Vegan chocolate, beetroot and walnut cake

Today is my birthday, the day I look forward to all year...

I'm a child when it comes to my birthday, I start counting the days from August.
You would think I have it all planned out, but indecisive as I am about this -on the day- no reservations for dinner have been made and no outfit is chosen.
The only certain thing is that I will most likely be in a little village in East Sussex.
Today is my day, the day that I am allowed to be a child again, sing very loud, blow out candles and dance in the street.
I don't care what people think, I hold on to this joyful occasion and cherish it.
Because you have to hold on to your inner child and keep that little fire burning. That's where creativity thrives and tales are invented.
Today anything is possible, I have wings to fly to magical places, where the grass is greener, the flowers enormous and the food, of course the food delicious and plenty.
Today I fall into a hole in the ground and have tea with talking rabbits.
Today is truly mine.

So on this day I bring you a birthday cake.

The past year a lot of things changed, I started this blog, got married and got to know who my friends are. I feel I grew up just a tiny bit more.

One of the new things in my life is experimenting with vegan cooking, especially for cakes and cookies. I love to make sweet things slightly more healthy and as I don't really have a sweet tooth, I don't make them overly sweet.
As you might have guessed from my Parsnip and apple breakfast cake, I have a thing for putting vegetables into sweets. The classic carrot cake used to be my all time favourite tea time treat, until this cake came along...
This mouth full of yummyness is moist, full of the darkest chocolate and contains one of my favourite veg: beetroot.
Beetroot is incredibly healthy as it is a rich source of antioxidants, nutrients including sodium, magnesium and vitamin C.

I love the way beetroot colors your hands...

What do you need

220 g wholemeal spelt flour

40 g walnuts or pecans

baking powder: 2 heaped tsp

cocoa: 4 heaped tsp

100 g dark chocolate

360 g cooked red beetroot in cubes

50 ml olive oil

50 ml maple syrup

1 cup of soy yoghurt

a pinch of seasalt

• Peel the beetroots and slice into 1 cm cubes, cook until soft and mash.

• Preheat your oven to 160°

• Get your dry ingredients in one bowl and your wet ingredients in another.

• Add the baking powder and soda last as it has to get in contact with the wet ingredients straight away to give the best result.

• Melt the chocolate and add to the wet ingredients, mix the ingredients.

• Add the wet to the dry ingredients and mix.

• Line a spring form with baking paper and dust with some cacao.

• Pour the batter into the springform and put in the oven for 55 minutes.

• Be very careful when you take it out of the oven, let it cool in the tray.

Decorate with some melted chocolate drizzled over, and serve with yoghurt mixed with a teaspoon of beetroot juice

Enjoy with a glass of oat milk or Earl grey tea!

Home made butter, the best

I've always wanted to make my own butter so when my friends Sarka and Giulia made their own in januari I decided to finally give it a go. I started this butter making adventure on a sunday morning while the rain outside in the garden became snow and snow turned to hail. B was reading a book while I was shaking a jar and soon he joined in and we were shaking and tapping together, sitting on the floor with our backs against the heating.

I can't believe I didn't do this sooner, the rewarding taste of homemade butter is yet to be equaled. The butter made me want to bake delicious bread to go with it and left me inspired to cook and write all day!

What do you need

Organic double cream

good quality sea salt

Jars, solid ones as you don't want them to break

Tea towel

optional: herbs or garlic 

Follow the steps

1. Pour the double cream in to a jar and fill it for two third.
2. Close the lid
3. Start shaking the jar. After 5 minutes the double cream should be very thick
4. Shaking might be difficult now so wrap the jar in a tea towel and tap it on the floor.
Turn it up and down again while you tap it.
5. At this point the buttermilk should be starting so separate from the butter, drain the buttermilk by squeezing it out with a spoon or spatula. Keep the buttermilk.
6. Try to get out as much buttermilk as you can, keep squeezing until it becomes to look more and more like butter.
7. Pour water into the jar to wash away the last of the buttermilk from the butter.
8. Use your spoon or spatula to squeeze out the remaining water.
9. Now add seasalt and herbs or garlic.
Keep the butter refrigerated.
You can use the buttermilk to bake delicious pancakes

Enjoy

butter on speculoos, delicious!

