Cooking Down Under - The Blog

Preserved fruit

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 06:57:00 +0000

Some years ago I bought a couple of lidded terracotta containers for storing onions and potatoes in the pantry. Six months back we moved house and the new kitchen had slide-out wire vegetable baskets and no real space for the terracotta pots. I thought they might do as plant containers once I got my proposed balcony garden growing and set them aside.

Several new planters with plants were installed this week and the landscaper pointed out the old vegetable pots sitting in the garage. We went to look inside them to see if they had drainage holes and were both rather surprised with what we found.

I thought I’d emptied the pots prior to shifting. However, inside the onion pot an orange was resting on an oven mitt (which was in turn resting on decaying onions). But the amazing thing was the orange was still much as it must have been when placed in the pot. After six months it didn’t appear to have undergone any deterioration aside from losing a slight amount of moisture from the skin. I cut it in half and it was still juicy.

It hadn’t gone the least bit mouldy and I am now wondering about the preserving properties of terracotta pots. True, the onions were a bit past it. But I am wondering if something from them might have stopped mould from developing on the orange, as I would have expected.

One of life’s little mysteries…

What a pearler!

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 02:47:00 +0000

I had a minor moment of trepidation last week. I received a letter from the Australian Quarantine and Inspection Service. It was an OMG moment as I pondered what I'd done wrong.

I've had dealings with these people when shifting countries four years ago. I'd gone online and read all their rules and regulations. The contents of my pantry, including all the herbs and spices were jettisoned or given to charity. My car was steam-cleaned from front bumper to back. Anything organic among our belongings that might possibly contain pests or diseases and be a threat to Australia were dumped. My conscience was clear.

Once our belongings hit Australian soil, AQIS was there checking them out. There was a little scarecrow my youngest had given me one birthday. It just happened to have a couple of sticks of straw I'd overlooked. The AQIS crew sniffed it out of the container and passed the death sentence. Actually, I think they said it could be fumigated at a cost, but I thought it was past its use-by date anyway.

My car had to be steam-cleaned again and it that would cost me round $150 - or they could destroy it for $27! I wondered how they arrived at that precise amount. No point in arguing or they might do the $27 deed. I coughed up for the auto sauna. The car mechanic who did the roadworthiness check a few days later wryly observed the cleaner had missed the dead bird resting in the engine compartment.

I've travelled back and forth to New Zealand numerous times since shifting here and I've always been super-diligent about not carrying anything that might compromise biosecurity either side of the Tasman. It's easier to ditch all the goodie bags from a food writers' conference than have to declare anything.

There's usually an alert official somewhere who'll look at my entry document and say "Oh, a food writer. Are you carrying any food, any samples?" Not me. I've watched fellow travellers having their clothing, herbal teas, plant-based medicines, animal products and general dirty linen aired in public and I wouldn't dare. I'm the sort of person who fears the breath-freshening mint in my handbag might be deemed "food" and I am well aware of the consequences of introducing exotic pests and diseases.

So the official envelope gave me a shock. It was a "Notice of intention to seize goods." A package addressed to me had been inspected at the Melbourne Gateway Facility and, in accordance with sub-section 68(3) of the Quarantine Act 1908, was going to be seized and destroyed or "otherwise disposed of in any way that the Director of Quarantine thinks appropriate", unless it was exported from Australia within 30 days.

Who had done this to me? What had they posted me?

Question 1 remains unanswered. AQIS wasn't naming names. As for Question 2, there was the answer in black and white. The offending shipment was a 760g package of "fresh baby perlas". Potatoes, no less. I suppose some eager beaver PR person wasn't paying attention to destination when they posted out samples to food writers.

Thanks to omniscient Google New Zealand, I discovered Perlas are a tiny new season potato, newcomers to the market. They are grown in New Zealand by A S Wilcox and Sons Ltd. They are sold cleaned and ready for the pot so if the Director of Quarantine thinks death by boiling would be a good way of disposing of the illicit spuds, I suggest he makes the Melbourne Gateway team some Greek style Perlas with Lemon Dressing for a job well done.

Oh, look, why don't I just post the recipe for him - one I've grabbed from the Wilcox website. Here in Oz we can use little cocktail spuds and pretend.

Greek Style Perlas Potatoes and Lemon Dressing

500g Perlas potatoes, cut in half
2 small red onions, thinly sliced
400g can chickpeas, drained & washed
175g cherry tomatoes, halved
175g sliced capsicum
50g black olives, pitted and chopped
small handful of flat leaved parsley, shredded
salt and freshly ground pepper

Dressing:
2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 Tbsp lemon juice
1/2 Tsp grated lemon zest
1 Tsp Dijon mustard

Place Perlas in a saucepan of cold water. Bring to the boil then simmer for 15 to 20 minutes, or until tender, then drain.

Place the ingredients for the dressing in a small bowl, season with a little salt and freshly ground pepper, then whisk together.

Put the potatoes into a bowl and whilst still warm pour over half of the dressing, leave to cool. Add the onion, chickpeas, capsicum, tomatoes, olives and parsley, then the remaining dressing, toss together.

Serve at room temperature. Serves 4-6

Recipe and photo © A S Wilcox and Sons Ltd

Cabs rank poorly

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 01:46:00 +0000

Victoria's taxi industry is in the headlights again with the Department of Transport's annual report showing the customer satisfaction index at 60.3 out of 100 for 2008-09 and falling short of the 64.4 target. At least it's a slight improvement on last year when only 58 out of every 100 passengers were happy with their cab ride.

There may be more taxis in Melbourne, but there are also more passengers angry with drivers' lack of knowledge and the poor state of some cabs. An inspection of all cabs showed only 72 percent met quality standards.

Two years ago New York city instigated a crackdown on taxi drivers for rule violations, particularly the rule that passengers must be able to pay by credit card in certain cabs. They sent out 60 to 100 undercover agents each day as part of an ongoing sting operation, called Operation Secret Rider.

Agents boarded cabs posing as normal riders and instructed the cabbie to take a trip of about 10 blocks. Afterwards, the agents insisted on paying with a credit card. If the drivers refused to allow the credit card payment, they could be fined up to $350. Agents also fined drivers who broke the rules including being discourteous (a $150 fine) or talking on a cellphone while driving (a $200 fine).

At first the cab drivers were up in arms, particularly on the credit card issue. Many lied to passengers for months that the new credit card machines weren't working. But now, according to Ryan Sager writing at Smart Money, NY cab drivers are making more money because of the credit card machines - people are more generous with their plastic that with cold cash.

"New York City's Taxi and Limousine Commission reports that revenues are up 13% from the end of last year, despite a recession which is hitting the taxi industry hard in other cities. Tips, meanwhile, have risen to an average of 22% on credit-card transactions, up from around 10% under the old, cash-only system," Sager writes.

Maybe it's time for Melbourne to implement its own sting.

Clearly some cab drivers take water saving to an extreme and fail to shower and apply deodorant before going on duty. It's no use spraying the car with some nasty deodoriser that only magnifies driver-pong. If it's a long hot shift, drivers should also freshen up when they take a toilet break. Local taxi driver rights and responsibilities state: "Passengers have a right to expect taxi drivers to be neat, clean and tidy in appearance and without offensive body odour."

We had to cut short a cab ride one night because the driver's BO was nauseatingly unbearable. I complained to the cab company concerned but received absolutely no acknowledgement from them.

From 1936 - one way of avoiding driver body odour?

I think a few undercover agents would soon flush out those taxi drivers who haven't the vaguest idea where they are going. Why should I be held to ransom by a cabbie eyeballing the map in his lap and not the traffic, or programming his GPS as he drives?

Victoria cab drivers are "expected to know of major destinations within their zone, including airports, major railway stations, major hotels and sporting and cultural facilities". Often they don't, making it very difficult for out-of-town passengers.

