September

xx
Photograph from rummey bears

Not quite mad crush Monday I'm afraid. Perhaps mundane Thursday?

Things to eat, do, make in spring, glorious spring:

Go to Floriade and ride the ferris wheel.

Spend as much time as possible by the lake, picnicking, bike riding, eating Brodburger and generally frolicking.

Buy and dye silk for scarves.

Eat endless combination of pea, mint, parmesan, asparagus and leek dishes with smoked trout .

Climb mountains.

Eat at Podfood.

Be a committed, reliable, effective veggie gardener. Decimate the harlequin bugs. Produce 10 varieties of heirloom tomato.

Pin giant flowers in a high bun on my head.

Spend a weekend at Little Pig Creek in the Kangaroo Valley. Go horse riding through the lush green countryside.

Paint with watercolours.

Listen to the new Deerhunter album, 'Halycon Digest'

Make salads from Casa Moro.

Lie on grass, look at trees/sky.

Prepare the house for dreaded summer. Not as easy as preparing for winter, but may involve careful placement of fans, installation of flyscreens, purchase of a child's paddling pool.

Snow Tea

Friends, for the last five days I've been holed up in an A-frame ski lodge with no phone reception, no computer, no internet and no television. I did little but play Balderdash and Black Bitch, drink schnapps over fresh snow, read muskily scented novels and on occasion, ski.

They were blissful times, innocent times but times which have situated me well and truly out of the loop. Now I'm back and have nothing to offer you but a recipe for tea:

Brew a pot of fairly weak black tea (I like Ceylon Orange Pekoe) and chuck in half a stick of cinnamon with the leaves. Brew for 3 minutes, or till it reaches its desired potency, and drink black in a Turkish tea glass, with a little sugar and some mint leaves.

Enjoy, forgive.

The dark arts of sweet potato and aoili

..
Here, as promised, is the recipe for sweet potato planks with basil aoili. But first, a confession: I have never made sweet potato planks with basil aoili. It remains strictly the domain of my man-friend, Thomas. Thus, the recipe bellow is written in minute, somewhat pretentious detail (apologies for that) by him, and I can take no credit for any successes or failures you may have with it. Although I am quite certain I could make sweet potato planks with basil aoili, and indeed have often aided him in the process of doing so, it is indisputably one of those recipes that always tastes best when someone else makes it for you.

If you've never made real aoili before, I thoroughly recommend you try it. It's not that hard (just be very, very patient when adding the first few drops of oil) and is so much more delicious than anything commercially available.

Tom's Sweet Potato Planks with Basil Aioli

As Julia doesn’t dabble in the dark arts of sweet potato and aioli, she felt it would be better if I enlighten you on the subject. So here, by popular request, is the recipe:

Cut two medium sweet potatoes into chunky plank-like chips (2-3cm fat, and as long as possible). Make them slightly fatter than you would think, they seem to shrink in the oven.

Toss the planks in a small drizzle of olive oil and arrange on an oven shelf or baking dish – make sure it’s non stick/baking paper lined if using a tray of any kind. Throw a few garlic cloves in as well (not peeled) with just their bottoms chopped off.

Bake at around 220 ºC until browned on all sides. You may have to tun them at some stage if you’re not cooking on the oven shelf. (Note: while cooking the chips directly on the oven shelf may result in more evenly browned chips, it may also result in a sticky, sweet-potato-y residue that is difficult to clean. If you don’t like cleaning, go with the baking paper or non-stick tray.) Smaller chips may become slightly burnt but are still quite delicious. If you don’t end up with nicely coloured chips that’s ok too, they’ll still be delicious. Also, make sure you take the garlic out when it’s soft – don’t burn it. But don’t open the oven too much or the chips won’t get hot enough to crisp up.

Now you can whip up your aioli. Pop one egg yolk into the milkshake cup of a stick mixer* along with the squeezed out pulp of the roasted garlic cloves, a splash of lemon juice, and a dessertspoon or so of water. You want this mixture to be able to engage with the blades of the stick blender.

With the blender on and engaged with the aforementioned mixture, VERY gradually (drop by drop) add approximately one cup of oil, using half good quality extra virgin olive oil, and half a more innocuous oil such as light olive, canola, sunflower or vegetable (you can experiment with quantities but the more rich the oil, the richer the aioli will be). You want the mixture to thicken to the consistency you would expect from a good quality mayonnaise. You can probably make around a cup of aioli from one egg yolk. If the mixture starts to separate (you will know), stop immediately and transfer to another container**. You are either mixing too fast, or you have added too much oil. Don’t beat yourself up about it though, as the more mistakes you make, the better aioli maker you will become.

At this point you can either taste and add more lemon juice or garlic (you can use fresh for a more aggressive garlicy-ness, or add more roasted for a softer, more evocative warmth on the palette), or upgrade your aioli into a basil aioli by stirring through a mixture of a handful of basil, a splash of extra virgin, and half a clove of fresh garlic that has been either pounded in a mortar and pestle (the best way) or blended. I find the basil really complements the sweet potato taste. You could even use purple basil if you are an aesthete.

Serve the planks generously sprinkled with salt flakes (I recommend Maldon) and cracked pepper, and a large amount of aioli for dipping.

ADDENDUM:

*It is also possible to produce aioli with any other kind of beating device/implement, such as a food processor. I, however find that a stick blender is generally less likely to fail.

If one wishes to be a historical purist, it is also possible to conceive aioli in a mortar and pestle with the simple addition of a garlic clove. Just bash up the clove and, drop by drop, bash in the oil (in the mortar and pestle). This requires great patience but results in a fair amount of status within the aioli community, and smug desire to turn one’s nose up at those who require the use of egg or electricity to produce their aioli. You can also use this method to ‘rescue’ you separated aioli if you’re out of eggs. Just begin the new aioli in this way, then transfer the new mixture to another vessel and gradually blend in the separated mixture.

