Back on track with a cinnamon banana cake dream

 So after an extended hiatus from this blog and a mammoth effort to finally finish/update/publish previously neglected posts, we are finally back on track.

After several months of morning sickness, several other months of supporting (and feeding) my mum through chemotherapy for ovarian cancer (what a survivor she is!) and now 5 weeks after the birth of my beautiful son, I think we are finally back on track!

Oh how I have missed playing with joy and gay abandon in the kitchen! How I have longed for the time, inclination and appetite to experiment without guilt, nausea or pregnancy nutrition on my mind! And here at last it is.

Three things that I want to get to this week:

1. Test the new cook book I got for Christmas (achieved today!)
2. Cook with truffled honey
3. Use the purple corn flour that has been hiding in my cupboard

This afternoon I hit up 'Daisy' -my languishing yellow kitchenaid- and broke in a recipe book that was given to me for Christmas (2months ago) by my gluten intolerant and healthy eating advocate bestie JD. Okay, so we trialled one recipe over NY (courgette and chamomile cupcakes), but since that delicious NYE taste test my beautiful gift had been gathering dust on my cookbook shelf.

Let it be noted here- the book is an absolute winner:
Red Velvet & Chocolate Heartache by Harry Eastwood.

The premise behind the recipes is simple- conventional cake making is limiting, we should look beyond wheat flour and dairy for the joys that gluten free and added vegetables can bring to cake baking.

And Eastwood is more than right.


So finally this afternoon some soggy looking bananas yielded the fluffiest cinnamon banana bread you can possibly dream of, all sans dairy or wheat. Taaa-Daaa! And Thank You Red Velvet & Chocolate Heartache, pg 97.

There was a little tweaking of the recipe to make it fit what we had in the cupboard- but that's what I love best about cooking in my own kitchen when I am in my right mind... substituting. And some minor changes yielded a spectacular result.

Ingredients: 

• 2 bananas
• 2 medium eggs
• 140g caster suger
• 150g rice flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• pinch of salt (I used tahitian vanilla salt from Gewurzhause) 
• 1 tsp vanilla extract (which can be left out if you have the vanilla salt)
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp grated nutmeg (freshly grated is best)
• 50g LSA mix
• sprinkling of trail mix (or any seeds/nuts you like) for dressing the top of the loaf

Method:

Preheat oven to 180degC and use veg oil to grease a loaf tin.

In a separate bowl mash the bananas well and set aside. In a large bowl (or kitchenaid/mixer) whisk eggs and sugar till light and fluffy. Add the banana and mix well. Add all remaining ingredients (except dressing nuts/trail mix) and stir thoroughly. Pour the mix into the prepared loaf tin and sprinkle the top with reserved trail mix/nuts and then bake for 45mins or until golden and firm. 

Remove from oven and cool for 5mins before turing out to a wire rack to cool.

Best served hot with a cup of single origin stove-top espresso, but it's great at any time of day really... and it's gluten and dairy free. Who's have thunk. Particularly when it turns out so light, fluffy and delicious! 

Sigh of relief... kitchen, I am back! Stay tuned for more kitchen capers. 

Happiness.   

The first roast chicken & heating a UK kitchen:

My first shot at roast chicken was as a traveller living overseas in the UK in 1999. We liked to refer to ourselves as 'dirty backpakers', despite the fact that we had a fixed address most of the time, for most of the year.

It was Easter and I was homesick. My girlfiend and I considered ourselves to be not half bad in the kitchen. So in a bid to feel closer to our roots at this family time of year, we invited the local priest of the girls boarding school we worked at round for dinner. Father D was a lovely guy in his 50's with a penchant for whiskey and telling bad jokes. We loved him and he certainly had time for us in the holidays when the girls from the boarding school were home with their families. 

We all shared mango for dessert as a nod to our homesickness for sunshine and beaches- sadly it was unripe and tasted remarkably like fruity cardbaord- still, the spirit was there.

What I remember most about our flat in Ascot was the kitchen.

Windows down one end overlooked the large flat lawn leading to the woods behind the house. We were three floors up, top floor hidden under the eves- but the kitchen window was bright and clear with a perfect view of the squirrels and the back-burning below. Burning off days were my favourite, with the groundsmen in their gumboots piling bonfire heaps of refuse and then watching it smoulder away in the mist.

Somtimes I didn't even mind being on the weeks washing-up duty because of that view. 

The heating in our flat was intermittent at best- wall heaters would fail in the night and hot water was questionable and limited for a house of five girls. Do the washing up and there were no hot showers for a while. On really cold days I would turn on the oven and sit in the kitchen with the door sealed shut, reading a book. Somtimes I might even bake a cake while the oven was on, depending on what groceries we had. Homemade croissants were a favourite after we'd all done a cooking class on them. No wonder we all put on weight. 

Still, the roast chicken Easter lunch was a success- despite the poor tools we had and the unripe mango. In many ways getting this dish right through pure luck and a 'lets just do this' attitude was a right of passage. It proved to me that with the right kind of will, you can cook anything, anywhere.
You don't need fancy pots, good knives, matching plates or even an oven with even temperature. What you need is the desire to do it, people around you with a good sense of humour and a willingness to at least give it a go.
Being sensible about reading the way your oven distributes heat also helps- a little jiggle and shift here and there got our bird evenly browned and cooked through, without burning it to a crisp.

To this day the memory of that meagre and somewhat haphazard feast is one of joy and it stands as one of the better meals I have eaten in my time. Nothing quite like a roast with friends to banish homesickness and enjoy the moment.

Roast Chicken with salt and lemon:

The best rule with roast chicken is always just to keep it simple.