One night we hailed a cab but when the driver established we were going only as far as the next suburb, he refused to take us. Clearly not a profitable enough journey. Undercover boys would have had his number on their pad PDQ and reminded him "once hailed, a driver cannot refuse a fare that is too short or inconvenient".

I watched several drivers on a cab rank refuse to take one young (sober) woman on board one night because she wanted to go just a couple of blocks. As others in the queue started remonstrating with the cabbies, one grudgingly let her into his car. Some cities allow patrons the upper hand and they can choose any taxi on the rank, a great idea if you have a preferred taxi company that offers proper service.

Sure, a cab driver's job is a hard one. They have to deal with drunken passengers, rude passengers, belligerent passengers, vomiting passengers. They're poorly paid. Some of them are struggling students. But if I want to be a hairdresser, I have to know how to cut and tint hair. If I want to be a brain surgeon, I have to acquire the qualifications and skills. If I want to be a taxi driver, I should know the geography of my city.

The latest silliness in cab world is the capsule installed in some cars to protect the driver from attack by passengers. Yes, I appreciate drivers are entitled to be safe from potentially dangerous passengers. It's the design of these protective capsules that's the issue. I've travelled in three cabs recently that have been fitted with them and there has barely been enough room behind the driver for a passenger of my height (155cm) let alone anyone nudging 180cm. Maybe it's part of a conspiracy to make taxis passenger-free. We're such a nuisance.

Julia's omelet

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 03:12:00 +0000

I was flicking through Twitter and noticed @stickifingers had posted a YouTube link to a video showing Julia Child making an omelet.

It was just on lunchtime so I headed for the kitchen, grabbed a couple of eggs laid by a chook living the good life and got cooking. I usually make a fork-assisted omelet, pouring in the lightly mixed eggs and pushing the omelet’s edges towards the middle to allow uncooked egg to spill over round the edge of the pan.

Child’s method is to lightly beat the seasoned eggs with a little water, place a tablespoon of butter in a deep pan on high heat, swirling the pan so the butter coats the bottom and sides. When the butter is bubbling, the eggs are poured in. The pan is then shaken fairly enthusiastically until the egg is cooked and flicked a couple of times so the omelet slides to one edge of the pan. The pan is then held over a plate and slowly inverted until the omelet slides out onto the plate.

I could have done with a slightly deeper pan than my crepe pan but it was all relatively painless. No drama. A beautiful omelet which I finished with a scattering of cress.

Saucy surprise

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 05:28:00 +0000

I was browsing through an old cookbook this morning - Lady Maclean's Book of Sauces and Surprises.

The book failed to survive a purge at Wellington Library about 10 years ago and I picked it up, along with a few others, for a mere dollar. It emerged from a carton after a recent shift. Time to read it.

The title intrigued me. I like surprises.

The book starts with the basics and covers the traditional stocks, before detouring through the busy cooks' cheats using tinned soups, bouillon cubes, tinned clam juice and the like. A mild surprise, perhaps.

The usual suspects are there, too. The classic French sauces, the emulsion sauces, traditional English and American sauces.

Admiral Ross's Indian Devil Mixture attracted my attention but it was a fairly tame mix of cold gravy, ketchup, English mustard, butter, curry paste, vinegar and salt mixed smoothly on a soup plate then used as the stewing medium for some cold meat.

Victorian Cockle Sauce sounded a little exhausting with 100 cockles to diligently clean before cooking was even considered.

A Good Sauce for Prawn Cocktails (this book was first published in 1978) was a more refined version of the ubiquitous mayo/tomato sauce/lemon juice concoction that did the dinner party rounds of the time.

Goodness knows what President Jimmy Carter did with his special sauce: "Puree 4 or 5 bananas with about 75g/3 oz peanut butter. Pass through a fine sieve and mix with mayonnaise" but Veronica Maclean's verdict was, "Not as strange as it sounds. In fact a new and interesting flavour."

There are some store cupboard sauces for thrifty cooks to make for themselves instead of buying the commercial versions. These include Worcestershire Sauce, Harvey's Sauce and the scary-sounding Government Sauce which was flagged as "the universal tomato ketchup at its best: it comes from Washington DC". I wonder if President Obama has latched onto that?

Elizabeth Arden's Special Dressing didn't contain any face cream but it did have Worcestershire Sauce, tarragon vinegar, onion, oil, egg yolks, horseradish, parsley, watercress, Veg-e-sal ("vital to the recipe") and a teaspoon of monosodium glutamate. She must have liked it - it made three cups of the stuff.

I was nearing the end of the book and still no great surprises. In fact, some of the 600 recipes sounded worth trying.

Then among the cold sauces "from all over" I spotted one from Australia, specifically from Melbourne.

"This sounds peculiar but tastes good with a cold chicken or a cold duck salad." And the recipe "Simply fold about 75g/3 oz sieved marmalade into the mayonnaise." Well, well, well.

I've looked in various older Australian cookbooks for this "Marmalade Mayonnaise" without success. Was it really a Melbourne specialty? No word in Stephanie Alexander's magnum opus The Cook's Companion.

Google couldn't throw any light on the subject. 1001 Foods You Must Eat Before You Die didn't mention it. I trawled through my sauce books and cooking textbooks. Naught. I was beginning to think some Aussie joker must have pulled Lady M's leg.

Then I came upon Ambrose Heath's 1948 work, The Book of Sauces. There it was - another recipe for Marmalade Mayonnaise Sauce, though used slightly differently.

"To a teacupful of mayonnaise sauce add two tablespoonfuls of orange marmalade and serve with fruit salad." And the origin? "American."

Surprise, surprise!

This sounds peculiar but tastes good with a cold chicken or a cold duck salad

Footnote: Veronica, Lady Maclean was a diplomat's wife and socialite who wrote several books, including cookbooks. Her first husband died young and she then married Brigadier Fitzroy Maclean who was later created a baronet.

They travelled widely during their 50 years together and her cookbooks contain recipes from many people she encountered along the way. Another I have in my library, Second Helpings and More Diplomatic Dishes features recipes from many diplomatic gastronomes, augmented with others "begged, borrowed or stolen from good cooks and cookery writers".

She died in 2005 aged 85.

In Julia's kitchen

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 02:47:00 +0000

As last I’ve joined the rest of the food-writing world and seen Julie and Julia, an enjoyable two-hour journey that made me remember what an influence she had on my own cooking.

I first became acquainted with Julia Child in the 1970s when her TV programmes were shown in New Zealand. I’d been cooking enthusiastically for years, ever since I discovered Elizabeth David’s cookbooks and slowly widened my own gastronomic horizons.

Certainly one of the most glorious reasons to master French puff pastry is the Pithiviers

Alas, many of the ingredients in David’s books had not reached New Zealand shores. The “ethnic” food of the early 1960s was largely Cantonese fare that seemed more chicken skin and cabbage than even vaguely exotic. And our “curries” made with mince, curry powder, sultanas and rice, with an occasional side of sliced banana.

Gradually all this changed. In the late 60s I invested in the Cordon Bleu Cookery Course that came in weekly parts for about two years. I never missed an issue and I still have the complete set. I happily cooked my way through many recipes, from chicken Veronique to beef Stroganoff. I grappled with choux pastry, was introduced to avocados and made hamantaschen.

Then Robert Carrier became my new best friend and The Robert Carrier Cookbook and its companion Great Dishes of the World got me into serious cooking mode as those “foreign” ingredients became more readily available. The former continues as part of my cookbook library thanks only to the holding power of some seriously industrial black tape.

Folded down page corners (yes, I am a library vandal) chart my course in the kitchen as I travelled the world vicariously through Carrier’s recipes.

