An Australian Kitchen

Strasbourgh

2011-12-20T08:41:00.000+11:00

After a long hiatus, I felt compelled to share these pictures.
I could never live in Strasbourgh. I would, quite frankly, become both too fat and too poor. There are far too many wonderful shops and epicerie to be healthy.

Gorgeous cakes

Cheese (Käse, Fromage... let's call the whole thing off)

How to choose?

Plätzchen at the Christmas market.

Great British Menu

2011-01-19T18:00:00.001+11:00

(or, Reason For Time Out Part 1)

English (Saturday 26th June, 2010)

Potted Prawns delicious. April 2010
12. Roast Beef and Yorkshire Puddings Sean Connolly

There is actually an excuse for me not having updated this blog for so long, or indeed having continued on my Food Safari Challenge since April last year (actually, it was June, but we'll come to that later).
My hopes of hosting a banquet about once a month were always going to be overly ambitious once the school year began, and my resolve for balance shrivelled and dried up as quickly as my red pen as soon as I began marking the piles of year 12 English essays. So, when the winter holidays came along I decided that my next challenge was long overdue, and invited some friends over to lie back and think of England with a Food Safari British feast.

As per usual, I needed a couple of additional dishes outside of The Book, and given that the whiting rollmops with Beetroot Compote didn't seem super-appealing, I sought out an alternative entree. The potted prawns in the Easter edition of delicious. were perfect; light and buttery with a little bit of a kick (recipe to follow in Part 2).

I chose not to muck around too much with the roast beef recipe, as I haven't cooked a scotch fillet whole before (couldn't stretch to the Wagyu rump alternative suggested in the recipe), but it did take longer to cook than I had expected. The recipe suggests 1 1/2 hours in a 180° oven, but we needed about an extra 15 minutes until the beef was perfectly cooked.

Whilst it was resting (half an hour) I cranked the oven to 220° prepared the yorkie mixture, using melted beef dripping (remarkably easy to find; it was in the supermarket dairy case, right next to the lard. Who knew?). We were supposed to heat this to smoking point in a muffin tray before pouring in the thin batter until each pan was three quarters full. With the assistance of my knowledgeable English friend, we managed to get the batter to just the right consistency. I check the dripping, which was heating in the oven, and noticed that it seemed to be taking quite a long time to heat until smoking point (I know, you can sense this coming to a head). I opened the oven, and realised that it was no longer hot, but was in fact cooling down. The fan seemed to be working, to thermostat hadn't been knocked or tampered with by any small children, but that oven just was not hot.

Oh, the drama. My roast beef was by now, well-rested. The roast potatoes were nice and crunchy, the carrots and parsnips were waiting patiently to be devoured. I had prepared the gravy to pour atop those puffy little boats of goodness, which I just knew would be the making of the meal. I knew that there was now no hope for my citrus delicious pudding for dessert, but I was not prepared to give up on the yorkies.

I turned to the ideas men. By this time, they had all consumed a reasonable quantity of red wine, and were imbued with a sense of confidence that an alternative could be found. "What about the Weber?" suggested one, hopefully.

"No," (I was glum). "It will take too long to heat up. Everything else will be cold."
"How about the barbecue?" asked another. He eyed the resting beef.
"What, with the lid down?"
"Yeah... I reckon we can get it hot enough."

BBQ puddings Take One.

And so we did. We got the dripping smoking hot, we poured in the batter and it instantly spat, bubbled and cooked on the outside. Clearly, this fat was too hot. The puddings would be burnt to a crisp on the outside before the batter was even cooked through in the middle.

Desperate with hope and a desire to not be beaten by my own appliances, I fetched the remaining dripping and we tried again. This time we got the dripping hot, but not too hot. We poured in the batter, and put the tray back in the barbecue with the lid down (I say we, because the Cooking of The Yorkies had by this time become a physical challenge for all those present).

Our only error really, was to think that we had time to go upstairs to gather all of the other elements of the meal.

The first I heard of the Great Barbecue Fire Number Two was my husband calling out from the deck, "The puddings are on fire!"

We all raced downstairs as he pulled the tray from the hotplate. The barbecue was indeed on fire, but more importantly, most of the Yorkshire puddings were not to be salvaged. The muffin tray had to be thrown in the bin, as the non-stick lining had melted. The following day it had dried into some kind of highly toxic, black powder, coating the bottom of each pan. The barbecue, luckily, was fine.

This is what dinner (eventually) looked like:

To be continued....

Harvest Lunch @ Five Oaks

2010-04-11T17:51:00.000+10:00

A couple of months ago, we decided that we would very much like to attend the inaugural Smaller Wineries of the Yarra Valley Harvest lunch at Five Oaks winery in Seville. The menu was e-mailed to me and looked irresistible. Three courses (as soon as duck is mentioned anywhere on a menu I find it impossible to concentrate) plus canapes, and a lovely selection of Yarra Valley wines. Best of all, it was scheduled for the 28th March, the first weekend of the school holidays and one, convenient week after my birthday.

Unable to secure a five-seater taxi (Silvertop: we can take you there, but can't guarantee a pick up), my husband took matters into his own hands and booked a limo.

"People will think we're wankers," I fretted.

"No, they will think we are very responsible alcoholics."

It was white with an electric blue interior. Although the cringe factor was high, it was a wise decision, as it turned out, because rather than a choice of three wines per course, we were acutally provided with three full glasses of wine per course. Hmm. Hilarity, as you can imagine, ensued. The atmosphere was jovial, the food comforting and delicious and the wines plentiful. According to Five Oaks wine-maker Wally, the notorious (and now cancelled) Grape Grazing festival had become less like a harvest festival and more like a buck's party. In response, the small wine-makers guild came up with this series of lunches, designed to take the Yarra Valley events back to the old-school. A true celebration of the grape.

Twice-baked crab souffle with salad dressed with red wine and raspberry vinegar reduction.

Duck confit served on garlic mashed potatoes, with seasonal vegetables and pickled cherries.

Hot ganache chocolate pudding with ice cream.

Too many glasses.

By this time, the people at the table next to us were singing.

Mexican Fiesta

2010-04-05T22:30:00.002+10:00

10. Guacamole Lupita Feint
11. Pico do Gallo (Tomato Salsa) Lupita Feint
Quesadilla
Mole Chicken
Cointreau and Chocolate Mousse delicious.

I am slightly irritated by the fact that I spent lots of time preparing and cooking a large number of dishes for this Mexican Fiesta, yet only two of them actually came from the book. Must improve on this in the future.

The planned Mexican feast came with a number of hurdles. First, I was organising a surprise dinner party for a friend, so a) couldn't moan about how much work I was doing and b) I had to hold it on a Friday night, so as to coincide with afore-mentioned birthday. I don't normally 'do' Fridays. They pose problems in terms of preparation, and having to be organised diminishes the exquisite relief that the end of the working week brings. It also means that I can't have the bottle open before I have even put my bag down. Instead, I have to get my shit together... get changed, find recipes, start dicing... frankly, it's all a bit much. Fridays should be reserved for slovenly behaviour. A quick pasta, a few wines, some trashy TV and potato chips on the couch.

Having resigned myself to this sacrifice early, I had a pretty clear idea of what I wanted to cook and how long it would all take to prepare. This did not mean that I was able to come home early and begin preparing it. What it meant was that we didn't eat until 9pm. Luckily we had plenty of nibbly, tappasy stuff to tide us over. The two Food Safari dishes were lovely, and made me fell a little guilty that they were the only 'challenge' items on the menu. I was a bit concerned by the absence of garlic in the guacamole, but managed to adhere to the recipe and we were duly rewarded. The tomato salsa was definitely improved by the inclusion of the last of the tomatoes from our garden (those not ravaged by the evil hail storm). I served it with a quesadilla, the recipe for which I actually saw on - ahem - Sunrise a few years ago. It's basically just grated cheese, fresh coriander and finely chopped jalepeno squished between two flour tortillas.

Back to the hurdles. Obstacle number two: Mexican stuff. Once again, I failed to procure the authentic ingredients I needed. This time, I didn't even pretend to try. One quick Google search revealed that the only Mexican warehouse in Melbourne is location in Tullamarine. If you're not from Melbourne, that's near the airport. A long way from the Dandenong Ranges. They may even have a different breed of possum out there (one which has developed a resistance to aviation fumes). So, rather than modify the recipes, I decided to find recipes that I could work with. Hence the tomatillo-free mole. Sorry Mexicans. You can rest assured that it was missing that special something, which may have been tomatillos, but I wouldn't know for sure, because as I've mentioned, I would have to drive for an hour and a half and spend about $15 in tolls to buy some, so I've never tried them.

City-link inspired digression. Sorry.

I used my trusty delicious. recipe index to find a suitable recipe for mole. I got a bit excited when I found it actually, as it seemed quite authentic (apart from tomato-tomatillo substitution).

Recipe: Chicken Mole
delicious. June 2004, page 64

2 onions
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1 large chicken, jointed
2 sprigs coriander (including roots), plus extra leaves to garnish
2 dried red chillies
410g can chopped tomatoes
4 tbspns toasted sesame seeds, plus extra to garnish
1 tspn smoked paprika (pimenton)
1 tspn ground cumin
1 tspn ground cloves
1/2 tspn allspice
2 pieces day-old bread, crusts discarded, chopped
2 tbspns olive oil
1 bay leaf
25g Mexican chocolate
Steamed rice, to serve

Roughly chop 1 onion and place in a casserole dish with the garlic, chicken pieces and coriander, the nadd enough water to cover chicken. Bring to the boil, then reduce heat to low and skim any scum from the surface. Cover and simmer for 30 minutes.
Remove the chicken and set aside. Strain the poaching liquid, discarding solids and reserving the liquid. Remove 1/2 cup (125 ml) of the cooking liquid and pour it over the dried chillies. Allow to soak for 30 minutes, then place the tomatoes, sesame seeds, paprika, cumin, cloves, allspice, bread, chillies and their soaking liquid in a blender and process until smooth.
Finely chop the remaining onion. Heat the olive oil in a sauce pan and cook onion for 1 - 2 minutes over low heat until softened, then add the the chocolate and chicken. Add enough of the reserved poaching liquid to just cover chicken and simmer, uncovered, for a further 25 minutes.
remove the chicken, cover loosely with foil to keep warm, then reduce the sauce until it is a thick enough consistency to coat. Season with salt and pepper.
Coat the chicken in the sauce and garnish with the extra sesame, coriander leaves and serve with the rice.

I began my preparations enthusiastically. It is all a bit labour intensive (anything with 'stages' tends to make me a little antsy), but not difficult. I was chatting away happily (the margaritas possibly contributing to my buoyancy) to my guests, and happened to comment to one, 'this seems like it will have a bit of a kick - I hope you like chilli'.

As I watched her face fall, I immediately realised my error. I should not have said anything. Non-chilli loving guests would then have eaten my offerings, with me, totally oblivious, and perhaps bitched about me later. Instead, I was now RESPONSIBLE for ensuring that the meal was not too hot. I privately cursed my friendly off-handedness and considered my options. The chillies were soaking in the poaching liquid which was dangerously read and full of seeds. I had no alternative main course. I was torn. Mexican is supposed to be hot. My guest of honour had requested Mexican. My need to avoid upsetting anyone was causing me to panic. At the last minute, I decided to replace the lava-esque chilli liquid with some fresh poaching liquid.

I was both relieved and dismayed to discover upon serving the dish that it was rather mild. To me, it was missing the kick I had anticipated (although, as I've already mentioned, that could have been the tomatillos). Having said that, all guests were able to eat, and luckily, by the time main course was served, most were sufficiently lubricated that it probably didn't matter (little voice in my head is screaming, "but it matters to ME!!!!"). I now have no choice but to make the dish again. And chilli it up, I will.

We finished with a cointreau chocolate mousse, which was probably a bit too dense for me. Does this make me a hypocrite? In saying this, I am I not just like someone who claims not to like chilli?

Spanish Part 1

2010-02-28T13:16:00.014+11:00

Manchego y Jamon (Cheese and Cured Ham)
7. Gambas al Pil-Pil (Garlic Prawns) Penelope Lopez
8. Paella Carlos Lopez
9. Asadillo de Pimientos (Roasted Capsicum Salad) Frank Camorra

Pan con Chocolate (Chocolate with Bread and Olive Oil) Frank Camorra, (MoVida Rustica)

Apparently, you don't need to know anything about cheese, cured ham or sausages to work in a gourmet deli. Whoever is doing the buying for Maxi Foods in Ferntree Gully knows what they're doing - evidenced by the Jonothan's sausages, Barossa Valley ham, Shaw River buffalo mozzarella and the Meredith goat's cheese. Unfortunately, this knowledge does not seem to extend to the teenage deli staff. Cheap labour is obviously of greater importance to the management than an ability to understand what it is that you are trying to proffer.

I picked out the manchego by the colour (very white - logic tells me that this must be a sheep or goat's cheese), the zig-zaggy wax coating, and the Spanish writing (Maeve says that you should look for 'queso puro de oveja' on the label), next to a drawing of sheep and goats frolicking in a picturesque, mountainous location. My deli assistant then spent 5 minutes looking through a long list of cheeses for a name matching that which I had selected. Eventually, he called another juvenile over for help, and they flipped through the list together, for another 5 minutes or so. They then asked me what the cheese I had selected was. I told them I was pretty sure it was manchego. Eventually, they gave up searching and charged me $24.99 a kilo (bargain). From there, we moved on to the Serrano Jamon, which proved impossible, despite the fact that I had seen it there before. I was irritated enough to breach supermarket etiquette and argue with the slightly more experienced adolescent about the difference between Sopressa and Serrano. Spectators began to gather, some gawping openly, some feigning disinterest, clearly thrilled at the prospect of witnessing a public fracas about the origins of cured meat. I eventually settled for some nice proscuitto. Sorry, Spain, but I was more concerned about my appearance as the Crazy, Ham-obsessed, Lady than adherence to cultural boundaries. Finally, I confounded him with my accurate pronunciation of the word 'chorizo'. It ended with the kid exhaling with relief as I turned my trolley towards the spices, and me sounding like a wanker in front of a small crowd of locals. Excellent. Sometimes I rue my idyllic, foothills location.

The rest of the hunter-gathering was a little simpler; I knew I wouldn't be able to find any fresh crab or pippis for the Paella, so I had already planned to substitute some fish (I chose some lovely snapper) and scallops. I managed to get my hands on some excellent fish stock so I didn't have to make my own (it was $12.99 a litre, so I only bought 500ml and planned to top up with water). It appears that only three banquets into the Challenge, I am becoming a bit laissez-faire regarding the utensils, as I had not even bothered to try to source a cazuela for the prawns, deciding that the base of my large tagine closely resembles the clay pans the Spanish use to cook and serve their tapas (North Africa, Southern Europe - same, same).