1. Rub salt on the chicken inside and out and leave covered in the fridge for a few hours until ready to cook.
2. Thoroughly preheat the oven to 190degC
3. Rub the chicken with oil and season with salt and pepper
4. Stuff the cavity with two halves of a whole lemon- feel free to squeeze the juice around the cavity 
5. Place the chicken on a wire rack over a tray of water (use boiling water so it's up to temperature)
6. Place the chicken dish on the middle tray of your oven and bake for 45 mins
7. Turn the chicken and leave for another 40min
8. Turn the chicken right side up again for another 5mins
9. Rest for 5min and the joint and serve with a salad/veg of your choice

Note: Mango for desert is a geat idea, as long as it's ripe.
Chook chook.

The best salad ever:

Okay- 'the best salad ever' might be a bit of an over statement. After all, I've still got an awful lot of salad to try before my tasty time on this earth is dine, errr done.
In the meantime, let's go for 'the best salad yet' for this finocchio treat (and yes I do know that finocchio is also slang for poof in Italian- so I have a number of friends who LOVE this salad for just the reason! Yay for Mardi Gras!).
And I'll freely admit that I am in love with it, for it's cute name and flavour.
Happily, so is Patience, so there's a lot of salad on the menu right now. Which is great considering I have 9 months to get ship-shape for my wedding dress and a whole lot of good eating to do between now and then- and I don't plan on stinting in the food department, maybe just modifying is all. Damned be diets! So finding an adorable salad option that makes a meal all on its own is just a win-win-win for me!

Ingredients:

• 2 medium fennel bulbs- finely shredded
• 1 tsp coriander seeds
• 2 tablespoons walnuts- smashed
• 1/2 tsp salt (or to taste)
• 2 tsp pomegranate molasses
• good squeeze lemon juice (we use half a lemon)
• drizzle of olive oil (best quality really makes all the difference)
• grind of fresh cracked black pepper
• Tablespoon fresh mint- shredded
• dash of white wine vinegar

Method:
In a mortar and pestle smash the coriander seeds, walnuts and salt- then lightly toast in a hot frypan. When the fragrances are released, take it off the heat- you don't want this to burn. Put to one side.
In a large salad bowl toss shredded fennel, lemon juice, olive oil, pepper, mint and red-wine vinegar to coat and combine. Toss through the toasted nut mix and last or all add the pomegranate molasses. Toss through and serve in a big white bowl as a light and satisfying dinner for two.
Serve with a chilled white or rose and then quietly drift away to heaven on a crunchy fenocchio salad dream.

Note: this salad was inspired by a recipe from the Elizabeth Bard novel with recipes Lunch in Paris- a perfect read for any lover, foodie, or lover in love with food... let us all eat fresh from the market and surrounded by love. Even in our darkest days.
* We sometime add some fennel seeds to the nut/seed mix too.

The sweetness of honey

I've been obsessing over honey. It's been like this since early Spring.

Written late Sept- 2009:

I see blossoms, I think bees and then I get all gooey over honey. And today while I was out for a stroll in the early Spring sunshine, praying desperately that some would inch its way into the depths of my winter weary soul, it happened- hovering just on the edge of hearing, the first thrumming hum of the blooming weather.

It took a minute for my eyes to adjust, but once I fixed focus on the little white flowers, I started to see them, fat bottomed bees darting in and out of the corners of my consciousness.

It's a happy moment when you tune in to their pollen collecting world.

My focus has recently been tuned of course. Affected by the beautiful honey story of Grace Pundyk and her sticky sweet journey in The Honey Spinner.

When you drift off to sleep on the back of an Arabian honey tale, no wonder you dream viscous dreams and wake up with nothing but honeycomb on the brain.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------->>>>>

Back in the present- many months later and swamped by stories of city dwellers hoarding hives in backyards, on roofs and trucking them hither and thither on friends properties- I am still swimming in honied dreams. I have a pot of Tasmanian Leatherwood that I eek out into my chai tea and sneak spoonfuls of when no one is looking- it's pungent, herbal and buttery qualities lingering on the tongue.

I burn through various un-heat-treated and organic varieties, trying new ones at each trip to the market.

Christmas saw my sister gift me with a jar of Salvation Jane honey, the comb and all packed into it's glass jar. Patience has taken to chewing on nuggets of it, but only when he thinks I can't see.

We've had honey cakes, honey toast, honey tea and honey gin. You'd think that we'd be getting over it by now. But there's no sign of the obsession slowing.

I'm a stickler for supporting Aussie organic varieties, but can't help nabbing a Dabur for comparison from our local Indian grocery store (it was relegated to the 'cooking' pile).

I'm still looking for a jar of Australian native bee sugar-bag honey. But I'm not looking too hard, trying not to find it until I've whittled down at least some of my heaving honey stores...

But something still haunts me, tickling at the back of my mind.

I want to grow my own honey, start my own hives. I want to nurture a little colony and be gentle in what I take and leave for the bees. I want to label my own jars and gift them to friends and family. I want a stockpile of gluey golden gold.

One thing stands in my way... Patience and his allergy to bee-sting.

I'd like to say 'harden the fuck up'- but considering that he could potentially die if he swats one out of his way, perhaps this is a little inappropriate. And life without a hive is a damn sight easier than life without Patience.

Still- if I can't grown my own, the next best thing is to drown myself in it in the kitchen. And here is a favourite way to do it.
This recipe is adapted from Stephanie Alexander's The Cooks Companion. 
But a test here and there has helped me tweak it until it's just right for my palate.

Loukoumathes with Ironbark honey from Tasmania:  
You have to make sure that the paste is really good and smooth and it's important to have the oil nice and hot, otherwise these little Greek darlings just won't puff up the way they should.
This is one of those recipes that once you've mastered, you can whip up just about anytime to much applause. It's easy and impressive. And with the right honey... oh so sticky divine.