Then came Julia Child. I loved how this gangly woman lurched through her recipes, handing on her knowledge, passing off mistakes as experience – there was no re-shooting scenes then. In fact, her occasional onscreen mishaps made her all the more endearing. Her books though, as I soon discovered, were something else.

I bought both volumes of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, The French Chef Cookbook plus Julia Child and Company and Julia Child and More Company. But the book that really struck a chord with me was From Julia Child’s Kitchen.

This was first published in 1975 although my edition is the 1981 Penguin printing. This book didn’t waste time sitting round on the kitchen bookshelf. It was regularly out on the bench. By then I was married with two young sons and a mortgage. There wasn’t a lot of spare cash for going out wining and dining. My career was on hold while I stayed at home looking after babies and free-lancing for a few treats like new kitchen gadgets.

If we wanted to eat fancy meals, I had to make them, so I did most weekends. We also held quite a few dinner parties and many of the recipes were literally From Julia Child’s Kitchen.

The instructions were precise and unambiguous. She knew which bits an inexperienced cook might find tricky and a recipe could run over several pages. Photos and line drawings demystified procedures like disjointing chickens and making pastry.

Oh, the pastry!

There was one ambitious dinner I cooked for two well travelled artistic friends. We started with a frothy watercress soup, “misted with chives” as I had read in a novel. This was followed by carefully skinned and sliced avocado “leaves” with a “rose” fashioned out of thin smoked salmon slices. (This was the early 80s!)

Friends in the diplomatic corps had put me on to a very good butcher who had a nicely prepared veal rib roast ready for me when I called. By then I had mastered my microwave oven and produced twee little bundles of carrot matchsticks tied with chives. The béarnaise sauce was perfect. The broccoli with toasted pinenuts was bright and green. The pommes duchesse were works of art.

But then Julia and I pulled off the triumph of the night. I had decided I would make Le Pithiviers for dessert.

“Certainly one of the most glorious reasons to master French puff pastry is the Pithiviers, a rum-flavoured almond cream baked between that buttery wonder dough, pâte feuilletée, known variously as flaky pastry and thousand-leaf dough as well as French puff pastry,” Mrs Child said. I was enticed.

During the previous day I quietly worked my way through the pastry making exercise. All went to plan and it was looking good. Butter and dough were married together, turned, rolled and chilled, turned, rolled and chilled. Julia held my hand through five pages of instruction and made sure I had a perfect product. The four-page almond cream was made in between and next day I set to assembling Le Pithiviers.

“The usual pattern for a Pithiviers is a wheel of swirling spokes starting at the steam hole and curving gracefully out to the edge where they spread out 1/2in apart.” I managed that without mishap and the egg-glazed masterpiece was committed to the oven.

I could barely comprehend the absolute beauty of the dessert that emerged. Perfectly risen layers of the butteriest lightest pastry. What a shame we didn’t run round photographing all our food in those days!

From Julia Child’s Kitchen is now a book of many parts. The glue down the spine has crumbled with age. So has the sticky tape that was holding the cover on. Even robust insulating tape won’t rescue it.

Unfortunately pages 353-356 are missing. That was the recipe for Pate en croute – a free-form pate I made as the centrepiece for a Christmas party buffet three or four years later. Another triumph thanks to Julia.

I certainly didn’t cook every recipe in the book, but there are many smears and splodges of evidence that I cooked a good few. The $13.50 I paid for it was clearly a good investment. Maybe it’s time I bought a replacement. Ummm, maybe not – it’s currently listed on Amazon for up to $US450.

Fusion, profusion, confusion

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 06:56:00 +0000

Last weekend I had a very surreal food experience. So surreal I’m still wondering if it really happened.

A group of us were staying at Mercure’s Balgownie Estate Vineyard Resort in the Yarra Valley for the annual Opera in the Vineyards.

Friday night and it was time to dine. It was a long time since my modest fruit and yoghurt lunch and I was ready to enjoy a good meal at the resort’s restaurant, Rae’s.

The first item on the menu seemed a trifle strange – cream of peas and Granny Smith apple with candied beetroot and a smoked paprika twist. Was that a soup? Maybe. But I fancied prawns anyway.

They were listed as pan-fried in spicy sumac with creamy coriander polenta and a drizzle of red capsicum and coconut. That fusion of Middle Eastern, Italian, tropical and Asian flavours going on round the prawns should have sounded warning bells. However, I didn’t think I could tackle crispy scallop ravioli with cream of spinach, walnut, thyme and parmesan oil or a parfait of chicken livers cooked in kiwifruit wine with pear chutney. And the idea of lillypilly Chantilly mixing with the limes, capers and parsley oil on the cured trout sounded similarly odd.

Hey, I thought they said their food was simple. In fact the starters all looked fairly complicated. I know menu descriptions can sometimes look overly complicated and a couple of green dots on a plate can turn out to be the “broad bean puree” or the “capsicum reduction” on what initially looked like a shopping list. We ordered.

I could have done with more of the prawns and a lot less of the polenta.

One friend wasn’t paying attention and missed the “crispy” adjective in the ravioli and so was expecting regular ravioli, not fried ones.

Another’s air-dried wagyu fillet sat in infused orange and cracked pepper, crowned with witlof salad and hummus.

I’d chosen a ballottine of chicken breast for my main and was starting to get a bit nervous about the portobello mushroom and feta filling and the accompanying puree of cocoa beans and green tea. It arrived with additional garnishes not even mentioned on the menu. The sad thing was all this busyness was total overkill. The chicken itself was delightful but the other trimmings defeated me and confused my palate

The slow-cooked duck leg in pineapple next to me came on a bed of broad beans, onion jam and bergamot orange sauce. Too many things going on there spoiled what he said was a great piece of duck. And so on round the table – a reduction of coffee milk fought it out with celeriac mash, chorizo, baby tomatoes and marinated chickpeas round the lamb. A caramel and wasabi sauce finished the seared tuna with its muesli crust, carrots and cumin. The lottery of flavours left what was generally agreed was nicely cooked meat or fish struggling to assert itself.

The food, which should have been a highlight of the weekend, was very disappointing. Obviously a lot of work had gone into it but there was just too much happening on the plate. Perhaps the tapas and degustation culture has made us lean more towards savouring one taste sensation at a time.

I believe the restaurant has its own newly established vegetable garden. Hopefully the produce will be allowed to speak for itself in the future.

[Sorry about the quality of the photos. The restaurant was dimly lit and I dislike using a flash at the table.]

Kiwi accent sux (Oz 13)

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 06:19:00 +0000

I’ve lived in Australia now for four years and I’ve grown very fond of the place, particularly Melbourne.

I’m not a complete foreigner. My maternal grandfather was born in Footscray in 1891 and worked there as a butcher. He used to travel to New Zealand to work in the freezing works at Waitara, Taranaki during the local killing season. It was there he met and married my grandmother and stayed on. I ended up with relatives both sides of the Tasman.

Melbourne now feels like home, particularly since we recently bought a home here. OK. There are a few things I still find strange - sliced bread is too thick. Sandwich slice is what Kiwis call toast slice. And the zucchini are allowed to grow too large before being sent to market.

People are frequently surprised when we say we’re Kiwis. “You don’t sound like Kiwis,” they say. Only very occasionally will someone pick up on a phrase or word and ask where we’re from.

At college we had an ex-Thespian, Daphne Knight, who tried to teach the “gels” to speak prrrrroperly, rolling our rrrs and polishing our vowels. Perhaps I had been paying attention for once?

I doubt it. I can remember reciting T S Elliot ad nauseum “The Pekes and the Pollicles, everyone knows, are proud and implacable passionate foes…” long before Cats was written. But I think I left Miss Knight’s lessons in the classroom.