Home made butter, the best!

Please leave a comment, I love reading them!

Chicken tarragon pie, bringing back memories

Chicken and tarragon pie will always make me think of my wedding dress.

Last year in april I had my first dress fitting in London, it was a terribly hot day and everyone was out enjoying walks along the Thames. The queues in front of the ice cream vans were long and the dresses short.

I arrived in London at 11 and had to be back on a plane by 5.

Obviously I didn't have a lot of time but for some reason I was very relaxed and enjoyed my short visit to 'the big smoke'. I took the underground to Neil's Yard dairy and bought cheese and artisan bread, did some shopping, dropped of 3 jars of apple syrup I brought with me for one of my readers and set sail to the bridal shop.

By then my dress was soaked, the sun was burning and my bag of cheese was so heavy it started to be a burden to drag along. 

I was so glad to get out of my clothes and I just stood there behind the red velvet curtain enjoying the cooling feeling before I had to get into my huge petticoat. It's an emotional moment, the first time you are wearing your actual wedding dress. When I left the bridal shop, I headed over to a bench in the shadow looking over the Thames and just let it all sink in. I was in London and just tried on my -terribly over budget- wedding dress. When I was sitting there I looked up at a clock to see its was actually just before 3. I had to get my flight in Stansted at 5, I did the math and realised there was a good chance I would miss my flight. I started to run to the underground but passed a pie shop, knowing I was out of time I went in anyway and ordered two chicken and tarragon pies to go. Now I really had to rush and I did almost miss my flight.

The entire journey home, I smelled the chicken and tarragon pies in my purse.

I almost missed my flight for them, but they made a fantastic dinner in the garden when I got home that evening. No regrets! Oh well, perhaps I do regret not having the time to stop for a pint of stout!

What do you need (serves 2)

2 free range chicken breasts (350g)
1 cube of chicken or vegetable stock or real chicken stock (you need 250 ml liquid)
2 small carrots chopped into fine cubes
3 finely chopped sjalots
3 spring onions (only the light part)
3 tsp of fresh tarragon leaves
2 tsp of double cream
1 bay leaf
100 ml white wine (dry)
1 clove of garlic
3 tsp of dry roux -> see method for roux below
olive oil

The Cotswolds, good morning sun

We went to stay with friends in the Cotswolds for a few days.
Leaving the busy and stressful life behind and being embraced by the silence and tranquility a country village offers.
We arrived late in the evening, as we turned into the single track road leading to our friends house it started to snow. For a few moments the cottages we drove passed started to look like someone had dusted icing sugar on them. It was cold, terribly cold but the warming fire roaring in our friends cottage warmed our frozen fingers and toes.

The next morning we went on a walk trough the fields wearing wellies and big warm coats.
We visited the church where my friends got married and went home to a cup of warming tea.

I adore this little Cotswold village and the way the yellow stones of the cottages catch the morning sun.

The Irish Tea Brack, a gift that travelled 800 miles

Last night when I got home there was a note awaiting me from the postman.

I was expecting a package from Ireland so I was very excited.

The next day I gave 'the guy from the news agent' my note from the postman "ah the parcel from Ireland, we don't get that every day" surprised by that fact as Ireland isn't at the end of the world, I collected my parcel laughed at the news agents jokes and went on my way.

What came out of the parcel was a white cake box, closed with a black ribbon and a postcard placed underneath.

I had no time to open it as I had to leave for work but I couldn't resist. I read the card, opened the bow on the box and revealed something very special an Irish reader of my blog had sent me.

An Irish tea brack, a wonderful fruit bread/cake made using tea and Irish whiskey.

Bocca di Lupo, London

I love social media, a few weeks ago I saw some tweets passing by from a friend about a restaurant she was at. The tweets got me all excited to go to that restaurant, I got my review about the place from a reliable source because I know the lady and know she is a tough nut to crack ;-) So when we decided to go to London, that restaurant was my first choice.
I tend to do my research before I book a table for dinner. You probably know the story, first you google it for reviews than you go to Tripadvisor. Thanks to social media, you can just ask someone who you know you can trust on the matter. I mostly check if another foodblogger has written something about it on his or her blog.