**If splitting occurs, it can either be cured using the mortar and pestle method mentioned above, or by simply adding a few drops of boiling water and blending rapidly.

The Spoils of Underemployment

..

For the past few weeks I've been a touch underemployed.

But it hasn't been so bad. It's left me with plenty of time to:

Go on spontaneous holidays to the beautiful Blue Mountains with a rather charming man.



Cook delicious meals {sweet potato chips with basil aoili and sauteed silver beet with marjoram and Bulgarian feta).




Craft lampshades



Paint



And appreciate the first peaks of Spring.

Yes. In fact I'd say it's been quite grand.

{stay tuned for recipes and DIY lamp instructions in the coming days}

Fresh is most certainly the best

Hello chickens! Sorry I have been so neglectful recently, not that I am not always neglectful, but sometimes I like to apologise for it.

Just wanted to share with you a delightful trip I made to the Canberra Farmers Market this morning. It was quite an adventure, somehow I managed to get up before 9.00am on a Saturday morning! Now most of you probably already know about the Farmers Market and go every week so this won't be news to you. But, if you're anything like me you have probably meant to go every week, then slept in. The markets are only open until 11am and it is Saturday morning after all! For many, many weeks (months actually...) I have had the intention of going and it is only today that I have finally made it. The secret to getting up early, I have discovered, is to organise a friend to go with you (thank you George!). Then you'll feel guilty if you stand them up by sleeping in like the lazy soul you are (or I am, I didn't mean to imply that you guys were lazy).


Anyway, it was totally worth getting up. The markets were bustling with people eager to get a bargain on their fresh produce and sometimes it was a bit of a tussle to the tomatoes and a push and a shove to the potatoes. All part of the fun I thought and completely worth it when everything is so cheap and so fresh. I got home and all I wanted to do was cook! Needless to say I didn't.

I've included some pictures of the goodies I bought as well. Partly so there was something to look at and partly so I could play with Poladroid. I thought it pointless at first, but now I kind of dig it.


The Capital Region Farmers Markets are held every Saturday morning at Exhibition Park from 8 am to 11 am. Find out more here.

Lickable Happiness

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I don't care what you do with this. Put it on cupcakes. Steak. Breakfast cereal. Spread it all over your lover then gently lick it off like a kitten. Just make sure you put it on the top of your list of things to eat before you die.

White Chocolate Cream Cheese Icing
Adapted from Bake and Shake

Ingredients
170g cream cheese, softened
100g white chocolate of premium quality
3/4 cup icing sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Method

Melt the white chocolate using a double boiler, or a heavy duty ceramic bowl over a pot of simmering water (but make sure water and bowl do not touch!). Allow to cool a little.
In another bowl, cream together the icing sugar, cream cheese and vanilla. Add the melted white chocolate and fold until smooth. Spread onto item of choice and consume immediately.

Autumn Pasta x Deux

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I know, I know, I didn't post every day like I promised or even every second day. But here, take my hand and let me make it up to you with not one but two glorious, easy, very seasonally appropriate pasta dishes. I have to admit I have nothing very witty or clever to say about these babies. They just make for good, tasty everyday fare. Although one is based on a pretty classic combination they're both improvised, so instructions are somewhat loose. Feel free to experiment wildly.


Roast Pumpkin and Sage Brown Butter Fettuccine


Feeds 3-ish

Ingredients:
1 300g packet of egg fettuccine or linguine
1/2 a butternut pumpkin, peeled and cubes into 1cm pieces, seeds reserved
A splash of olive oil
3 tbs of quality butter (or to taste)
1/2 a bunch of sage (a small handful)
Grated or shaved Parmesan, to serve.

Method:
1. Toss the pumpkin cubes in olive oil and bake at 180 degrees C for 30 minutes or until tender and golden. I like to roast the seeds, too (they take on a lovely popcorn flavour and are scientifically proven to make you happy - true story), so I usually chuck them in with the pumplkin after about 15 minutes in so they don't burn.
2. Cook your pasta according to packet instructions
3. Meanwhile, melt the butter over medium heat, then add the sage and cook until the butter is slightly brown and the sage is crispy.
4. Drain pasta, top with pumpkin pieces and seeds, drizzle over sage butter and serve with salt and pepper, plenty of Parmesan and a green salad.

Tomato, Puy Lentil and Spinach Penne

Feeds 4-ish

Ingredients:
400g penne
3/4 cup puy lentils
A splash of olive oil
3 anchovies (optional)
1/2 tsp chilli flakes (or to taste)
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 400g tins tomatoes
a splash of wine (optional)
2 big handfuls baby spinach
a nob of butter (optional)
flat leaf parsley, to serve

Method:

1. Prepare lentils according to packet instructions. This usually involves boiling them for 20 minutes.
2. Warm the olive oil in a large fry pan over medium high heat. Add the garlic, chili flakes and anchovies if desired and cook for a minute or until anchovies have dissolved and garlic is transparent.
3. Add tomatoes and a splash of wine if using. Bring to the boil.
4. Reduce to simmer and add the spinach. Simmer for 10-15 minutes, or until sauce has reduced slightly, spinach has wilted and tinned tomatoey flavour is gone.
5. Meanwhile, prepare pasta according to packet instructions.
6. Serve sauce on top of, or mixed through pasta and topped with plenty of flat leaf parsley. Rusticly charming.

All I have to give

I'm not going to take the conventional route, here, and apologise for being gone for so long. The truth is, you wouldn't have wanted to hear from me anyway. I've been in no state for blogging. Unemployed, pennyless and lonely, my words of woe would only taint this lovely space with an unpleasant yellowish-grey tinge of misery.