On recent trips back across the ditch I started listening closely to my countrymen to see if I could identify the Kiwi accent I apparently didn’t have.

Kiwis frequently have a rising inflection at the end of their sentences which makes them sound like they are posing a question or seeking affirmation or approval, rather than making a statement – “And then we’re going down to the shops? And we’re going to buy some groceries?”

Then I started noticing “halth” for health, alectricity, moolk for milk. My home city had become Wullington, And all this was from television reporters.

I was watching the food channel one night when I realised I was listing to a pure, unadulterated Kiwi accent. TV chef Richard Till was in full flight. “Chucken”, “fush”, “diluscious”,“rilly”, “muxer”, “trup”, “frutters”. Hooh!

Ah, but someone likes the Kiwi accent. It was recently rated the most attractive and prestigious form of English outside the UK, according to a BBC survey.

It was the sixth most socially attractive accent, placed above the Queen's English (seventh) and well ahead of Australian (13th) and American English (15th).

Seexth, would you beloyve! We’ve boyten Aussies at sometheeng at last. Darl!

The grass diet

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 06:47:00 +0000

When we moved recently to a townhouse with only a minute piece of land attached, our cat had to get used to being an indoor animal. While she has now grown accustomed to going out on the balconies and likes to have a roll on the paving and challenge the birds while I check the letterbox, her outdoor territory has shrunk considerably.

Fortunately she’s an adaptable cat and after four moves in six years, including a transTasman shift, she’s adept at settling in quickly. However, after a couple of months in the new home, it became clear she was missing something.

I found her sitting on the dining table one afternoon, nibbling away at a vase of flowers. I know cats will often eat grass for reasons best known to themselves. Some sources say it’s to help them cough up fur balls, others to assist digestion or to alleviate nausea, or perhaps to obtain a little folic acid. Our Lucy isn’t sharing her reasons, but when I grabbed a handful of grass from the berm and offered it to her, she chomped enthusiastically.

Can I have mayo with that?

A longer term plan seemed in order and I was quite surprised to find a cat grass kit at the local pet shop. Within a few days the grass seeds sprouted and I soon had a healthy crop which she made part of her diet. The grass dried off when we were away on holiday but I found a pot of healthy looking cat grass on sale at a local plant shop to tide me over till I grew a new crop. It’s definitely to her taste

I’ve now invested in a box of grass seed and some growing medium to ensure a steady supply.

Lunch at Coda

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 09:09:00 +0000

Fellow bloggers and tweeters have been enthusing about Coda of late so I was delighted when the family invited me there for lunch to celebrate my umpteenth birthday.

Chef Adam D’Sylva, The Age Good Food Guide's 2008 Young Chef of the Year, was formerly at Pearl and Longrain. He opened this venture in June with ex MoVida manager Mykal Bartholomew and Kate Calder, former floor manager at Taxi. Within weeks of serving his first dishes there, he picked up a hat in the recent GFG awards .

The menu is a diner-friendly one and one could happily graze through some of the 20 smaller dishes offered or take an entree and mains approach. The emphasis is Asian and the flavours are both fresh and nicely assertive.

I went for the spanner crab with galangal, roasted chilli and lime, prettily served on a betel leaf, and followed it up with a blackened quail half served with daikon and shiso salad. Elsewhere round the table there was a satisfied silence as others tried the citrus cured Hiramasa kingfish with fresh wasabi and minute balls of pickled radish, the San Daniele prosciutto with compressed melon and bread sticks and sugar cane prawn with a sweet chilli sauce.

Spanner crab

Blackened quail

Kingfish

Prosciutto

Sugar cane prawns

My main, or “bigger” dish, was sizzling prawns with roasted chilli, slices of king brown mushrooms, and Thai basil. Well flavoured, with the prawns still juicy. Two had the MacLeay Valley rabbit cassoulet – not a hearty cassoulet but a delicate, nicely understated one. Fish cooked in the bag was also a light, moist dish.

Sizzling prawns

Rabbit cassoulet

When it comes to desserts, I love chefs who offer a tasting plate so I went for that - baked lemon tart with yuzu marshmallow and a Valrhona chocolate custard pot with hazelnut brittle & pumpkin foam that had us scraping the bottom of the cute little pots. A nice contrast of sweet and citrus, crunch and softness. Equally impressive were the banana soufflés served with sherry to pour into the souffle and date ice cream.

Banana souffle

Chocolate custard pot and lemon tart

Happy customers!

I like a meal where the servings aren’t too large and taxing, where the flavours are well thought out and the presentation is a delight in itself. D’Sylva and his happy crew ticked all the boxes.

I want to go back and try more of the small dishes. Hopefully these will remain on the menu for a while yet. D’Sylva told us he’s not hurrying to change the line-up as people often come in to sample dishes they’ve heard about and he doesn’t want to disappoint them. Six bigger dishes are offered, along with eight sides, four desserts and a cheeseboard.

Service was excellent and the place was buzzing when we were there - a Saturday lunchtime. That speaks for itself.

Coda
141 Flinders Lane
Melbourne, VIC 3000
03 9650 3155

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Aladdin's cave

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 07:28:00 +0000

Omar Sidaoui has been breathing in the heady aroma of spice for so long that when he goes to work he doesn't smell the wonderful fragrances that immediately hit first-time visitors to NSM Food Wholesalers. Cumin, coriander, paprika, turmeric - the colourful display near the door is a visual as well as an olfactory delight.

The company's direct public outlet in Brunswick is an Aladdin's cave for the enthusiastic cook as well as a source of staples for local Somalians, Greeks, Turks and Middle Eastern cultural groups.

This week along with other members of the Food Media Club Australia I went on a virtual Middle Eastern souk tour of the outlet and managing director Omar soon had us comparing the intensely fragrant genuine cinnamon sticks with the often substituted cassia, nibbling on carob pods, checking out different varieties of cardamom, and tasting tiny sumac berries.

We learned ready-ground sumac was sometimes adulterated with citric acid "to give it that tangy flavour. When people don't know they go 'Wow, wow!' It's all citric acid."

While we sampled the sumac berries, Omar told us "To bring that in was an absolute nightmare." It was in quarantine for four months before being released.

Omar's father, Said Sadaoui, opened Melbourne's first Lebanese restaurant, Lebanese House in 1959. Its Arabian cuisine was greeted with enthusiasm, leading to the formation of the NSM business in 1962. It was an emporium of Middle Eastern spices and nuts, also making Middle Eastern sweets and food products. Here that Australia's first dry-roasted nuts were produced. Roasted nuts are very much a part of today's business which has expanded to include all herbs, beans and dried fruits as well as myriad imported lines.

Said Sadaoui is now 85 years old, but he still goes on buying trips for the business although things have radically changed from the days when imported herbs and spices were not subjected to fumigation, sterilisation, irradiation and the like.

Omar said some of the spices could be imported ready ground "a lot less headache, but it loses the flavour". NSM do their own spice grinding. "When you grind coriander, that you smell. The whole warehouse smells. It's really wonderful."

Omar's sister Helda said when it came to meat, their father always recommended buying from those butchers who came in to NSM to get their spices ground for their smallgoods as it was an indication of their commitment to producing a quality product.

Omar says they try to educate their customers. "Buy it. If you like, toast it. If you grind it yourself it will be a hundred times better."

MasterChef has had its reverberations in the business as well as in Australia's kitchens. One ingredient to suddenly rocket in popularity was mastic which featured in one of the MasterChef recipes. "You know, we sell ten packets a year. I think we sold a ton. Everyone wanted mastika."