Ingredients:

• 1 tps instant dried yeast
• tiny pinch salt
• 1 tsp caster sugar
• 1 1/4 cup plain flour
• 1 1/4 cup warm water
• olive oil for deep frying
• Tasmanian leatherwood or other strong flavour honey to serve
• icing sugar and cinnamon to dust over for serving

Method: 

Mix the try ingredients (bar the cinnamon and icing sugar) thoroughly in a medium size bowl. Add the water a little at a time until you have a smooth paste. It's important to get it well past the dough stage to a reasonably runny paste with no lumps.

Heat the oil in a deep fry-pan and when really hot drop in spoonful (about a tablespoon) of the batter/paste. Fry until golden brown, turning to get even crunch.
Drain on paper towel and serve with a good dribble of leatherwood honey and a sprinkle of icing sugar and cinnamon to taste.
I like to serve these piping hot with a cup of mint tea. Delish at any time of the day.
  
Makes between 12 and 16 depending on the size you go for. I usually end up with fewer, bigger puff balls.

Eel in green sauce

I've had another Dutch success- though this time the inspiration seems to have come from Belgium.

Still, eel in green sauce is also eaten in Holland and now it's part of my repertoire as well.

Originally made with river eel, here in Aus it seems more likely that the dish will be made with sea eel, but the concept remains the same.

It might be 'in green sauce', but I find the result to be rather more yellow than green. I guess this may change with different herb ratios or eggs that aren't quite so happy and free-range, and I have yet to report the findings if I were to use fresh herbs (rather than dried as the recipe suggests)- but you get the drift.

This is another gem from that brilliant work of the 1970's 'Dutch and Belgian Cooking'.

You see, despite all evidence that this book is less than exemplary when it comes to Dutch cuisine, I live in hope.

First... find your eel.

In my case a certain amount of scouting around town turned up Win Sam Seafood, in Glen Waverley, who regularly display Australian eel, but it is worth checking before you set out. After all, it's not your most common fish item.

I also found that Ducgo Live Seafood in Box Hill often has eel, but they were down on stock when I called.

Eel in Green Sauce- "Paling in het groen"

Ingredients:

• 1kg eel, cleaned
• 3 Tspn butter
• 6 shallots finely chopped
• 1/2 tsp dried sage
• 1/4 tsp dried thyme
• 1/4 tsp tried tarragon
• 2 Tspn finely chopped fresh parseley
• 1/2 tsp salt & pepper to taste
• 3/4 cup dry white wine
• 1/2 cup water
• 3 eggs yolks- lightly beaten
• Juice 1/2 lemon

Method:

Cut the eel into 5cm pieces. Heat the butter in a fry-pan and saute eel over moderately high heat until pieces are lightly browned on all sides.

Add the shallots, herbs, salt and pepper, white wine and just enough water to barely cover the eels. Bring the dish to a simmer, cover the pan and cook gently for 6-8 minutes or until the eel is tender when tested with a skewer.

Remove the eels to a serving dish and set aside. Ladle a small amount of the hot pan liquid into the beaten eggs yolks and whisk thoroughly. Then pour the whisked egg mixture back into the pan liquid, along with the lemon juice- whisking continuously until slightly thickened.

Note: do not allow the mixture to boil, particularly after the eggs have been added or it will cook the egg proteins into unattractive milky strands.

Not so appealing.

Pour the sauce over the eels in the serving dish and place in the fridge to chill.

Serve cold, garnished with extra parsley and heavy, dark bread like pumpernickel, to scoop up the sauce.

Surprisingly sweet, the dish has a velvety, creamy texture and is lovely in a small serve as a starter, or as a larger dish for mains.

Perfect for warmer days.

Bitterbollen

Finally! Super Dutch success!

A dish that I loved, Patience wolfed down and we'll happily make and serve again.

These little deep fried balls of mince-y goodness are found lurking anywhere you can buy a beer in Holland- a bit hot like chips here in Australia. Only these are served with mustard and they're a great stomach liner for the long beer filled afternoons ahead this summer.

Easy to make, tasty to eat and interesting enough to impress guests when you serve them.

Again, this recipe is derived from one found in Dutch & Belgian Cooking - published 1978 through Bay Books. Anything that can be served on cocktail sticks is a winner according to the era.

Bitterballen: Savoury mince balls

Ingredients:

(makes about 40 balls- depending on the size you roll them)

• 3 Tablespoon butter
• 5 Tablespoon plain flour
• 1 cup chicken or beef stock
• 500g pork or beef mince (we use pork)
• 1 Tablespoon finely chopped parsley
• 1/2 tsp salt
• freshly cracked black pepper to taste
• 1 tsp brown or Worcestershire sauce
• oil to deep fry
• 2 egg whites, whisked until frothy
• 1/2 fine bread crumbs
• Mustard of your choice to serve

Method:

In a large fry-pan brown the mince evenly. Doing it in batches helps to reduce the water content that can cause it to stew rather than brown, and you'll want it to be nice a browned all over. Remove it from the pan and set aside.

In the same pan melt the butter, add the flower and cook for around 2 mins, stirring constantly. Add the stock to the p

an a little at a time, stirring continuously until a smooth paste is formed. Add the cooked mince, parsley, salt and pepper and Worcestershire sauce. Stir together until thoroughly combined.

Spread the mixture out evenly on a flat plate and chill for two hours or until firm enough to handle.

Heat the oil for frying in a saucepan. Form the mine mixture into balls about 2cm in size. Dip in the beaten egg whites and then roll in breadcrumbs. Drop into the boiling oil and deep-fry until crispy and golden brown, about 4 at a time is good.

Pile in a bowl and serve with a dipping bowl of mustard and an icy beer, or a crisp glass of gin.

They're best eaten while hot and crunchy, they're a crowd pleaser- but then, they are deep fried and served with beer.

Note: You don't have to use brown or Worcestershire sauce- but they do add a nice tang to the bitterballen. I've seen other recipes that leave this out all together or substitute other sauces including tomato, it's up to you.

Veal Tongue with sour sauce-

OK- it looks a bit gross.