Given that the only Spanish dessert listed in Food Safari is rice pudding (which you obviously can't serve after Paella, unless you want the meal to resemble a poorly planned wedding with a 'alternate settings' menu), I knew that I needed an alternative. Luckily, I had received the MoVida Rustica cookbook for Christmas (unlikely to get much of a look-in given the Food Safari thing I've got going on, but a good cookbook should be able to stand the text of time), which includes a Spanish variation on chocolate mousse, which you sprinkle with salt and serve with very thinly sliced, toasted bread and sweet olive oil. Mmm. This I prepared first, as it needed to set in the fridge for a couple of hours before serving. As usually happens when preparing chocolate mousse, the chocolate split as soon as it came into contact with the egg. I have no idea how to avoid this (feel free to enlighten me). Maybe the eggs need to be at room temperature, or something. I just kept stirring it until it came back together again, then added the butter.

After sorting the mousse, I prepared everything else. I roasted and sliced the 12 capsicum, cleaned and chopped the squid, sliced the meat, blanched and peeled the tomatoes, chopped the garlic and chilli, diced the onions, scrubbed the mussels - I even chopped up the herbs. It was all very TV chef; you know that excessively annoying thing they do, where they tell you something takes five minutes to cook, when actually, all of the ingredients are cut up and measured out in little glass bowls by their minions, and are then left waiting to be added to the dish. I once saw a documentary about the "Jamie Oliver LIVE!" stage show, which included a funny scene where his food stylists/ prep staff were sniggering as they impersonated Jamie claiming something could be prepared from scratch in the same time that it would take to order and receive delivery of a take-away. Anyway, I did all of this work so that I could take everything outside and cook my gambas and paella on the new barbeque. The little dishes took up one dishwasher-load on their own, but it was nice being able to cook in the presence of the dinner guests (who were embracing the spirit of the evening by enjoying the balmy, late summer weather over some Spanish wine), rather than being confined to the kitchen. I had to send a runner back to the kitchen for forgotten utensils and ingredients about every 60 seconds, but other that that, it was lovely.

The manchego and jamon/ proscuitto must have been great, because it disappeared very quickly as our starving guests waited for the prawns. The tagine worked surprisingly well as a gambas vessel. They were juicy, garlicky and delicious, and we had cleverly put aside some of the bread to soak up the oil after all of the prawns were gone.

I assembled the salad, then started on the paella right away, because experience has led me to the conclusion that risotto and paella always take about twice as long to cook as their recipes suggest - even without counting all of the chopping and measuring. I had also, somewhat defiantly, decided to add chorizo to the Paella, because it just felt all wrong without it. I set the paella pan (a wedding gift, but let's pretend that I got off my arse and bought one especially) right on top of the barbeque grill plate, as I wanted an even heat and don't own one of those fancy gas rings that Maeve says she uses (the woman must have a whole room devoted to her specialist equipment and appliances). It worked well; the rice crackled nicely, it all bubbled evenly once I'd added the stock, the chicken and squid were not overcooked and the mussels looked quite spectacular. But... it just didn't taste as totally awesome as I wanted it to. The prawns had been so full of flavour that, by comparison, the paella seemed a bit (gasp) bland. Maybe I am being harsh - I should probably say the flavours were 'subtle', or something. It was improved with lots of lemon juice squeezed over the top (not in the recipe, but I always serve Paella with lemon), but if I do it again, I will add more of everything - more garlic, more paprika, more saffron and more salt.

The Asadillo was lovely and sherry vinegar is the best thing. I used some yellow capsicum as well as the red ones, just to add a bit of colour. We had piles of it left over (after all of the cheese, ham, prawns and rice there wasn't much room, and we were saving ourselves for the chocolate mousse), but we ate it the next day with chicken wrapped in flour tortillas, with sour cream, coriander and avocado (Spaxican??).

The mousse had set very nicely, though was a bit tricky to get out of the tin. I was supposed to invert it onto a serving dish then slice it. That was never going to happen, so I tried to slice and remove it one piece at a time, but I ended up having to squash a couple of the bits back together and smooth over the cracks with a knife. Presentation was never a strength.

I served the Chocolate with Phillipa's incredibly thin, toasted almond bread, because I couldn't be bothered toasting my own Pan (some would call it laziness, but I like to think of it as prioritising). The salt, olive oil and bread somehow prevented the mousse from being overwhelmingly rich, but we did have some left over which, tragically, I was unable to face the next day and kept forgetting to take with me to work. Eventually I had to throw it out.

Spanish Part 2 may have to wait a while, as the San Jacob (unbelievably delicious-looking crumbed pork, filled with cheese and ham) Arroz Con Leche (creamy rice pudding) look to be more wintery fare. Instead, the next challenge will be Mexican, which, I predict, will be more challenging than the old man and the cute little kid in the Old Elpaso 'Stand and Stuff' ads would have us believe.

Lebanese Part 2

2010-01-26T10:17:00.012+11:00

2. Baba Ghanouj Katya Faraj
3. Hoummus Greg Malouf
4. Tabbouleh Samira Saab
5. Kafta Fouad Sayed
6. Kousa Mahshi (Stuffed Zucchini) Judy Saba

In some ways, I feel like this was the real start to the Food Safari Challenge. Lebanese Part 1 was a bit of a trial - just one recipe that looked pretty, but that I didn't even get to taste. This was the first banquet with invited guests and excessive planning. I warmed myself up by watching the Lebanese episode from series one of Food Safari. Meave, her usual resplendent self, was an inspiration, 'mmm-ing' her way orgasmically through every sampled recipe.

I had been yammering on about venturing forth into as yet unexplored (by me) areas of Melbourne to source tools and ingredients. Of course, I left it too late, and was forced to rely upon the fresh food market and General Trader at my nearest shopping centre.

My first challenge was to find a manakra, a small tool that looks a little bit like a cross between an apple-corer and the thing you use to get crab meat out of claws (what's that called?). I needed it to hollow out the zucchinis for the Kousa Mahshi. As you would imagine, despite visiting numerous foodie shops, I was unable to find a manakra. I discussed it with a foodie friend at work. She suggested using a small melon baller, but when I explained that the zucchinis needed to stay whole, she agreed that this probably wouldn't work. I considered the pointy, end bit of my Zyliss peeler. It is the same shape as the manakra, but I figured was probably not going to get me right down to the bottom of the zucchini. In the end, I used a metal 1/4 teaspoon measure that has quite a long arm. It did the job well enough, but the lack of handle made it all a bit slow and eventually painful, and I was quite pleased that I only had 7 zucchinis to stuff, rather than the prescribed 10. The zucchini was, surprisingly, the stand out dish. I'll return to that later... first the barbeque fire.

Yes - Fire. Complete with flames and Fear Of God.

As I needed to make a couple of dips, I decided to do the Baba Ghanouj the day before. I don't have a gas stove in my kitchen, so wanted to use the wok burner on my barbecue to blacken the eggplants so that they would have that lovely, smokey flavour. What I didn't know was that a spider had decided that the pipe connected to the burner would make a lovely, snug home in which to have lots of spidery babies. When I started the gas up and tried to light the burner, the whole thing caught fire. Given that the wok burner is positioned directly above the gas bottle itself, I panicked, and almost lost my voice screaming for my husband's assistance. What can I say? I live in the hills. Flames scare me.

The upside was that it meant I needed a new barbecue. Shopping for appliances being one of the great joys in life, we headed off to Barbeques Galore the following day, and procured a shinier, bigger and altogether sexier new barbeque. Fortuitously, the store was relocating, and we managed to score some outstanding floor stock at around half the retail price. We were thrilled; there is nothing more satisfying than an unsolicited Barry Bargain, particularly of such magnitude.

This was all too late for the eggplant, which I had prepared directly after the Great Fire (straight back on the horse) turning to the trusty camp stove to baba my ghanouj (or is it ghanouj my baba?). It was worth the threat of death. The flavour was so fresh that I was afraid it wouldn't taste as good the next day, but I needn't have worried. The smokiness had mellowed slightly - probably a good thing, as it had been almost overwhelming the day before. The hoummus was good but a bit dry, so I added extra garlic and lemon juice. This may have been because I didn't use the '9mm chickpeas' recommended by Greg Malouf. I toyed with the idea of tracking them down, but then the rational (smaller) part of my brain took over, and convinced my perfectionist self that measuring chickpeas would, quite frankly, be taking the whole gastro-adventure thing a step too far.

As I said, the zucchinis surprised me. I was a little concerned about the fact that they were to be cooked in simmering water with tomato paste. Even Maeve's 'mmms' had left me unconvinced. To digress for a moment, I have a theory that you can tell if Maeve is genuinely in awe of dish, or if she is just being polite by the pitch of her 'mmm' and the comment she follows it up with. An 'Oh my God...' means that something is really awesome, whereas a 'wow, that's really good,' not so much. This was definitely an 'Oh my God'. People who do not normally go for cooked vegetables were asking for take-aways and/ or the recipe. A good sign. I wouldn't recommend following the recipe's suggestion to make any leftover stuffing into meatballs and add them to the sauce to simmer, though. They basically fell apart as soon as I tried to remove them from the pot, and ended up resembling bolognese mixed with a little bit of rice.

The tabbouleh was a revelation. I have eaten great Lebanese before, at Abla's, in unpretentious suburban restaurants such as Dunyazad, and have had as many middle of the night souvlakis as anyone else who has lived and studied in Melbourne. Never before has tabbouleh floated my proverbial boat in such a manner. It may have been the freshly picked herbs and garden tomatoes, or perhaps it was that the cracked wheat was soaked in lemon juice rather than water and retained a bit of crunch. Whatever it was, it was incredibly zingy and moreish, and worked perfectly with the kofta, bread and dips. These we ate, as instructed, by folding the large pita, which had been spread with some dip and the tabbouleh, around the kofta like a napkin and sliding it off the metal skewer. You then tear off small pieces of the bread, pick up a little meat and salad and get to work. Thus allowing you to dispense of vast quantities of food without really noticing that you've eaten enough to feed the cast of the Biggest Loser. Be warned, pants, you will be unbuttoned.

While it's great fun to cook my way through the Food Safari Cookbook banquet-style, it provides somewhat of a dilemma. Not all cuisines include recipes for desserts, multiple side dishes, or a great enough variety of meat. Of course, I need to try to remember that there is always too much food, but nevertheless, this week I felt I needed more. One of my guests, Ann-marie, came to the rescue with some delicious baklava from Vanilla Cakes and Lounge in Oakleigh (interestingly, they have their own appreciation society on Facebook), and Guil picked up the bread from her local Lebanese bakery. Having just linked all of the recipe titles to the Food Safari website, I discover that it is not just the recipes featured in the book, or even on the episodes, that appear on the site. This makes me a little nervous, as I am sure that I will now be compelled to 'pad out' my banquets with additional dishes from the site. This week I added a Fattoush sans the bread (had run out of energy for preparing more ingredients by that stage), because I felt we needed a little more green. Totally unnecessary as it turned out, but excellent.

Although Lebanese is now off the list so far as the challenge goes, I am already craving another round of that amazing baba ghanouj. Maybe this is what's going to happen every time. Instead of each banquet making me curse strange tools and impossible to find ingredients, it will leave me feeling slightly guilty, like I'm just skimming the surface of each culture (which clearly, I am).

I get the feeling that the safari may not end with the book.

Next challenge: Spanish

Lebanese Part 1

2010-01-08T10:35:00.008+11:00

1. Tarator-Style Salmon Greg Malouf

Looks amazing, smells amazing, tastes.... not sure, but we'll get to that later. I decided to cook this one first for two reasons. One - because Maeve said it was the best thing she had ever eaten and two, because I already had the fish. Well - almost. I had a trout. Near enough.

Every year, my uncle catches an prepares a trout for Christmas Day. It may be just an excuse to go fishing during the hectic lead up to Christmas, but it is an excuse we are all prepared to let slide, given the end result. Usually, he steams or smokes it, stuffing it with lemons, dill and parsley.

In late December, when my father and I were surrounded by magazines and cookbooks, bickering about what to prepare, this was the dish we agreed upon first. I also quite liked the fact that it looked a bit fiddly, mainly because it annoys my mother, who likes to hover around during the afore-mentioned recipe search, screeching, "just do something easy!" This is most likely motivated by the fact that she is often one of those left to deal with the carnage that is the kitchen after a couple of days of food preparation. Let's just say that our mise en place is not so much "en place" as "all over the place." Anyway, the Tarator-style Salmon (trout) was an easy decision; the central focus of what became a Middle Eastern themed Christmas banquet.

We didn't have enough room to prepare the meat and the fish at home, so the plan was that my Uncle would ring for the cooking instructions on Christmas morning. This is where we began to seriously deviate from the recipe. Greg/ Maeve instruct us to bake a 4 kg salmon for 20 minutes on either side in a 150 degree oven. The fish should be seasoned with salt and pepper, drizzled with olive oil and wrapped in baking paper before being placed in the oven. This, I related to my father, who, in turn passed the instructions on to my Uncle. The following conversation ensued.

Uncle: What, with noting in it? Not even wine?
Father: "He wants to know if he can put wine in it.
Me: No. No wine. We need to follow the recipe. Greg knows best.
Father: She says nothing else on it.
Uncle: It won't be cooked evenly. I should cut it half.
Father: He says he should cut it in half so that it will cook.
Me: No! Turn it over half way through, like to recipe says. Anyway, we have a 2.5 kg trout, not a 4kg salmon. I'm sure it will be cooked. You might even need to reduce the cooking time.
Father: She says don't cut it.
Uncle: Well it's too big to fit in the oven, so I'll need to cut off the head.
Father: He wants to cut off the head.
Me: No! #$%@! It needs to be a whole fish!
Father: Look - you talk to him yourself!

Uncle agreed to follow my instructions (his exact words were: your wish is my command) but went ahead and threw in some wine, garlic and chilli anyway. The fish did remain whole, though.

A couple of hours later, well into the prep, my Uncle's partner arrived, bearing fish. "Ian's not coming," she proclaimed. My first thought was that I'd pissed him off with my pedantic adherence to the recipe, but according to Jenny, he had 'food poisoning'.