NSM make some product lines themselves. We came away with samples to try at home - tahini, falafel mix and halva. And leaving behind the aroma of those freshly ground spices we headed off to Rumi Restaurant where owner/chef Joseph Abboud had a 15-course Middle Eastern tasting meal ready for us including:

labne with flat bread
crudites with almond taratoor
pastries filled with haloumi, feta and kasseri
Persian meatballs in tomato and saffron with labne
fried fish kofte with toum and lemon
beetroot and shankleesh
quail joojeh kebab with muhummara
rice pilaf with fresh herbs and crispy onions
spiced lamb shoulder slow roasted on the bone
Turkish delight

Have a look round NSM Food Wholesalers in the following slideshow...

Corny stuff

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 08:33:00 +0000

The greatest drawback is the way in which it is necessary to eat it.....It looks awkward enough: but what is to be done? Surrendering such a vegetable from considerations of grace is not to be thought of.
Harriet Martineau, an Englishwomen, on corn on the cob (1835)

Shifting house has made me re-evaluate the number of kitchen gadgets that clutter the drawers. Occasionally I make a mistake and regret tossing an item. Last bad judgement call was the cherry/olive pitter, specially when I had a number of cherries to pit recently and remembered I was pitterless. However, I am satisfied the replacement one I bought subsequently is superior. Time will tell.

One thing I had no regrets about discarding was the collection of corn holders. I prefer to strip the cooked corn from the cob rather than gnaw it off. Mine were the bog standard yellow plastic corn holders with metal prongs that most of us grew up with. They took up space and often attacked me.

Corn holders come in many guises. These are 1937 models I came across recently. Little Billy there in his shirt and tie looks a trifle embarrassed by the whole business.

These heavy cast sterling silver holders have a nicely detailed kernel and cornsilk design and are probably more of a collector’s item these days. They were being advertised for $40.

Here’s another similar set in, also in sterling.

These crab ones are pewter.

There are plenty of cutesy ones too...

plump ladies and gents..

sausage dogs…

pigs and cows…

fish…

others with matching corn dishes…

some with a sporting themes

But holders aren’t the only gadgets for corn lovers. Here’s a butter spreader that theoretically should make the job cleaner and easier.

For those who prefer to cut the corn from the cob prior to eating it, there are a variety of wedge-shaped cutters to run down the cob and some more complicated looking ones.

There is some serious equipment round for those who like stripping corn off the cob prior to making their own creamed corn. Here the cob is impaled on a drill piece. The first tube removed the husks and silk while the second strips the kernels from the cob into a plastic bag. I think my preferred method using cook’s knife looks hassle-free by comparison. And imaging having to store all that stuff for occasional use.

Tweet, tweet, tweetie pies

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 03:48:00 +0000

Neal Foley (@podchef) farms on an island in Washington state. I came across him about four years ago when The Spouse bought me an iPod and I started listening to podcasts when I couldn't sleep.

Neal is squarely involved in the politics of what we eat and is also a passionate cook. He raises his own animals for food and grows his own fruit and vegetables. There's also Bridget the cow providing him with plenty of milk and cream and the makings for cheese and butter.

From time to time we swap ideas for recipes. Neal raises rabbits so when I bought some bunny at the South Melbourne Market, I picked Neal's brains for ideas. Springboarding from one of his suggestions, I ended up with rabbit braised in red wine with chorizo and fresh borlotti beans. It's amazing how "confited rabbit, sausage, beans" is enough to trigger the imagination.

Periodically Neal gets involved in catering activities. Last weekend he was off to cater a wedding on a remote island and happened to tweet and post some progress photos as he made a batch of pastry.

I asked what he was making the pastry for. "Veggie turnovers with Gorgonzola sauce."

Sounded good. In response to my request for the recipe, it came in three tweets.

VeggieTurnover Onion, Garlic-sweat. add dice of spud & carrot--sauté 5 min. Add zuch, shroom, chiff chard turn & cook 5 min TBC
Add red wine 2 cover, reduce until almost dry. Season w/salt, pepper, basil, thyme, parsley. TBC
Cool, portion & wrap in puff pastry Bake as per. Sauce: garlic, shallots sweat, white wine reduce add cream & gorg

I don't have a friendly cow providing me with butter so I bought the pastry, Careme's sour cream short crust.

The recipe expanded something like this with little in the way of change. I served ours with fresh, double-podded broad beans. This recipe made four round pies, about the size of saucers and a further four smaller triangular pies for freezing and cooking later.

My vegetables when the wine had cooked away and the silverbeet was added

The sauce after adding the Gorgonzola cheese

Vegetable Pies with Gorgonzola Sauce

1 small onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed and chopped
1/2 stick celery, diced
2 teaspoons oil
3 kipfler potatoes, peeled and diced
2 medium carrots, diced
1 small zucchini, diced
1/2 cup chopped mushrooms (I used some buttons and a King Brown)
2 silverbeet (Swiss chard) leaves, cut into chiffonade
1 cup red wine
seasoning
chopped herbs (I used marjoram and parsley)
short pastry

1 egg white whisked with a dash of water

Heat the oil and sauté the onions, garlic and celery over a low heat till soft. Add the potatoes and carrots and sauté a further 5 minutes. Add the zucchini, mushrooms and cook for 5 minutes. Pour over the red wine and simmer covered until almost dry. Add the seasoning, herbs and silverbeet. (I kept the silverbeet and added it last to maintain its colour for contrast.)

Set aside to cool. Roll out pastry and cut into squares (for turnovers or triangular pies) or rounds. I cut into rounds and used two for each pie. Neal folded the pastry round the filling then placed them seam side down, as far as I can see.

Place some of the cooled vegetable mix on each. Dampen the edges, press to close, trim and decorate using fork tines.

Glaze with the egg white/water.

Preheat oven 220C. Bake on a greased baking tray for 20 minutes. Cool for a couple of minutes then remove to a serving dish. Serve with the sauce.

Gorgonzola sauce

2 shallots, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, crushed and chopped
1 teaspoon oil
1 cup white wine (nothing too dry)
1 cup thick cream
1/4 cup Gorgonzola cheese

Gently sauté the garlic and shallots until soft. Pour in the white wine and simmer to reduce to about 1/4 cup. Add the cream and cook, stirring from time to time, until reduced by half. Stir in the cheese and let it melt. Season if necessary.

Meanwhile, thousands of kilometres away, Neal's pies ready for baking at the wedding...

And ready to serve

Learning to be a young lady

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 08:18:00 +0000

Many moons ago I went to boarding school. During a recent shift I unearthed the little diary I kept at the time.

I used to keep it in my sponge bag, along with the occasional illicit bar of chocolate, because I figured if the nuns did a sweep of my belongings they probably wouldn’t look in the sponge bag.

However, I was also careful not to write anything in my diary that might get me into trouble if my innocent little observations fell into the wrong hands. Ironically, the diary itself was one put out by Dewar’s Whisky. Not very appropriate for a 12-year-old convent girl.

By day four I was starting to get a little homesick and, though I didn’t document my misdemeanours apart from “Late with sheets. In a hurry. Room done late”, by the second week I seemed to be running foul at least one of the nuns - “Sister still on warpath.”

I wish I could remember what prompted the entry "Crisis in boarding school. May have been Elizabeth T's imagination." But I do remember "Man on fire escape" and being told not to mention that little drama in our letters home.

Then there is a curious entry. “Learned to eat fruit.”

Ah, yes. The nuns’ mission was to turn us into “young ladies” and we were taught the finer points of table etiquette. Eating fruit involved using cutlery and we mastered the art of eating a banana with a knife and fork, topping, tailing, cutting the skin lengthwise, releasing the fruit from the peel and cutting it into segments. And so on through stone fruit, pip fruit, citrus.

We learned the bishop’s hat fold (of course) for our starched table napkins – a Sunday morning chore for a couple of girls. The remainder of the week our napkins were rolled up and contained in the engraved silver serviette rings we had to bring to boarding school with us. I still have mine.

