Coconut or organic jersey milk yogurt with berries.

They introduce beneficial bacteria that support digestion, hormone metabolism, and immune regulation — all tied directly to clearer skin.

When my digestion improved, my skin followed.

Every time.

Movement = circulation = radiance

Exercise increases blood flow, delivering oxygen and nutrients to skin cells while helping remove waste products through lymphatic drainage.

In the right amount, it also lowers cortisol — the stress hormone that triggers breakouts and collagen breakdown.

I always do some daily movement: wether that be a walks, run, weights / pilates, stretching, light sweating. Movement gets blood flowing, helps lymphatic drainage, lowers stress hormones, and supports natural radiance. I also love hitting the sauna a couple of times a week — the heat promotes detoxification of heavy metals and microplastics, which can interfere with the hormonal axis and contribute to overall toxin load in the body. It’s one of those small, indulgent habits that makes my body — and my skin — feel cared for from the inside out.

Your skin glows when your body feels safe and supported.

The Unsexy Duo:

The two most boring secrets that work better than anything expensive

Clean filtered water — constantly.
SPF minimum 30+ every single day.

UV exposure is responsible for up to 80% of visible skin aging. No serum competes with sunscreen. I don’t ever rock a real tan anymore, it’s not worth the risk or the lines.

*The Non-Essential Extras:

I don’t get many facials. I don’t do weekly treatments.

My ridiculous little non-essential habit is that I use an LED light mask for ten minutes a few times a week — red light can stimulate mitochondrial activity in skin cells and promote healing, but if I’m honest, it’s a bonus.

The real transformation came from the basics.

From feeding my body well. Lowering inflammation. Supporting gut health. Respecting my skin barrier. Moving daily. Staying hydrated. Protecting from the sun.

Glow isn’t a hack.

It’s what happens when your body is supported consistently.

Simple. Unsexy. Powerful.

And once you experience it, you stop focusing on just the products — because you realise the glow was always built from the inside out.

I’ve always loved pork. Ham and cheese sandwiches, pork buns, porchetta roasts, pastas with rendered-down pancetta. Don’t even get me started on crispy crackling. And yet, I almost never cooked it at home. I grew up in a practically pork-free household, except for the occasional buttered Hungarian salami sandwiches my mum would put into our lunchboxes. Pork was always the meat with “exceptions.” Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself it was either: 1. bad for me 2. too fussy to cook, or 3. that it demanded more care than other meats.

Turns out, those “get some pork on your fork” ads in the early 00s weren’t lying. Mums like mine were terrified—low-fat everything, panicking over saturated fat, convinced pork would kill us all. Meanwhile, the world was busy shovelling ultra-processed garbage: mystery meat sticks, double-stacked bacon monstrosities from fast-food chains, and calling it lunch. Hilarious now, because real, whole pork isn’t much different in fat than beef or lamb. Back then? Serving pork was practically heresy. No wonder I grew up with an unnecessary—and frankly tragic—fear of one of life’s most delicious proteins.

Since then, my irrational fear of pork has been thoroughly cured thanks to many bowls of pork sausage orecchiette. So, I’ve decided that 2026 is the year I cook more pork. And honestly? As a cook, I’m embarrassed it took me this long to get here.

What I’ve learned recently on my pork-cooking journey is that good pork is generous. It responds to care and patience, and when treated with respect, it’s rich, flavourful, forgiving, and quietly one of the most satisfying proteins to cook. I get mine from proper butchers here in Sydney—Victor Churchill, Emilio’s Butchery—places that actually care about how the animal lived: hormone-free, pasture-fed, well-raised. That part matters. Always.

So here are my perfect pan seared pork chops. Cooked gently, basted in a little butter, then finished with a quick, no-nonsense pan sauce made from the drippings—oregano, Dijon, apple cider vinegar—poured over while the meat rests. On the side, a generous spoonful of punchy gremolata, and a bright, summery salad of white nectarine, VERY thinly shaved fennel, BIG fat rocket, finely chopped mint, and freshly grated Parmigiano.

The kind of dish you want on a hot summer night. Effortless, indulgent, but not precious. Every bite reminds you that pork, when treated right, is one of life’s simplest, most satisfying pleasures. My mum probably shouldn’t have been scared of it, and me? I will never give it the side-eye again.

Cider-Basted Pork Chops with Gremolata & White Nectarine Salad

(Serves 2 very hungry people - 4 | Gluten-Free | Refined Sugar-Free)

Ingredients

Pork Chops

• 4 pork chops

• 1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

• 50 g unsalted butter

• 1 small brown onion, brunoise

• 3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

• 2 sprigs fresh oregano

• 1 tsp Dijon mustard

• ¼ cup apple cider vinegar

• ¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper

• Salt, to taste

Gremolata

• 1 cup mint leaves, finely chopped

• 1 cup parsley, finely chopped

• 1 cup basil, finely chopped

• 2 tsp lemon zest

• 6 anchovies in oil, finely chopped

• 3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

• ¼ tsp black pepper

• ¼ tsp salt

White Nectarine & Fennel Salad

• 2 cups large flat-leaf rocket

• 1 large fennel bulb, finely sliced (mandolin), fronds reserved

• 10 g fresh mint, finely chopped

• 2 white nectarines, finely sliced

• ⅓ cup freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano

• 2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

• 2 tbsp white wine vinegar

• Salt and black pepper, to taste

Method

1. Season the pork
   Season the pork chops generously with salt and set aside at room temperature while you prepare the other components.

2. Make the gremolata
   Combine all gremolata ingredients in a bowl. Mix well and set aside to allow the flavours to meld.

3. Cook the pork chops
   Heat a cast-iron pan over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil, then place the pork chops in the pan.
   Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook gently for about 3 minutes per side, allowing the fat to render and the chops to turn golden.
   Add half the butter and baste the pork for a final minute until just cooked through. Transfer to a platter and rest.

4. Prepare the cider pan sauce
   In the same pan, add the onion, garlic, oregano, remaining butter, and black pepper. Sauté until the onion softens and becomes fragrant.
   Stir in the Dijon mustard and apple cider vinegar, scraping up any caramelised bits from the pan. Simmer briefly until slightly reduced, then remove from the heat. Spoon the sauce over the rested pork chops.

5. Assemble the salad
   In a large bowl, combine the rocket, fennel, fennel fronds, mint, nectarines, and parmigiano.
   Toss gently with olive oil and white wine vinegar, seasoning lightly with salt and pepper.

6. Serve
   Slice the pork chops and serve alongside the salad, finishing with a generous spoonful of gremolata over the top.