I'll even go so far as to say that it appears a bit rude... it's not my fault that it looks so anatomical in it's bowl of water.

It's veal tongue by the way.

This is another attempt at a Dutch recipe from the brilliant (and very 'of it's time') 1970's 'Dutch & Belgian Cooking' from Bay Books Round the world cooking library.

God bless the developments in cooking... and god bless Patience for having the courage to try all the dishes that I place in his path. I'm pretty sure that he didn't sign up for this.

I have to say that I went into this dish a sceptic. It could have been hideous for so many reasons. But thankfully this one was a winner, despite it's ubiquitous 'grey' Dutch sauce.

And it's surprisingly simple- as long as you allow for the extended cooking time to melt the tongue into its gelatinous, gooey glory.

This dish was inspiring to me for two reasons.

First, it's Dutch, from one of the few Dutch cookbooks that I've been able to find written in English. I think I've made it pretty clear that I'm on a mission to connect with my Dutch roots, so here I start with looking at Dutch cooking as the first link back to my heritage.

The second reason the dish caught my eye was because I am fascinated by offal, 'olde foode' and the cuts of meat that industrialisation has seen fall by the wayside.

Tongue is one of these. A cut that we often overlook now that mass production allows us to buy prime cuts, prepackaged and divorced from the use of the whole beast.

If I'm going to allow myself to eat and enjoy meat, I'm not going to ignore the more time consuming cuts.

So I'm adding tongue to my diet- and it's a fantastically tasty, unusual and incredibly cheap option.

Veal tongue with sour sauce- Kalfstong met zure saus

Ingredients:

1 veal tongue (about 1kg)

1 tsp salt

1 carrot- peeled and sliced

1 onion- roughly chopped

leafy tops of 1 bunch celery

1 sprig parsley & 1 bay leaf

1/4 tsp grated nutmeg

4 peppercorns- crushed

1 clove

For the sauce:

• 4 tablespoon butter
• 4 tablespoon plain flour
• 2 cups of the cooking liquid (see method)
• 2 eggs (lightly beaten)
• 3 tablespoon white wine vinegar

Method:

Soak the tongue in cold water for several hours or overnight. Rinse the tongue under cold running water and rub lightly with salt.

Place the tongue in a large pot along with the vegetables, herbs and spices and cover with water. Bring to the boil and then reduce to a gentle simmer (advice from Stephanie Alexander's notes on tongue cooking says that the water should be barely moving- otherwise the tongue will toughen).

Simmer gently for 3 hours or until the tongue is tender when a thing skewer is inserted.

At this point you'll need to skin the tongue, so remove it from the pan and while it is still hot peel the outer skin off- it will come off easily while the tongue is still very hot and gets more difficult as the tongue cools, so the quicker the better. The skin is grayish and tough looking and should separate quite easily from the gorgeous glutenous pink meat underneath.

Strain the cooking broth and set aside two cups to make the sauce. Put the rest of the broth, along with the tongue back into the pan to keep warm.

In a new pan melt half of the butter, stir in the flour (taking care to get rid of any lumps that form), then slowly add the cooking broth that you set aside earlier. It's important to do this slowly and the whisk the sauce continuously until you have a smooth sauce.

In a bowl combine a little of this warm sauce with the lightly beaten eggs, whisking to make sure the eggs don't cook in the warm liquid. Then add the egg mixture to the pan of sauce over a low heat and continue to whisk. Add the remaining butter and vinegar.

Do not allow the sauce to boil once the eggs are in otherwise you will get strings of egg protein in the sauce.

Slice the tongue and remove any gristle from the root. Arrange the slices on a warm serving dish and pour a little of the sauce over.

Serve warm with a side of broad beans.

Note: This dish can also be served cold, but is best enjoyed warm when the tongue is still soft.

The buttery sauce is cut beautifully by the sharp vinegar that gives it the 'sour sauce' name and it keeps well in the fridge for a couple of days.

Having not been a huge fan (or so I thought) of tongue before I started cooking this dish, I am now a changed woman and find nothing tastier than freshly cooked veal tongue.

The dish can be made with beef tongue too, but obviously the younger veal cut will provide a more tender result. I'll also be honest and say that the smell of veal tongue is not as pungent as fully fledged beef (for those with sensitive noses). Not that it's a bad smell, it's just very brothy.

They both taste wonderful however and a beef tongue certainly feeds more people.

Eet Smakelijk!

And what an adventure!

Rabbit Brabant Style- a Dutch disaster...

Today I had a realisation- when it comes to Dutch cooking, my mother might be right.

She maintains that the majority of Dutch food that she has experienced in her time is grey. Her comments are not to be discounted, after all she has been married to my expat Dutch dad for 30+ years- so she oughtta know right?

What she means is that it seems to end up smothered in a grey-ish sauce comprised mostly of butter and flour and that as a result it tends to look (and in some cases taste) the same.

I've been busily trying to defy her. Claiming that with culinary contributions that include Edam cheese, pickled herring (rollmop) and poffertjes (tiny little fluffy pancakes), there has to be more to this cuisine than meets the eye?

So I spent the weekend on another Dutch cooking mission- armed with a 1970's copy of 'Dutch & Belgian Cooking' from Bay Books Round the world cooking library.

Perhaps the book itself was a bad choice- but it seems to be one of so few Dutch cook books out there written in English.

I have to say that my first dish was less than pleasing to the eye. Sad considering that the ingredients were all good. So far I'm yet to find anything outstanding beyond canapes. *Sigh* I'm including the recipe here more as a documentation rather than as a recipe that I suggest you try. After all, rabbit and prunes sounds like such a good idea... it's so easy to see just how I got sucked in! But in the end, the grey sauce just let me down.