We learned the correct way to set a table, how to place the cutlery and in which order. Most of us had learned this at home but there was the odd girl in need of a crash course.

Handling the cutlery was another lesson. No waving about of the knife and fork between mouthfuls. The cutlery had to be put back on the plate, in the 20 past 8 position, fork tines down, knife blade facing left, and our hands had to be in the lap while we chewed.

Woe betide the girl who turned her fork over to scoop up peas – unless she put her knife down and swapped the fork to her right hand first but really, that was barely tolerated. At the end of the meal the knife and fork had to be placed side by side, fork tines up to indicate one had finished eating.

The world was my oyster but I used the wrong fork - Oscar Wilde

Salt was not to be scattered over the food but poured in a little mound on the rim of the plate.

We were all knocked into shape fairly quickly. So successfully even now I feel guilty transgressing in case a nun's beady eyes are watching me. "You MUST push your soup spoon towards the back of the soup bowl to fill it - NEVER towards you. Sip the soup from the side of the spoon, NEVER the end. And tilt the bowl AWAY from you when taking the last of the soup."

Even today I feel horribly let down when a restaurant or host doesn’t offer a dessert fork along with the dessertspoon. “Always use the fork to put things on the spoon, NEVER your fingers!”

However, I wasn’t schooled in what to do when the man on my left started using my bread and butter plate at a formal dinner recently and tucked into my bread roll. I was genuinely surprised but I swear I heard a nun whisper in my ear, “NEVER criticise someone else’s manners.”

The hardest jobs kids face today is learning good manners without seeing any - Fred Astaire

The Age Good Food Guide awards

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 03:22:00 +0000

Melbourne’s chefs are a passionate bunch and last night was an emotional time for many of them at The Age Good Food Guide Restaurant Awards.

Arnaldo Terzini, 77, who collected the Professional Excellence Award with his son Maurice, 45, had to brush a tear from his cheek as Maurice acknowledged the honour.

Jacques Reymond, who has been awarded enough hats to make a milliner happy, and last night took away Vittoria Restaurant of the Year, spoke gently of the job that makes him happy every day he goes to work.

Chef of the Year, Andrew McConnell, who opened both Cumulus Inc and Best New Restaurant Cutler & Co in the past year, admitted sometimes it could all be “a pain in the arse”. Earlier he'd told Epicure “I’m tired, I’m wrecked, actually, but happy.”

A beaming Ryan Sessions and partner Kirstyn White were awarded Country Restaurant of the Year for their Merrijig Inn in Port Fairy while Nicolas Poelaert, Embrasse, was named Young Chef of the Year.

Greg Malouf of MoMo took the Dish of the Year Award with his veiled quail.

Frank Camorra saw MoVida Next Door take out the Donlevy Fitzpatrick Award and retained two hats for MoVida itself.

Some restaurants were awarded hats for the first time – others had them taken away. As one young one-hatter confessed before the awards were announced, losing a hat would be a totally devastating blow because of the amount of time and effort that went into achieving that standard. He was beaming happily for the rest of the night after the list was read out.

Restaurant of the Year: Jacques Reymond
Chef of the Year: Andrew McConnell, Cumulus Inc and Cutler & Co
The Age Young Chef of the Year: Nicolas Poelaert, Embrasse
Best New Restaurant: Cutler & Co
Country Restaurant of the Year: Merrijig (Port Fairy)
Best New Country Restaurant: Provenance (Beechworth)
Donlevy Fitzpatrick Award: MoVida Next Door
Wine List of the Year: Taxi Dining Room
Country Wine List of the Year: Royal Main Hotel (Dunkeld)
Best Short Wine List: Gills Diner
Wine Service Award: Lincoln Riley, Taxi Dining Room
Service Excellence Award: Chris Young, Jacques Reymond
Professional Excellence Award: Maurice Terzini, Arnaldo Terzini
Dish of the Year: Veiled quail at MoMo

City
Three Hats
Jacques Reymond, Vue de Monde

Two Hats
Attica, Cafe Di Stasio, Circa the Prince, Cutler & Co, Donovans, Ezard, Flower Drum, Grossi Florentino, Matteo’s, MoMo, MoVida, Pearl, Rockpool Bar & Grill, Taxi Dining Room, The Press Club, Verge.

One Hat
Abla’s, Bacash, Balzari, Becco, Bistro Guillaume, Botanical, The Brasserie by Philippe Mouchel, Canvas, Cecconi’s Cantina, Centonove, Church St Enoteca, Cicciolino, Coda, Comme Kitchen, The Court House, Cumulus Inc, David’s. The Deanery, Embrasse, Esposito, Estivo, Gilla Diner, Gingerboy, Giuseppe Arnaldo & Sons, Il Bacaro, The Italian, Kenzan, Koots Salle a Manger, Ladro, Longrain, Maha, Melbourne Wine Room, Mercer’s Restaurant, Ocha, The Point Albert Park, Sapore, Sarti, Shoya, Stokehouse, Syracuse, Tempura Hajime, Yu-u.

Country
Two Hats
Lake House(Daylesford), Merrijig Inn (Port Fairy), Royal Mail Hotel (Dunkeld), Simone’s Restaurant (Bright), Stefano’s (Mildura)

One Hat
Annie Smithers’ Bistrot (Kyneton), Athelstane House (Queenscliff), Bella Vedere (Coldstream), Eleonore’s (Yerring), Montalto (Red Hill South), Neilsons (Traralgon), The Outpost Retreat (Noojee), Pettavel Winery & Restaurant (Waurn Ponds), Provenance Restaurant (Beechworth), Royal George Hotel (Kyneton), Sourcedining (Albury), Sunnybrae (Birregura), Tea Rooms of Yarck (Yarck), Teller (Mooroopna), Warden’s Food & Wine (Beechworth).

A Taste of Melbourne

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 05:31:00 +0000

Melbourne tastes great. It’s sweet, savoury, spicy, mellow. It can be sipped, slurped, guzzled, gobbled, nibbled, gnawed, relished. Thousands tested that at the Taste Of Melbourne four-day event at the Royal Exhibition Building in Carlton over the weekend.

I went along for the opening session on Thursday but we barely scratched the surface so we returned for the finale on Sunday.

Fifteen restaurants tempted our tastebuds with array of small dishes and numerous producers showed their chutneys, cheeses, chocolates, puddings, wines, beers and countless other wonderful goodies. The food theme was also reflected in the appliances and kitchen wares.

The pop stars of the restaurant industry were surrounded by their fans as people flocked to be photographed with George Calombaris (The Press Club and Hellenic Republic) and Gary Mehigan (The Boathouse) who sprung onto our screens in MasterChef Australia earlier this year. Favourites like Frank Camorra (MoVida) and Jacques Reymond were also in demand for “me with” photos.

There were also plenty of opportunities to watch cooking demonstrations, listen to chefs chatting food, and to learn more about wine.

Join me as I wander round this beautiful venue and sample the fare >>

No smears, no liquid nitrogen... no worries

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 04:17:00 +0000

While the sky darkened, the temperature dropped and Melburnians were warned to go home early to avoid the forthcoming storm, I was bracing myself last night to face the elements and head across town for dinner. What’s a bit of wind to a Wellington girl, after all? I’ve leaned into plenty of the Kiwi capital’s southerly storms. No cobwebs on me.

Once the rains had watered the garden and flooded some streets and the wind had sorted out a few trees, it was relatively calm as we walked the block to catch our tram. We were off to Matteo’s in Fitzroy North, recently voted Victoria’s best modern Australian restaurant in Restaurant and Catering Victoria’s awards for excellence. We went to the two-hat restaurant for our wedding anniversary recently and when news of their forthcoming Portuguese night landed in my emailbox, I was on the phone to make a booking.