Allow my to digress for a moment in order to briefly discuss my thoughts on food poisoning. From my understanding, food poisoning occurs when some bug or another gets into your food. Everyone who eats the food, gets sick at a around about the same time, give or take a few hours. Reactions to bacteria in food can take between 6 and 72 hours to take effect. Apparently, nine times out of ten, when someone thinks they have food poisoning, what they actually have is viral or bacterial gastro. They blame their last meal because chucking it up is so unpleasant. Gastro scares me. There is nothing worse than feeling like death, as the same time everyone else in your household feels like death. Not only that, you can't eat anything, which is just evil. The only positive side-effect is the weight loss. The last time we all had gastro was last Easter, on holidays with two other families. Six adults and four children. We all went down like flies, one after the other.

When quizzed, Jenny confessed that others in the household had been sick in the previous week. "Did Ian do the fish?" I asked, trying to disguise my alarm.

"Yes, but I made him wash his hands!"

I decided at that moment that I was quite happy to prepare the fish, but that I would not be eating it. So, I made the dressing, the salad, roasted the walnuts and even scattered a few pomegranate seeds over the top. It looked gorgeous. Quite a lot like the picture, except the tahini dressing slid off a bit, so it probably needed a bit more yoghurt. The fish was also a little bent (as in 'not straight'), which gave it the appearance of trying to leap off the platter, as it was too big to fit in the oven.

Apparently it was delicious. And nobody got sick.

It's been a long time coming....

2009-12-22T14:59:00.004+11:00

Where have I been for the last (almost) two years?

In short, I've been working.

All the time.

And I'm over it.

Having said all of that (rather dramatically), I should explain that I have been inspired by a recent re-reading of Julie and Julia (read the book a couple of years ago... still haven't sen the film, though) and an early Christmas gift. In an ideal world, I'd been eating my way around the globe in a tatslotto-fueled frenzy, but obviously my ambitions need to be revised to reflect a) the responsibilities of adulthood (sigh) and b) my teacher's salary.

So, instead I've decided to cook my way around the world's cuisine. The plan is to make my way (that is, all the way) through Maeve's O'Meara's Food Safari cookbook. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Food Safari is an SBS TV show in which the colourful Maeve travels around Australia in search of pockets of international cuisine. It is foodie-voyeur heaven.

And now they have a book (just in time for Christmas). Food Safari is subtitled: "glorious adventures through worlds of cuisine". It is 270 pages of recipes, organised alphabetically by location. Each section is prefaced with some introductory info (thanks, Maeve) and a glossary of 'flavours', seemingly provided to assist in sourcing essential ingredients. In addition, each dish has an explanation of its own, including how the dish should be eaten, what you should be cooking it in and what it should be served along side of.

I cannot pretend to be undaunted by instructions such as, "you will need four dolsot bowls, available from Korean grocery stores" (Dolsot Bibimbap, Korea) and "this national dish is cooked very slowly, traditionally overnight in a copper pot..." (Ful Medames, Egypt). I will no doubt be setting forth in search of ingredients and equipment with a copy of The Goods under my arm.

It will begin with Lebanon, quite madly, on Christmas Day. The first dish will be the Tarator-Style Baked Salmon, by Greg Malouf (mmm... Momo).

I'll keep you posted (promise).

Review: Oakdene Winery and Restaurant

2008-02-12T15:00:00.000+11:00

There is something I find particularly enticing about winery restaurants. We held our wedding at local Yarra Valley gem, Roundstone and find it difficult to book holidays or weekends away in regions that don’t offer great food and wine (if you weren’t impressed before that I have given up alcohol for an entire month, you should be now). There is nothing more intoxicating (pardon the pun) than meeting a passionate vintner committed to sourcing local produce that not only compliments, but enhances the experience of drinking their wines. It is on this front that Oakdene excels. Plugs for local providers of (for example) rabbit, mussels, berries and Angus beef is a little reminiscent of the of Alla Wolf Tasker’s produce outline at The Lake House.

There was a clear consensus (well, there were only two of us, but we were pretty firm about it) that the highlight of the meal was the perfectly seared King scallops, wrapped in Istra pancetta. They were served with an absolutely delicious black truffle butter (let’s just say that had I been at home, I would have licked the plate), and local samphire. My dining partner ordered the lightly battered Port Phillip Bay calamari with lemon, chilli and parsley, which was excellent, but just not in the same league.

At first I was a little disappointed (but on reflection, unsurprised) that the only wines available by the glass were the vineyard’s own, but I recovered as soon as I tasted the lovely 2006 Chardonnay. My only concern was that the wine was a little too chilled for the reported flavours of ‘melon, peach and fig’ flavours to really come out, and I was a little too greedy to give it time to warm up a bit.

After the high calibre entrées, I very eagerly awaited the main course. I am not sure whether it was the fact that my entrée was so outstanding, but I was a little disappointed with my choice. The Siketa pork belly (top) had a delicious flavour but was a bit dry, and its teaming with the polenta crusted, soft shell crab and green papaya salad a little confusing. It was as if (as Gordon Ramsay might say) there was just too much going on the plate (actually, Gordon would probably say that there was, "Too much f***ing sh*te on the f***ing plate", but I am neither that rude, nor that incensed). My partner’s choice was better; the eye fillet was a perfectly cooked, juicy medium rare, and the accompanying mash with red wine sauce (sorry, ‘Shiraz jus’) and wood mushrooms was delicious. I thoroughly enjoyed their 2006 Pinot, and would have ordered another glass, but needed to leave room in my alcohol stomach for an after-dinner Tokay.

Having witnessed several impressive dishes emerge from the kitchen, I was absolutely determined to fit in dessert (despite having eyes considerably bigger than my belly). So, rather ambitiously, we ordered the enormous tasting plate, of which the simple, Wallington strawberries were the absolute star. The strawberry and passionfruit pannacotta was lovely, as was the chocolate fondant, but we just could not polish it all off. Sigh. It pains me to watch a good coffee sorbet melt into oblivion, but it was either that, or recreate a rather unpleasant Monty Python dining scene.

The timing of the service, along with its relaxed and friendly quality, was excellent; the floor staff effectively provided the diners with a floor-show in their efforts to move a large gas heater closer to a chilly guest (ces moi??). We were also rather impressed by the eco-friendly outdoor dining area (fake grass and fairy lights) and the busy, eclectic décor inside. Very welcoming. The prices (between $20 and $30 entrées and up to $42 for a main course) probably ensure that this is a Big Night Out destination for locals, but the restaurant was bustling the night we visited, so maybe this isn’t an issue. Or perhaps its just that Oakdene, along with some fantastic food and wine, offers that special kind of service and atmosphere that makes you want to become a regular customer.

Oakdene Vinyards
Bellarine Peninsula
255 Grubb Street
Wallington (near Ocean Grove)
Restaurant phone: 03 5255 1255

Open for lunch and dinner, Wednesday - Sunday

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Grow Your Own Roundup

2008-02-07T11:11:00.000+11:00

Just a short one to let you all know that the Grow Your Own #6 Roundup has been posted by Andrea. It's very exciting to see home cooks from all over the world sharing their 'food miles' free recipes (buzz words keep my mind off the drink).

PS. Did anyone catch Food Safari last night? Don't you just want to give Charmaine Solomon a cuddle? If you think I'm mental, read this cute interview by George Negus for the ABC in 2003 (try to overlook the obligatory 'George looking pensive' image on the page header).

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Febfast (aka month of torture) has begun

2008-02-03T15:36:00.000+11:00

I am sincerely beginning to question why I decided to embark on this whole non-drinking journey. I am repeating 'Doin' it for the kids' over and over in my head like a crazed, Robbie Williams inspired mantra. For some reason, the image of Corey Delaney keeps popping into my mind; I cling to the hope that the recipients of the drug and alcohol programs I am raising money for are not nearly so aggravatingly smug. Not very charitable, I know. "You're a nice teenager, so you can have my money, whereas you are a git and clearly don't deserve any help".

I put my attitude down to the fact that Febfast has begun and I am feeling its effects; the thought of it hovers around like a nasty puritan waiting to catch me in a sinful act. I am not planning to outline my teetotal experience in great detail here, but if you're interested in a daily update (or would like to donate money for this worthy cause) visit my irritatingly tweely named "Hero Page".

Wish me luck, folks.

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Grow your Own: Nana's Zucchini Slice

2008-01-20T14:40:00.000+11:00

Something new: I have decided to enter a dish into Grow Your Own, run by Andrea of Andrea's Recipes. I stumbled (happily) upon on this event on the Is my Blog Burning site. For those of you unfamiliar with blogging events (as I was, until rather recently), foodie bloggers from all over the globe publish recipes and then submit or link them to a host site, whose author provides a round up of all entries after the event has closed. Cool, huh? I may never have to buy a cookbook again (although to be honest, that is a rather unlikely consequence of this discovery).

As my regular readers know, we are currently experiencing what can only be described as a zucchini glut, and I have been working feverishly to concoct delicious recipes to reduce the abundant supply. This one is actually an old family favourite; my Nan passed it on to me several years ago, and it continues to grace our table with considerable regularity. I've fiddled with the original a bit, I hope to its benefit.

Ingredients:
400g grated zucchini (excess juice squeezed out) *
1 cup of grated cheddar
4 eggs
1 cup SR flour
just under 1/2 cup olive oil
100g (couple of rashers) of good, smokey bacon, diced
1 onion, diced
seasonal fresh or dried herbs - couple of teaspoons, or to taste
Sea salt and freshly ground pepper

To serve:
Tomato Passata (with sautéed garlic and mushrooms - mmm)
shaved parmesan

Directions:
Preheat oven to 190˚c. Grease a large ovenproof dish with olive oil.

Fry off the onion and the bacon until the onion is soft and the bacon a little crispy. Stir through herbs. I like to use dried oregano, but fresh basil works very well. Allow to cool.

Whisk eggs in a large bowl, add flour and oil and stir vigorously (the mix should resemble a thick cake batter). Fold through cheese, onion mixture, grated zucchini and season to taste.

Pour into the dish and place in the oven for approximately 45 minutes, or until the top is golden and cake is cooked through. I prefer to use a high sided casserole or cake tin, but If you are using a shallow dish, reduce the cooking time.

Allow to cool slightly before serving with tomato passata and shaved parmesan.

* This is also delicious with a little bit of grated pumpkin (say, half a cup), which can be cooked off slightly with the onion and bacon.

Serves 4.

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A Month without Alcohol

2008-01-15T14:42:00.000+11:00

So I have decided to bite the bullet and try to go for one month (February, being the shortest, of course) without consuming any alcohol. This will be no easy task. I'm doing it for a couple of different reasons; the most important one is that I feel like I should probably drink less, as, incidentally, do many of my friends.
Actually, to clarify that, they don't think I should drink less (although they might after the antics of Kris Kringle Day; now there's an event best forgotten by alcohol-induced amnesia), they think that they themselves should also drink less.

I know it's a killjoy kind of attitude, but I keep having these niggling worries, like the fact that liver damage, not to mention the dreaded alcoholism, can creep up on you, and that each glass of wine kills thousands of my finite number of brain cells... just minor concerns, really.

Being a person of extremely limited willpower, I decided that it would be really hard to commit to this decision unless I added another element. So I've signed up to Febfast, a fund raising campaign tackling teenage alcohol and drug addiction. Participants pay a registration fee (there's my commitment) and seek sponsors to encourage their abstinence efforts. I figure the more sponsors I attract, the less likely I am to succumb to the power of a nice bottle of red. Or white. Or beer. Etc.

If you would like to support my efforts (or to sign up for Febfast yourself) click this link.

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Beef Stroganoff

2008-01-05T15:27:00.000+11:00

Okay, so I know that it’s not really Beef Stroganoff weather (or ‘Beef Strongenough’, so named by one reader of the Jamie Oliver forum) right now, but just before Christmas, Melbourne threw down one of those characteristic wet and cold patches that make you want to yank the Le Creuset out of hibernation and crank up the electric blanky.

It was during this wild week that I happened to catch an autumn episode of Jamie at Home, and found myself salivating as he prepared a fetchingly dark and succulent Beef Strog. Big chunks of meat, garlic, onions, mushrooms and the seemingly out of place pickled gherkins to go with the usual sour cream and parsley sauce. I wasn’t sure about the gherkins, but I was prepared to give it a crack, especially given that years ago, Jamie put me on to anchovies in stew, and I’ve never looked back. I may well complain about him a lot, but it’s definitely thinly disguised jealousy, because I will ogle his food and his garden at any opportunity. It’s practically stalking. Lucky he lives in the UK.

So, despite Channel Ten’s advertisements claiming that Jamie at Home recipes were available on their website, there were none to be found. As a matter of fact, the blurb on the program page still says ‘not currently showing – new episodes coming soon’. Might I tactfully suggest that the PR Ho-Ho-Hoes at Network Serious get their shite together? Anyhoo, I googled the recipe, found afore-mentioned Jamie forum, which contained recipe queries from several similarly inspired Australian viewers. I also happened upon this old thread on Kitchen Wench’s blog. If you don’t have time for a look, let’s just say that there is a lot of anti-gherkin sentiment out there. In fact, the recipe itself did not receive rave reviews. In the end I decided to go with a combination of Rich Stein’s recipe (thanks Wench-reader-Mellie) and the Bill Granger version from the August '04 Delicious. (does anyone else find that full stop annoying?) that I have been using faithfully for the last couple of years.

As you can see, it’s still not the most photogenic of dishes, however I do think the tomato paste adds a bit of richness to the colour (and flavour). This one we ate with steamed rice (because that is what Mini Chef requested), but it is lovely with fresh buttered noodles.

Ingredients:
6oog beef fillet or rump steak, trimmed and cut into thick strips
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoons of Hungarian paprika
1 large red onion, thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
400g mushrooms - I prefer swiss browns, but whatever takes your fancy
2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme leaves
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/3 cup chopped parsley
1/2 cup creme fraiche or sour cream
fresh pepper and sea salt

fresh lemon and hot buttered noodles, to serve

Directions:
Melt butter in a large heavy-based frying pan and cook onion and paprika until onion is soft and sweet. Add garlic, thyme and mushrooms and fry gently for a few minutes. Remove to plate.

Heat olive oil in the same pan and add the meat in batches, seasoning with pepper and sea salt as you go. Brown the meat quickly on all sides, remove to a plate and add the next batch until all of it is done.

Turn down the heat, return the meat to the pan and add the tomato paste and mustard, cooking for about a minute. Add the mushroom mixture, stir, then add the sour cream and parsley. Stir through and simmer for no more than a minute, then remove from the heat. Season if necessary.

Serve with the hot buttered noodles, a squeeze of lemon juice and a blob of sour cream.