Rabbit Brabant Style:

Ingredients:

• 1 young rabbit- jointed
• 1 medium onion diced
• 1 tsp dried thyme leaves
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 cup wine vinegar
• 1/2 cup water
• pinch salt
• black pepper (freshly cracked) to taste
• 1/2 cup flour
• 2 tblspn butter
• 250 grams prunes (soaked overnight in water)
• 1 tblspn brown sugar
• 1/2 cup beer
• 2 tblspn flour

Method:

Place the rabbit pieces in a shallow dish. Combine the onion, thyme, bay, vinegar and water and pour over the rabbit. Cover the pan tightly with foil or plastic and marinate over night in the fridge.

Remove rabbit from the marinade and dry thoroughly, strain and reserve marinade. Season flour with salt and pepper and coat the rabbit evenly.

Heat the butter in a large frypan with a fitted lid. Brown the rabbit on all sides over high heat until golden. Add the strained marinade mixture to the pan. Lower the heat, cover the pan and simmer for 30mins. Then add the drained prunes, sprinkle over brown sugar and simmer for a further 15mins.

Combine the beer and flour, mixing until smooth. Remove rabbit from the pan to a warmed serving dish, add the beer mixture to the sauce stirring continuously until the sauce has thickened.

Distribute the prunes around the rabbit and then pour the source over to serve.

It's at this point that I wonder why I poured the sauce over at all. Maybe it would have been better reserved for adding at the table to each individual plate. The dish looked okay until I poured it on. But the sauce just looked like a lovely beige clag... yum.

Patience and I stared at the final dish. He even dared to taste it and concluded that it didn't taste too bad... maybe a touch vinegary.

But the fact remained that the finished product was such a congealed mess on the plate that I simply had to call my mother (with tears of laughter streaming down my cheeks) to describe what was in front of me: "Maybe you were right." *Gasp-giggle-gasp* "... it looks like the dog threw-up all over my perfectly good rabbit and prunes!" *squeals of laughter* - my mother paused for breath; "well at least it's more beige than grey darling... well done!"

Note: not such a great Dutch dish... ahhh well, the search continues- onto the next one! And as Patience pointed out, it all comes down to that sauce, but it could have something to do with the era the cookbook is from.

Back to basics... 3 egg omelette

I like to over complicate.

But only when it comes to flavours and cooking. If the recipe calls for one clove of garlic, I tend to add two. If the suggestion is a pinch of pepper or salt- it's easy for me to add a whole handful.

My cakes are full of chunky, lumpy, delicious extras and my soups become stews because there simply isn't enough room in the pot.

They taste fantastic, but they're sometimes what you might call... heavy handed.

So I'm getting back to basics.

I mean I know what I like and which flavours work well together, but I just have to remind myself that sometimes simple is best- and that often it's about what you can still add at leisure, not having everything all packed on in advance.

I started on Friday night with a simple omelette. And I mean really simple.

Ingredients?

• 3 eggs- lightly whisked together
• knob of butter (1 tblspn)

That's it.

No milk, no onion, no tomato and no cheese- all the extras that I usually like to add.

Not on Friday.

On Friday it was just eggs, lightly whisked and a knob of butter in the pan.

Method: It's simple; whisk the eggs together (3 for Patience's omelette, 2 for mine). Melt the butter on high heat in a non stick pan and just before it browns, tip the eggs in and shake the pan vigorously. Continue shaking the pan until the the omelette folds over itself and is just set. It really only takes about 30sec... anymore and the potentially beautiful simplicity of the omelette becomes bland rubber.

Tip the omelette onto a warmed plate and serve with optional salt, pepper and parsley.

That's it.

Dinner in less than a minute... for real.

I told you it was back to basics.

And I'd forgotten how wonderful and comforting a simple omelette can be.

No wet patches. No burnt bits. No puddles of oiled out cheese.

Just simple, soft, feather light omelette.

It's something I should do more often.

Pig's head and Sherry tart...

Seems 'twas a Spanish weekend. From a Saturday lunch at MoVida to a Sunday night dinner of pigs head with my none too squeamish food loving friends.

The thing is, if you are interested in food, it's easy for a whole weekend to be blissfully taken up with plots and plans for eating, tasting, experimenting and examining food.

Who wants to see it as fuel alone when it can bring so much joy?

Not me.

And if I don't know how to deal with in ingredient, I'm sure as hell gonna spend some time trying to find out.

So Saturday night dinner was an all-in-food -adventure. And when HAM gathers his food group contingent together around his enormous wooden table, it's not for the faint hearted.

You must be; A.) interested in food and generally inquisitive (there's not too much room for the picky or diet conscious... unless it's a legitimate allergy or intolerance).

B.) Prepared to get your hands dirty if anything is required of you in the kitchen. And C.) Happy to chat about it in minute detail over red wine while the dishes bubble, boil and crisp in the open almost industrial kitchen.

Saturday night's theme was Spanish- with the centre piece of a slow roasted pigs head.

Sides and accompaniments included and entr

ee of sliced leek topped with the tenderest slow cooked octopus, a hotpot of chorizo, potato and beans (simmered in stock made with the pig brain), and salad of pine nuts, cabbage and blood orange. Quite a feast and all cooked up by friends.

My addition to the evening was a Spanish dessert of sherry, quince and almond tart- and I have to say, it's one that will now grace my repertoire of 'what can I bring to the party' dishes.

Like any tart you need to allow the time to make the beautiful, buttery short crust case, so it doesn't fit into the 'ill just whip it up' category, but it's certainly worth the effort and it beats bringing the bog standard chocolate cake to dinner.

The recipe is from the October 2008 edition of Australian Gourmet Traveller (The Spanish Issue).