Back to the post. We are at Bocca di Lupo today, because of Twitter.
After a walk trough the busy neighbourhood of Soho we turned into a quiet street where the restaurant and it's little sister Gelupo have found their home.

'Bocca di Lupo' the child of Jacob Kenedy and Victor Hugo, opened its doors in the winter of  2008 and has since received numerous awards and great reviews for its down to earth 'real' Italian cuisine.

On their website they say that despite being in glamorous surroundings they are still "a family business and a humble trattoria at heart".

If they can make something themselves, they will and some of the home made delights are available along with their gelato across the street at Gelupo.

Parsnip and apple breakfast cake

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, we all know it.
There is a saying: eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a beggar
In Britain and Ireland the day is started as a king with their traditional cooked breakfast "the iconic fry-up". Cooked well, the "English breakfast" truly is a wonderful dish.
If you want to do it right you should start with a bowl of cereal and a piece of fruit, fresh juice and finish the meal with a slice of toast topped with marmelade. Last but not least, all this must be washed down with a nice cup of tea.
If this isn't a hearty breakfast, I don't know what is.
Naturally you can't eat like this every day, most people only treat themselves on a traditional "Full monty" when on holiday or on special occasions.
So alternatives are beans on toast or perhaps this breakfast cake.
Also perfect with your 'four O' clock' cup of tea and much better than a candybar.
Go on, treat yourself.

"And then to breakfast, with what appetite you have." Shakespeare
This breakfast cake is very moist and more a cross between a bread and a cake.
Someone from Ireland told me it also resembles an "Irish tea brack" though this is not made with tea.
I left out the "normal" sugar in this cake and substituted with honey and apple sirup. This makes this cake a healthier treat.

Apple glazed ham - Best of British

I went to London 3 days before christmas for a ridiculously short visit. We arrived with the Eurostar at 10:30 and left again at 5.
My bestie Vanessa and I wanted to shop for food and bras, that was our mission.
After the bras were sorted we started the food shopping and ended up with a full backpack each and more to carry in our hands. I was actually relieved to be on the train again as the 
2 kg Gammon and the quarter wheel of Stilton were doing my back in. To be fair, I did buy some dinner plates and bowls too and those might have been the heaviest of all.
I wanted to cook a glazed ham for ages, we don't get that cut of meat here so I had to buy it in London that day. Because there were strikes going on in Public transport the cancellation of our trip was pending for a week. To much of my regret I couldn't risk ordering a gammon from the butcher I wanted it from. I was looking forward to a ham from a rare breed pig rather than a pig that was kept indoors as I don't approve treatment like that. Luckily I found a nice piece of gammon that came from a farm where animals are raised naturally and outdoors, but no rare breed sadly.

If you are in London and wonder where to get that wonderful rare breed meat, these are a few places you can buy from:

The Ginger pig: shops in Sheperds Bush, Marylebone, Hackney, Waterloo and Borough market
www.thegingerpig.co.uk

Daylesford farm shop: shops in Pimlico, Notting Hill and Selfridges. 
Main farmshop in the Cotwolds
http://www.daylesfordorganic.com

Preparing this glazed ham is actually very easy, I was surprised how easy it was. Imagine how much you can save by cooking your own ham if you have a large family to feed.
If I could get my hands on this cut of meat easier I would cook this a lot!

Aachen means christmas to me

A visit to the Christmas market In Aachen, Germany.

Lebkuchen heart, similar to gingerbread

I went on a day trip to Aachen with my parents, just like we always did when I was growing up.

It was one of the highlights of the year for me when I was a child, I clearly remember sitting in the pushing chair covered with one of those big plastic covers feeling cold but enjoying the christmas lights in the dark.

I recall the cold, my frozen feet and my hands being warmed by a little leftover glühwein my parents allowed me to have. When I started to walk, I remember the large people surrounding me, stepping on my new little boots, and the lebküchen heart I was looking forward to picking out. 