Instead, I'm going to share with you the only good thing to have happened to me in the past week: this sandwich. It was cast into my unsuspecting lap by the internet gods, and with a little of my own tinkering and creativity, became a beacon of light, a reminder of hope, of joy, of food, of yum.

This deconstructed felafel of sorts is all the things I look for in a recipe these days: cheap, easy, healthy, yummy. I reckon that if you're lucky enough to have a job, or go to uni, or have something else occupying your time, this would make a great packed lunch. Maybe take the wet ingredients in a box and assemble before eating though, to avoid something which resembles the dreaded soggy sandwiches of our primary school days (yuk).

Chickpea Salad Roll

Not the most appetizing of photographs, I know, but I'm going for this new, rustic honesty style

1. Prepare this smashed chickpea salad, as seen on the always fabulous Smitten Kitchen food blog. I also added mint for an extra bit of herby fragrance.

2. Mix a few tablespoons of tahini paste with a little lemon juice and olive oil

3. Take a fresh, fluffy piece of Lebanese bread (I like the ones made by Peace Bakery) and spread with the tahini mixture. Also spread with a little harissa for a touch of spice if desired.

4. Top with a thick stripe of chickpea salad down the middle, a few pieces of sliced tomato and a handful of baby spinach leaves or lettuce.

5. Roll up all nice like, folding the bottom up first, then turning in the sides for mess free eating.

6. Send me an e-mail offering me a fabulous job as a reward for the genius of this recipe. Please?

Chocolate Gingerbread

lk



This recipe needs little introduction. It is as delicious as it sounds. Chewy, rich and dense, yet lighter than a brownie, and with complex, intriguing notes of ginger and spice, and a zingy, zesty icing.

It comes to us via my beloved Nigella (and her fantastic book, Feast), who, in the words of my housemate, just "really gets chocolate, you know?".

Ingredients

Cake
175g unsalted butter
125g brown sugar
2 tablespoons caster sugar
200g golden syrup
200g golden syrup
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
2 tablespoons warm water
2 eggs
250ml milk
275g plain flour
40g cocoa
175g chocolate chips, or roughly chopped dark chocolate

Icing
250g icing sugar
30g unsalted butter
1 tablespoon cocoa
60ml ginger ale

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 170 degrees celsius. Prepare some form of baking vessel. Nigella recommends lining a roasting tin of approximately 30 x 20 x 5cm deep with baking parchment. I just used two smallish square silicon cake pans.
2. In a large saucepan, melt the butter with the brown and caster sugars, golden syrup, treacle, cloves, cinnamon, and ground ginger. Take off the heat.
3. In a cup combine the baking soda with the water. Beat this into the melted mixture along with the eggs and milk. At this point it should fizz up all excitedly!
4. Sift in the flour and cocoa and beat with a wooden spoon until well mixed, then stir in the chocolate chips/pieces.
5. Pour into your tin/tins and bake for about 40 minutes until risen and firm, and passing ye olde skewer test. Do not fear if it is still slightly moist at the base, this is exactly how you want it. Moist and delicious. Leave the cake to cool in its tin.
6. Once the cake is cool, make the icing. In a medium sized saucepan, heat the butter, cocoa and ginger ale. Once the butter's melted, whisk in the icing sugar. Pour all over the top of the gingerbread, and cut into fat 'wodges' to use Nigella's term.

Most delicious (like all good things) served perched aside a hot cup of earl grey.

Summery Seduction

ll


Is anyone else having trouble believing that we're currently residing in the season of Summer? I don't know about you, but I feel like I've only bared my legs to an unsuspecting world a handful of times since Autumn and ordinarily, well....it would have been more like four or five handfuls (poor world). Not that I'm complaining. I hate summer. I always find miserable weather inspiring, and heat and sunshine just...laze inducing. So really, this is a fitting farewell before I brave the oppressing burn of Southern India.

Anyway, I'm sure that at least once in the next month or so while I'm away a moment will arise in each of your lives when the thought of cooking or eating anything involving heat will induce nausea. What follows will be just the thing for that day. This recipe is also for my friend Tim who has recently acquired a vegan housemate and asked for advice on what to feed her. Tim: this. Or, if we're to dip into my small archive, you could also go with this or this, or even this, sans egg and butter.

This recipe really is gorgeously cooling, and almost unsettlingly attractive for a food-stuff. It's all coy in pink and green; I half expected it to jump of the plate, give me a flower and do a little curtsey. It would be just the thing for a post-gluttonous boxing day lunch, and would also make a very classy entree at a summer dinner party. The boy and I enjoyed it all the same as a light main course with some rice and steamed boc choy to the side, on an almost warm night earlier this week.


Silken Tofu with Pickled Ginger, Cucumber and Mint

Adapted from the Longrain Cookbook: Modern Thai Food

Ingredients

1 400g packet silken tofu, carefully sliced (I picked up a locally made one from Choku Bai Jo in North Lyneham shops - delicious!)
1/2 Cup Coriander leaves
1/2 cup mint leaves
1/2 a small red chilli, finely diced
1 lebanese cucumber
2 tablespoons Pickled Ginger (available at Asian Supermarkets)
1 spring onion, finely sliced on a sharp diagonal

Dressing
1 tablespoon Japanese soy sauce
1 tablespoon mirin
juice of 1 lime
1 teaspoon caster sugar
1 teaspoon finely sliced (or morta and pestle pounded) ginger

fried shallots, for garnish

Method

Combine all dressing ingredients and set aside.

Cut your cucumber in half, lengthways. Turn each peice on its side and finely shave into thin half-ribbons, using a sturdy vegetable peeler, thusly:

Combine the cucumber with the herbs, ginger, chilli, and spring onion, and pile artfully atop the tofu.

Drizzle with the dressing, and sprinkle over the fried shallots.

Enjoy, preferably with Jasmine tea served in pretty little cups. Pure class.

