We're not just about the food. We've also got your back!

Couples write me the loveliest letters and cards after their wedding - well, they come to me (in the post - which I love) but are, of course, really a thank-you addressed to the whole Lazy Sunday team. I was wondering recently why I was so moved by one such thank-you . In it, the bride wrote that the food was wonderful, which as her wedding caterer was lovely to hear, because at the end of the day, that’s the whole point. But she also referred to me as ‘one of the world’s shiniest stars’ and that I had reminded her of  ‘why she was getting married' instead of panicking about minor details.’

When I first started in wedding catering I was barely ever able to step out of the kitchen Occasionally I would sneak out with my camera to photograph some of the detail. I loved then, and still do now, seeing my lovely brides for the first time in their dresses, and usually I cry at this point because without doubt every single time I really do feel like I have got to know these lovely people.

Now, the Lazy Sunday Shiny Star team is growing and I can honestly say that, for each and everyone of us,  it’s not just about the food that we produce on the day. The reason that I love sneaking out to see the detail, and the colour, and granny in her queen mum hat and groom nervously refining his speech in a corner is because usually I will have met with the bride and groom, or spoken with them on the phone. Lots. Often, discussing the food is relatively straightforward – you quickly get a sense of how the day will unfold and the kind of menu that would best suit the spirit of the occasion and the personalities of the people involved.

And then the talk becomes something more: A gradual getting to know; an understanding of personalities; an awareness that there are underlying worries that perhaps can’t be shared with friends and family too closely involved. And before you know it, you really really care about these lovely lovely people because for a while they are part of your world and you are part of theirs. And you help when you can with whatever you can. ‘Virtual valium’ is how I was once referred to a long time ago by one of my first ever grooms- to - be and gosh that made me happy. And when, recently, I have been bringing people on board to work with me, and as I write this now, I realise that they have all passed the 'virtual valium' test.  They're calming and they care, not just about the timings of your day or whether the food is hot or not (you get my point!) but that everything - that all elusive sense of how you imagined your day to be - is exactly how you wanted it to be. We've got your back.

And I guess it's also why food is so central to what we do. We've been told many times recently that we're so 'on trend' with the type of sharing, family style, generous, wholesome and visually WOW food that we serve. That was never our intention and I'm not really bothered whether we're on trend or not. The type of food we serve, and the way we serve it, is how I've always loved to eat. With friends. With family. With noisy chatter and laughter. Making people feel looked after and welcomed into your home. So the food we serve, the way we serve it, stems from that very very very deep rooted intention to make your guests simply feel 'at home' at your wedding: As if they could kick of their darn shoes, lounge on your virtual sofa and enjoy a good old knees up taboot.

I’ve been very fortunate (cue soft music!!) over the years that I have been involved in the wedding industry that all of my brides and grooms have been quite simply the nicest of people: The kind of people that you would choose to have in your life and for whom you wish all the wonderful things in their lives also. How lucky is that and how lucky am I.

And that is why thank you's to The Lazy Sunday team move us so much. We didn't just cook good food for you. We looked after you, and your friends, and your family. The best that we possibly could.

Jute Jam and Journalism - The Broons had a great day at the wonderful Hill of Tarvit Mansion

Hill of Tarvit is a stunning National Trust Property just outside Cupar. With a 9 hole hickory golf course, lovely grounds and a beautifully maintained house, the house and its surrounds played a big part in Emma's childhood. She grew up riding in the lanes, walking with family, enjoying fete weekends - and when Emma and Chris chose it as the venue for their wedding (along with a marquee), Emma felt like she was coming home.

Now living in Dundee, my lovely lovely couple were determined to do things their own creative way. The theme of jute, jam and journalism, combined with the married name of Brown, leant itself to the really special touches that made the day very true to them - the Broons photograph booth was genius; the hessian and the books and the Broons Annuals made everyone chuckle; the flowers and wreaths were stunning; the wedding cake was not exactly a cake, but rather hundreds of absolutely delicious strawberry danish pastries handmade by local baker Fisher and Donaldson - we stacked them on my trusty ladder of love for impact:  and if ever a day reflected the hours of care and attention and artistry that went into it, this one certainly did. 

Huge congratulations to Chris and Emma. We loved being able to enter into the spirit of your day with tin buckets and jute accessories. Thankyou Thankyou Thankyou!

the cake ladder

wee game pies on the ironing board - now also known as The Game Board!

Delicious puffy chips in newsprint cones

The top table sharing platter being shared by lovely tweed suited groom Chris

lemon poppyseed drizzle cake

the cake ladder

a wee bit of the pudding table

rungs of strawberry danish pastries

lovely bride Emma

a mountain of meringues and chocolate tiffin

canapes

more canapes

the broons corner

Ola and Kasia coming out to play

table detail

table detail

Pomegranates beneath my pillow

 I slept with pomegranates beneath my bed - the best place, my friend said, for them to survive the cool of winter. Elderly neighbours filled our table with fallen fruits - sharon and persimmon and pomegranate shells. Eat, they said. Enjoy what we have. It is yours.

On warm Autumn days, yet with the sun low in the sky, we sunsetted and sunrose. Watched the sun tumble. And rise. Into the sea. Out of the sea. We drove mountainous tracks and sailed windless seas. Watched boats racing in not a breath of breeze - whispering towards a finishing line that disappeared into the darkening dusk. 