Aachen means christmas to me. The scent of spices and chocolate from fresh lebküchen and the smell of anise from the artisan candy maker. Not a year went by that we didn't visit Aachen in the last two weeks before christmas. It just didn't feel like christmas without it.

My parents always tell me a story of them losing me in a shop and eventually finding me staring at the huge christmas tree in the middle of the store trying to get out one of the balls.

I loved the lights, the cosy feeling of going to the christmas market with my parents and the food.

Oh yes, the food.

When I was five or six I was allowed more sips of the glühwein to keep me warm and had Reibekuchen to warm my hands. I remember my face and hands being all greasy by eating those hashbrown like potato cakes, and sticking my hands in the air so my mother could take the grease away. I was well trained, no way was I going to clean my hands on my new wintercoat!

This year all those memories from my childhood came back to me, my mum and dad indulged me by eating Flammenkuchen for lunch, Lebkuchen whilst walking around Aachen and Reibekuchen after we strolled around the christmas market.

My parents asked me if we needed to go and look for my candied apple and even stopped and offered to buy me a Lebkuchen heart, on days like these I feel that they completely understand my love for food.

Mum and dad smiled all day, even though it was raining all the time. I think they were thinking about our trips to Aachen from the past 20 years too.

When we were leaving the market, I stopped to look at a little girl who was sitting in her pushing chair, protected from the rain by a plastic cover, being fed little pieces of Reibekuchen by her parents. She was sitting cosy but cold enjoying the christmas lights and perhaps she will be allowed a little sip of warming glühwein too.

Reibekuchen, delicious with apple sauce

Fagliolini al Fiasco, beans cooked in a bottle

I'm already dreaming of travelling to Tuscany again...

On our first evening in Tuscany I ate a dish with beans. A friend of our hostess told me that dish was named  "Fagliolini al Fiasco" "beans, cooked in a wine bottle".

He told me this is a dish often sold by bakeries who used the leftover warmth of the bread oven to cook the beans in old Chianty bottles. 

The technique was quite simple, the dried beans are dropped in through the narrow neck of the bottle and just barely covered with water, herbs and olive oil. 

In the old days, the bottle was sealed with a wad of muslin and set in a corner of the fireplace onto the smoldering ashes. While everyone in the house was asleep, the beans cooked. Imagine waking up to that.

This dish is also one of the classic "pane e companatico" which means "Bread and something to go with the bread". That something in was very often these beans.

Traditional little cookies: kruidnoten

The feast of 'Sinterklaas' on December 6

'Sinterklaas' is a traditional Winter holiday figure still celebrated today in Belgium and the Netherlands.

He is an elderly man wit a long full white beard. He carries a big book that tells whether each child has been good or naughty in the past year. He traditionally rides a white gray and delivers the gifts to the children by riding his horse over the rooftops assisted by his helper 'Zwarte Piet' (black Pete)

Parallels have been drawn between the legend of 'Sinterklaas' and the figure of Odin, an important god to the Germanic people and worshiped in North and Western Europe prior to Christianization. 

For Belgian and Dutch children, it is customary to put one shoe in front of the fireplace on the 5th of december. The evening is called ‘Sinterklaasavond’ or ‘Pakjesavond’ (boxing evening).

Carrots, turnips or apples are put in the shoe as a treat for 'Sinterklaas' horse. The next morning the carrot would be gone and the children may find candy or a small present in their shoes.

When I was a child I used to go and choose the best looking carrot and turnip at the market. I always made sure there was a bottle of beer for 'Sinterklaas' helper 'Zwarte Piet'. The next morning, there were chunks bitten out of the carrot and turnip and the beer bottle was empty. How magical!

We all knew there was no Santa but we were firm believers of 'Sinterklaas'. I remember the disappointment I felt when I found out 'Sinterklaas' didn’t exist. I was in bed, trying to stay awake so I could see 'Zwarte Piet' as he came down our chimney. I didn’t see him, I heard my parents whispering about my present and where they were going to put it this year. I was so sad! I didn’t tell my parents "I knew" until the next year when they told me themselves.