Beer Bites, Part One: India

Melissa at The Traveller's Lunchbox recently wrote that despite the massive life changes she has endured over 2008, the year will probably always be remembered as one in which she made an awful lot of jam. Which made me realise that my years are often defined by the discovery of particular foods, or 'food movements', too. While this year was one in which I moved out of home, wrote a thesis, had my first real job and started a blog, it was also one in which I became a vegequarian (who eats chicken on occasion), planted my own herbs and tomatoes, started shopping at farmer's outlets, and blogged a lot about food.

Last year was somewhat less eventful, and thus will always be remembered as the one in which I discovered beer. Sure, I had drunken beer (sometimes in copious amounts) previously. And although at the time I was pretty sure I enjoyed it, I realise now that I mostly did it in a highly unfeminst attempt to bond with men folk. No better way, I always say, to form friendships with males than by indulging along side them in cheap, yucky, bogan Australian beer (although I acknowledge that this probably says far more about my social skills than those of the average Australian man).

So it wasn't until my Indochina trip of January '07 that I truly learnt to love beer. Asian beer. Every meal in Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia was accompanied by a long neck of the local brew, for which I usually paid roughly between 0.5 - 1.5 Australian dollars. There is nothing better when dining on the dusty banks of an empty Mekong in Phnom Pen than a long brew of Khmer beer (even though it does taste unmistakably like eggs), or a Beer Lao with a fifty cent all you can eat vegan banquet in magically lit night markets at Luang Prabang, or a fresh beer Hoi with a delicious bowl of steaming pho on a tiny chair positioned precariously on the edge of a busy road in Hanoi. Nothing. Better.

So, in delayed celebration of the discovery of my love for Asian beer, love of the truest, most feminist kind, I intend to post a series of recipes of yummy nibbly delights to enjoy with certain brews from that mystical east.

The idea for today's post (which, in turn inspired this series of posts) occurred to me by accident, when I prepared one of my favorite cheap, easy and quick snacks this afternoon - poppadums with various Indian fixings. I sat down to eat it and realised, achingly so, that it would be simply perfect with a beer. An Asian beer. The Indian brew, Kingfisher would have been ideal in the interest of keeping things ethnically correct...but the bottlo across the road had none. So instead I went with my all time Asian fave, Tiger. I'm no good at describing its taste (I said I liked beer, not that I understood it), but it goes perfectly with anything spicy. So I sat down to feast and drink...the boy studying across from me, and the sounds of live jazz from the pub across the road floating in with the afternoon breeze which tickled our freshly hung Nepalse prayer flags. It was a most divine Sunday afternoon.

Tiger Beer with Poppadums and Indian dips.

As much as I enjoy a good curry, I often find it is all the extra bits - raita, chutneys, pickles, poppadums, naan - that I truly love about Indian food. They also, as is the topic of this post, make for great nibbles with beer...and are fantastic as a pre-dinner thang, or just with casual afternoon beers with friends, lovers, or indeed, alone. I haven't given too much guidance here, because I generally just throw whatever I have on hand together, so I think experimentation is key. You might also like to make some of that bannana and coconut thing, but, as banana is the one and only food that completely scares the bejesus out of me, I did not.

To make the poppadums, simply follow the instructions on the back of the pack. While I believe the deep fried method is undeniably better, I made mine in the microwave today out of intense Sunday-afternoon laziness. You could substitue fresh naan bread from your local Indian shop, but there is something about the crunchy, fragrant, chick pea flavour of poppadums I love, and I generally always have a packet in my pantry.

Cucumber Raita
I like this quite nontraditionally chunky, so I combine about half a roughly chopped cucumber with 2-3 tablespoons of natural Greek yogurt, half to a full tablespoon of lemon juice, 2 teaspoons of fresh finely chopped fresh mint, or one teaspoon of dried mint flakes, and plenty of salt and pepper, and maybe a pinch of ground cummin or coriander. Mix well.

Tomato and Coriander
Combine two roughly chopped ripe as ripe tomatoes, with your desired amount of finely diced red onion, two teaspoons of finely chopped coriander, 1/4 of a teaspoon of ground cumin, 1 tablespoon of lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste.

I also mix a good, sweet commercial mango chutney with lots of extra chilli flakes, and serve it along side the poppadums and dips. To be honest, this is my favorite bit, and is often the only thing I can bring myself to prepare. So I wont judge you, even a little bit, if you decide to skip the dips, and just go with the chutney, or an assortment of chutneys and pickles, even.

All ingredients can be prepared up to several hours in advance, although the poppadums might go soggy, so probably best to make them fresh. Serves approximately four people for beer nibbles, or two for a light lunch.

A spring broth

k

Hey peonies.

So I promised you a recipe, and I am nothing, nothing if not a deliverer.

So from my home to yours, a bowl of buckwheat noodles in gingery-spring broth.

This soup is almost ludicrously simple to prepare. You merely boil the noodles (in a few short minutes), then bring a simple broth to the boil and simmer for five, chuck it all in a bowl with a little silken tofu and some spring vegetables, pour yourself a glass of wine, sit, and devour pleasurefully (with chopsticks, please). Honestly, I don't know why any sane person would eat these, when they could eat this. It is also ludicrously cheap (which, now that I've moved out is going to be my new bent, so you know), and ludicrously healthy - full of fibre, protein and vitamins.

Moreover (if, at this stage you still need a moreover), it is incredibly comforting on these indecisive, warm one minute, freezing the next spring days, and fabulous if you, like me, are feeling a bit under the ol' weather. Kind of like the Asian-inspired, semi-vegetarian version of chicken noodle soup.