Almond and sherry tart with quince jam:

Ingredients:

• 300grams quince paste
• 120ml sweet sherry'
• 3 eggs
• 100gm caster sugar
• Finely grated rind of one lemon and one orange
• 300gm almonds- roasted and finely ground
• 1/2 cup plain flour
• 75gm butter- melted and cooled to room temperature
• 1/2 cup pure icing sugar- sieved together with 2tsp ground cinnamon

Cinnamon Pastry:

• 200gm plain flour
• 120gm butter- chilled and coarsely chopped
• 60gm pure icing sugar
• 2tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/2 egg- lightly beaten

Sherry Syrup:

• 250ml sweet sherry
• 1 cup caster sugar

Method:

1.) For cinnamon pastry process four, butter, icing sugar in a food processor until fine breadcrumbs form. Add egg and then process to combine. Turn onto a work surface and bring the dough together using the heel of your hand. Form it into a disk and wrap in plastic. Refrigerate for about 2 hours or until firm. Roll out on a lightly floured surface to 2mm thick and use to line a a 26m tart case (or spring form cake tin me my case), trimming the edges, refrigerate until firm (about 1/2 hr). Preheat oven to 180degC and blind bake the crust (weighted down with beans etc) for 12-15mins. Remove weights and bake until just golden (about 7mins). Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

2.) For sherry syrup, stir ingredients in a saucepan over medium high heat until sugar dissolves and the liquid boils. Reduce heat to medium and simmer for around 12mins or until sauce is syrupy. Set aside.

3.) Combine quince paste and 80ml sherry in a saucepan, stirring over medium heat until melted and smooth. Then spread it evenly over the bottom of the tart case, painting a little way up the sides if you wish.

4.) Whisk together eggs, sugar and citrus rinds until thick a pale. Then fold in almond, flour, butter and remaining sherry. Pour into the tart case and bake until golden and springy to the touch (30-40mins). Cool on a wire rack, dust with cinnamon icing sugar and serve drizzled with sherry syrup.

It's one of those tarts that remains nice and moist without being to sludgy, and the footprint of quince jam in the base looks very pretty when you serve up a slice.

Beware however, there will be none left to take home and it's certainly holds a case for seconds, even if you're full.

To eat the dough, or make the cookie...

I think I'm the odd one out- the person who doesn't eat cookie dough. 

Ok, so I admit that I'm a little bit strange, but something about the 'rawness' of the flour and butter just ain't my thing. 

My other half? Patience? He just loves the stuff- cake batter to pasta dough- raw is good and licking the bowl is better.

But I've found a happy medium. Something that completes my baking desires, yet still provides the 'doughyness' that all the cookie-dough eaters of the world could wish for.

Vanilla sugar cookies they might be, but they stay soft and a little gooey in the centre. Better yet, I get to fill the whole house with that fluffy, cushiony warm smell of baking cookies that smells just like a bear hug would (if it had a smell)- without depriving the dough-eaters of their bliss. 

It's a win-win. Without the raw edge.

They take all of 15mins from go to woe (unless you are lacking baking trays like me and need to do a couple of rounds in the oven).

Ingredients:

• 225g butter (one whole block, cubed and at room temperature- salted is fine)
  
• 200g white sugar
  
• 2 eggs (room temp is best)
  
• 1 dash vanilla extract
  
• 370g plain flour (sifted)
  
• 1/2 tsp baking powder

Method: 

Preheat oven to 190 degC. Line 4 x baking trays with greaseproof paper.

 If you don't have 4 baking trays, you can do 2 x batches in the oven like I did. Cream butter, sugar and eggs in the blender until very light and fluffy.

Add vanilla, flour and baking powder and blend to combine. The dough will be very light and fluffy.

Place six tablespoons of dough onto each tray with ample room f

or them to spread. There is no need to pat them down as they spread when the butter melts. 

Put them in the oven for 8mins- then check them. If they look like they could use a little longer, leave them in for another 2mins, but then remove them so the middle stays nice and soft.

Let them cool before you move them (or they will be too floppy), dust them with icing sugar and then crack them open for the doughy centre inside.

Perfect if you have unexpected friends and full of squeezable buttery goodness. Comfort food at its best.

And now you can please all of the dough-eaters, all of the time.

Note: this recipe was is a modified version of one found at allrecipes.com, and the original can be found here. 

Pumpkin Ravioli

When a whole, fresh pumpkin calls out to me from the kitchen bench, I like to do something a little above and beyond pumpkin soup to celebrate it's buttery glory. This recipe lets the pumpkin take centre stage and is great for a vegetarian dinner with friends. 'I'm coming little pumpkin... I'm coming!' 

Ingredients:

* 1/2 brown onion- finely diced
* 400g butternut pumpkin- finely diced 
* splash oil, fresh basil- leaves shredded, salt & pepper to taste
* 1/2 cup chicken stock
* ravioli wrappers (we make our own and keep them in the   freezer cut and ready to go)
* 2 handfuls of fresh rocket leaves, washed and dried
* sunflower seeds- to garnish

Method:

Heat oil in large frypan. Fry off diced onion untiln soft and golden, toss in cubed pumpkin and cook until browned. Toss in shredded basil and stir through. Pour in chicken stock and simmer uncovered until stock has reduced and pumpkin is nice and soft- about 15-20mins. 

Season to taste with salt and pepper. When the mix is cooked and cool enough to handle, fill the ravioli wrappers.

Depending on the size of your wrappers, you will need about a 2 teaspoons filling. Seal the wrappers by brushing water along one edge, folding in half and pinching opposite edges together, making sure you squeeze out all air bubbles. 

When all ravioli are ready, cook in a pot of boiling water until pasta is just tender. Don't leave boiling for too long or the ravioli will burst.  

While the ravioli is cooking, heat a tablespoon of oil in a fry-pan, wilt the rocket in the pan and season with salt and pepper. Drain the ravioli and toss it through the rocket. Serve with crusty bread and garnished with a scattering of sunflower seeds. Delish! 

Run rabbit, run!

Finally turned my hand to cooking a whole rabbit last night- and was pleasantly surprised with the outcome. 