In Belgium they say finding out that 'Sinterklaas' doesn't exist is the first disappointment you have in life. After that, you are a big girl or boy.

Chestnut cake from Monteriggioni, Tuscany

A beautiful farmers market in the heart of a fortified town.

It was a sunny autumn morning when we left for Monteriggioni, the fog had slipped away and gave way to a yellow and brown colored landscape.

We changed our clocks one hour ahead that night so when we awoke the dew had already dried up and the sun was giving a warm glow.

We drove trough the rolling landscape of Tuscany to reach the hill where the quintessentially fortified town of Monterriggioni lies.

From a distance the town looks like a giant fairytale castle, as we drove towards it my thoughts wandered off to the Middle Ages when Monteriggioni was at the very heart of the conflicts between Florence and Siena. I imagined large battalions of knights approaching the town and peasants going about their business. The knights have all gone now but the farmers remained and were the reason we were driving here today.

Today was a special day in Monteriggioni because in the heart of the fortified town there was a farmers market going on. It was only for one day and there were no certainties for it to happen ever again. The town square was filled with food stalls, producers were proudly presenting their new Organic olive oil and wines were given to taste generously. There were smiling faces everywhere, from the stallholders insisting we’d try their food to the people who were enjoying the scenery and the sun. It was like at this moment, everyone was happy here. There was no music, no dancing but nonetheless this was a feast, a food fest.

The produce at this market was absolutely beautiful, if I could I would have bought something from every stall. But luggage restrictions bound me to making choices, a choice like this is hard to make. What do I leave behind, the glorious organic chestnut flour or the tasty Boar salami... I decided to leave the Fava beans behind and regret that choice every day since. What if I could have fitted an extra bag in my luggage?

Oh well, you can’t have it all and I went home with a beautiful selection of food. 

Monteriggioni

Chestnuts roasting

Tuscany in the autumn, a celebration of food.

The view at 7 in the morning...

You know that feeling when something sounds to good to be true?
I had that feeling about Tuscany...
Like so many people, I had fallen in love with the pictures in magazines, travel guides and the tales of good food and wine.
I was very eager to find out if the story's about Tuscany were wildly exaggerated or true.

After arriving at Pisa airport, I took the train to Florence where I would meet two of my fellow food bloggers Zita from Hungary and Karin from Germany. We were going to explore the city and later drive back to to meet our lovely hostess Giulia, for dinner at Trattoria Bel mi’ Colle in Colle di Val d'Elsa. Florence is grand, we had fantastic coffee at Roberto Cavalli, visited David and strolled around town feasting our eyes on all the pastries. When we left Florence it started to get dark, we saw the sun set over the Ponte Vecchio and drove off to Colle di Val d'Elsa in pitch black.

Panforte, a Tuscan speciality   -   Carabinieri   -   Lovers lock at the Ponte Vecchio

The next morning I woke up at 6:30, too early but so eager to finally see Tuscany! I got up, took my camera and opened the blinds on the windows of the house.

The view at 6.30 in the morning.

Chocolate and ricotta spelt cake

Chocolate cake, don't we all need it once and a while?

I do, not even being a chocaholic I do crave chocolate cake sometimes.

But my needs are specific, I don't want it to be to sweet, to spongy or to dry. I want a moist, firm cake with a bitter taste of chocolate and some nuts.

I spent years baking chocolate cakes trying to perfect the recipe, they all came out wrong. Some were to moist, to heavy, to sweet, to salt, to dry, to burned... you know the story.

A few weeks back Zita a fabulous vegetarian food blogger from Hungary I met in the summer, shared a vegan chocolate cake recipe with us, using whole grain and white spelt flour. I love Spelt, I use it for bread all the time but for some reason I've never tried using it to bake this cake before.

I decided I wanted to use Ricotta, because I had cake in our favorite Italian restaurant that had Ricotta in it and made it taste so creamy.  That, and because I just LOVE Ricotta in every way.

The best chocolate cake I ever ate was in a small tearoom in Glastonbury when I was 18 years old, it was the first holiday I went on without my parents.