Owner Matteo Pignatelli has had innovative chef Raymond Capaldi doing guest turns in his kitchen of late. I last met Raymond when he starred in a dual turn with Rene Redzepi of Noma fame during the Melbourne Food and Wine Festival. The brief from Matteo was simple: “No foams, no soils, no air or smoke, no deconstructions, no smears, no liquid nitrogen” and, hopefully, “no tantrums!” Clearly, in spite of a couple of transgressions, the affiliation worked out as Matteo extended Raymond’s European vacation with a further four dinners.

We started our journey with a shared taste – tender pickled octopus with potato, tomato and red wine. This was followed by three course set menu which began with Sopa de Pedra, stone soup which references the old Portuguese tale about a monk who came into town and set about making a soup with water and just a stone for flavouring. He persuaded the locals to provide a little seasoning to make his soup better and eventually as they all contributed, he had a cauldron of tasty soup to share.

Our stone soup featured tender ham hock, black chourico, white onion, coriander puree and a hearty red bean base. The black “stone” promised turned out to be a potato that had had a brush with squid ink. This course was matched with a 2007 Luis Pato Vinhas Velhas Brancho.

The Bife - after I'd added the potato and clam side dishes and completely destroyed
the elegant arrangement that left the kitchen

The main course was Bife a Lisbon – meltingly tender braised ox with garlic confit, sweet parsnip puree and coffee. On the side we had steamed clams with beef and pepper sauce, quite a spicy little number. While the clams were more decorative than anything, that pepper sauce was a perfect match for the beef. The squashed potato baked with piri piri seasoning had just the right amount of crustiness where the cut side had sat caramelising in the roasting pan. The 2007 Quinta da Craston Douro was an excellent match for such robust flavours.

Dates, figs, almonds and meringue "sighs"

The spirit was willing when dessert arrived but I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, specially at the end of such a substantial meal and I’m afraid I picked at the date, fig, meringue and almond dessert. Nor could I manage a Portuguese tart with my 2005 Serrat Late Harvest Viognier from the Yarra Valley. But I thought it might do nicely for breakfast.

It looked like chef’s night off at the next table – Shane Delia from Maha, Riccardo Momesso from Sarti and familiar TV face George Calombaris from The Press Club, and their wives, checked out Raymond@Matteo’s. All three received one hat in The Age Good Food Guide last year. We were invited to join them and Matteo for a nightcap and some industry chat. All well worth braving the elements for. Alas, I left my my Portuguese tart behind when I table-hopped.

Raymond Capaldi will be back at Matteo's on Tuesday September 8 for a UK night, on September 22 cooking Polish fare and on October 6 for German Oktoberfest. Follow the restaurant on Twitter @Matteos_Restrnt or sign up online for notifications of forthcoming events.

Boy, oh bouyiourdi

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 04:23:00 +0000

Bouyiourdi Take 1

Sometimes I come across a dish that definitely falls in the “must try this at home” and that was certainly the case with the bouyiourdi I had among the meze at a local Greek restaurant recently.

It’s a really simple dish but it has a lot going for it. It’s the sort of thing I like to throw together for myself when no one else is coming home for dinner and I fancy something tasty but don’t want to spend all night making it.

Bouyiourdi is basically a layered dish of sliced tomatoes and capsicums, chillies, feta, oregano and another Greek cheese, kasseri. Some recipes include olives. The restaurant one I sampled included some sliced mushrooms. Most recipes say you need at least two cheeses. I used feta, some Greek goat’s curd cheese and some gruyere. The idea is to have a melange of vegetables and cheese.

Bouyiourdi Take 2 with spicy sausage added

Second time round I needed something a little more substantial to share with The Spouse so I went cross-cultural and added some slices of spicy chorizo. And though it might be the middle of winter here, I did manage to get some quite tasty small vine tomatoes as my local market.

While a recipe is hardly necessary, here’s my version. I made them in some of those Spanish terracotta bowls that are ideal for tapas and meze dishes.

Bouyiourdi
Serves 2

200g feta cheese
4-6 well-flavoured tomatoes
1/2 red pepper
50g goat’s curd cheese
1 small chilli, deseeded and chopped
handful of Greek olives
2 tablespoons fresh oregano leaves
olive oil
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
some melty cheese such as gruyere

Preheat oven to 190C. Sprinkle a little olive oil in the bottom of an ovenproof dish. Layer in slices of feta, tomato and red pepper, adding the other ingredients as you go. Bake 20-25 minutes.

Gaze into my pies

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 02:41:00 +0000

Picture this – you’re ushered to your restaurant table. The business of “still or sparkling?” — or indeed “eau de robinet” is dealt with. (Tap water sounds so much more sophisticated and interesting in French.) The table napkin is nudged onto your lap by the waiter, who takes a quick breath when you gently pat his hand.

The candle is lit, the wobbling table is fixed with a folded coaster from the bar. This is shaping up to be a good evening.

The waiter leans across and says he will fetch the menu.

“Was he winking at you?” asks your dinner companion.

“Don’t be silly!”

You sip your H2Eau and the waiter reappears with a little wooden box in hand. He places it on the table and presents you both with stereoptican viewers with built-in light sources.

This is the restaurant’s new “Viand Viewer”. Sir and madam can flip through a box of slides and actually see 3-D photos of the dishes that comprise the menu. No more wondering if the vegetables served with the duck breast are a generous gathering rather than a token gesture, more decorative than nutritional.

Decisions, decisions! And the oysters are getting cold

Oh, darling. The beef looks so... beefy!

Chances are you won’t come across one of these gadgets in 2009 but in the early 1950s they were demystifying the menu at Keens Chop House in New York. Keens, founded in 1885, was famous for its mutton chop and even James Beard was moved to comment in 1950, “Its essential muttony flavor puts everyday chops momentarily in the pale.”

More recently restaurant critic Frank Bruni enthused in the New York Times “Magnificent mutton chops” and earlier this year Anthony Bourdain was more basic: “Holy ****!”

These days the restaurant is called Keens Steakhouse but that chop (pictured top) is still on the menu for $US45 ($AUD54) along with a range of dry-aged steaks.`

The peep before you eat approach has been adopted with varying success over the years. We’re all familiar enough with the glossy pictures of meal deals at fast-food outlets, the plastic replicas of plates of food in some Asian restaurants, and photos in windows of little establishments attempting to lure diners inside. One restaurant I know has a computer slide show operating.

But as we know, the fast food pictures often overinflate the burgers and degrease the fries. The plastic replicas get dusty. And as for the other photos – check out this sad but true film clip of what can happen to food porn.

Playing with fast food

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 04:19:00 +0000

Transformed - a Taco Bell burrito in a former life

Fast food has been getting a makeover. It’s now being tarted up to look like something from the pages of the food porn glossies. In fact, it’s starting to looking good enough to eat.

Not that the fast food kings are driving the revolution. No, it started out as one man’s journey. That man is Erik R Trinidad, a freelance travel writer who has a curiosity for food.

By some quirky mind twist, he decided to deconstruct various fast food meals and turn them into works of stylist art.

The component parts of a Taco Bell meal were remodelled into tortellini (Tacobellini) in sauce. A box of doughnuts was transformed into a fruit tart and a crème brulee.

Trinidad is exhorting others to join in the fun and turn those much-maligned meals into tastebud tempters. As he says on his website Fancy Fast Food, “Yeah, it’s still bad for you – but see how good it can look.”

Rules for contributions are short – no additional ingredients other than a simple garnish and no Photoshopping other than minor adjustments in sharpness or colour correction. And he’d like both before and after photos.