It never ceases to amaze me how many people fail to ask their butcher for advice when they pick up a new cut of meat. These guys deal with meat for their living- you gotta think that maybe, just maybe this will translate into knowing a hellava lot about the stuff. 

When I bought my little rabbit from the South Melbourne Markets I just had to ask for some tips- and here's what I got. Rabbits have very little fat on them (why are we not eating more of them I ask myself), so your best bet is to add a little. Wrap them in bacon for instance and then stew with vegies and stock. So that's just what I did.

After consulting my Cook's Companion for further tips (thanks Stephanie), I came up with the following- easy, cheap and just a little bit different for a cold winters night. This has to be one of the easiest hearty meals I've put together for a while- so easy in fact that I'll put it on standby for unexpected dinner guests next. You just need to know where to get the rabbit, and to my surprise, the local IGA stocks it. Jane 1/Rabbits 0!

Rabbit Stew:

Ingredients-

• 1 whole rabbit, jointed into 8 pieces (legs, ribs, hind quarters etc)
  
• Bacon rashers (cheap fatty cuts are best for this)
  
• 5 potatoes
• 4 tomaotos
  
• 1 onion
  
• 2 cloves garlic- smashed
• 2 sticks of celery
  
• 1 carrot
  
• 1 leek, white part only
  
• 4 large field mushrooms (reserve some for garnish)
  
• Juice of half a lemon and some rind for garnish
  
• parsely
  
• 1 cup of red wine
  
• 1L stock (chicken, vegie or anything you like)
• olive oil
  
• 1 tin of tomatoes
  
• salt/pepper to season

Method

It's a no brainer this one- heat the olive oil in a large fry-pan, dice one rasher of bacon and brown it. Then put it to one side. Sear the rabbit pieces in the hot pan until they are a little browned. Remove fro

m the pan and wrap in the remaining bacon rashers.

Chop all your vegies to a nice hearty consistency. In a large casserole dish make a bed of the chopped vegetables, then place the rabbit/bacon pieces on top. Pour in the stock, red wine, tinned toms and any seasoning you wish to add.

Cover and cook in a 200degC oven for a little over an hour, or until the rabbit is done and the broth is a thick soup.

Serve in large bowls with plenty of the broth. Garnish with mushroom, parsley and lemon rind. Add a splash of lemon juice to each dish just before serving.  Crusty sourdough bread is a must to soak up the juices.

Note: I am aware that the top picture has some chestnuts in it- but we decided against using them at the last minute, so please ignore this. But they do look pretty with the other ingredients. 

Eating Violets

I wanted to call this post eating violetly... but was concerned that it may be misread, and as it turns out, there is nothing violent about the eating of violets... unless you have to wrest them from your little-old-lady neighbour (we have an almost shared front yard and 'differing opinions' on flowers as food). 'Nuff said. 

*Disclaimer: no LOL's were harmed during this taste test.  

Moving around the world of food and learning to be open to the reality of the nourishment around me brings new and unusual additions everyday. It's a great adventure that leads to some astonishing discoveries- and plenty of questions. And the one I constantly find myself asking is 'what the hell happened to our food?'- why, in a time so fraught with ecological questions and food sustainability issues, do we insist on shrinking the variety of the things we call 'edible'? 

 

Researching and taste-testing violets brought me up against a whole range of resistance to eating the leaves. From the 'garden flowers aren't food' argument, to the 'it didn't come from the supermarket' kind, I was surprised at the confused responses to this perfectly edible plant.

After all, everyone knows you can eat sugared violet flowers... but the leaves... really? The answer: Yes. Really.

Historically they have been used for everything from treating cancer to aiding weight-loss, but somewhere along the way we forgot that they were also a nutritious addition to the diet.

 Violets are high in iron, calcium and (as with any wild plant) anti-oxidants. Both the leaves and flowers of white, purple and blue violets are edible (yellow violets are not edible) and they make a tasty and pretty addition to salads, but are equally delicious on their own. Another great chance for some variety in your greens. 

The flowers have a strong violet-y flavour when their perfume hits your palate and it's a surprisingly appealing taste sensation. The leaves are a little peppery and cause a slight tingle on your tongue. 

For dinner, they make a great side salad of fresh baby leaves, any flowers on the bush and a bit of light dressing (olive oil, lemon and salt work well). But they are even better tossed through seasonal greens for a bit of an unusual lift.

So just as long as I can keep sneaking past the LOL next door, I'll get my fix of salad violets and keep my salads pretty.

*Note: as with any plant you intend to eat from your garden, it is essential that you positively identify it as the species and variety that you are after before you attempt to eat it and always wash it thoroughly. 

Apple & Chestnut soup

Still enjoying the bounty of chestnuts that we gathered a couple of weeks back, I turn my attention to soup on cold days.

After countless hours spent burning my fingers in a hopeless attempt to shell whole chestnuts, I gave up and went for a recipe that would require them to be pureed, hence all I had to do was score the nuts, boil them for 10-15mins, cut them in half and scoop out the goodness inside. Brilliant. No more ruined fingernails, missing thumbprints and irritation as the insides crumble. Bliss.

I came across the recipe in a few different forms online- but this final version is a tweaked version all my own, utlising local and seasonal produce- the best kind! It's a beautiful dish for a cold night and looks lovely garnished with crumbled roasted chestnut pieces.

Apple & Chestnut Soup:

Ingredients:

• 2T butter
  
• 2 small turnips, peeled and diced
  
• 3 stalks celery, finely chopped
  
• 2 sundowner apples, cored and diced (I leave the skin on)
• 250grms of peeled chestnuts- roasted for 5mins in a dry frypan untill golden
  
• A sprig of fresh thyme (or a pinch of dried)
  
• 1L chicken stock (home made is best)

Method:

Melt the butter in a large saucepan, toss in diced turnip and chopped celery. Cook until browning, about 5mins. Add the thyme and stir until fragrant (1min).