Buckwheat noodles in springy-ginger broth

Adapted loosely from Marie Claire Zest by Michele Cranston

A few points:
I would love you to consider the broth as a basic suggestion to play around with. Try different spring vegetables - Asparagus, Asian Greens (especially delicate ones like tatsoi), bean sprouts or even exotic mushrooms like oyster or enoki). Or maybe even experiment with different noodles, like somen or udon. Just make sure you keep it clean, simple and fresh - the very essence of Spring.

Ingredients
1.5 litres of chicken or vegetable stock (you should really go with quality here. I'm not suggesting you make your own from scratch or anything, but I find it works best with 500mls of quality liquid chicken stock from the supermarket, and 1ltr of water into which one vegetable stock cube has been dissolved.)
400g buckwheat (soba) noodles
2tbs Japanese soy sauce
3tbs fish sauce (if you wanted to be genuinely vegetarian about this, experiment with other Asian sauces, like Chinese wine, sake, or just up the level of soy and add some lime juice)
1.5 tbs finely chopped fresh ginger
1/2 teaspoon wasabi paste (optional)
400gm silken tofu, carefully sliced into 2cm cubes
2 shallots, finely sliced on the diagonal, for garnish
10 or so sugar snap peas, sliced on the diagonal, for garnish
finely sliced red chillis, for garnish (optional)

Method

Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil. I like to warm the tofu while this is happening, so I place the whole container (unopened) in the water, and pull it out with tongs once its come to the boil.
Cook the soba noodles according to packet instructions. Usually this takes around 2-3 minutes. Drain and put aside.
Bring the stock, ginger, sauces and wasabi to the boil, then simmer for 5 minutes.
Divide the noodles into four deep bowls, top with the warm tofu, and pour over the broth. Garnish with the shallots, snap peas and chilli.

Serves Four(-ish).

What has this enviably gourmet blogger been eating since moving out?

Take one packet of Nissin Instant Ramen (I have an almost insatiable affection for the soy flavor), and prepare according to the packet instructions. A moment before you think the noodles are of a desirable texture (yielding, somewhat, to the tooth, but still firm {the Italian's call this al dente), chuck in one head of bok choy, cut in half length ways. Boil for just a moment, until the bok choy turns a rather pleasing vibrant green and wilts slightly. Pour mixture into a deep noodle bowl, stir through contents of sauce sachet and seasoning sachet, and garnish with the provided sliced seaweed (pretty much my favorite instant noodle inclusion, ever). If you are feeling even more adventurous (or want to regain a fraction of the credibility you lost upon preparing instant noodles), you may also want to add some dried, sliced shitake mushrooms, which you should boil for at least a minute in the pot before chucking in your noodles. MSG-a-licious!

Shin Ramyun (hot and spicy) is also quite fantastic prepared in a similar manner (although the instructions require you to add all flavorings before cooking). I warn you, however, eating this particular variety is something of an endurance sport, involving panting, sweating, and loosing almost all fluids from eyes and nose. It is also the reason why I'm not a member of any gym.

{Needless to say, we don't yet have a fridge. But when we do, I promise to be back with lots of delicious, budget friendly and slightly more nutritious recipes, utilising herbs from our freshly planted quaint herb box, and making the most of the ridiculously hugemongous fridge we'll be picking up on Friday.}

Elderflower Sunshower

lklk
Wow. Well, I hope ya'll enjoyed our brief frolic into eighties land. I'm pretty sure I did.

There may, just may, be an even briefer and more exciting Number One Millionaire 80s revival in coming weeks, but in the meantime, put up your feet. Have a cocktail. Dream of summer. Kiss a stranger.

I call it Summer Rain (cos that's what it tastes like, to me).



There are two ways I like to make this. The first is more of an evening/late night cocktail:

1. In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, mix two shots of vodka, with 1 1/2 shots of elderflower cordial, the pulp of one passionfruit, and a few strips of lime zest, and shake vigorously.
2. Strain into a chilled martini glass, and garnish with another few curls of lime zest.

(I tend to like this version strained - ie. without the passionfruit seeds, but feel free to just tip it in higgledy-piggledy, seeds-and-all if that's what roasts your parsnips.)

And the second version is a lighter (non-strained), more afternoony cocktail:

1. Place 2 shots vodka, 2 shots elderflower cordial, the pulp of one passionfruit, and a few strips of lime zest into a cocktail shaker filled with ice, and shake vigorously.
2. Pour (don't strain) into a double-0ld-fasioned glass (ie whisky glass, or short tumbler) filled with ice. Top with sparkling mineral water, and garnish with a few curls of lime zest.

If in either case you find that it is still a bit too bitter or alcoholic, simply add a little more elderflower cordial and stir. It works much like a tastier version of sugar syrup.

Heavenly Hash

julia
julia

I had the perfect lead in planned for this recipe.

It was going to be all about how Margaret Fulton's heavenly hash is, like, the ultimate 80s food. The epiphany, the true essence of the eighties.

I was going to say how heavenly hash is like these outfits:



...made edible. All sweet and creamy and puffy like.

Then it was going to lead into a fabulous future post about Kate Bush, my ultimate girl hero.

Unfortunately, my mother-turned-food-historian, rudely informed me that heavenly hash is the ultimate 70s food, the epiphany, the true essence of the seventies. She based this on two pieces of evidence:

1. The Complete Margaret Fulton Cookbook was, indeed, published in the seventies; and
2. A love interest of her's used to make it for her when she was a medical student in, you guessed it, the seventies.
   

The bastard.

Anyway, I've concluded that as I was born in the eighties, I can make up my own mind about what is quintessentially eighties to me. So I did. And came up with this. Hmph.

