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Leaves of class

December 1, 2009

This will be a short post. I just wanted to show off the salad leaves grown in our garden. If I could only grow one thing, salad leaves would be it. These days it’s not hard to find beautiful tomatoes (in season), good herbs and so on; but there is absolutely nothing like the texture of salad leaves eaten within half an hour of picking – they are satiny, springy, silky and full of fresh flavour. Truly. Do it.

We have the little lettuces and clumps of sorrel and leafy whatnots sprinkled about the garden (and when I say ‘garden’ I mean 4m x 5m paved courtyard!)  in among the other plants, and around the base of some small trees in pots. All they need is a good bit of sun and decent watering and a feed of seaweed stuff & worm juice now and then and they go ballistic. (Jamie, any other growing hints?)

To harvest, we use the cut-and-come-again method, just snipping off the outside leaves as needed, and gathering a mixture of different types of lettuce, some Asian salad greens, a bit of cress, some tiny beetroot leaves and a few herb leaves (basil, mint) each time. There are weeks when there’s nothing to take, of course, and then there is the time of plenty – best to stagger the plantings and plant new seedlings every three or four weeks.

As soon as the lettuces start to go to seed – when they grow tall and gangly – the leaves begin to turn bitter, and I think that inadequate watering makes them bolt faster, so keep the water up and keep nibbling away at the outer leaves to get the best crop.

Once I pick them as close to eating as possible, I stick them in this mini-sinkful of cold water for a good 10 minutes or so (ice cubes in the water if it’s a really hot day) and then spin them in the salad spinner (another girl’s best friend in the kitchen) to dry as much as possible, before either eating or tossing into a zip-seal plastic bag with plenty of air in it in the fridge.

To me, the perfect salad dressing is 3 parts best olive oil to 1 part best balsamic vinegar, plenty of salt and pepper. But other friends make gorgeous dressings, especially my friend E, whose dressings I think always include raspberry vinegar. E, if you’re out there, can you provide your secret? And the Empress is a fan of a little walnut oil in her dressing, I believe? And what about the rest of you; what makes your green salad spin?

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Living in the seventies: Fondue, baby!

November 29, 2009

The topic of fondue arose recently, as it does now and then among friends when drink has been taken.

Everyone in the room recalled their parents’ fondue set and its occasional outings along with the funky pantsuits and false eyelashes of yore. But there was general disagreement about what fondue actually involved – some purists insisted that only cheese and bread was called for, while others of us recalled boiling oil and lumps of meat.

Serendipitously, the day after this conversation my beloved spied this book at a market and swooped. I suspect we will never actually use it, but it does make an entertaining conversation starter if you leave it on the coffee table. Published 1971, and in mint condition, Fondue and Table Top Cookery by Marion Howells runs the gamut of things-cooked-at-table, from your trad cheese fondues to your Oriental Fondue (meat in stock) to some rather desperate inclusions such as omelettes and dubious-sounding desserts (Apricots Jubilee, anyone?).

On fondue, Marion tells us that:

This popular dish originated in Switzerland. Many stories are told of the villagers being isolated in the long winter months, and supplies of food becoming short, they were forced to rely on local produce like cheese, wine and home made bread. As the cheese became dry they melted it in their wine.

So there we have it – a yicky gloopy mix borne of near-starvation becomes a classic fad for ‘entertaining of the more intimate type’, and into the bargain produces perhaps the earliest example of Fusion Food. As evidence, I leave you with the list of ingredients for my favourite recipe in this collection.

Fondue Bengali

  • 1 clove garlic
  • 1.5 cups dry white wine
  • 1 tsp lemon juice
  • 4 cups grated Gruyere cheese
  • 2 cups grated Emmenthal cheese
  • 2 tsp cornflour
  • 2 tablespoons curry powder
  • 3 tablespoons Kirsch
  • white pepper, cayenne pepper
  • mango chutney
  • French bread
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Five minute feast

November 27, 2009

Okay, so that last post was a little tricky for a weeknight. But this one, I promise you, is the quickest evening meal you will ever make, and it tastes and looks so good it’s a winner for dinner guests too. I think the original recipe is from a Bill Granger book – a friend made this for me years ago and I’ve done it regularly ever since. I’m no fan of those four-ingredient style dishes on the whole, but I make an exception here.