This means it took me 10 years to create a cake that equals that cake I ate in 2001.

To be fair, I didn't bake for about 5 years. And perhaps the fact that I was on my first holiday alone had something to do with it.

But here it is, my favorite chocolate cake.

Cornwall - a taste of Kernow and wedding balloons

Cornwall, land of moors and mining, of dramatic cliffs and sandy beaches.
A place where the weather can not be predicted and where nature does it's own thing.
Described as an area of outstanding natural beauty it is also the poorest county in the UK. 
Tourism is the county's biggest industry but towns struggle in the low season...
For me Cornwall is a foodie destination, a place where you can eat a crab sandwich in a small village cafe that is ten hundred times better then in a highstreet establishment in ‘The big smoke’.
But Cornwall is also an environmental friendly place being nearly entirely self sufficient with the most beautiful produce you can think of. They have red, white, rose, sparkling and fruit wines. Real Cider, Cider Brandy and ale. Cheeses big and tiny, blue and yellow. Fish straight out of the Cornish waters, giving the word Fresh fish a whole other dimension.
So I can't call Cornwall the poorest county in the UK, they are in financial therms, sadly, but culture- and foodwise they are rich.
That's why I can't get enough of Cornwall, and by going there on holiday you help them with the 'being poor' side of the story but you can enjoy the wealth trough food and heritage.
Cornwall, land of turquoise waters, tiny pittoresque villages and great produce.
I can not praise it enough, I just adore every rock and pebble of it.

On the last day of our time in Cornwall last summer, my sweetheart Bruno proposed to me on a dramatic cliff at Lands End. The engagement ring was a simple silver band, forged on the rocks of the Cornish cliffs by a pirate and his pirate cat, meters from where he had just asked me.
The pirate also forged our wedding rings, bashing them on the rocks leaving them with an imprint of a very special place to cherish. 
This had to be our honeymoon destination without hesitation.
After our little wedding in a Sussex town steeped in history, we drove off to Kernow.
We visited the pirate and his cat and had a truly wonderful time.

On our wedding day in East-Sussex, UK. Pictures by Assassynation

My blog has won a 'little blog award'

My egg will never get cold again

Smoked chicken and a little compassion

I am having a strange feeling of happiness...
It's sunday evening, I'm ready to go to sleep and I m looking back on my weekend.
This weekend was all about a chicken, not any chicken, a chicken that was reared with care and had lived a worthy life.
From the moment the 'Poelier' handed over this *chicken to me I felt like I had the task of giving this animal the send off it deserved.
It might sound strange but I truly felt that it was my duty to continue to care for this animal.
Someone had taken good care of this -very large- chicken, it had been roaming free in the Vogesen in France for at least 120 days. Knowing that the chickens we usually come by have only lived 40 days and sometimes less, this was a big bird.
After I picked up the chicken, my whole weekend started to evolve around it. First I had to clean it, quite a task as it was the first time I had to clean a bird from scratch.
I stood there for a minute, until I came to my senses. If I am going to eat this animal I might as well look it straight in the eye.
If you buy these chickens you get everything, the whole bird. This is so you can see first hand how this animal has lived.
What might be disgusting to some, really made me feel humble.
I wasn't going to let anything go to waste out of respect and gratitude for the life this beautiful animal has given.
This is a feeling we have often forgotten in Western civilization, raising and caring for an animal and then when it comes to the point where it’s going to be eaten, use every part so not one single bit of this animal will go to waste. 

So this is what I made of my beautiful bird.
On saturday I smoked the whole bird for 6 hours and had it for dinner, on sunday we had the leftovers and froze what was left of the leftovers to make chicken pie next weekend and sunday evening I made stock from the bones, smoked chicken stock! So this chicken will be enjoyed for months to come.


For the smoked chicken

1 free range/Organic chicken, mine was a 4,5 kg Bresse* Chicken
(Just try and find the best quality animal and ask your butcher for advice)
1 onion
a hand of fresh parsley
a hand of fresh sage
a few sprigs of fresh thyme
apple juice
1 apple

For the smoker
Wood chips, wood from fruit trees works best. I used wood from old Whisky barrels which gave an extra flavour.
Coals
Extra wood, I used wood from old grape vines. As coals do have some glue and/or additives in them most of the time, I think it's best to use wood when the chicken is already in the smoker.


