This recipe is backed by a (now) funny story.
When I first moved to Dundee, Scotland, I had no idea where to stay and what accommodation to look for. After searching endlessly I finally decided to accept an en-suite double room in a large house with 5 or 6 others. The fact that most tenants were foreign and the room was en-suite gave me comfort; I would be able to make friends with people in the same situation as me (all being expats) and I would be able to avoid any awkward bathroom moments. There was the promise of internet, tv, a fully equipped kitchen and a furnished room. It seemed like exactly what I needed.
Arrival in Dundee was... interesting. Having arrived in London with my folks, jumped into a rented car, driven through the uk and observed its scenery, spent the night in Giggleswick, pressed on the next day to Dundee, and arrived at my new driveway, we were tired and cold. We knew the land lady was not there and were greeted by a fellow tenant, Katie. She walked us through the front garden, which was a collection of gardening and landscaping projects gone horribly wrong, passed the side of the house and garden lawn chair set that committed suicide years ago and purposely remained sprawled on the walkway as a constant reminder of its once happy existence, and around to the derelict back entrance of the house.
Before Katie let us in she gave a wee glance back at me with a slightly raised eyebrow, which I now know was her telling me
you think that was bad? Wait until we go inside! The 5 meter long narrow yellow passageway leading to the centre of the house could only be described as an obstacle course. As the door opened inward you were immediately confronted with 2 bicycles on the left, expertly balanced on one another such that if a fly landed on any handlebar the masterpiece would collapse. Behind the bicycles stood a dilapidated bookcase packed with books spanning multiple centuries and genres, and no doubt a few books on
Gardening For Dummies.
To the right of the passageway was an exhausted looking lawn mower that clearly gave up on the garden and still had grass in the grassbox, and got whacked in the side every time the door opened, followed by an ironically dusty vacuum cleaner whose worn out pipe curled into the passageway and presented the perfect opportunity for you to hook your foot into the loop and bring the whole passageway down like dominoes. Behind the vacuum cleaner a long wooden table stretched out, surprisingly with nothing on it. The floor was muddied and full of post and magazine subscriptions, which most likely used to sit on the empty table. Encase you needed to check if your jaw had not completely detached from your face yet, a huge mirror confirmed your expression at the end of the passageway.
The passageway then took an unexpected sharp right-left turn and continued forward under a fairy light filled roof until you reached the central staircase. Underneath the staircase lay numerous pairs of shoes and some lonely strays. A cupboard lulled off the wall opposite the shoes with a note attached to the top draw:
please leave your shoes in the draws!
A white natural light-filled staircase spiraled up from the mass of soggy shoes presenting the rest of the house. A huge window at the foot of the staircase reaching up to the first landing, washing hanging on the balustrade (including socks and polka dot panties), a random brown velvet covered chair halfway up the staircase serving no purpose but to offer restful reward for climbing 10 steps, a piano crammed in the corner of the first level landing, purple walls filled with inconsistent skew artwork, passages on the first landing leading to the kitchen, 3 rooms and a bathroom, another staircase (also draped with washing) continuing to the third level and a further 3 rooms, a funny wire fish sculpture hanging from the ceiling light, and book shelf after book shelf filled with crap.
It was clear - this woman was a hoarder! Thank the lord I was walking in front because if I saw my mother's face as we walked through the monstrosity I would have ran back out. Katie showed me to my room: wooden flooring with pink fitted cupboards covering both sides of the room from top to bottom, one of them framing my double bed like an arch. On closer inspection of the cupboards we found old underwear and clothes in a drawer left for me like charity. Behind my bed a blue and white flower pattern wall paper broke the pink monotony. Garish pink curtains hung from the roof with a blue roller blind behind hiding a huge bay window. To the right through a door was a huge black and white tiled bathroom complete with shower, jacuzzi bath, weird gold mirror, toilet, basin, and heating rack mounted to the wall. Again we found some old used toiletries waiting for me to claim - no thanks!
The 3 of us stood in my freezing pink room looking dumbstruck and speechless. I was officially living in a loony bin with a land lady who I later learned was not only a serious hoarder, but an outspoken feminist, anti government, anti big corporation, insane chatter box sleeping and working out of the kitchen! I don't know how I managed those 6 months but the only good thing (besides the jacuzzi bath) to come out of the asylum was the Coconut Panna Cotta recipe the land lady gave me just before I left.
Enjoy... if you dare hehe.
Ingredients (serves 4):
5 Gelatine Leaves
500ml Double Cream
400ml Tin Coconut Milk
75g Castor Sugar
500g Berry Mix (any assortment of fresh berries)
A couple tots of Vodka
4/6 tablespoons Castor Sugar
Instructions:
Put the gelatine leaves in a bowl, cover with cold water and leave to soak for 5-10 minutes.
Heat the double cream and coconut milk in a pan to just below boiling point. Add the sugar and whisk until dissolved.
Drain the gelatine leaves and squeeze out any excess water. Add to the hot cream and stir until completely dissolved. Divide the mixture between 4 - 6 ramekins, cool then cover loosely with clingfilm and chill overnight until set.
Coat your berries in the remaining sugar and a few tots of Vodka. Stir well and allow to sit until the berries seep and produce a syrup.
Spoon the berry syrup over the panna cotta.
Note: If you don't want to serve the panna cotta in a ramekin, dip each ramekin into a bowl of hot water, loosen the edges and turn each panna cotta out onto a plate.