Now, I may have fibbed a little in the headline above. But if we call it fifteen minutes instead of five, that’s no lie. The longest bit is cooking the accompanying rice. This quantity serves 2

Salmon with mirin, soy & black sesame seeds

  • 1 large fillet (or more) salmon or ocean trout, cut into 5cm chunks
  • 50ml mirin
  • 50ml soy sauce
  • 1 clove garlic, sliced
  • 1 tiny knob ginger, grated or very finely julienned
  • 1 tablespoon black sesame seeds
  • 1 bunch asparagus
  • 2 handfuls baby spinach leaves
  • Jasmine or Basmati rice, cooked
  1. First, cook your rice and leave it to fluff.
  2. Bring a saucepan of salted water to the boil.
  3. While you wait, heat a non-stick pan or barbecue plate.
  4. Combine soy, mirin, ginger, garlic & sesame seeds in a small saucepan over low heat.
  5. Pan-fry or barbecue the salmon pieces until golden on the outside and quite rare in the centre, remove and keep warm. This will take only a few minutes.
  6. Toss the asparagus into the boiling water for one minute; add the spinach leaves for about 30 seconds; then drain.
  7. In a warmed dish, arrange a layer of salmon loosely with a layer of greens, then repeat.
  8. Pour over the mirin & soy mixture, then sprinkle with a few more sesame seeds if desired.
  9. Serve on a bed of rice.
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A new leaf – my miang goong

November 25, 2009

As I passed the excellent Fiji Market in King St, Newtown today (on the way home from the gym, that was – insert praise here), I remembered that’s where I’d seen the betel leaves used to make miang  kham, those little roll-up-and-stick-in-your-gob piles of Thai spicy goodness. So I popped in and snagged myself a pack of these fresh green heart-shaped lovelies (about 10 or 12 leaves for $2.50).

I have many times enjoyed the delectable Miang Goong at Thai Pothong described here but never attempted it myself till this evening. And I have to say, this is one of the zingiest new things I’ve tried in a long time. Tested these little babies not only on Senor but his two Wednesday piano students, adventurous primary-school gourmands Lulu and Riley and their caterer dad, and it got the thumbs up from all.

A quick Google search came up with a few recipes for Miang Khang (that’s without the goong – the prawns) and I chose this one to adapt.

The fiddly bit is the sauce – but I doubled the quantity of this one and had masses left over, now safely in the freezer for easy peasy quick Miang assembly for the next time or two.

My adaptation is here, but there must be lots of proper recipes about the place – I urge you to make this, because even though the sauce is fiddly, it’s much easier than you might think and very very good.

Sauce

  • 1 tablespoon shrimp paste
  • 60g fresh galangal, julienned or just grated (I started julienning but it’s a bugger to do, so ended up with a bit of both)
  • 1/4 cup shredded coconut – I used the nice stuff with bigger bits, easier to toast
  • 100g dried shrimp
  • 100g French shallots, peeled
  • 1.5 teaspoons fresh ginger
  • 150g brown & white sugar mixed, more if needed – be careful here, cos the original recipe had heaps of sugar, some palm (which I didn’t have handy so didn’t use), and I used only about half of it. Think this is about what I used but probably best to add in stages so as not to get too sweet.