So good he had seconds

After all the pulverising, reshaping, sometimes further cooking, and gussying up, the food might be good looking but is it good enough to eat? He told a Radio New Zealand interviewer he tasted each creation. Most, while visibly altered, tasted much the same as the originals. One, however, tasted even better – a corn chowder he made out of a Kentucky Fried Chicken meal. He ate it, put the leftovers in the fridge and later had another serving.

Meanwhile, another man has been seriously deconstructing KFC meals and says he’s finally come up with a recipe identical to Colonel Sanders’ 11 herbs and spices.

Ron Douglas, who gave up his Wall Street job to work on his obsession, spent years experimenting with different techniques in an attempt to reproduce KFC's Original Recipe, a feat he says he has achieved at last.

Along the way he set up a website, Recipe Secrets, specialising in providing accurate clone recipes for popular restaurant dishes. Contributions have spawned several cookbooks and the latest includes the KFC recipe. He says why buy fast food when you can save money by making the recipes yourself at home?

Yeah, it’s still bad for you – but see how good it can look

Supermarket hip - it's for real!

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 12:28:00 +0000

In one of my maiden blogs I complained about errant supermarket trolleys. Another local suggested I try a newly opened supermarket in a neighbouring suburb where I could be sure of getting a good trolley for a while, at least.

Well, the honeymoon is definitely over and a couple of years down the track their trolleys are misbehaving, too.

The original supermarket replaced its fleet in recent times and even abandoned the coin-slot variety. But, apart from those trolleys with obviously wonky wheels, it’s hard to pick if a trolley is going to play up during the initial short trip from trolley rank to vegetable department when you might be able to organise another trolley.

If you have a light shopping load, the problem isn’t so severe. But once a trolley is full of cans, jars and bottles, it can get pretty heavy and trying to swing it around at the end of an aisle can put a fair amount of strain on ageing knee and hip joints, and backs. Yes, I am not as young as I used to be.

In fact in an article in the Journal of Arthroscopic and Related Surgery last year, Supermarket Hip: An Unusual Cause of Injury to the Hip Joint, Yamamoto, Villar and Papavasileiou said: “Shopping in a supermarket would not normally be regarded as an at-risk activity for the hip joint. Despite this, we report 3 separate cases of hip injury (2 labral tears, 1 partial avulsion of the ligamentum teres), each of which was sustained while shopping in a supermarket – an activity they suggested “may need to be reclassified as an at-risk activity for the hip joint”.

I wish supermarkets would pay more attention to trolley maintenance. Perhaps it would be a good idea for supermarket managers (or their mothers) to test drive a few loaded trolleys themselves. Might give them a surprise.

Another of my pet peeves are the checkout people who seem incapable of spreading a shopping load around the bags, particularly now so many of use take our own fabric bags along for our shopping. One lass blithely filled one of my bags recently with two 2-litre juice bottles, two bottles of mineral water and several cans of tomatoes, tuna, beans and chickpeas. She struggled to move the bag from the packing shelf to the space by my trolley. She had a “duh?” moment, then quickly transferred half the load to another bag.

I’m all for using green bags, but there’s a certain disincentive if they get overfilled and are hard to lift. At least the plastic bags can't be overloaded.

Black garlic

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 12:47:00 +0000

Well,” says mushroom guru Damian Pike, “What flavours do you think?”

I’m visiting the Prahran market with other Melbourne food bloggers to see what hidden treasures it holds, and our guide, marketing manager Henrietta Morgan introduces us to what she labels “the new culinary It” – fermented Korean black garlic. I take a piece of the clove Damian has just peeled.

The flesh is indeed black, soft, and with an enticing aroma. It reminds me of something else. I can’t quite decide.

It’s earthy, there’s a gentle acidic overtone, a mellowness. Certainly the harshness of raw garlic has been tempered by the 30-day fermentation process.

Ah, porcini mushrooms. With a hint of good balsamic vinegar. And what else?

“How about liquorice?” Damian asks. Yes. In fact it also has something of the texture of soft liquorice.

I’m curious. I want to take it home and play with it. Damian is going to use some that night. He’ll mix it with butter and place it under the breast skin of a chicken. Sounds good to me. I buy a head of it.

A black velvety clove of garlic

The next night my son is loitering in the kitchen looking for something to eat. I point him at the eggs, the bacon, the mushrooms and suggest he might like to make himself an omelet. I suddenly remember my black garlic and give him a taste. Love at first bite. He finely chops up a clove and stirs it into the eggs, which he’s already seasoned with a little cayenne.

The omelet is made and consumed before I get a chance to say “I’ll get the camera.”

He said it was a great combination. I might have to hide my stash.

While black garlic may have been around for many years in Asian cultures, it’s only recently reached Western kitchens and of course Ferran Adria has had his hands on it. It’s worth seeking out for experimentation, perhaps as an addition to a tapenade, in aioli, with mushrooms. It would be interesting in a tiny amuse bouche sorbet. With its hint of aniseed, it could be great chopped and included in a dressing for fennel salad...

One of those has my name on it

See a slide show of highlights from my trip round the market

Aussies love their pies

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 07:13:00 +0000

What’s Australia’s national dish? Two out of three Australians who have chipped in with their views on the AllofAus site, reckon it’s the meat pie.

The humble pie was closely followed by kangaroo, barbecued prawns and roast lamb, with some people even saying the great Aussie breakfast should get a vote.

Kristy from Melbourne notes the local culture of a pie “with plenty of sauce at the footy in winter”. Some nominated a meat pie with a beer, others emphasised the sauce component.

Certainly since coming to live in Australia and more specifically Melbourne, I couldn’t help but notice the big part footy plays in the lives of locals. Footy watching requires the expenditure of quite a few calories and a well-sauced pie and a beer provide fans with a serve of most of the food groups, I am told.

Of course, some of those having their say at AllofAus nominate other things like Lamingtons, Vegemite, roasts, fish and chips.
What do you think?

To add your voice, go to http://www.allofaus.com.au

The site is a Qantas initiative and it’s not just food that is being talked about there. Australians are being asked what Australian spirit means to them in 2009 and for their thoughts on what sets Australians apart from the rest of the world, and what makes Australia great.

A magazine summing up the Australian spirit for 2009 is being published on July 25.

Can't wait to try your own Aussie meat pie? You'll find the recipe for the one pictured above here >>

Tech stuff

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 02:30:00 +0000

8v2tnc9jhw Just claiming my blog on Technorati, folks. Normal transmission resuming shortly.

Outside the box

noreply@blogger.com (Pat Churchill) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 03:17:00 +0000

Don't forget to pack me!

People who have near-death experiences often remark that their whole life flashed before their eyes.

It’s a bit like that when you move house and have to confront all the impedimenta you’ve gathered in recent decades. Unfortunately I have had to face up to all my “stuff” five times in the past 10 years and it doesn’t get any easier in spite of a massive clearance programme on each occasion. I find things stowed at the back of shelves I thought had long since gone to the tip. I discard ruthlessly as I pack and I’m still left with an oversupply to cull further when I unpack.

This time round the Vinnies scored about 15 cartons of unwanted kitchenware, crockery, bedding, towels, ornaments, glassware – you name it. Masses more we hurled into the chasm at the rubbish station.

The lineup of boxes that enhanced the rear of the garage in our last place yielded more tip fodder. We’d got by without some of it for four years since shifting to Australia and hadn’t really missed any of it.

It’s the second big clear-out I’ve had to do in the past three months. My sister and I faced a similarly daunting challenge at our late mother’s place at Easter.

If I never see a packing carton again, it will be too soon.

However, now, after four years of the gipsy existence of leasing a property, we are back living in a home we own – in partnership with the bank, of course. We’ve made what we hope will be our last move.

And now back to breaking in a brand new kitchen, learning the ways of a shiny new oven and finding out if I was perhaps just a little ruthless in my cull of the kitchen gadgets…