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December Vegetables and Salutations

2007-12-31T14:58:00.000+11:00

I am so in love with our veggie garden right now (apologies to David Lebovitz readers, otherwise known as those who profess to hating the word veggies. I shall continue to use the word unashamedly). We have harvested multiple batches of lovely zucchinis, which we have grilled on the barbecue, grated into zucchini slice (or 'cake', as Mini Chef wishes it to be known), shaved on a mandolin and drizzled with vinaigrette for a carpaccio, and stuffed with goat's cheese and topped with pepper and fresh mint, wrapped in foil and thrown onto the Webber. I can't wait until the little experimental eggplanty ones are ready to simmer with our green chillies (not yet taken by possums - fingers crossed it stays that way) in a curry.

We've also harvested plenty of cherry tomatoes, however I think our grape tomato plant is one of those high yield, low taste varieties. To overcome the issue, we roasted them with garlic and fresh thyme, then added them to breakfast pizza and pasta dishes (recipes to come at some stage in the not too distant future).

The Rosemary looks extraordinarily healthy... since planting it out last year it has just gone wild, maybe because we eat so much of it that it's constantly being pruned.It has served us well with many stews and roast lamb dishes. My personal favourite involved an entire bottle of rosé - minus the glass I had to have during the preparation, of course. I'd quite like to use this particular variety of rosemary as an edible border in the front garden, as it's bushy enough that it will probably make for quite a good sound barrier (unfortunately we are located down wind of an RSL with an all night liquor licence). It's so hardy that even if you just chop off a bit and plop it in the dirt, it manages to take root.

What I'm most excited about though, is the latest trial plant, the Lebanese cucumbers. Clever Husband made a little teepee for the three plants to climb up, and they seem very pleased with the arrangement. One of the plants has a cucumber that's ripe for the picking, and I plan to do just that this evening. I was thinking I might make a little salsa with the cucumber, vine-ripened tomatoes, red onion, garlic (also from the garden) yellow capsicum and maybe some of the green chillies if I can find any that look big enough to eat.

I've always appreciated the thrill of skimming through a cookbook or food magazine to plan the perfect meal, but the whole experience becomes so much more exhilarating when the ingredients are coming from your own garden. Makes you feel sort of creative and a bit smug... and for some reason, the voice in my head has a British accent when I write (or think) about the veggie garden. I must be channelling Monty Don, or Alan Titchmarsh, or someone. Admittedly, Clever Husband does most of the growing... I weed, prune and pick and, well, cook.

Wishing all the growers, cookers and eaters out there a delicious New Year's celebration meal... let's hope that 2008 is filled with more tasty treats than our food-obsessed minds can conjure.

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Cassoulet Revisited

2007-12-26T16:34:00.000+11:00

For those of you who were interested in my earlier, Cassoulet inspired post ...

I was doing a bit of browsing in my (clearly copious) spare time, I came across this amazing blog entry (with even more amazing pictures) about the famed dish. Have a look at David Lebovitz's gorgeous food blog. Imagine how cool it would be to be this into food AND live in France. Mmmm.

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Letter from Japan – Part 3

2007-12-18T09:56:00.000+11:00

The final instalment. Miraculously, I was not put off sushi after this experience. In fact, a few days after returning home I found myself craving the salty goodness of fresh, raw fish. There’s something pure about it, something that is lost as soon as you cook it. Eating raw food is a grounding experience, every mouthful reminding us of where it came from. Perhaps it also reminds us that it simply a matter of luck that we ended up higher up in the food chain, and should be thankful that we are the ones doing the eating.

September 24, 2004

Only four days left here in Ise before heading back to Nagoya on Wednesday for the flight home. Can't believe how much the trip has flown. . . am looking forward to coming home and having a rest before going back to school though :-)

For those who have made enquiries, I still haven't tried out the squirt-up-ya-clack (clearly I'm referring to the toilet), but have it on good authority that it is a rather painful experience. Was taken out for dinner and to a pub on Wednesday night by the two Assistant Language Teachers, Jess (Australian) and Caesar (English). Becky, a Canadian ALT from another school told an hilarious story about how she decided to give it a go, but found it so uncomfortable that she actually cried out involuntarily in pain. She said it was a very long 10 seconds, especially considering that Japanese walls are paper thin, and she was convinced that her host family would think she was some kind of pervert.

The ALTs seem to have a lot of fun over here. They are paid more than first year teachers in Australia (not difficult) but they don't need a teaching qualification. They get set up in an apartment, are given a bike, and basically just have to run a lesson or two a day, do a bit of conversation practice and mark a few essays. Not a bad life. Of course, they seem to spend more time partying with each other than working. Caesar (very funny guy) tells me that he plans to stay for three years, because he has, quote, 'absolutely no prospects at home'. Three years is the maximum you can stay, but most can only handle it for one or two years. The rigidity of the culture apparently gets to you after a while, especially because teachers are supposed to set an example, so have to be really careful about following the 'rules' (see previous e-mail for more details). Jess has been told off by her supervisor a couple of times (he is an uber-anal freak who has no friends and is clearly in need of a shag).

I am still a bit battered. I have a huge bruise on my arm (to match all of the other bruises caused by the poisonous mosquitoes), which I acquired in Nara, whilst climbing through a Buddha's nostril. There was a breathtakingly gorgeous temple with a GIANT Buddha statue, and near the statue was a wooden pole with a hole in it, claiming, 'Hole same size as Buddha nostril. Please climb'.

Of course, we had to do it. I was actually very scared at first. It was a small opening, about 1 metre long and you had to kind of go through with your arms above your head. It took me a few goes to work up the courage. After watching a fat American go through first, I was able to do it. I must have got the bruise as I scrambled out the other side (after staying put for about five minutes for many photos and videoing. These kids always take the opportunity to catch embarrassing moments on camera).

Yesterday was a public holiday, but we all had to come into school for a PR exercise which involved our students making sushi with the students from one of the local junior high schools. The students worked in groups of five to make the 'sushi' (a loose term), which was then judged by a group of highly regarded food connoisseurs (myself included). My concerns began when I was told that the sushi would be judged on taste, looks and 'creativity'. Personally, I prefer my sushi to be less creative, more palatable. A number of the pieces (I was supposed to eat 8 in total - a hard task even when they taste good) were okay, but a couple of kids had creatively combined ingredients such as 'wieners' (frankfurt-esque things which are made out of fish paste with a tempting, spam-like texture) and chocolate sauce. I think the Principal got that one. I managed to avoid the totally disgusting ones. Justin however, who had a rather large night the night before (he was taken out by some of the male teachers to dinner and a bar) was having a lot of difficulty keeping some of them down, and spent a suspicious amount of time in the toilet. Poor 'Big J' (as the students now call him; my nickname alternates between 'Calvin' and 'Skanky Ho'...don't ask) will never be able to look at sushi the same way again.

Must dash - class now. See you all soon xx

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4th Annual Menu for Hope

2007-12-12T14:49:00.000+11:00

If you love food and also love the idea of helping others, have a look at the Menu for Hope Fundraiser. It's a worldwide event, in which food bloggers work together to raise money for the UN world food program. The Asia-Pacific Organiser's blog Grab your Fork) provides a list of the amazing prizes to be won, including dinners at fabulous Melbourne restaurants Attica and Interlude, magazine subscriptions, weekends away and other foodie prizes. Each entry costs $10 US, which buys you a virtual raffle ticket for the prize that takes your fancy. To enter (or for more info), follow this link:

Foodie Blogroll

2007-12-12T14:29:00.000+11:00

Friends with a healthy appetite for reading food stories, recipes and reviews may like to check out the Foodie Blogroll, now to be found in the bottom right hand corner of this blog. Some great links to foodie blogs all over the world. Happy procrastinating!

Letters from Japan – Part 2

2007-12-12T13:49:00.000+11:00

Reading this second letter makes me realise that whenever you are travelling, you discover, and describe, your experiences as though you are the first person ever to observe a new culture. On one hand, it comes across as extremely naive, but on the other, it means that even as adults we are capable of child-like wonder as we encounter new things. An exhilarating experience to be cherished.

September 21, 2004

I don't really feel that I did the idiosyncrasies of Japanese culture justice the last time I wrote - I was too wrapped up in talking about where I have been and the weather.

I had the ultimate stereotypical experience the other day in observing the school's Sumo club train. A dusty little tin shed, 10 sweaty, heavy-set Japanese teenagers, one coach and 11 loin cloths. Hmm. The coach very generously asked our male students if they would like to join in, but they all declined, no doubt concerned about how their little chicken legs would look sticking out of the turban-like cloths. My fellow chaperon did decide to have a try, some of which I captured on video, but I must admit, I was not to keen to stick around. Nothing you want to see less than a colleague in a nappy.

I have also been impressed by the myriad rules governing the wearing of shoes in and around Japanese buildings. You take you shoes off at the entrance to the school, and get around in some very attractive, burgundy vinyl slippers. If you want to go into building two, you change your slippers at the door. Slippers off completely for the gym. Pink plastic slippers for the food room and red slippers for the computer room. Slip out of your everyday slippers when you go into the toilet, and put on the comfy green slippers, which are lined up neatly, awaiting your arrival. Oh - and don't forget the brown slippers for the third floor.

Needless to say, it is sometimes hard to keep track.

Speaking of the Gym (was I??). . . saw the funniest PE class ever the other day. Our students were most horrified as I filmed them marching on the spot, walking in circles and performing standing exercise that were straight out of the 1950s. All in time to brass band marching music. I was laughing so hard that I had tears streaming down my face, but of course I couldn't use a tissue because it is very rude to do such things in public. It's okay to fall asleep in a gym full of people while listening to some naff speech (as long as you don't fall over or snore), but don't ever blow your nose in public. Nor is it a good idea to do anything whilst walking. There are little seats located next to vending machines where you may sit and have your drink/ snack/ smoke, but make sure you don't move around - poor form. The only case in which this does not apply is when eating an ice-cream. These, for some reason, are portable fare.

Enough of the funny ha-ha at the expense of Japanese customs. On Thursday night we were taken out to dinner with the staff of our host school for a welcome party. Justin and some of the men were getting stuck into the Sake, playing some hideously dangerous drinking game where you pass the little shot cup to the next person you want to challenge. The Sumo coach was so pissed by 9 o'clock that he fell asleep at the table. Justin can't remember anything from about the second challenge. Luckily, the Vice Principal, Kenji (JFK for short) was getting stuck in too, so no rules of etiquette were broken. The place where we ate was a Yakitori bar, which is like Tapas but Japanese food. Piles of delicious morsels like little chicken and fish skewers, edamame peas, soups, silken tofu, sashimi. . . yum. I even tried - wait for it - raw
chicken! As first I was hesitant, but then I thought, “I can't not taste this because it is way too good a story.” It was cut into quite small pieces, which you dipped in a soy sauce and ginger mix. It actually tasted okay, a bit like raw fish, but in my head I was hearing, "I'm eating raw chicken, I'm eating raw chicken, I'm eating raw chicken, swallow, swallow, swallow," which of course made it very difficult to swallow. I only ate one piece.

Yesterday we went to Nagashima Spa Land, which is a massive Disneyland type amusement park with the biggest roller coaster I have ever seen. It was so big, that the highest parts were in the clouds. (!!!!) Went on heaps of rides with the kids, despite considerable trepidation. Have an hilarious photo of me taken by the camera at the top of one of the big drops on the roller coaster - I look like I am about to scream out a tonsil. Did not feel queasy until right at the end of the day, after going a freaky ride called the 'frisbee'. You can imagine what that looks like (except whatever you are picturing, think 10 times as big and upside down). Hence was not impressed by the chundering lady in the toilet next to me before the bus ride home. Yum.

Must go - the bell has gone. Will write again soon. Hope you are all happy (yay for school holidays!)

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Letter from Japan - Part One

2007-12-01T15:38:00.000+11:00

I love Japan. Although I was only there for three weeks, I was in absolute awe of the temples, the landscape, the people and of course, the food. I can’t wait to go back, but I’m not sure that I’m brave enough to travel overseas while Mini Chef is still in the nappies and tantrums period (so, maybe after he turns 16). Anyway, in the spirit of reminiscence (and a strong desire to win Tattslotto), I thought I’d share some of my observations from that visit with you. Just to clarify, the ‘kiddies’ I refer to are a group of year 10 students I was chaperoning, along with a Japanese-speaking colleague. Reading back, it sounds rather like we abandoned them regularly, but I can assure you that they all got home safely, after only one minor incident with customs and the Federal Police (a story for another day).

September 16, 2004

Have done so much travelling this week I don’t even know where to begin. Perhaps I should start with a whinge, and get it over and done with.

Japan is very hot. Stickily, brain-fryingly hot. We have all taken to carrying fans around with us in an attempt to overcome the sweltering heat (and just in case anyone didn’t realise we were tourists). I also have a heat rash and have discovered that I am allergic to Japanese mosquitoes, whose painful bites cause me to break out in swollen hives which eventually turn into bruises the size of my hand.

Now that’s out of the way...

The fun really started on the plane on the way to Sydney. My learned colleague and I decided to have (one last) drink with dinner, but the flight attendant obviously believed that I was one of the students and asked my age. Much to the amusement of the actual students who were sitting around us. This trend has continued; teachers get in for free at historical sights over here, and there have been a few confused looking employees trying to decide which one of the females looked the oldest. Honestly, I don't really look that young, do I?

We spent the first day wandering around Tokyo in a somewhat bewildered state, and from there moved on to Miajima, a little island that was hit by a massive Typhoon just a week before we arrived. Some of you may have seen it (or seen pictures of it); it’s the shrine that sits right out over the water with a huge golden gate a little further out into the bay. An amazing sight - took a whole roll of film there. The island is also home to hundreds of wild deer (mmm - venison), who, a little like the emus at Healesville Sanctuary, try to snatch things out of your hands.

We also visited Hiroshima and the Atomic Bomb monument and museum. This place has the same kind of effect on visitors as a concentration camp in Europe. Horrific images and artefacts - I won’t go into too may details but let’s just say that some of the kids thought they may have taken it a step too far with the life-size models of the melting people running through the flames.

We then went on to a little town on the west coast of Japan called Hagi. It’s surrounded by mountains, and is well known for it's beautiful pottery and pretty little streets. We hired bikes and rode around all day, and Justin and I happened upon this funky little bar right on the beach with a delightful view. Obviously we decided that the kids needed a bit of free time, so we let them loose one the locals for an hour (this is an understatement - they have taken to saying Konichiwa to everyone who walks past, and often follow that up with an invitation to go swimming. Not sure why. Think that’s all they can say in Japanese).

Later that night we went out to a Karaoke box - quite a bizarre little place. It is literally a boxy room with a table and a huge TV screen and a microphone. Much like that scene in 'Lost in Translation', you program the songs you want into the TV and sing along as it blasts out through the speakers, while hilarious images are displayed on the screen (think early George Michael or Rick Astley video clips). As you can imagine, I was totally in my element. We played a game to get everyone to join in, where if they sing they get to choose a song for the next person. Fortuitously, ‘You’re the one that I want’ from Grease was chosen for me by some of the girls, which I performed in a very entertaining manner (don’t worry, there’s video evidence). The girls also chose a Justin Timberlake song for Justin - heh heh.