Method – sauce

  1. In a low oven, dry-roast coconut (with the extra coconut for below) till golden brown & galangal shreds till fragrant – keep checking, but around 10 minutes each.
  2. Put shrimp paste into the centre of a square of aluminium foil, fold to make a packet and then turn up the heat and roast the packet in the oven or stick it under a grill until the paste is fragrant – times may vary; mine took about 15-20 minutes.
  3. While this is happening throw shallots and roasted galangal into the food processor and whiz until fine.
  4. Add roasted shrimp paste, ginger, coconut and dried shrimp, and whiz again till smooth – I added a little water to help it turn into a paste.
  5. Remove the mixture and place in a pot with 1.5 cups water.
  6. Bring to a boil over medium heat.
  7. Add sugar, then reduce heat and simmer, wait until reduced to 1 cup or a bit less.
  8. Taste, and adjust by adding a little salt, then cool.

The easy bits & pieces – ingredients

  • 10 or 12 betel leaves – I know these are hard to find. Perhaps small soft lettuce leaves would do at a pinch?
  • 100g green shelled prawns
  • 1/2 cup grated coconut, roasted in a low-heat oven until lightly brown
  • 1/2 a lime, unpeeled, cut into tiny bits
  • 1 small red chilli, ditto
  • 1 or 2 tablespoons roasted peanuts, chopped finely
  • 1 cm fresh ginger, finely chopped

Method

  1. Quickly fry or steam prawns – only a minute, and they’ll be done.
  2. Take your leaf as a base, and then make a little pile of all in whatever order you think works, with the proportions of chilli etc as you like, but leave the sauce & coconut till last.
  3. Add a good dollop of sauce, then the coconut.
  4. Serve the leaf & pile flat on a plate, then roll up however you can manage – you’ll need two hands – and pop in the mouth.
  5. Stand by for flavour bomb, and enjoy.
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Fear of tofu

November 20, 2009

Don’t get me wrong, I love tofu. In good Thai and Japanese restaurants, or when somebody skilled cooks it for me. Agedashi tofu is one of my favourite things in the world. And at our favourite Thai, the beloved Ploy, there are a couple of tofu dishes to die for – one stir-fried tofu with bean sprouts, and the other a divine larb tofu salad.

Tofu should be on our home menu more often as we are trying to cut down on meat for all the obvious and much-discussed reasons.

But when it comes to cooking with tofu, I am filled with anxiety. Which one, for starters? What is the difference between ’silken’ and ‘firm silken’ and ‘firm’, for example? Recipes tend to say ‘firm’  or ’soft’ but the shops seem to have zillions of different kinds. I am way too confused to master this stuff, and always expect it to fall apart, so have generally just steered clear.

However, yesterday I decided to feel the fear and do it anyway (which reminds me of stonesoup’s excellent post on that subject recently).

I decided to have a crack at a very delicious looking Karen Martini recipe that appeared in the Sunday rag a little while ago. But as hers had salted black beans and various other bits and bobs in it, and I couldn’t be bothered hauling myself to the Asian supermarket to get such things, I just bastardised our usual basil and chilli stirfry taught to me many years ago by our Asian gourmand friend Ricardo, the lunging latino.

The first thing I did was buy the wrong tofu. ‘Firm silken’ is not the same as ‘firm’, I discovered as soon as I unwrapped the former (pictured above, at rear). Lovely soft, wobbly stuff – but even getting it out of the packet made it start to crumble and collapse, and I had visions of a wokful of sloppy custard. So back to the grocer for a block of the hard stuff, easily chopped into pieces (foreground).

I dried and fried the tofu cubes first, then drained them on kitchen paper – then did the rest of the stirfry and then tossed the tofu back in at the end with the fish sauce and basil. The result? Pretty damn fine! So here is the befuddled recipe, which can obviously be mixed and matched and altered as you wish.

But before my next foray into tofuworld, I would love to hear from any aficionados who may be lurking here – I need your advice! Tips, tricks, which is best for what, other easy recipes, how to buy, store, etc. Come on: spill.