I served the chicken 'old school' with apple compote, carrots and hand cut chips which I baked in the oven.


Method

Clean your chicken if your butcher hasn’t done so yet.
Start by firing your smoker or closed up BBQ
Stuff the chicken with 1 onion, fresh parsley, sage and thyme.
Bind the chicken with some kitchen rope so the stuffing doesn’t fall out.
Rub the meat with apple juice.

Soak the wood chips in some hot water

Prepare a jug with water, add a glass of apple juice, some apple slices and thyme.
When your fire is ready, add the watercontainer to the smoker which you then fill with the water you just prepared.
Just before you put the chicken on the heat, add the soaked wood chips by placing them on top of the coals.

The heat inside the smoker has to be at least 80% to cook chicken.
Now the fire is ready to start cooking the meat.
Close the lid and don’t open it again for at least 4-5 hours.
This will prevent any dropping of temperature in the smoker.

After an hour check on the coals and add some new ones or a piece of wood if necessary.
I found it was necessary to do so, to keep up the temperature in the smoker. (I used the old grape vines at this stage)
After 3 hours we added some wood chips again.
You can check on it after 4-5 hours, but with a 4 kg chicken like ours it took almost 6 hours to be perfect.
Remember the juices have to run clear before it is safe to eat chicken. 

 *Bresse chickens are protected by Appellation d’origine contrôlée since 1957 - the first livestock to be granted such protection. The rules about raising these chickens are very strict, for example, stocks are limited by the size of the farm - with a minimum allocation of 10 square meters for each bird.

Today is world food day, I signed up for Blog Action day #bad11 and that's why I felt I needed to write the next bit:
I haven't had chicken in my country for years and when I did I felt guilty but frankly more sick then guilty.
The cruelty these animals are raised in is just beyond your imagination.
They live -survive- on a tiny spot in a large closed barn until they drop dead or stop laying eggs.
I hate intensive farming, we do not have the right to let an animal suffer to put food on our table.
The most important thing I feel is "think before you eat". You don't have to become a vegetarian or a vegan if you don't want to, just think before you buy your meat.
Try and find an alternative to the meat you usually buy in supermarkets, search for a farm where you can go, so you can see first hand where and how the animals live.

I used to be a vegetarian for 6 years because I didn't want to eat an animal that had a miserable life. I found a farm where I can go and see the animals every month, when it's meat day.
I do not get veal as the children on that farm don't want to slaughter their calves, so I don't eat veal. (and one of my favourite dishes is Osso Buco -veal shank- so I would love some veal)


I don't want to get all 'activist' on you, it's just something I feel very strongly about.
You make your own choices in life. I choose to only eat meat from humanely raised animals.
I firmly believe that happy animals just produce better meat and I know a few chef's and farmers who will back me up on that.

Buying my meat from a farm changed the way I live.
For example, I missed last months meat day (as you have to order your meat a week in advance so the butcher on the farm knows what to prepare) so now I have no pork or beef for two weeks, and I'm fine with it. We only do have meat once or twice a week anyway.
It does take some planning, but to be honest I like it that way.
Does it cost more, no it doesn't. 
Not on a local farm, you are a huge help to them if your buy directly from them. The price supermarkets pay the farms for their meat is criminal, the animals cost more to raise then what they get back from the meat. (not saying it is this way in every country) No wonder some farmers resort to cheaper feeds and more animals in one barn.

The system is just wrong.
I'm not saying it's the same in every country, it is not. 
For example France has 'label Rouge' for poultry and eggs which is very strict, the UK has more and more farms with rare breed animals who are allowed to live longer than other livestock.

But if you want the system to change, you have to change your own.
Once you go directly to the producer, you never go back!
The end.

A few good websites to take a look at:
www.action.ciwf.org.uk
www.fishfight.net
www.fao.org/getinvolved/worldfoodday/en/