Kyoto was next on the itinerary. Having spent just two days there, I have decided that that’s where Adrian and I are going for our next holiday (okay, honey?). There are over 2000 temples, little cobble-stoned streets, markets, leafy parks, streams, bars with views of the river... it was just amazing. And the FOOD! (Can you believe that I'm this far into the e-mail and only now mentioning food??) Yesterday, Justin and I got rid of the kiddies (here's a map, go shopping, be back by 7) and went to a little restaurant near the Ginkoku-ji temple and had Sashimi and Kirin with a view over the whole city. The fish was incredible - mackerel, swordfish and salmon. Who would have thought that raw flesh could taste so good?

And while we’re on the food topic, had the best tempura I have ever tasted in Tokyo at this little lunch bar thingy. Prawns, squid, okra, pumpkin, served with rice and miso (are your mouths watering??)… Mmm.

Have had a couple of funny experiences so far - not digging the Japanese style toilets, for one. As I have mentioned to the girls, it's just weird being that close to the business. Now the host family I'm staying with have a very snazzy electronic toilet that plays music (!!!), can give you a bit of a watering (bidet) and flushes itself. There's a seat heater too, but I don't really need to use that at the moment.

The girls have been really good with the showing together in communal bathrooms thing, but the boys have been totally wussy about it, and have been going in one by one. Speaking of the boys, two of them arrived back at the hostel in Kyoto the other night (punctually, after finding their way back with the map we gave them) wearing matching pumpkin outfits. They had little orange berets with a little green stem on top and these orange suits made out of felt, with arm and leg holes and a Halloween pumpkin face. Most hilarious. Apparently they had been walking around Kyoto like this for an hour or so, saying ‘Konichiwa’ and asking people for high fives. Of course, we had to try them on - I believe there is photographic evidence of that too.

So now we’re at our sister school in the South East part of Honshu. My host family here in Ise is very nice (three kids - 18, 17 and 15) and Taka's wife is an excellent cook. She kind of runs around them all the time, serving, cooking, cleaning, etc. She was most impressed when I explained to her that my husband did all the washing and cleaning; Adrian - I think she wants you to come over and teach Taka a thing or two (he looked amused but also slightly nervous when this was suggested).

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Mini Chef gets a stove and some utensils

2007-12-01T15:32:00.000+11:00

Clearly a present I would have cherished as a child. Probably second only to the Hansa Supermarket I so coveted.

Crumbed Zucchini Flowers

2007-11-22T14:37:00.001+11:00

Many great things can be done with a nice zucchini (ignoring the obvious puns). My Nan's zucchini slice, for example. Or you could try it thinly sliced, marinated in fresh chilli, olive oil, parsley, coriander and lemon juice, then char grilled for a few minutes on the barbie. Despite their aesthetic appeal (see delightful example of this year's early crop, above), I was always somewhat anxious about recipes involving zucchini flowers, because they seemed such delicate little things, whereas I am more of a robust dishes kind of gal. Last summer however, we had a bumper crop of zucchinis, courtesy of several plants that all seemed to peak around the same time. I could not bring myself to sit idly by and watch those glorious flowers wither and fall to the ground. Luckily for me, that wonderful Karen Martini, whose praises I have regularly sung, had come up with a solution for even the most heavy handed cook. No stuffing involved. And there's crab. Nothing can ever be bad when there's crab. Here is a modified (bit less fiddly) version.

Crumbed Zucchini Flowers with Crab Mayonnaise
Where the Heart Is, page 64

Ingredients:
8 zucchini flowers with zucchini attached (style removed)
2 cups soft breadcrumbs
salt flakes and pepper
1 handful finely chopped parsley
2 lemons, finely zested
1/2 cup plain flour
2 eggs, beaten with 1 tablespoon of water

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 spring onion, finely chopped
i clove finely chopped garlic
200g fresh crab meat
3/4 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup pouring cream, whipped
2 tablespoons plain yoghurt
2 teaspoons lemon juice

Canola oil for frying
chopped chives and dill
lemon wedges to serve

Directions:
Mix breadcrumbs, seasoning, zest and parsley in a shallow bowl. Dust Zucchinis in flour, then dip in egg, then roll gently in the breadcrumb mixture to coat. Set aside.

Place olive oil, spring onion and garlic in a saucepan over a low heat until onion is just cooked. Remove from heat and set aside to cool. Place yoghurt, cream, mayo and lemon juice in a bowl, stir and add onion mixture and crab meat. Season to taste. Refrigerate until required.

Heat Canola oil in a large saucepan until hot (175C). Deep fry zucchinis for 3 to 4 minutes then drain on kitchen paper.

Serve scattered with herbs, with the crab mayo and lemon wedges. Mmmm.

Serves 4 as a small entrée.

Note: You will have heaps (at least half) of the crab mayonnaise left over with this recipe, but it can be used the next day as a delicious accompaniment to grilled veggies or fish. Either that, or fry more zucchinis; two each is never enough anyway!

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Greek Banquet

2007-08-11T12:59:00.000+10:00

A couple of weeks ago, Maeve O'Meara inspired me to prepare a Greek banquet. I love Maeve, but I do question her dress-sense. To use a food related euphemism (or, as my Nan might say), "Mutton dressed up as lamb". I think she needs to have a convo with Trinny and Susanna. Anyhoo, I was watching the Food Safari DVD last night, and oh my, did I salivate. Actually, I always salivate whilst watching Food Safari (and not because of Maeve's tropical-fruit-coloured apparel). The battered figs served with a raspberry and rosewater sauce (link takes you to the recipe)... brings new meaning to the term 'gastroporn'.

Back to the food. We began with a Meze of marinated octopus, stuffed green olives, home made tzatziki, and some amazing marinated anchovies courtesy of Ample, a lovely little deli/ cafe in Belgrave (they were my favourite). Once again, I failed to take a photograph before all the food had been ingested, so imagination will have to suffice. We followed that up with Stephanie Alexander's version of Spanakopita, taken from the first edition of her 'Cook's Companion' (aka: bible). It is a deliciously creamy recipe; whenever I am making it, I always think there isn't enough cheese, but it works. The recipe calls for spinach, but I've also done this with silverbeet, and it works just as well. The span worked a treat with George Columbaris' nouveau (sorry, but that's the only word that adequately describes his style) Greek salad, which is made up of all the usual suspects (olives, fetta, tomato, cucumber, red onion) with the deliciously clever addition of rustic, oven baked croutons (I used ciabatta). Fantastic with a red wine vinaigrette. Another Food Safari gem.

In the interests of spreading the word of the food-God, I'm sure that Stephanie would be happy for me to share her lovely recipe.

Spanakopita

Ingredients:
1 onion, finely chopped
1 tbspn olive oil
2 spring onions, very finely chopped
1 large bunch spinach, stemmed, washed, dried and chopped
2 tbspns freshly chopped mint
2 tbspns freshly chopped parsley
freshly grated nutmeg
2 eggs
125g fetta cheese
125g fresh ricotta
60g freshly grated kasseri, pecorino or romano cheese
freshly ground black pepper
120 unsalted butter, melted
10 sheets filo pastry

Directions:
Preheat oven to 180. Sauté onion in oil until softened. Add spring onion, spinach, herbs and nutmeg and cook, stirring, until spinach is soft and there is no liquid in the pan. Tip into a colander resting over a plate to cool. Beat eggs in a large bowl, then add cheeses and cooled spinach mixture. Adjust seasoning with pepper.

Select a rectangular metal baking dish (Steph says, 28cm x 18cm x 8cm, but I'm not such a pedant). It should be a bit smaller than half a sheet of filo. Brush with a little melted butter. Cut pastry sheets in half and, brushing each sheet with melted butter. Settle 10 pastry layers in the dish, pressing pastry up sides. Spoon in spinach mixture and settle a further 10 buttered sheets over spinach, tucking any overlap down the sides. Score top of pie into squares, being careful not to cut through the bottom. Bake for 1 hour until golden and serve warm or cold.

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Do I really want to cook a Cassoulet?

2007-07-27T18:33:00.000+10:00

A hearty stew is as essential to winter as a warm blanky, Ugh Boots and a hot water bottle. I am always on the lookout for a nice, interesting variation, but this year, I've been somewhat preoccupied with the idea of preparing an authentic Cassoulet. For those unfamiliar with the delights of French cookery, a Cassoulet is a traditional stew of pork, sausages, duck (or goose) and haricot beans originating from the Languedoc region of central France. It is creamy, and yes, it is as fatty as it sounds, but oh my, is it exquisite. I've found no shortage of recipes, however one which balances authenticity with time constraints is proving rather elusive (perhaps I am being a little naive in thinking that I can find a recipe that is simple, yet still authentic).

My first stop was the bible - Larousse Gastronomique (because I don't own a copy of Elisabeth David). According to Larousse, there are a number of different variations on the dish, and what meats you include depends upon the specific region the recipe comes from. For example, the inclusion of mutton is 'sacrilegious' according to the proponents of the Toulouse version, whereas it is considered 'essential' in Carcassonne. I myself, am leaning towards the no-mutton variety (she says tentatively, as members of the Carcassonne Cassoulet Preservation Society throw they hands in the air and cry, 'merd!') Anyway, if I want to give one of the Larousse options a crack, I am going to need vast quantities of goose or pork fat, a baker's oven, and a glazed earthenware pot, called a toupin (not to mention about 27 hours to cook the thing).

Valiantly, I continued my search. Next I turned to Stephanie Alexander's Cooking & Travelling in South-West France. According to her PR, this book won best French Cuisine cookery book in the WORLD a few years ago (not sure what happened to the French cookery books that were actually French, but anyway) so should provide some useful suggestions. Unfortunately, Stephanie's Cassoulet (as it is entitled - a little narcissistic, if you ask me) requires minced pork fat, rind from a loin of pork, rendered duck fat... the fatty list goes on.

So at this point, I was thinking, maybe I like the idea of making a Cassoulet more than I like the Cassoulet itself (forgive me for the existentialism). After all, I've only really eaten it a couple of times (whilst on a brief foodie-jaunt in the Lot region of France). Perhaps the challenge is what's keeping me so focussed on this (thus far) fruitless search? I'm not sure, but I do remember that Cassoulet tasting pretty freakin' good. I remember the confit duck falling from the bone, I remember the sweet and juicy sausage bursting in my mouth and I remember the creamy beans and crusty bread that soaked up all the delicious juices. Mmm.

Onwards and upwards. Given that this whole episode was inspired by John Burton Race (that's him... the picture comes from the Channel 4 promo page for the program) frolicking around the stunning countryside in French Leave (if you haven't see it, you should; it's yummy and hilarious), I thought I'd check his recipe out. John spent weeks visiting copious little old ladies demonstrate their own version of the classic before embarking on a marathon session of his own. It began at 5am and didn't finish until the dish was presented at 8 that night to the 'Order of the Cassoulet' (not a Harry Potter parody). Members of the Order, who were actually wearing hats shaped like a toupin, gave it the thumbs up (stressing that it was excellent for 'an Englishman'), however they all suggested that it should have been cooked a little longer. Longer?!?

JBR's recipe is about 150 lines long (and that's just the list of ingredients), and he wants me to find juniper berries to crush, and veal shin for the stock and now it's all seeming a bit too hard. I may just have to concede defeat and find one of those celebrity chef, quick-fix bastardisations of a classic recipe. You know the ones; the title is usually preceded by the word 'lightning'. I bet there's a Jamie Oliver or Ainsley version out there somewhere. I'll keep you informed.

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Mini Chef

2007-07-22T13:37:00.001+10:00

You're never too young to learn how to cook (or to wear a chef's hat).

Syrian Chicken

2007-07-14T13:43:00.001+10:00

Karen Martini is a legend. Apart from the fact that she named her baby Stella (an excellent choice, I feel) she manages to devise recipes that are absolutely packed with flavour, but still maintain a rustic, bistro vibe (it's Mabo) to them that just makes you want to rush out and buy all of the ingredients immediately (it also makes you want to give her a big cuddle and mumble, "thank you," into her ample bosom. Or perhaps that's just me). Her cookbook, appropriately titled, Where the Heart is has been in my possession for around six months now, and I have already cooked at least twenty recipes from it. Considering the number of cookbooks (not to mention food mags) I own, this is high praise indeed. Karen Martini is personally responsible for every purchase of Better Homes and Gardens Magazine I buy. Since receiving the precious cookbook as a Christmas gift, I've noticed that a number of the recipes have already been published in a glossy Fairfax mag, or dumbed down for Broken Homes and Gardens. Sometimes though, Karen pulls a swifty, and stuns us all with a weekend recipe that we won't be able to find elsewhere. Take this Syrian Chicken recipe, for example. It's been published twice (on request) in the Sun Herald and Sunday Life in the past twelve months. I, for one, cannot get enough of it. Eat - then let me know if you agree.

Syrian Chicken

Ingredients:
2 tspn salt
2 tspn ground cumin
2 tspn ground cinnamon
1 tspn ground turmeric
1 tspn freshly ground black pepper
1.4 - 1.6 kg chicken, cut into 8 pieces
100ml olive oil
5 cloves garlic, bruised
2 brown onions, thickly sliced
100g fresh ginger, peeled and cut into matchsticks
2 red chillies, split
2 tomatoes, coarsely chopped
2 pinches saffron threads
1/2 tspn cumin seeds
5 sprigs thyme
1 lemon, zested and juiced
2 tbspn honey
100g currants
2 tbspn vegetable stock powder
1/2 bunch of coriander

Directions:
Combine salt, cumin, cinnamon, pepper and turmeric in a large bag, add chicken and shake to coat. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-based pan over a high heat. Add chicken and brown on all sides. Remove and set aside. Add onions, ginger, garlic and chillies to pan and cook for around 3 minutes, adding a little more oil if necessary. Add tomatoes, saffron, cumin seeds and thyme and cook for 2 minutes.

Return chicken to pan and add lemon zest, juice, honey, currants, stock powder and enough water to cover. Cook, covered for 10 - 15 minutes. Uncover and simmer for a further 10 - 15 minutes or until chicken is cooked through and sauce is slightly reduced. Stir in coriander and serve with couscous and roasted vegetables.