Pork & tofu stir fry with chilli & basil

  • rice bran / peanut / vegetable oil
  • 3 cloves garlic, sliced
  • small knob ginger, julienned
  • 1 block firm tofu, cut into 1.5cm cubes
  • 150g pork mince
  • 1/3 red capsicum, cut into sizable chunks
  • handful green beans, halved
  • 2 birdseye chillis with seeds, split lengthwise
  • 2 tablespoons fish sauce, or more to taste
  • 1 teaspoon brown sugar, to taste
  • 1/2 bunch basil
  • steamed jasmine rice, to serve
  1. Heat a little oil in wok or other pan to smoking point, then toss in garlic &  ginger for 10-20 seconds.
  2. Add tofu cubes and fry for 2 minutes, turning so all sides are golden.
  3. Remove wok from heat while you remove tofu pieces & leave to drain on kitchen paper.
  4. Return to heat and add pork mince to pan, stir frying for a few minutes.
  5. Remove pork and set aside. Either wipe out pan or continue with pork juices.
  6. Add chilli, beans, capsicum and cook on high heat till just tender – a little water added to the pan can sometimes help cook more evenly.
  7. Return pork and tofu to pan and stir to mix, keeping heat high
  8. Add fish sauce & brown sugar, adjusting each to taste.
  9. When you are happy with the seasoning, tear basil leaves from stalks and toss through.
  10. Serve on a bed of fluffy rice.
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A purple patch

November 15, 2009

garliccatenov09Remember my quest for Australian garlic, which then resulted in the talented Cate Kennedy sending me some of her garlic shoots?

Well, that garlic is coming along nicely in my garden as we speak, this one pictured here next to the tomatoes and some purple basil and salad greens – tricky in my small garden to do the right companion planting, as Stephanie Alexander tells me it won’t grow well with peas and beans, both of which I’ve got a little further away. But, while Cate’s garlic will hopefully tootle along, it takes six to eight months for it to grow, and a girl’s gotta find a substitute in the meantime, right?

So, praise be to the lovely purple cardboard box that arrived by post this week.

garlicboxSome time ago I had heard of Patrice Newell’s organic biodynamic garlic available online. I registered monthsago, way back before her harvest time, and then forgot about it until receiving an email a couple of weeks ago, telling me Patrice’s “purple glamour garlic” was ready to go, and did I want some?

Yes I did, despite expecting it to be horrifically expensive. I thought ‘bugger it’, and got online. And to my surprise found that a kilo of garlic, which turns out to be 16 gorgeous heads of the stuff, was $38 plus about $5 postage. So we’re talking $2.70 per head of garlic.

And what garlic it is. We had our first taste the other night, and I cannot tell you how fresh and moist and delicious it is. The kind of fresh you see sometimes in very new ginger, just glistening with juice as you slice it. The instructions that come with the box (elegant, recycled and recyclable packaging) tell me the garlic will last for five months before sprouting if kept in a dry, well ventilated spot, and your kitchen bench is recommended as good a place as any. I was staggered at that keepability, which makes me wonder just how old is the garlic we’ve been buying at the grocer, which often begins to sprout after a week.

garliccloseBut this is a bit of a moot point, because at our usual rate of consumption we will get through it long before five months. And I’ve begun taking a bulb of this garlic with me every time we visit a friend, because it’s so good I reckon it’s a cracker gift to take along to dinner with a bottle of wine. So actually I expect I’ll be on to my next order very soon.

If you check out Patrice Newell’s website there’s lots of interesting facts about garlic – including the advice to never keep garlic in the fridge, as dryness is crucial.

And anyway – as you can see, it’s so beautiful, who wouldn’t want it on display?

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The detail in the devil

November 6, 2009

devilsWell friends, the party season is almost upon us. Oh hell, it’s upon us every week, let’s face it. I just said that as an excuse for talking about one of my favourite nibbles, the devil on horseback.

I had a big fad with these a couple of years ago, and then forgot about them until the amazing Jules served them at her place the other week, and now I’m all agog again at how good they are and have made them several times since.

For those whose parents never served these as snacks at classy ’70s progressive dinners (now there’s a whole other topic for a post …), or who have not otherwise discovered the delights of this little torpedo of salty sweetness, a devil on horseback is basically a prune wrapped in bacon, skewered with a toothpick and then grilled, barbecued or otherwise lightly frazzled.