We sailed to Chevalier Island - my own little piece of heaven - where knights templars did what knight templars do, the longest of times ago. The tiniest huddle of houses straddling this offshore peninsula - gulets dropping by with touristy types, of which, of course, we were far removed :-) A restaurant jutting out over the sea and the tiniest secluded stretch of sand with sun beds and shade in which to snooze after a lunch of Su Boregi - water pastry and feta and parsley. Salt. And Snap. With rose wine and water and cay (Turkish tea) for the not faint hearted. Turkish food speaks to me of its Ottoman Empire roots - a fusion of central Asian, Middle Eastern and Balkan cuisine.

On independence day (for Turkey today is a young and secular country) red Ataturk flags dropped down from the Fethiye sky - respectful nods to an inspirational leader. A legendary man. We shopped for shoes in a market that was long in length mostly with saffron and sumac and aubergines dried; with fruits; with stalls selling pancakes and pickles and pomegranate juices. And children marched past - the girls dressed in tartan - to the brass band playing and the batons caught.

In winter blacks (whilst us in summer shades and shorts), men sat in sunny clusters, sipping raki and moving backgammon pieces speedily across the delicate oyster shell boards. We wandered beneath an umbrella of Autumn leaves, stopping to shop in shops that were gradually bunkering themselves down for a winter that we would consider a good Scottish summer. At night, as it cooled, we friends cooked together, or ate Pide - flat pitta style breads baked with tasty topping in a stone oven. Delicious, simple comforting food that was the speciality of many a Fethiye eatery.

We wandered the fish market, picking fillets of fish whose names got lost in translation. We carried them to the bundle of restaurants that bordered the market - lady lady we cook feeesh for you - and waited to see what dish they would produce; our fish now simply cooked, fresh as fresh could be, with salad and bread. 

In Selimiye - a coast hugging higgle piggle of village on the other mountainside from Marmaris - a cafe that was closed produced omelette and salad which we enjoyed, sitting on brightly painted wooden chairs that disappeared as soon as we did - whisked away by a man in a van until summer returned. The last people, for sure, to eat there this year, we thought.  A small pontoon stretched into turquoise blue sea and we lay and read and caught the heat of the sun. Drove back the winding road to bustling Marmaris marina where our trusty sailors shared stories of sail trims and nearly wins.  Efes beers brought nations together - Russians, Bulgarians and bikini clad beauties. Oh, to be that shape again!

As I write, I remember. Other places we visited - quiet now 'because it's cold here,' they say. And our last evening spent cooking our own mangal (bbq)  over hot coals- guided by a Turkish friend - in a garden restaurant at the foot of Kayakoy: A hill side village where Greek Peoples and Turkish Peoples lived side by side. Until. 

".. I went to south-west Turkey and there’s a ghost town there. It used to be a mixed community, as described in the book ( Birds without Wings) more or less, and they obviously had a wonderful way of life, quite sophisticated. An earthquake finally destroyed the town in the Fifties, but it really started to die when the Christian population was deported. It was walking around that very special place that gave me the idea .The town, called Eskibahce in the book, will be recognizable to those who know Turkey, ‘but I’m not going to go round telling people’.  Louis de Bernieres.

We sipped Ayran - more of a national drink than Raki, I thought - a salted chilled yoghourt served typically with grilled meat and rice; and we tried the Salgam - oh my, this might take some getting used to - Turkish fermented purple carrot and turnip juice (ingredients also listed included bulghur wheat, salt and chilli). Both drinks had a somewhat challenging effect on my poor kidneys - I suspect, from the high salt content that made them taste bitterly bitter, to this sweet toothed lass at least.

Now home once more, and nearly weighed down by hand luggage stuffed with spices and baclavas (you could be forgiven for reading balaclava if you're of cold Scottish blood) and nar (pomegranate) juice, I resolve to return knowing more of the language. So that I can be at the very least polite. Share gratitudes in more than just gesture. 

Dinners at home now pay homage to Turkish influences - and I practice dishes that would work well as wedding feast components - saffron infusions, sumac marinaded meats and grills, flatbreads - in anctipation of adventurous brides and travel loving guests.  Below (very below) is a big bowl recipe for chilli spiced cauliflower and chickpea salad with coriander, pomegranate and toasted almonds. Imagine this on an Autumn menu for guest peoples to dig into and share!

The sun shines at home now, too: Its warmth chilled by the cold East winds. But it feels good to be home on this winter day, remembering what's been and planning trips to come.

And to Susie and Tolga, and to Kay and Jock, whose home we share whenever we visit,and whose boat we sail and whose friends we are getting to know - teşekkür ederim!

Recipe

Pomegranate, cauliflower and chickpea salad

1 whole cauliflower, broken into florets and steamed until al dente
A pinch of saffron
2 tins of chickpeas - rinsed and drained
1 onion, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 egg cup of rose wine
A handful of chopped coriander
1 pomegranate, de-pipped
Toasted pine nuts
Olive oil
Lemon 
Salt and pepper

infuse the saffron in 1 tbsp warm water
Sautee the onion and garlic in butter until soft.
Pour the white wine into the onion and garlic mix, along with the saffron and reduce until almost dry
Add the cauliflower, some more butter and the pomegranate seeds. Cook until the butter has disappeared and the cauliflower is a lovely golden orange.
Stir in the coriander, and the pine nuts. Drizzle with olive oil, lemon juice and season to taste.