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Wedding (it's not) Fare: Postscript

2007-07-05T09:30:00.000+10:00

I have just eaten three of the most delicious chocolates (actually, it was six. I ate my husband's as well. I managed to casually ask him if I could have them before telling him how good they were. I gave him a bite of the last one out of guilt). These scrummy morsels were provided as gifts to the guests of the wedding mentioned below. Unfortunately I can't include a picture, because they are, of course, already gone. My favourite was the passionfruit ganache with a white chocolate casing. A wonderfully tangy, creamy ganache filling that left me with a overwhelming sensation of requiring more (hence the hostile acquisition of the remaining three). Chiara's House of Chocolates can send samples my way any time.

All dishes should be this easy

2007-07-04T13:58:00.000+10:00

Given that my 'quick and easy' recipes are in such high demand (okay, about four people have asked for more, so now I think I'm turning into Donna Hay without the wanky photos), I thought I'd throw this delicious little number into the mix. It requires you to purchase some (probably expensive) fresh, filled pasta, but other than that is the epitome of lemon squeezy (literally). If you don't live near a good Italian deli or market (as is my unfortunate position) I can highly recommend Mimas fresh pasta. I personally favour the Roasted Capsicum Mezzaluna, but the choices are many. It's available at independent supermarkets, and, according to their web site, at Coles. Just stay away from that evil Latina stuff. Anyway, this dish is a revelation of buttery, lemony yumminess... one of those, "Oh my God! I can't believe how good this actually tastes for something with no meat," kind of experiences.

Give it a red hot proverbial.

Filled Pasta with delicious Lemon & Butter dressing

Ingredients:
1 packet of filled pasta of your fancy (500 - 700g)
1/2 bunch of basil leaves
Good wodge of butter (about 100g??)
1 lemon - zested then juiced
100g marinated fetta (preferably Persian)
2 - 3 tablespoons toasted pine nuts
2 good handfuls (about 100g) baby spinach leaves (or rocket)
1 good handful of excellent quality Parmesan (Reggiano, etc)
Some pepper and salt to season, if you wish (but it probably doesn't need it)

Directions:
Cook pasta until al dente.

Meanwhile, melt butter in a small sauce pan until frothy, then allow it to turn a nice brown, nutty colour, being super careful that it doesn't burn. Once browned, throw in the lemon zest and juice and stir. Add in the basil leaves now, then pour the mixture over the cooked pasta. Carefully (hands are best) stir through the spinach leaves, half the parmesan, some of the pine nuts and fetta, then pour the lot out onto an impressive platter. Scatter said platter (Haha, that rhymes) with remaining fetta, pine nuts and finally the parmesan. Mmmmm. Don't forget the crusty white bread for all those juices.

Should serve about 4. Maybe.

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Wedding (it's not) Fare

2007-06-28T10:16:00.001+10:00

I know this is an age-old complaint which began eons ago, before I was even a twinkle in my father's eye, etc, etc... but why, WHY, is it not possible for reception venues to provide wedding guests with more than just an adequately-nutritious-yet-nevertheless-totally-tasteless meal?

I attended an otherwise lovely wedding on the weekend. After the gorgeous and moving ceremony (held in the stunning treetops room at the Melbourne Museum) I was eagerly anticipating celebrating the marriage of two very good friends... with a few glasses of sparkling, some witty conversation and a decent dinner. The venue, I knew, was very highly regarded. This was no Springvale-Road-Nightmare, designed to cater for hundreds of irritated guests. This was not a tight-arsed affair. The reception was held in a beautifully restored home, located in a leafy inner-Melbourne suburb. A venue of choice, if you will. I admit, my expectations might have been a little high, but I experienced what can only be described as bitter disappointment the moment the first round of 'canapés' were circulated. Note to all Function Coordinators: prawns become soggy and cold very quickly, even when encased in a bizarre, desiccated coconut batter. The Samosas were a little lacking in flavour but definitely the best of the three options, but the third 'vegetarian' selection... well, let's just say I don't often pity herbivores (you make your own bed, etc), but in this case, my indignation on their behalf was profound. My theory is that the kitchen staff had realised too late that they had run out of the real finger food, so decided to nip out to the supermarket to purchase some capsicum dip, a jar of those sliced black olives and a several packets of pre-cooked mini quiche cases, et Voila! Canapé!

Please don't mistake me; it was by no means the worst wedding food I have ever eaten (that award goes to the Croydon venue where I was served some approximation of a chicken vol-au-vent for entrée, followed by Beef Wellington, followed by apple strudel. A puff pastry ménage à trois of nightmarish proportions). The entrée was actually very nice; a Peking-style duck Maryland served with some thin and buttery crepes and slivers of spring onion. Yummy. The problems really started as the main course was served. I was offered the chicken. Putting aside any issues I have with alternate setting service options (when you are paying $100 per head for a meal, I believe that it is not unreasonable to expect at least a limited à la Carte menu), the chicken was not up to scratch. It appeared to have been crumbed, seared and baked. Reasonable start. Then, for some inexplicable reason, some genius had obviously decided that it needed 'jus', but rather than creating something that would compliment the dish, decided to use up the plum sauce left over from the afore-mentioned Peking Duck entrée. This was accompanied by some mashed potato from a packet, and several severely wilted vegetables, including a piece of corn, a snow pea and a floret of broccoli.

It's important to point out, I feel, that I in no way intend to deflate or belittle my friends or their planning of the wedding. This is not their fault. To blame are the owners of reception venues everywhere, who hear an imaginary 'ka-ching' every time the word 'wedding' is mentioned. And, I hasten to add, that I have no problem whatsoever paying over $100 per head for a meal. What I really want to know is, if your average local restaurant can handle 100-plus covers on any given night, why on earth can a venue designed specifically for the purpose of catering to large numbers at once not serve up anything more exciting than a piece of overcooked chicken and some mixed veg that's become far too familiar with a bain-marie?

Food for thought.

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Magazine Dreams

2007-06-16T13:46:00.000+10:00

I own every copy of delicious. (does anyone else find that full stop annoying?) and Donna Hay ever printed. They, along with my Gourmet Travellers and - ahem - Good Taste magazines, are proudly displayed on my kitchen bookshelf in CHRONOLOGICAL order. I'm not joking. I even have little post-it tags on marking my favourite recipes to make them easier to find at short notice (or should I say had; one of my son's current diversions is gleefully ripping them out and crying 'paper!', which sounds more like 'pappa'). Every now and then, when a new shelf becomes full and magazines begin to overflow onto neighbouring chairs, coffee tables and other available surfaces, I consider a cull. I say 'consider', because not once have I been able to part with a single issue. A year ago we moved into a new, larger (read: family friendly) home and one of the things that most pleased me was the amount of built-in shelving I could use for my magazines. Occasionally I wonder what will happen as my collection builds. I admit, I no longer look at recipes from the gone-but-not-forgotten Elle Cuisine (may she rest in peace), or copies of Good Taste pre-2004. I have also calculated, to my dismay, that even if I cooked a new dish every day, it would take me 50 years to attempt every recipe in those mags, and that's without even considering my covetable cook book collection.

Does this mean I am ready to part with any of these precious volumes of gastro-porn? Sometimes I think I might be able to ditch at least a dozen or so of the Good Tastes. Someone once offered to 'take some off my hands'. However, when it came time to give them away, I couldn't do it. As I was about to hand them over, a little voice in my head cried out in panic, "Wait! What if there's a fabulous recipe in there that you haven't tried? Once it's gone, it will be lost forever!" A melodramatic little voice, I know. But still, I just can't help feeling that if I get rid of even one magazine, I might be losing something special. Occasionally my husband, bless, asks what I intend to do when all of the shelves are full. My response is nothing if not predictable: "Build more".

Tonight's dinner, you'll be pleased to hear, is a Rose roasted lamb leg from the latest Donna Hay, followed by a blood orange tart from (for nostalgic reasons and possibly to prove a point) an ancient delicious. Who knows what horror might have befallen tonight's dessert if I had thrown it away?

Romas go home

2007-04-25T12:40:00.000+10:00

After this year’s bumper crop (which we have attributed to the drought, smoke haze from the bushfires and loads of Charlie Carp), we have decided that there is little better than home-grown tomatoes. The Romas came first, all deciding (rather considerately, as it turns out) to ripen at once. At first we tried eating them in sandwiches and salads, but soon discovered that they were somewhat watery and lacking in flavour. So, I referred to the trusty copy of ‘Fork to Fork’. If you’ve never heard of it, Fork to Fork was a most excellent program run on the Lifestyle channel several years ago. It followed this couple, Monty and Sarah Don (who are apparently quite well known in the UK) around their spectacular organic garden, as they planted, tended and cooked their produce through the seasons. We were simultaneously engrossed and tortured with jealousy through every episode. They had spent ten years planting fruit trees, walling the garden beds with WOVEN BRANCHES (for goodness sake!), composting, more planting... it was like ‘The Good Life’ on HGH. They even had an original baker’s wood oven in the farmhouse on the property, and had ‘discovered’ and done up an AGA (oh, but how I coveted the AGA) for the purposes of everyday cooking. Unfortunately, there is no DVD available for the program, but you can get a hold of the accompanying book through Amazon.

Digression. So I checked in the Fork to Fork book, and Monty, bless him, had a suggestion for what to do with slightly tasteless, as he described them, ‘English’ tomatoes. You basically just cut them in half, drizzle them with olive oil, sprinkle over a few cloves of some finely sliced garlic and herbs of you choice (I used fresh thyme), season, and put them in a hot oven for half an hour or so.

My, oh my, were they tasty. I would have included an after shot as well, but we ate them too fast. I served them as an accompaniment to a yum-yum meatloaf wrapped in prosciutto. I cooked about a kilo of them, so we now have several containers waiting patiently in the freezer for the perfect occasion to arise. I’m thinking pizza. Mmmm.

Here’s the meatloaf recipe to make you hungry, hungry hippo. It makes a huge portion, so you might want to halve it. It’s based on a recipe in last year’s winter edition of Donna Hay magazine.

Posh Meatloaf

750g quality minced meat (I used half pork, half beef)
1 large carrot, grated
I large zucchini, grated and squeezed
1 ½ cups of cooked couscous
6 green onions, chopped
1 cup chopped oregano or thyme leaves
1 cup chopped basil leaves
sea salt and cracked black pepper
12 slices of prosciutto

Preheat the oven to 180 degrees. Place all the ingredients except the prosciutto in a bowl and mix well to combine. Lightly grease a loaf tin and line with the prosciutto, leaving enough excess over the edges to cover the meat loaf later. [Important note: in Donna’s recipe, they suggest an 8 x 26cm tin, but this isn’t a standard size. Mine was shorter and wider, which increased the cooking time considerably.] So then you just push the meatloaf mixture into the tin and fold the prosciutto over the top. Bake for 45mins – 1 hour 15 mins (depending on the width of the tin), or until cooked through. Remove from the oven, rest for a bit then turn out and slice. Serve with afore-mentioned, roasted tomatoes.

Serves 6 – 8.

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Kickarse Pasta Puttanesca

2007-04-21T12:52:00.000+10:00

Forgive me readers, for I have sinned. It has been 8 weeks since my last blogfession. A little guilt-inducing needling from a fellow Blogsketeer last night has driven me, head hung low in shame, to the keyboard. I have of course, been unfathomably busy since last we met. What, with taking care of Number One Child, working, studying and the aftermath of Stingray’s untimely death on Neighbours (blood poisoning, I ask you!) I’ve hardly had time to scratch my proverbial self. Hopefully the goodness that follows will make up for this unacceptable absence.

I thought it was about time I published an actual recipe, rather than just describing one. This is a tasty version of one I saw on Tony & Georgio, a fabulous English cooking program that aired on Seven’s Saturday Kitchen last year. It’s a great show… haven’t been able to find a DVD copy or a related cookbook title, so I’ve had to try out the recipes from memory (too lazy to get up off the couch and find a pen). I saw the Puttanesca on the ‘Hangover’ episode. Tony (English geezer) and Georgio (Italian love-God) charge around London downing bevvies and generally running amok. The Puttanesca was Georgio’s answer to the greasy fry-up Tony had suggested as a possible cure for their self-induced ills. Feeling somewhat fragile myself, I decided to cook it that night. Verdict? It kicks arse. In fact, it could also potentially be renamed ‘Lickarse Pasta Puttanesca’, because it would serve very well for one of those, ‘please forgive me for my minor misdemeanour’ type dinners. Easy AND impressive. Outstanding qualities for any recipe.

Ingredients:
½ tin chopped tomatoes
handful of small basil leaves, washed and dried
small tin of GOOD QUALITY tuna in oil
tablespoon salted capers, rinsed and drained, chopped if you like
3 – 4 anchovies, chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely sliced
300 grams dried pasta

Directions:
Get your pasta cooking (I think dried spaghetti or bavette works best with this recipe). Heat a deep frying pan over a medium heat, add a lug of olive oil then throw in the garlic. Stir for thirty seconds (make sure you don’t burn the garlic) then throw in the anchovies and stir for a bit. Once the anchovies begin to melt, add the tuna and capers. Don’t break the tuna up too much; it’s nicer chunky. Finally, add the tomatoes and basil. Resist the urge to put in the whole can. This is a tuna sauce with tomato, not a tomato sauce with tuna (thanks, Georgio). Let this simmer gently until the pasta is al dente. Drain the spaghetti, addling about ½ a ladleful of the pasta water to the sauce. Toss the pasta through the hot sauce. Yum. Doesn’t need any parmesan, but hey, whatever gets you through the day.

Serves 2 greedy people.

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Jamie’s not at home

2007-02-19T12:43:00.000+11:00

I am aware that I made some fairly disparaging remarks about Jamie at Home, but seriously Channel Ten, is that really a reason to pluck it from the air?

I was most disturbed last Thursday, when my digital hard drive automatically recorded Kim Watkins’ presents Saving Babies instead of Jamie. (Watched it. Cried, despite irritating presence of Kim Watkins. That woman gets my goat. Mainly because she titters at everything David ‘I’m a complete moron who doesn’t know what a placebo is’ Reyne. Is it just me, or is that woman EVERYWHERE at the moment. I’m surprised she hasn’t turned up on Seven’s Dancing with the B-Grade Stars. Anyway, clearly I am a sooky la-la.) I checked on Ten’s website, which lists Jamie as one of its ‘personalities’. According to the TV Shows section of the site, the program ‘returns soon’. What is the meaning of this? First you promote the bejeezus out of the new Jamie instalment, then you program two episodes and rip it off the air again! it’s enough to force one to write a ‘Dear Aunty’ style letter to the Green Guide! Do I sound irate? Good. I feel utterly enraged.

After my Jamie-bashing last week, I feel it necessary to sing his praises in the form of a referral to a recipe from his Jamie’s Kitchen cookbook. I’m pretty sure that’s the one that was circulating via e-mail (hey, we all got a copy of it, don’t judge me), but I am happy to report that I received a hard copy for Christmas (yay, Kris Kringle).