Put like that, of course, it sounds – well, silly. But believe you me, Kimmy, we are talking seriously good finger food here.

The laziest, most cursory bit of online research reveals little about the ridiculous name, except that it’s a cheaper version of angels on horseback – a fresh oyster wrapped in bacon and then grilled (which I’ve never tried – sounds slippery, but really must give it a go), and this was apparently first documented in Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management in 1888, derived from the French dish anges à cheval. All of this explains nothing about horses and angels. I think the horse is the bacon, and the devil (being black, I suppose??? sheesh) is the prune. Go figure. Told you it was nuts.

Anyhoo – enough with the dodgy historical nomenclature, and on with the recipes.

Jules’ absolutely delicious version, and my copies pictured here, were the updated groovified kind made by your friend and mine Maggie Beer, and the recipe is here. Of course it involves verjuice, and orange zest, and rosemary. These are good, as the verjuice plumps up the prune and gives it a succulence it otherwise can lack, and the orange zest provides some zip in what can be a cloying sort of flavour combo. I did mine with some pancetta I had in the fridge, but Maggie says speck or bacon.

My other fave comes from Margaret Fulton’s Encyclopaedia of Food and Cookery, and is a rather boofier version, direct from the seventies. If you are delicate about salt, stop here, turn around, and take refuge. But if like a true howtoshuckanoysterlover you feel the force strong within you, proceed!

1. First, take one blanched almond.

2. Wrap that little baby in an anchovy, and pop the swaddled nut into the hollow centre of a pitted prune.

3. Wrap in bacon, secure with toothpick and proceed to bung in the oven / stick on the barbecue / in a non-stick frypan, etc.

Repeat procedure for as long as you and your guests can take it. These are so rich and salty you can really only eat about two, although Senor has been known to clear a plate without once gasping for water. Jules and I have discussed possible variations; perhaps a caperberry in place of an anchovy? A teeny smidge of chilli?

Please do have an experimental go – and if you come up with your own variations, tell us all about it.

May the devilish force be with you.

*PS: I know I just said I wouldn’t be here for a bit, but just writing that got me all aquiver about the devils. Now I really am going to be gone for a week …


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A case of the busies

November 6, 2009

Brothers & Sisters coverI’m sad to say I have done barely any cooking this week and think it unlikely to be doing much in the week or so; I’m afraid it may be rather quiet round here for a little while.

This week I have had the busies, with lots of  promotion in progress for our new book Brothers & Sisters – preparing for the forthcoming panel at the Newtown Festival this Sunday, then the Sydney launch on Tuesday, another in the Blue Mountains on Thursday, plus the odd interview like this one here with Radio National’s The Book Show earlier this week.

Now this is clearly a load of completely shameless self-promotion, but I figured if you can’t do it on your own blog …

However, I have lots to talk about soon from devils on horseback to the contrast between dried & fresh herbs and when to use which – not to mention a revisit of my spud farm (Jamie, I’m in trouble …) and the herb garden finally coming along  - so please don’t go away! See you back here for actual foodie natterings very soon …

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Golden delicious

October 31, 2009

poachedeggHow to poach an egg

It’s the weekend. The weather is perfect. And in our house the breakfast cook is not me but Senor. The discrepancy between our skills with an egg became clear many years ago; he is the undisputed breakfast champion, which suits me perfectly (to say I am not a morning person is something of an understatement.)

Poaching an egg, I believe, is one of the most delicate and highly-skilled operations in the kitchen, and in my opinion the world is divided into two classes – people who can poach an egg and those who can’t. I am in the latter category; whenever I have tried I end up with a pan full of watery skeins of disintegrating egg white and a hard-yet-sodden little grey ball of yolk.

But Senor has developed the art of egg-poaching to perfection – the white is always just cooked through and perfectly un-drippy on the toast, and the yolk holds its shape before oozing gorgeously when cut.

