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Buckwheat and peanut chocolate chip cookie

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I wasn’t here for a week as one can’t recover overnight after hearing the election results. Shock and horror.

Anyway, when I still lived in Poland, I didn’t have the slightest idea what northern soul was. But I was absolutely mesmerized by the dance routine in Moloko’s video. When I moved to the UK I found out the whole background to the song.

I found out the meaning of polishing brogues, Bruce Lee’s poster on the wall, the club, dance routine, everything. I watched a few documentaries about Northern Soul, and even though I was never a part of it, it makes me full with nostalgia and a longing to go back in time and witness it.

What I find fascinating is that in the poorest area of England young people were obsessed with music made by lesser known black artists from America, although I can understand why the lyrics spoke to them – they were written by people from poorer areas as well. In a way, Detroit resembles some of the northern working class industrial towns.

Funnily enough my British boyfriend is unmoved by the whole movement. He understands my obsession though. And for my birthday he bought me a ‘Northern Soul’ DVD.

The film was directed, written and partly funded by Elaine Constantine, who herself was part of the 70s Northern Soul scene. You can see her in a BBC documentary ‘Northern Soul: Keeping the Faith’. It’s obvious from the way she talks how passionate she feels about that period.

Because of that, her film keeps an amazing energy; it pulls you in. I think she really gave her project authenticity and probably made many people feel like going back in time. It may sound weird but it made me feel like that, although I was born in a different time and place. But that’s the power of art and music…

And to sum it up, how about a gluten free chocolate chip cookie?

Buckwheat chocolate chip cookie

Buckwheat chocolate chip cookie

Buckwheat and peanut chocolate chip cookies:

5 tbsp unsalted butter (room temperature)

1 heaped tbsp peanut butter

1/3 cup xylitol or honey

1 egg

200g buckwheat flour

1/2 baking powder

pinch of salt

handful of dark chocolate chips

1. Mix butter and peanut butter with xylitol (or honey). Add  egg and mix well.

2. Place flour, baking powder, chocolate chips and salt in a bowl, mix well. Add egg and butter mixture to the flour and stir well.

3. Cover the dough with the cling film, chill in the fridge for 30 minutes. In the meantime preheat the oven and line two baking trays with parching paper. Form cookies and bake for about 15 minutes. Remove from the oven when they just start turning lightly golden, cool.

Buckwheat chocolate chip cookie

Buckwheat chocolate chip cookie

Buckwheat chocolate chip cookie

Buckwheat chocolate chip cookie

 

 

 

 

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About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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