Add the chopped apples and cook for a further 5mins, or just until apple is nice and soft. Add the roasted chestnuts (reserve some for garnish) and toss through. Then add 1L chicken stock bring to the boil. Reduce to a gentle simmer for 10mins. Check to make sure turnip is cooked soft, then remove from heat and puree till smooth. Serve hot and garnish with the reserved roast chestnut pieces and a sprig of thyme. Very satifying when you have had enough of trying to shell whole roasted chestnuts.

*Note: when you puree the hot liquid, make sure that there is a place for the steam to escape to avoid buildups of steam or explosions of hot liquid- ouch. 

Chickweed & lentils

I have been gripped by the foraging bug. And having just discovered that my garden supports a very healthy colony of edible chickweed, I'm giving it a go. It took a bit of persuading to get my other half (let's call him Patience) in on the racket. But here's how we introduced edible weeds to our diet. 

Lentil, Radish and Chickweed salad:

Ingredients:

• 1 cup puy/french lentils cooked as per packet, drained and rinsed- but still warm.
  
• large bunch of chickweed freshly pulled from your garden (or anywhere else you trust enough to forage from), washed and torn up.
  
• 4 radishes, tops and all (ours came straight from the vege patch), root minced and leaves shredded. 
  
• 1/2 a brown onion
• Salt/Pepper/Lemon/Olive oil to dress

Method:

Cook lentils as per packet instructions. While the lentils are still warm, heat a drizzle of olive oil in a frypan and toss all ingredients together to wilt the greens. Season with dressing items to taste. Serve with boiled baby potato's or crusty bread for a filling, fresh and nutrient rich dinner. The more recently the items are pulled from the garden the better, you want to capture all those nutrients and antioxidants while you can.

*NOTE: With any garden or foraged item (as with anything you plan to eat), it is essential that you are 100% sure of what you are eating and that it has been thoroughly washed. 

It was just delicious! So much so that I went back for seconds. The chickweed adds a different and very earthy flavour to the mix.

Society note: I have to say that right now I am a little confused and incredulous. History says that native/wild/foraged

 foods sustained the Aboriginal communities of Australia for over 60,000 years- and yet current reports say that in remote and outback communities where food costs have more impact, individuals are eating nutrient poor, prepackaged, sugar rich foods more than ever. Surely in the face of 'food security concerns' a better understanding of native/bush/foraged foods is essential for Australian's from an early age? Why is this food knowledge not being passed on? Where other cultures embrace their foraging traditions, what are we in Australia so afraid of? I'm just keeping an eye out for more chickweed and now Murnong... so that when I can no longer afford groceries thanks to the GFC, at least I won't be reduced to a diet of sugar.

Chestnut, Thyme & Apple ravioli

When you have access to fresh, seasonal produce- sometime you just gotta drown yourself in it, and with over 600 beautiful and lovingly gathered chestnuts adorning my house in little bowls and mountains, it was time to start putting them to good use.

Inspired by a couple of recipes floating around and a hands on cooking dinner at a friends place earlier in the week, I came up with this combination of seasonal delights and I have never been so satisfied with a gourmet mid-week meal. Once the chestnuts are shelled (and let's admit it, that part can be tricky), the rest is pretty simple. Thankfully, as the chestnuts get crumbled up, you can be pretty blase with the peeling. I just spilt the shells and boiled mine for 15mins, then sliced them in half and crumbled the meat into a bowl. Easy-peasy. 

Chestnut, Thyme & Apple filled Ravioli: 

makes about 20 depending on size. Serves 2 for a main, or 4 for a generous entree.

Ingredients:

• 250 grams of freshly shelled chestnut meat (about 500g raw nuts), crumbled
• 1 apple, skin on (I used red sundowner), finely chopped 
  
• 1 brown onion, minced
  
• 3T olive oil
  
• 2T currants
• 1t dried thyme
  
• 1/4 cup water
  
• 2T butter
  
• 20 ravioli wrappers- we made our own from our basic pasta recipe (2 eggs to 200g flour). 
  
• Half a lemon for finishing

Method:

If you're making your own ravioli wrappers, do this first and then cover them with a damp cloth to stop them drying out, but have them ready to go.

Heat the oil in a frypan and fry onions until golden and translucent. Add the thyme and 1/2 the chopped apple, fry for one minute to infuse flavour. Add chestnut meat and currants and toss through. Then add water and cook for 15mins until the water has reduced and the filling thickens a little. Make sure it's not too wet. 

Have a small cup of tepid water ready by your work space and a floured surface ready to rest the ravioli on once filled- this will stop them sticking to the bench.

Take a ravioli wrapper in your hand and put a teaspoon of filling in it (do not overfill or they will not seal properly and will explode when cooking). Wet one finger with a little water and run it along one edge of the ravioli wrapper. Fold wrapper in half over the filling and press the wet edge to the dry edge to seal.

Make sure you ease/squeeze out air bubbles (again, they will cause ravioli to explode when cooking). You can leave the ravioli shapes like this in a crescent, or take the two corners and bring them together and seal with water to create a little 'crown shape'. Set the finished ravioli to one side on the floured bench. Repeat the process until you run out of wrappers or filling.

Once the ravioli are ready, boil a pot of water with a little salt in it. 

When boiling, place the ravioli gently in and cook until pasta is aldente. It varies depending on your pasta, but about 5mins- don't overdo it, or they may explode, the less time bobbing round in the water the better. Drain ravioli.

 Heat butter in a frypan, add the remaining apple and and fry till golden, then toss through the cooked ravioli to coat in apple and butter. Serve in big white dishes with the pan juice drizzled over and a healthy squeeze of lemon juice to cut the oil.

Then relax with your loved ones and a glass of red wine- even better if it's in front of an open fire in Autumn and there are more chestnuts to roast for fun/dessert.