Anyway, much like the eighties, this dish is about as frumpily, kitschly unfashionable as you can possibly get. As a result, it's pretty now, in a way. And I love it. I mean, how great is the name. I just love to say it: heaaavenly - haaaash. So great. I like to think that it's what heaven is made of, in Margaret's imagination. The ingredients list will put you off, yes, I expect that. But believe me. It's pretty much divine. It was the all-time favorite dessert of my brother and I for our entire childhoods, not just because we loved the dish itself (which we did), but because it was the only time we got to eat marshmallows, or any kind of lollies for that matter. It always felt like a personal triumph, like we'd tricked her into to giving us sweets without her realising it. Sometimes, she wouldn't use up all the marshmallows, and we'd sneak into her study late at night, find them tucked away in one of her many very lame excuses for a hiding place, and toast them over the open gas flame on the stove.

I think the secret to this particular dessert is that the sour cream balances out all the other sweet ingredients, so it isn't sickly, and the spices give it a subtle, delicate, interesting flavor. You must try it, preferably with your hair in a dramatically high, bright scrunchy-held side pony.

Also, it should be noted that this must be made with canned pineapple and mandarin. Don't try using fresh...it just won't be juicy or mushy or kitschy or seventies/eighties enough.

Heavenly Hash

Adapted from The Complete Margaret Fulton Cookbook

Ingredients

1 small can of mandarin segments (around 200ml)
1 small can of pineapple pieces (around 200ml)
1 packet of pink and white marshmallows (250g)
1 1/4 cups of sour cream
a pinch of ground cardamom
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp grated orange rind
1 tablespoon cointreau, compulsory
the seeds scraped from 1/2 a vanilla bean, very optional

Method

1. Drain the fruit and halve the marshmallows
2. Toss carefully togetther in a large bowl
3. Whip the sour cream together with the cardamom, ginger, orange rind, cointreau, and vanilla (if using).
4. Fold the cream mixture through the fruit and marshmallows, and chill for at least an hour (so all the juicy deliciousness has time to mingle) before serving.

NB: Margaret's recipe includes 1 bottle of red maraschino cherries, but that's waaay to retro for me. I draw the line at maraschino cherries. And besides, Mum never used them. However, I suppose you could include them if you wanted to. It's not like I'd ever find out...

A Weekend of Chow and a Recipe

This past weekend was a divinely gastronomic one. It started on Friday night with a decadent modern asian meal accompanied by yummy wine at one of my favourite Canberran restaurants; the Chairman and Yip, in celebration of my first paycheck.

After dinner I bought a brand new teapot and restocked my supply of my new favourite tea: Stockholm blend (from the Tea Centre), and drank gallons all weekend. Aren't they both beautiful?


On Saturday, while I attempted the first chapter of my thesis, the boy sweetly made me a most delicious and visually appealing fruit salad:


On Sunday, after a long afternoon of antique and furniture shopping (which resulted in the purchase of a few more ice cream coloured pieces to match my teacups), we had a delicious afternoon tea at the markets of roasted chestnuts from the man in the little red van, my favorite Margarita pizza from the Italian deli, and fizzy elderflower cordial from the organic shop. A simply perfect combination.


The elderflower was so delicious that I bought a big (and expensive) bottle of concentrate and have been drinking it non-stop since. It's especially refreshing with sparkling mineral water and ice. The boy and I have been planning some kind of elderflower-watermelon cocktail concoction ...I'll let you know how that goes:



The only thing I actually cooked all weekend was my famous Japanese Fried Rice for Saturday night's supper:


This is the kind of fried rice that masterful Japanese chefs make at Teppanyaki joints and then throw at you. As a result, I'm not sure how much of it actually gets eaten but what does is usually beautifully garlicy, buttery and utterly tasty. I came up with this recipe after watching it made in front of me at Wasabi Teppanyaki in Dickson and reconstructed it somewhat from memory, but largely using my own genius and making my own improvements. I know fried rice isn't the most exciting or exotic of dishes, but trust me, this one's special. The first secret is to use LOTS of butter, and the second is to use the soaking water from the shitake mushrooms as stock. These give it a lovely depth of flavour, and nutty creamyness. This recipe is also cheap, easy and relatively nutritious (save for the butter). It is delicious on its own, or as a side to terriyaki chicken or salmon, if you're so inclined.

Ingredients

1 handful of sliced, dried shitake* mushrooms
1 cup Japanese rice
3 happy free range eggs
1 tablespoon of butter
1 medium sized onion, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, diced
250g bean curd/tofu*, sliced
1/4 cup Japanese soy sauce
1/4 cup mirin
1 tablespoon sake
1 teaspoon sugar
2 medium sized carrots, finely diced
two or so handfuls of frozen edamame beans* thawed
toasted sesame seeds, sliced green onion or pickled ginger, for garnish

Method

1. First, cook your rice using your preferred method (as I use a rice cooker, I'm not going to impart any advice here). Once cooked, I like to stir through a little butter, but you don't have to.
2. Soak the shitake mushrooms in about 1 cup of boiling water for about 30 minutes or until soft.
3. While the rice is cooking, beat your three eggs together with a touch of salt and pepper. Heat some vegetable oil in a medium sized frying pan or wok (around 28cm) and pour in the eggs to make a thin omelette. I usually find this omelette to be so thin that it doesn't require flipping, so simply cook it till it looks set on top. Flip the omelette out onto a chopping board, roll it up, then slice into thin strips. Put aside
3. Melt the butter in your frypan or wok, then sautee the onions till transparent.
4. Add the garlic and tofu, fry till slightly golden
5. Add the soy sauce, mirin, sake and sugar, fry for one minute. I like to put the sauces in now so that they get soaked up by the tofu, but if you prefer you can put them in with the rice.
6. Add the rice, edamame, carrots, omelette shitake mushrooms and soaking liquid, and fry, tossing constantly for a few minutes, or until everything is heated through. Taste, and if you feel that it needs more flavour, add more soy sauce or mirin, and a touch more butter if you like.
7. Serve, garnished with the sesame seeds, sliced green onion or pickled ginger, if desired.