I don’t think Big J would like me to publish the recipe here, but try the ‘Best Chargilled Steak’ on page 260. Mmmmm. Smokey bacon, mushrooms, herbs, garlic and steak in one delicious concoction. I’m pretty sure my cholesterol spiked immediately following the meal, but what’s a little heart attack when food this good is involved? It’s also well worth the effort of making the accompanying Salsa Verde. A wonderfully tasty dish.

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Why I love (and hate) Jamie Oliver

2007-02-12T12:35:00.000+11:00

He’s a tough one, that Jamie. I can never seem to decide if I love him or I hate him. I’ve been watching the new show Jamie at Home, and I can’t decide if I am more irritated by the obvious staginess of the whole thing (see below) or if it is just some good old fashioned, ill-disguised jealousy. So I was thinking I should make a list. Lists always help to make the tough decisions easier. As you can see here, I found more reasons to hate him than to love him (and you could probably come up with a whole lot more yourself). Either way, I always watch him. Can’t drag myself away from the TV. I’ve even got some of the old stuff on video and I own heaps of his cookbooks (mostly gifts, but I use them often). So although on a rational level the bad outweighs the good, he still seems to be winning. Perhaps love really is blind.

Reasons to love J.O.
1. Ten(ish) years ago, he brought cooking to masses of people who thought it wasn’t very cool (let’s face it, Delia isn’t really the most happenin’ spokesperson of all time). Of course, this might also be a very good reason to hate him.
2. He gives kids who’ve had a bit of a rough trot a go in his kitchens around the world. Despite the marketing value of Fifteen, you can still admire its mission.
3. Jamie’s School Dinners was brilliant. There was something incredibly satisfying about seeing a bunch of kiddies go from not being able to identify an onion to saying, “Erghh!” at the sight of a chicken nugget.
4. His first two books have great tasting, accessible recipes and pretty pictures. Have you tried that salad with peach, prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella? You should. Yum.
5. He knows what he’s good at and has a crack (metaphorically. Well and physically, obviously, but that wasn’t the crack I was referring to). Kudos for having the balls to go for it.

Reasons to hate J.O.
1. Happy Days, Dead Puckka, Lovely Jubbly, etc. I needn’t go on.
2. The live shows. I went to one (I know). It was like a cross between Rent and Ready Steady Cook.
3. Jools (sic). Do you remember her banshee-like declaration that she would allow, “Nothing to spoil her perfect family!!!!!!” Scary. Not to mention the fact that her tits are plastered across many a double-paged spread in the ‘cookbooks’.
4. This one’s for my husband. The drumming, the band, that load-of-shite song that they used for the outro of series 2 of The Naked Chef. Stick to what you’re good at, mate. There’s a reason you’re a celebrity cook, not a celebrity musician.
5. He tries to make is seem like he does all the prep himself when you know for a fact that he has about 50 researchers, food sourcers, and kitchen hands slaving for him. Three minute fish stew? I think not.
6. Have you seen the new show? Jamie at Home. The name (not to mention the pretend ‘Jamie’s garden notes and doodles’ they use for each segue way) suggests that it’s just him and the fam, pottering around the English countryside, selecting a bit of this and that from the kitchen garden for their High Tea. The veggie garden is absolutely amazing, and totally organic, yet so far only one gardener (other than Big J himself) has appeared on camera. It’s just been the J-man, kitted out in his stylishly askew gardening outfit (including trendy beanie. In the middle of summer. I ask you!) and some gorgeous little antiquey things adorning the shabby chic ‘pieces’ behind him in the kitchen. Nobody has that much vintage, coloured enamel gear on display, let alone in use in his kitchen. Except perhaps Donna Hay. I suspect that even the dirt under his fingernails has been put there by a stylist.
7. The biggest problem of all, of course, is that he basically acts like a bit of a knob (a ‘pucking wanker’ puns my clever husband). I’d like to know what the people who have worked with him really think.

Make up your own mind and visit his site www.jamieoliver.com

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Duck Pies

2007-02-03T16:22:00.001+11:00

Mmmm. I love duck. I love pies. The logical progression? A pie that is filled with duck!
My best friend Tam and I have both been known to utter an involuntary 'Yum' as we pass innocent (and possibly protected) duckies, swimming or waddling along, oblivious to the danger they face in our presence. I can't help myself. I see cute little feathered animals and some hidden switch in my head immediately flicks to 'lunch'.

This particular recipe comes from a friend of my mother's. She passed it on to me on condition of a promise that I will never publish it anywhere or pass it on to anyone I know. Serious stuff. Given the threat of death, I will refrain from sharing its recipe in its entirety, however I can tell you that the filling is a delicious combination of Asian condiments, Chinese BBQ duck, and a small member of the onion family. Give it a go.

Despite the exquisite outcome, the production of a large quantity of the pies has been for me and my devoted, pastry-cutting minions, an exhausting task. I first attempted the bite-sized morsels of quacky goodness for a good friend's engagement party. His mother was doing most of the catering, and given my culinary reputation amongst my friends (sorry, modesty not a virtue) I felt the need to offer a contribution. I had tasted the pies a month earlier and already begged its owner for the recipe.

After the offer, I forgot about the whole thing for a couple of weeks. Until that is, I next spoke to my friend, let's call him James, to discover that the Engagement Party's guest list had blown out to 130. "Eek," was my private response. Still, alarm bells weren't quite ringing loudly enough to deter me from the task. How bad could it be? A few ducks, some mini muffin tins, a bit of pastry? "No sweat," declared my cocky self to the grateful James. I'd catered before, spent three days cooking for a 30th when I was 36 weeks pregnant, in fact. I was sure I could handle it.

As soon as I actually sighted the recipe, the volume of the alarm bells increased from a faint, wind-chime like tinkle, to a living next door to the airport, jet-engine roar. "Makes sixteen entree-sized pies". The recipe, amongst it's other important ingredients, listed one Chinese BBQed duck.

"Okay," I rationalised. "Let's not panic." I was, after all, not making entree-sized pies. I was making mini pies. Using mini muffin pans. If one duck made sixteen entree-sized pies, then I should be able to get at least 24 mini pies to a duck. After a brief discussion with James, I calculated that I should be able to get away with four ducks, to make around 100 pies. Didn't matter if there wasn't enough for one each. There were a number of vegetarians (heathens) invited and a few people (crazies) didn't like duck, so we'd be right.

I enlisted the help of a friend, who had volunteered herself and her boyfriend to fill the muffin holes with pastry, while I filled, topped and cooked the pies. It started relatively simply. A one and a half hour round trip to Box Hill, chiller bag and infant in tow, to buy the ducks. Luckily I used to work in the area and knew where to park. Once home, the ducks were deboned and chopped (juices reserved) in a little over an hour. They were then refrigerated overnight, due to an ill-timed dinner invitation. The following morning, the unpaid help arrived and I set to work making the filling. Half an hour later, we began to fill the pies. Luckily, the recipe calls for store-bought puff pastry sheets, so it was just a matter of cutting out the bases and lids with cookie cutters, filling the pies, trimming to make them look pretty, basting with egg wash and placing in the oven for around ten minutes. Easy, right?

As I began to fill the pie trays, I noticed that each little base was taking around a teaspoon of the pie filling. I had a very large pot of filling (four ducks, remember) and only seven mini muffin trays. I had expected that there would need to be some rotation of trays, but after half an hour of filling pies and baking had made barely a dent in the vast quantity of filling before me, I began to get nervous. There was no way I was going to waste any of that gorgeous (not to mention expensive) filling when I knew that there were 130 duck-hungry (minus a few weirdos) mouths to feed in a few short hours.

So on we worked. We cut, we pressed, we filled, we forked and we basted. We went to the supermarket for more puff pastry. We voted (the party happened to fall on the day of the Victorian State Election). After four and a half hours, we had around 200 duck pies in containers and trays filling our usually ample fridge. And about minus 30 minutes to get to the party on time. I barely had time to wash the eu de canard from my hands and we were out the door.

The effort was certainly well appreciated (but probably not with a full understanding of the scope of my team's efforts - nobody likes a whinging gift horse) and the pies a hit. There were 12 left over, and I brought them home, revelling in the memory of the many accolades my contribution had received.

It was probably the buzz of victory (and possibly that of the champagne I was quaffing) that lead to my next dubious offering on Christmas Day. My brother's lovely financè was talking about the date of their engagement party, planned at her parents' home, her mother intending to do most of the catering herself.....

You can see where this is heading. The party was last night. Miracle of miracles, the same friend offered her support. The pies, again, a hit. And my maths is improving. I halved the recipe.

The resulting pies, cooling:

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What's old is new (to you)

2007-01-31T12:53:00.000+11:00

I've decided to include some older musings from my travels overseas. I've back-dated the entries so that they can be viewed in the context of the time that they were written. Now that I am a wise and worldly 32, I can see with some perspective the naivety of my 20-something commentary ☺

Luscious Laksa

2007-01-30T12:31:00.000+11:00

What better way to start an Australian food blog than with a classic Malaysian noodle soup? The original bones of the recipe (quantities of paste, stock, coconut milk and seasonings) came from a recipe in the Sunday Age about 10 years ago. I'll admit that, when done from scratch, this recipe takes time. In fact, I myself have not made a Laksa since giving birth 15 months ago. However, I feel that this recipe's fabulousness warrants the honour of first recipe posted. Since the first time I made this version, I haven't been able to order Laksa in a restaurant, for the simple fact that nothing tastes as good. I am not kidding. It is a special occasion, major wow-factor production. It also looks divine in the dish. Thou shalt appreciate and revel in the wondrous Laksa.

If you can't be bothered making your own paste (it takes three hours even if you don't, so I would go for the packet stuff), there are a couple of very respectable brands available in the supermarket.

Laksa

3 tablespoons Laksa paste
1 tablespoon chilli sambal (sambal oelik)
500 - 600ml coconut milk
1 litre of chicken stock
25 ml fresh lime juice
30 ml fish sauce
12 large green prawns
500g hokkien noodles
150g green beans (round), washed and cut in half lengthways
2 red birdseye chillies, finely chopped
12 fish balls
2 tablespoons coriander leaves
2 tbspns Vietnamese mint leaves
shallots (1 -2)
100g bean shoots
1 pack of fried bean curd

Preparing the ingredients:

Prawns & stock

1. Shell and devein the prawns. leaving the tails intact. Keep the heads and shells for stock. Refrigerate until required.
2. Bring about 1 litre of chicken stock to the boil.
3. Fry off the prawns head in a bit of oil, until they turn pink.
4. Put the heads into the stock, lower heat and simmer gently for 20 minutes whilst you prepare the other ingredients.

Vegies etc.

1. Wash and prepare beans, bean shoots and herbs.
2. Wash and finely chop the chillies.
3. Finely slice the shallots. Fry over low heat with a little oil until golden.
4. Simmer fish balls in a small pot of water for several minutes. Set aside.
5. Slice the beans curd and arrange evenly in bowls.
6. Finally, strain the fish heads from the stock and set aside. You will need to bring the stock to the simmer again later, so leave it in the pot.

Making the Soup:

1. Infuse the sambal, laksa paste and the coconut milk in a large pot or wok. Simmer gently for 10 minutes.
2. Add the simmering prawn stock and bring to the boil. Reduce heat and simmer for a further 8 minutes.
3. Add the beans and simmer for 5 minutes (or until cooked to your liking).
4. Add lime juice and fish sauce, taste and adjust if necessary. If it’s too tangy, add a tiny bit more fish sauce. If it tastes a bit bitter, add more lime juice.
5. Put the prawns in the soup and simmer for 2 minutes until prawns turn pink.
6. Add the noodles and fish balls. The noodles should soften and warm through.
7. Distribute prawns, beans, noodles and fish balls evenly in bowls. Pour about 2 ladlefuls of soup into each bowl.
8. Put a small handful of bean shoots over soup. Sprinkle on herbs, chilli and shallots.
9. Serve to an adoring audience.

Serves 4

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The big bang

2007-01-29T21:39:00.000+11:00

It wasn't long ago that I discovered the world of blogging. A slow starter, I know. I mean, I'm not completely unsavvy. I had heard of blogs. Even see a few of them ( "some of my best friends..." etc). Needless to say, it did not take me long to decide that I wanted one of my very own. Much better than a pony. Of course, it took me a long time to decide what it would be called, what it might be about, how I might like to write... and a million other procrastinations designed by my clever little subconscious to help prevent me from actually achieving anything. Ever.

Then, two days ago, in a semi-drunken haze, it came to me. I was cleaning up the debris following a rather rowdy dinner party (more on that later) and a question came to me. Why do I love my kitchen? The answer is that I don't, really. Not the physical kitchen, anyway. It's got nasty, early 90s decor; think mossy green laminex bench tops and beech veneer cabinetry, plus the most awful Copperart-esque rangehood you have ever laid eyes upon. There isn't enough room for my fridge, which has to be housed in a doorway, and there is a cream 'tile boarder' (I guess that's what they're called) depicting joyful (unfortunately I think they are actually smiling) bluebirds nestled amongst prolific pink buds. Despite these obvious flaws, I find myself passing an awful lot of time in there (I have to admit that I spend a fair bit of time daydreaming about the elusive Tattslotto renovation). My kitchen table is large, and always covered in cookbooks, food magazines, shopping lists, toys picked up off the floor and notes we leave for one another. It is often surrounded by friends, nursing cups of tea, with heavy heads (or hearts) obsessing over the banalities of day to day life. Meals are savoured, the proverbial bread is broken and the wine is drunk. At the risk of sounding like a sentimental tosser, if home if where the heart is, then the kitchen is beat. It's where the action happens.

So that's what this blog is about. A lot about my passion, food and drink, but a fair bit about the conversations that happen while we prepare and consume it. I hope there will be something here for you to savour.

Advance Australia Fair

2004-01-28T12:30:00.000+11:00

And the hilarity continues.

After spending with the latest winter bug (possibly helped along by the antics of last weekend), spent a raucous few days celebrating Australia Day. The was a bit of discussion amongst the ex-pat community here, as to what the day actually signifies (some argued the arrival of Captain Cook, others the landing of the three ships, and a small proportion Federation. Honestly, what is our education system coming to). The was no argument however, about the duties of an Australian citizen who is overseas on Australia Day.

First, and most importantly, beer must be consumed in huge quantities. It need not be Australian beer, but must be a) cold and b) either a Mas (1 litre) or a Halbes (half litre).