So because I love you all, I hereby present Senor’s egg-poaching technique, dictated to and faithfully transcribed by yours truly.


  1. Take a non-stick frying pan & fill with about 5cm cold water. Make sure the pan is wide enough to poach a couple of eggs without them touching each other.
  2. Place pan over medium heat and immediately, and very gently, crack eggs into the water, making sure the white does not disperse too much.
  3. Now you play the waiting game. Use this time to make the toast and butter it.
  4. Occasionally test the firmness of the eggs by gently swishing the water near them to determine the wobble factor.
  5. When the egg is not quite as cooked as you like it, carefully remove it from the water with a non-stick slotted spatula, tilting the spatula for a few seconds to allow water to drain off. The whole egg-cooking procedure should take around 7 or 8 minutes.
  6. Carefully place the egg on your buttered toast – the egg will continue to cook as you bring it to the table. Best bread is Turkish or sourdough because it has crevices and holes for the  soft yolk to pour into without making the bread soggy.
  7. Best served with the Empress’s tomato oil pickle … Unless she hasn’t given you any for a while ... quite a while …

 

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Quinoa Salad: Son of Citrus Couscous

October 30, 2009

quinoaQuinoa salad with bits and pieces …

Those of you who’ve enjoyed the citrus couscous recipe I posted a while ago might be keen to try a new salad that I am totally loving at the moment. It’s a very slight bastardisation of a fabulous quinoa salad from Ottolenghi, the Israeli & Palestinian chef duo from London whose book and newspaper column combined are the most interesting source of vegetarian food I’ve ever found.

The original recipe, for Quinoa and Camargue red rice is here, and our adapted version below. My friend Caro first made this for me, using those craisins (dried cranberries) that are easily available in the supermarket, and I liked the slight sourness and the lovely ruby red colour so much I have done it with both craisins and the barberries I got ages ago on the Empress’s and my Persian excursion.

Unlike craisins, however, I’ve found quinoa itself rather difficult to get hold of. I’m told it often resides in health food / organic shops, and I found mine at the Norton St Grocer, but I hope it becomes more freely available because it is my new favourite grain in the world.

It’s pronounced ‘kin-wah’  and as far as I can tell you use it like couscous, but it’s much easier to manage as it doesn’t stick together as couscous can, and it has a delightfully bouncy texture and nutty flavour.

I’ve learned that quinoa is an ancient ‘grain’ (but not really, as it’s not a grass but is more closely related to spinach – we eat the seeds) originating in the Andes, and best of all, it’s gluten-free so people with Coeliac disease and so on can enjoy with impunity. Excellent!

Anyhoo. Enough lessons. On with the deliciousness.

  • 200g quinoa
  • 50g wild rice
  • 1 onion, peeled and sliced
  • 3 tbsp olive oil, plus a little extra for frying
  • zest and juice of 1 orange
  • 1 tsp lemon juice
  • ½ garlic clove, crushed
  • 2 spring onions, thinly sliced
  • handful of barberries / dried cranberries / currants or a mixture of any dried fruit you like
  • 30g pistachio nuts, lightly toasted
  • handful rocket / baby spinach leaves
  • salt and pepper

Method

  1. Bring to the boil two saucepans filled with salted water, and simmer the quinoa and rice separately: the first for 13 minutes, the second for up to 40, depending on how nutty and firm you like the texture.
  2. Drain both and spread out flat to cool more quickly.
  3. While the grains are cooking, fry the onion in a little olive oil until golden brown. Allow to cool.
  4. Soak the dried fruit in orange juice and zest in a bowl with all other ingredients except nuts and spinach/rocket.
  5. In an oven preheated to 170 degrees C, dry-roast the pistachios for up to six minutes or just until the colour changes. Check halfway through, because they can burn in an instant and the flavour is vile if they are even slightly overdone and you’ll have to chuck them out.
  6. Mix the cooked grains with all other ingredients and season generously, adding a little swizzle of oil if it’s too dry. Serve at room temperature.