*These ingredients should all be easily found at an Asian supermarket. Edamame are Japanese soybeans, and are usually in the freezer section They come in big bags (much like frozen peas) either podded or still in their skins (and make delicious snacks on their own with salt and beer). My favourite brand of bean curd is Hhu Quijnh "Fresh Bean Curd Made Daily" - it's extra creamy on the inside but crispy on the outside, not too silky, not to firm and utterly delicious, but I've only ever seen it at "Lucky Price" in Erindale.

NB: You may have noticed that inbetween all the chowing, I've also been playing around with photos. I haven't been using my Holga (still haven't worked out how it works), but an excellent, and very fun online photo editing thingymajig called Picnik.

And 'cause you know how I love food-themed songs:

Gameboy/Gamegirl - Fruit Salad (Mp3)

Like a moth she moves to the red light...

I wanna climb up here;

from Yann Orhan's Nos vies invisibles series

Pull these out of my rucksack and eat them;

from food and paper

And listen to this;

M83 - Skin of the Night


Then later, when it comes out, I really wanna see this:



These four diversions combined, plus a bubble bath, all in one day would be, like, the best day. The best day ever.

Eggs of GOD

I had grand plans for this week's recipe. A request had been put in for soup, and soup it was going to be. I was all set to do a piece on my long and loving history with the butternut pumpkin (culminating in a certain topless dancing incident), but then Mummy dearest completely failed to pick me up from uni on Friday, leaving me abandoned and facing a fancy dinner at Manuka with Tom's family (down from Israel, no less) wearing a man's cardigan.

I just wanna let that resonate for a moment...a man's cardigan.

Fortunately, Erin saved the day with a sassy sparkling grey number (thanks again, doll) and I avoided giving the entire nation of Israel grave misconceptions about the quality and class of Australian women. The butternut pumpkin situation, however, went unsalvaged.

Luckily, this story (if you could call it that) has a happy ending. I rediscovered THE MOST FABULOUS EGGS RECIPE EVER to share on this lazy Sunday. In a true moment of culinary genius, I reconstructed this a few months ago from a picture I saw in an Israeli cookbook of Tom's. Now, I don't like to toot my own horn, but let me tell you, readers, I should have been Israeli. All it took was a quick google search for Israel's favourite spices, and a bit of experimentation, and voila! This recipe is spectacular. And the whole garnish with fetta and mint thing? Completely my own invention (and probably likely to enduce head shakes of dismay from actual Israelis). Part of the super-awesomeness of this recipe lies in the fact that it is perfectly appropriate for any meal - breakfast, lunch, dinner, or 4 in the afternoon as I proved today. The eggs kind of half fry, half poach, half steam (in my world you can have 3 halves) in the tomato mixture, giving them an especially creamy, divine texture. Turns out being vegetarian (slash vegequarian-who-eats-chicken-on-occasion) isn't so bad after all.

Loosely Israeli Tomato-Egg Pan (Shakshouka)

One of the few advantages of still living at home is that I have all kinds of exotic spices at hand, but I recognise that you may have to make some small trips to get the ingredients for this recipe. Seriously, though, it's still totally worth it. Trust me.

Oh, and while I've only used 2 eggs here, there is no good reason why you couldn't try cooking 4, keeping the other measurements the same. People would just end up with slightly less sauce each.

Serves one very greedy person, or two of only moderate greed.

Ingredients
2 happy free range eggs
400gm tin of crushed tomatoes
1/2 teaspoon coriander seeds
1/2 teaspoon caraway seeds
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
the seeds from 4 cardamom pods
2 teaspoons harissa*
2 cloves of garlic, finely diced
2 bay leaves
a squeeze of lemon
crumbled fetta, for garnish
torn mint leaves, for garnish
chunky toast or toasted pita, to serve

Method
1. Using a mortar and pestle, grind all the spices till finer, but certainly not a powder.
2. Mix this spice mixture with the harissa, garlic and a touch of salt and pepper to create a deliciously fragrant paste. It should look a little like this:

3. Coat a medium sized pan (don't go too large or the sauce won't be thick enough to cook the eggs in later) with olive oil, and over medium heat fry the paste for a minute or so until slightly golden and overpoweringly fragrant.
4. Add the tin of tomatoes, bay leaves and a squeeze of lemon. At this stage you may like to taste the mixture, and if you decide you want it a touch more piquant add a little more harissa (I know I did). Cook over medium heat for a few minutes, until it is slightly thickened and the canned tomatoey taste is gone.
5. Make a hole in the sauce on one side of the pan, and crack an egg into it. Repeat on the other side.
6. Cover the pan with a lid (or foil if you don't have one), and, keeping the tomatoes going at a moderate simmer, allow the eggs to cook. If you'd like to have the eggs with toast (and why wouldn't you?) then this is a good time to start toastin'. The eggs should take about 3 minutes, but best to check a little earlier. They're cooked when there is no longer transparent white stuff on the top (der).
7. Serve your eggs on chunky toast which you have drizzled with olive oil (toasted pita, I'd imagine, would also be delicious), and scatter over the fetta and mint. If you're lucky enough to have a mother who buys fancy marinated fetta with sumac and pinenuts, use that (in case you haven't noticed, I'm a little bit bitter about still living at home):

A wedge of lemon goes nicely on the side, too.
8. Eat immediately. Do not waste time trying to take the perfect photograph, failing miserably and letting it all get cold as your commited blogger did.

* Harissa is a middle eastern chilli paste type thing. You can buy it from most fancy supermarkets or delis. If you really, really can't find it substitute with some other variety of chilli - dried, fresh, in paste form, whatever, but it won't be the same.