Second, music must be loud, from the following selection: Cold Chisel (pref. Ke San - don't know how to spell it but you know what I mean), anything by John Williamson, Midnight Oil, Split Endz, Crowded House (on Australia Day, they're Aussies) and more recently, Jet. Each set must also include one of the following - Land Downunder, Waltzing Matilda, Home Among the Gum trees or Advance Australia Fair.

Finally, the gather of Australians must take place in a tacky Australian Bar frequented predominantly by travelling bogans, Soldiers on leave (remind me to tell you about the 3 American guys on leave from Iraq - full on), a few Irish and Northern English (who, on Australia Day, also count themselves as Aussies - either that or it's just an excuse for a piss-up) and the occasional German out to pick up a foreigner and/
or practise their English.

Needless to say, it was an amusing weekend. I acquired a surfboard. It's plastic, inflatable and has an enormous Foster's logo on it. I say 'acquired' because technically, I should have had to drink four Foster's to get one (as if!) but I asked one of the waitresses nicely and she gave me one.

For the foodies: Most excellent meal of trip so far was consumed on Monday - half a free range duck, with a beer sauce, served with Brat Kartoffeln (potatoes, roasted then fried in a bit of butter - mmm). The duck was so huge that I was able to take half of it home in a doggy bag and make a red curry with it the next night (peeled the skin off so it wouldn't taste like beer sauce).

By the way, big hello to fellow teachers who went back to school today. Heh. Roz and I will be having a drink for you tonight.

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Land Downuner

2004-01-20T13:28:00.000+11:00

Did you know that a monkey has an angry 'oo-oo' noise, and a happy 'oo-oo' noise? Apparently you can also tell the difference between a grimace and a smile. A little bit more monkey info every day.

Well, what a weekend. Mark and I managed to successfully paint the town dark brown in just a few short hours.

He arrived very late Thursday night, and we were able to catch up Friday afternoon after my class had finished (those of you who are not interested in food should skip the next couple of paragraphs).

The first thing we did was head for the markets, as Mark was hanging for some Wurst & Kraut. The outdoor market here in Munich is stunning; in terms of meat, you can get absolutely everything (from both inside and outside the animal), both beautiful and stinky cheeses (the stinkier the better), local wines, organic fruits and vegies and even seafood (although 100g of scallops costs about $10). Mark was particularly impressed by the fresh pig's heads sitting in one butcher's window.

Needless to say, we went out for some traditional Bavarian food (and beverages) that night. The meal was outstanding (as was the entertainment - there was a family feud going on a couple of tables down). Mark had roast pork, knödel and about 3 & 1/2 litres of beer. I had roast PIGLET (is that what we call 'suckling pork'? Doesn't sound so horrible when you say it like that) which was absolutely amazing. The crackle was the best I have ever tasted, and it was served with knödel and a lovely wine gravy. Felt slightly guilty about eating Babe, but what can you do? I figure he was already dead before I ordered.

Saturday we did some touristy stuff - went to the Royal residence, saw the crown jewels and the estate rooms. Was fab, but those kinds of details do not an interesting e-mail make, so I will move on. To lunch. Walked past this stunning Konditorei, and had to go in. We both had these delicious (and expensive) berry tarts; the pastry cases were lined with chocolate, then filled with a berry cream (maybe a creme fraiche or marscapone), topped with fresh raspberries and glazed. Mmmmm. Mark had a hot chocolate that I swear, was just a mug of melted chocolate with about a teaspoon of milk thrown in for good measure. He had a bit of a sugar rush afterwards (think of post-slushie Bart and Millhouse).

Okay, so I've got the food rant out of the way. Moving right along, after the Royal Residence we decided it was beer o'clock. We had walked past this very busy looking lokal on our way to the museum, so decided to head back there. On our way, we walked past an Aussie Bar. Of course, we had to go in for a look. It was hilarious. Up above the bar, there were these sort of paper mache (how the hell do you spell that?) sculptures of sharks & crocodiles, little Aussie flags, road signs, a painting of Ned Kelly, bar coasters in the shape of Aus - you name it. Mark and I were dumbstruck (and a little mortified). We we're standing there cacking ourselves laughing and taking photos, when this old guy sitting at the bar said, 'what are you laughing at?' (in a non-threatening way, I should add). So I said, 'this place, it's hysterical,' and he said, 'steady on, I designed it!'

I thought he was bull-shitting me at first, but he wasn't. He's this 60 year old English bloke (Bernie) who lives in Munich and designs the decor for theme bars (Irish, Aussie, English etc) in continental Europe. He reminded me a little bit of one of the characters from father Ted (the old one who says 'feck' all the time). So we're having this amusing little chat, and he suddenly says, 'You're lovely you are. Do kiss with you mouth open or closed?' At this point, Mark ducked for cover (he was in the potential line of fire), but I restrained myself, and simply told Bernie that I was used to dealing with children, but that they generally knew better than to ask questions such as the one he just had [I also told him that had he been 30 years younger, I might have answered his question. One must fight fire with fire].

It was all very funny. He took it rather well and managed to continue our conversation with only a few minor misdemeanours. Apparently, he'd rather have me for a wife than Catherine Zeta-Jones any day (not sure if she was offering - unclear. She does seem to prefer older men).

Also started chatting to one of the bar staff, a girl from Perth, who has been here for about 4 months but doesn't speak any German. When I told her I was a German teacher at home, she immediately asked me how much I would charge for lessons. I was like, 'um, I don't know, 10 Euros an hour??' So I'm now getting $20 an hour ($30 if her housemate comes too) to teach basic German to someone who actually wants to learn - it's like a fairytale! Had our first lesson today - she was actually really quick to pick up everything. We will probably do about 6 lessons before I come home, and the extra cash will definitely come in handy (food here v. expensive. Everything here v. expensive).

Back to the bar. We also got talking to this Irish girl and her partner, who live somewhere in the North of England (forget where) and decided to invite them along to the Hofbräuhaus with us for dinner. I think it is imperative that all visitors to München go to the Hofbräuhaus at least once. Was a right larf. Ordered beers, and they came out in litre Stein glasses. Sang along with the German band (very much like 'The Cuckoo'), found out that Chris (of the couple) was a Buffy fan - yay, bought tacky key-ring with a photo of us in it holding afore-mentioned steins and got chatted up by cute Egyptian waiter (was on fire, I'm telling you), who wanted me to meet him after work. When I told him that I had a husband, he said, 'that's okay - you can leave him at home'.

After that, we went on to another Aussie bar (they're everywhere) and found ourselves dancing to ACDC (but also ABBA, Guns and Roses, Underworld - weird mix really) until 4 in the morning. Apparently the Aussie community in Munich (consisting mainly of bar staff) do a bit of a crawl from bar to bar every Friday and Saturday night after work. Couldn't do it myself. Didn't drink that much, but still felt like shit all day yesterday (still not that crash-hot now actually).

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How the past comes back to haunt you

2004-01-13T13:19:00.000+11:00

Isn't funny how, no matter how much you try to get away from something, it can just chase you around, refusing to give up its hold on your otherwise peaceful life?

A somewhat dramatic introduction, I'm aware, but this news will make many of you laugh. We're sitting in class on Friday, and the Professor says (more on her later) we have to have an election. We have to elect a Klassensprecher (a rep) who will attend fortnightly meetings to discuss any issues with the course, suggestions, etc. At this point I began to feel a bit edgy. So we all got our little slips of paper, wrote down the first name of the person we wanted to represent us, etc, etc. I don't think there is any need for me to tell you the outcome. I can assure that I did not vote for myself (unlike in previous elections) and would actually prefer not to have to spend hours discussing trivialities such as why the coffee machine gives you hot chocolate when you order a cappuccino, or why there are never any hand towels in the girls toilets. Nevertheless, this is the duty with which I have been charged, and I will approach it wit> suitable diligence and fervour.

Back to Frau Professorin. She has a new nemesis; a newcomer by the name of Viktor. He's from Minsk (I tell you, there are some students here from really interesting places), has the coolest accent and the largest ears I have ever seen. Viktor, to the professor's annoyance, is in the habit of interrupting the class with entertaining anecdotes and red herring questions. Today he informed us that he was going to do his (compulsory) talk on the possibly that Amsterdam may eventually sink below sea level, and that tourists will only be able to see its sights with the assistance of scuba diving equipment. While we all found this wildly amusing, Frau Professorin did not. Needless to say, the spotlight is now (thankfully) on someone else. In class on Friday (pre-Viktor) we were asked to walk around the room, and tell each other a little about ourselves. Always entertaining with a large group of people from all over the world. I ended up in a group with a Venezuelan guy called Jonothan. He mentioned a few things about himself, his family, etc and then proceeded to inform us that he has a pet MONKEY!!!!! Of course I became completely obsessed with the monkey, asked him if it had a name, if it wears a little coat and does tricks(yes, no, no), etc. After I had asked him a-gazillion questions about the monkey (important details, such as where does it sleep, does he carry it around on his shoulder, does he miss the monkey), Jonathon began to sidle away - I think he though I was taking the piss (either that, or that I was some Monkey-obsessed freak). Maybe he thought I was going to spend the next three weeks following him around, asking him questions about the monkey. With that in mind, today I held myself back. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing cooler than a pet monkey would be a pet miniature elephant (well, miniature anything really).

Went to visit friends outside of Munich for the weekend (Stephi and her family, for those of you who know her). Was great fun; she has three adorable little kids, 7, 5 and four months. Phillip, the eldest, was very keen to explain all about how things work in Germany. My favourite kid-logic story - we were watching an afternoon kids TV show, where the viewers can send in drawings and they get shown on the TV, their name gets mentioned, the kid gets sent a little prize - you know how it works. Phillip explains it to me like this:

"You see Anna, let's say I send in a picture that I've drawn myself, and they send me a CD. The CD is like payment for the picture. The CD is worth about 15 Euros, and my picture is worth about 10 Euros, which leaves 5 Euros cash as a reward for your efforts."

Munich

2004-01-08T13:10:00.000+11:00

Arrived safely in Munich, despite 4am start and a small amount of interference at the airport, by a tiny Nun who tried to push in front of me at the check-in queue (I stood my ground).

Vienna was unbelievably cold in the end, snowing for three days straight. I was a bit freaked out about flying to Munich, especially after hearing that an Austrian Airlines flight had crashed-landed en-route to Munich two days earlier (same flight time and everything. No one was injured). It was still dark as we were taxiing towards the runway (at 7:30am, mind). Then, all of a sudden, I saw all of these cranes on the tarmac (is that what it's called??). They were these funky hydraulic things (think 'Alien') with a guy sitting inside. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, then the captain informed us that the plane had to be de-iced before take off. It was like sitting under a giant car-wash, but instead of washing the plane in water, we were doused in this Matrix-esque, pink gack. It was all rather surreal. In the end, a guy got up onto the wing and skated around, presumably to check that all of the ice had been gacked to his satisfaction. The whole experience actually served in making me feel more comfortable flying in such hideous weather.

So now I'm in Munich. I'm staying in a private home (flat, actually) with a woman in her early fifties. She's quite nice; no interesting quirks to speak of. The surrounding area seems to be rather 'happening', although I haven't yet had much time to look around.

My course is five days a week, from 8:30am - 12:45. Not too bad, except that they give us two hours of homework a day (they actually write the amount of time each activity should take, so that it works out to exactly two hours), including for Saturdays. Sundays, apparently, is for God (that is seriously what the Professor said), so we don't need to do any HW.

Speaking of the Professor, she has corrected my Austrian accent a couple of times, even though I haven't been speaking in dialect (Ja Lilli, reg' dich auf), despite the fact that there are other people in class with full-on Japanese accents (for example). I think she took a dislike to me yesterday. When I first arrived, it took about 4 hours to do all of the registration stuff, and she happened to walk past after I'd been sitting outside one particular office for over an hour. She said something along the lines of, 'the lines aren't too long', and I, unable to keep my mouth shut, mentioned that I had been waiting for an hour. She got this kind of wild, wide-eyed thing happening, and I did some big-time back-peddling, it's not really that bad, happy, happy, joy etc.

As I walked along the corridor to my designated classroom this morning, I wondered whether fate would throw this woman my way, and lo - there she was. As it turns out, she's a very entertaining teacher; quite eccentric, which suits me fine. She did give me an, 'I know you' look as I walked in, though.

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Means nothing to me

2004-01-05T18:10:00.000+11:00

Ah, Vienna!

Arrived safely at 6am Friday morning, to a friendly minus 3 degrees. After making my way through customs (takes about 5 minutes in Austria - they are quite relaxed about the whole security thing. It’s like, 'Hi, Osama! Come on in!') I managed to drag myself along the cold and windy streets, to Lilli’s humble abode. Couldn’t find my gloves at the train station, so I had to walk about 500 meters bare-handed, only to discover when I arrived at Lilli’s that they were, in fact, inside my beanie - i.e. on top of my head. Long haul flights do wonders for the brain cells.

Lilli has been doing a great job of entertaining me for the past few days. Yesterday we went out (despite horrendous weather) to the new art gallery and took in a little culture (Klimt, Shiele, Clee and most excitingly, Kandinsky), then went out for an obligatory schnitzel. My only criteria was that the schnitzel had to bigger than my head, a feat easily achieved not once, but twice over. Needless to say, I have a rather large doggy bag sitting in the fridge for today’s lunch.

Went out to a little club after afore mentioned schnitzel, where Lilli’s boyfriend was playing DJ for the night. Can’t seem to escape those DJs, no matter how far away I am. Anyway, Lilli's boyfriend is like Jack Osbourne’s identical twin (or at least, identical cousin). I am seriously not exaggerating. It took a while for it to sink in; initially I couldn't work out why he looked so familiar. Then it came to me last night, as I was watching him play. As you can imagine, I was unable to contain my hysteria, and managed to take several not so surreptitious photos to show you all when I get home. It is snowing its absolute head off here at the moment. Apparently it hasn't snowed this much in Vienna for years, so I am (naturally) convinced that it is all a lovely big show for me.

I have also had to move my wedding ring over to the right hand (where they wear it here) so as not to attract any unsavoury types. Last night, some tall guy with tragic 80s hairdo asked me if I wanted to dance with him, to which I replied ‘no thanks’ (of course), to which he replied ‘why not, can’t you dance?’ to which I replied ‘yes, but I don’t want to thanks very much’. It was all a bit stressful, until Lilli explained to me that being asked to dance does not really have the same ‘we can go back to my place after’ connotations in Austria. It is possible then, that my rejection of this poor man was horribly rude, but what can you do. It is also possible that Lilli and (her friend) Chi Chi (believe it or not this is a guy and he's not gay. His real name is Herbert, so one can fully appreciate the need for a nickname) were taking the piss in order that I dance with all kinds of weirdos at some point in the future. We’ll see.