And just cause it seemed kinda appropriate (plus the bit where he says: "Okay Rob, play guitar now, brother" is pure genius):

The Eggs - Government Administrator

moments of melting orange and passionfruit

So it's been a while between meals, and ever concerned for the wellfare of our imagined creepy fan out there, I thought it best to post another recipe. To be honest, I've been cooking so much lately that the last thing I felt like was talking, let alone writing about it...but then I thought to myself, I thought, "Jub Jub..." (yes, in my imagination I like to call myself Jub Jub), "Jub Jub, food makes people happy. Melting moments make people happy. Melting moments of ORANGE and PASSIONFRUIT make people well near euphoric." And you know what, dear readers? I was right. I mean, just look at the expressions on Jaimie and Diana's faces...

That's the kind of joy only a very particular combination of secret ingredients can evoke. Secret ingredients I've theived from the internet and will share only with you, dearly beloved.

Orange and Passionfruit Melting Moments (adapted from Gourmet Traveller)

Ingredients

Orange Biscuts:
250 gm softened unsalted butter
80 gm icing sugar, sifted
finely greated rind of 1 orange
1 tsp vanilla extract (or, if you're feeling CRAZY, possibly a fraction more)
75 gm cornflour
225gm plain flour (sifted)

Passionfruit Icing:
275 gm icing sugar, sifted
100 gm cold unsalted butter, finely chopped
2 tbsp passionfruit pulp, or the juice of about 2 average passionfruits

Method

1. Preheat oven to yer standard 180C
2. Using an electric mixer (or a very strong man), beat butter and sugar till it is light, fluffy, and makes you feel warm and fuzzy.
3. add orange rind and vanilla and beat until combined
4. add sifted flours and a touch of salt (ie 1/2 tsp) and stir to form a soft dough using a spoon of wood.
5. form little balls of around 1/2 tablespoon in size, place 5cm apart on greased or baking paper-lined oven trays, flatten slightly then press with a fork to achieve a sliming groved effect.
6. Bake in your preheated oven for a mere 5 (!) minutes.
7. transfer to wire racks to cool completely.
8. when (and only when) step 7 is complete, begin to make the dreamy passionfruit icing. It helps if you imagine yourself to be an angel in heaven, like on those Philladelpia cream cheese adds. Honestly, this adds to the flavour, irrefutably.
9. whip butter untill kinda lighter and creamier with an electric mixer.
10. add sugar, beat until combined and light and fluffy.
11. add passionfruit, beat until combined. I respect that during this step you may feel the need to free yourself from the shackles of conventional cookery, toss off your wings and abandon all instruction and measurement. I know I did. Just make sure you don't listen to your gentleman friend (whom you know that, while cute, is inevitably ALWAYS wrong) and make an icing which is slightly too runny resulting in messy biscuts later on. The mixture should be thick. Thicker than you would ordinarily consider natural.
12. sandwich biscuts together with 2 tsp of icing, using a piping bag for a fancy frilly affect, if desired.
13. sprinkle with a fairy dust like coating of icing sugar, to further the heavenly metaphor, if desired.

Nice Day for a Picnic (Part 1) or Adventures with Faun-Fiend Tom.

I have now officially been trying to post this mother fucker for the last week and a day. I really hate Blogger. So let's imagine it's last Wednesday afternoon. The sun is shinning, the weather is brisk and you're pretty happy with everything the afternoon has thrown at you. You're in the moment? Right, let's do this.

Wasn’t today just the most beautiful autumn day? Staying inside on such a magnificent day was simply unthinkable, so being the cool cats that we are, we went for a picnic. Lovely Julia baked for us, and then up into the pretty hills of Fadden we went.

Now, I was going to make this a serious post about Julia’s Nigella-esk culinary prowess, but narrating our picnic in picture form is way more fun. I’m passing the baton to Julz to post about how to make the food etc and to give you lovely readers some form of intellectual fodder, because you certainly aren’t about to get it from me…

From the photo up the top you can see us standing at the bottom of Julia’s driveway about to head off on our fun times picnic. I’m obviously too cool to be part of this picture and out of protest have turned my back on it. Now if you scan in closely…






... you’ll see Erin checking out my amazing pins, Katherine lopsidedly trying to do a Paris Hilton pout, Vanessa being somewhat offended by said pout, Tom giving Julia a greasy for not piggybacking him up the hill, and Diana setting the stage for the retardedness that is to come. Seriously though, you need to zoom in on this photo. It is just too funny.

So off we went to find our spot of picnicking heaven. Five minutes later we were drinking pomegranate juice, toasting our good fortune and settling down for some delicious food.






Food that tasted so amazing Katherine and Tom found it hard to keep in their mouths.




It could be said that we were all having a pretty great time.






Until the attack of the killer (awesomely delicious) passion fruit melting moments…






...when suddenly Tom went crazy and turned us all into…

...BUSH FAUNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was all innocent fun at first...




...but there was something un-nerving about the look in Tom’s eyes (or mayhaps teeth?).

Katherine was first to fall victim to the insane faun-fiend Tom, closely followed by Diana.

He became unstoppable. Vanessa, myself and Pete soon fell victim to his crazed faun-adoring eyes.






Oh the joy it gave Faun-fiend Tom to see us with those cute furry ears!

Erin, being rather kinky, warmed to her inner faun which confused Faun-fiend Tom.

He got angry and even more confused…

(Grrrrrrooooaahhhh!?!?!)

So we decided to go home and drink tea.




But on the way home a miracle happened!

Tom managed to crap out his inner faun-fiend (which took the shape of a picnic rug), Katherine caught it ready to safely secure it in a plastic container, Vanessa rejoiced by laughing at his evident pain and Julia seemed strangely un-phased by the whole event.




This may have been because...

...she was in-fact the culprit! (Omg!) By making our food taste sooooooo amazing she single handedly drove Tom insane, making him try to convert us into ‘cute fauns’ because she thought we looked funny.



I’m on to you and your amazing food Julia….



Oh god. I have way too much time on my hands.

Love,
Jaimie.